My world view has been thrown into confusion. Plastics are supposed to last for ever in the oceans, landfill, etc – this really has been reiterated again and again and I’m sure it must be true.
But how do we actually know??
Here at Hedgie towers, we are very good and have our own communal compost bin. So we actually throw away very little – five flats fill 1-2 wheelie bins a week on average, but we fill loads of orange sacks of recycling, and most of us throw organic waste in our communal compost bin for eventual use in our communal garden.
I reused a thick, sturdy plastic bucket (of the type dishwasher salt comes in) as my organic waste container in the kitchen. Potato peel, banana skins, coffee grounds and tea bags are the sort of things that have been deposited in this, prior to twice weekly visits to the compost bin.
It gets a wash every now and then when it gets too yucky (the compost bin outside is absolutely yucky; the flatmate has avoided compost duty like the plague since his initial visit to the bin some months ago; he was greeted too enthusiastically by all the wildlife that has taken up residence there).
Yesterday, to my horror, I found that my kitchen container was leaking. Its bottom has eroded in two places. I think our potato peels, etc, have eaten their way through the plastic. But surely this isn’t supposed to happen?
Have I found the solution to plastic pollution? A high strength solution of teabags and potato peel will soon dissolve the toughest plastic!
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Monday, September 01, 2008
Hadrian at the British Museum
Many years ago, in York, I bought a silver denarius (or sestertius, can’t remember which) featuring the visage of this august Roman emperor. My plan was to buy two and turn them into cufflinks. But the second has not been bought (finances; worries about desecrating heritage) and the coin lurks to this day in my cuff-link box.
Hadrian made a bit of an impact on Britain, with his wall, of course. But he seems to have been very fond of building projects all over the empire, and with the Pantheon in Rome achieved a whole new category of architecture.
The British Museum’s exhibition brings together wonderful sculptures of Hadrian from across the empire (making our bronze head dredged out of the Thames look of decidedly provincial manufacture).
The most exciting of these is also the most recent – fragments of a giant sculpture recently discovered in Turkey in Sagalassos and now standing at the entrance to the exhibition.
There are also fantastic architectural models of the Pantheon and Hadrian’s villa in Tivoli – as big as a small town. The Tivoli model was made in the 1930s and lacks the recent discovery of a massive shrine to Antinous, erected prominently next to the villa’s main entrance (and where a highly eroticized massive marble Antinous in the guise of the Egyptian god Osiris was discovered back in the 18th century). Hadrian famously had his boyfriend declared a god – clearly, this is archeological proof. One wonders what Hadrian’s wife must have made of it. Also, why did the shrine remain ‘undiscovered’ for so long, when the pretty amazing sculpture had been found there hundreds of years before? Clearly, classical scholars felt more comfortable not unearthing evidence of Hadrian’s passion. I’m sensing homophobia at work.
The exhibition interestingly had a section on ancient Roman amphorae (Hadrian’s family was big in olive oil). The Romans were pretty organized – each amphora had information enough about weight, origin, packaging etc to satisfy the modern Brussels bureaucrat.
The most emotive section was one containing personal belongings of Jewish rebels found in the cave they hid from [genocidal] Roman troops.
I’m not sure about the reading Room as a temporary exhibition space. The circular ground plan fragments into awkward spaces and bottlenecks occur everywhere. The dramatic lighting plan casts your fellow visitors’ shadows onto the information labels, making progress really difficult. On the plus side, Panozzi’s wonderful dome pays appropriate homage to Hadrian’s prototype, its ancestor, in this interesting and worthwhile exhibition.
Hadrian Empire and Conflict
British Museum
until 26th October 2008
Hadrian made a bit of an impact on Britain, with his wall, of course. But he seems to have been very fond of building projects all over the empire, and with the Pantheon in Rome achieved a whole new category of architecture.
The British Museum’s exhibition brings together wonderful sculptures of Hadrian from across the empire (making our bronze head dredged out of the Thames look of decidedly provincial manufacture).
The most exciting of these is also the most recent – fragments of a giant sculpture recently discovered in Turkey in Sagalassos and now standing at the entrance to the exhibition.
There are also fantastic architectural models of the Pantheon and Hadrian’s villa in Tivoli – as big as a small town. The Tivoli model was made in the 1930s and lacks the recent discovery of a massive shrine to Antinous, erected prominently next to the villa’s main entrance (and where a highly eroticized massive marble Antinous in the guise of the Egyptian god Osiris was discovered back in the 18th century). Hadrian famously had his boyfriend declared a god – clearly, this is archeological proof. One wonders what Hadrian’s wife must have made of it. Also, why did the shrine remain ‘undiscovered’ for so long, when the pretty amazing sculpture had been found there hundreds of years before? Clearly, classical scholars felt more comfortable not unearthing evidence of Hadrian’s passion. I’m sensing homophobia at work.
The exhibition interestingly had a section on ancient Roman amphorae (Hadrian’s family was big in olive oil). The Romans were pretty organized – each amphora had information enough about weight, origin, packaging etc to satisfy the modern Brussels bureaucrat.
The most emotive section was one containing personal belongings of Jewish rebels found in the cave they hid from [genocidal] Roman troops.
I’m not sure about the reading Room as a temporary exhibition space. The circular ground plan fragments into awkward spaces and bottlenecks occur everywhere. The dramatic lighting plan casts your fellow visitors’ shadows onto the information labels, making progress really difficult. On the plus side, Panozzi’s wonderful dome pays appropriate homage to Hadrian’s prototype, its ancestor, in this interesting and worthwhile exhibition.
Hadrian Empire and Conflict
British Museum
until 26th October 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
it's all over!
Well, what a spectacular Olympics we’ve just had – superbly done, China. I’m glad the Chinese made sure there was something for everyone – including gorgeous architecture and huge helpings of awesome spectacle for us less-than-sporting types.
Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt were the magnificent stars of the show, but of course team GB did us extremely proud. I’m also thrilled with Australian Matthew Mitcham’s gold for the 10m dive – the only out male gay athlete of the games (17,000 odd contestants) and he got the highest diving score ever!
Given the standard of the Chinese performance I was pretty much dreading the London hand-over bit. Given the scale of the venue even a London omnibus looked a bit lost; I was not at all convinced by the dancing element – what was that all about? – but things improved when the bus opened up and the dreaded Jimmy Page let loose with his guitar. And our own secret weapon, the man Beckham got one of the biggest cheers of the night from the crowd. So, in my view an honorable attempt overall – let’s hope we build on this for 2012.
Another real worry was our very own dear mayor, Boris Johnson. Let’s face it, anything was possible. But Boris behaved himself beautifully – very polite and proper but nevertheless managing to inject a pleasing informality into the IOC’s overly grandiose ceremonial. One had to marvel at the contrast between the communist Chinese mayor’s suave elegance and Boris’s very own trademark disheveled look.
He had his own classic Boris moment later back at GBHQ – “Ping Pong is coming home” indeed. Hilarious, and actually politically quite clever in that it quite upstaged Gordon’s more predictable attempt to bask in Olympic glory.
Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt were the magnificent stars of the show, but of course team GB did us extremely proud. I’m also thrilled with Australian Matthew Mitcham’s gold for the 10m dive – the only out male gay athlete of the games (17,000 odd contestants) and he got the highest diving score ever!
Given the standard of the Chinese performance I was pretty much dreading the London hand-over bit. Given the scale of the venue even a London omnibus looked a bit lost; I was not at all convinced by the dancing element – what was that all about? – but things improved when the bus opened up and the dreaded Jimmy Page let loose with his guitar. And our own secret weapon, the man Beckham got one of the biggest cheers of the night from the crowd. So, in my view an honorable attempt overall – let’s hope we build on this for 2012.
Another real worry was our very own dear mayor, Boris Johnson. Let’s face it, anything was possible. But Boris behaved himself beautifully – very polite and proper but nevertheless managing to inject a pleasing informality into the IOC’s overly grandiose ceremonial. One had to marvel at the contrast between the communist Chinese mayor’s suave elegance and Boris’s very own trademark disheveled look.
He had his own classic Boris moment later back at GBHQ – “Ping Pong is coming home” indeed. Hilarious, and actually politically quite clever in that it quite upstaged Gordon’s more predictable attempt to bask in Olympic glory.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
dogs and druids
Last night’s tv gave lots to think about: an exciting Channel 5 documentary basically corroborating Julius Caesar’s assertion that the druids were human-sacrificing cannibals (although the academics were trying desperately to find excuses for them: on the lines of “Poor things! They couldn’t help it! They were being stressed out by the Romans”). The Victorians felt the druids were quite bloodthirsty; the 20th–century remade them as gentle eco pacifists; now the pendulum swings back again.
On to the BBC, where Aunty blew the pedigree dog business to smithereens. Geek. Pedigree dogs are now going to join fur coats, intensive battery hens and veal farming at the apex of animal welfare concern. It really was pretty shocking, and made great TV in that Kennel Club officials and pedigree breeders in general are so far in denial they’re oblivious to how they come across, which makes brilliant TV. Poor doggies. Over-breeding has created a situation where about a third of Cavalier King Charles spaniels have a congenital condition where their brains are too large for their skulls. The programme also featured a Pug which was bred from a champion and had ‘perfect’ pedigree features but whose back legs dislocated when it tried to walk; had breathing troubles, stomach troubles, in-grown eyelids and a backbone twisted like a corkscrew. Great.
The Crufts 2003 Champion, a Pekinese called Danny, apparently had had surgery to correct a congenital deformity to its nasal passages and even then had to be sat on an ice pack after winning to prevent it overheating during the press photoshoot.
It pretty much stands to reason, when you think about it. The breeds developed quite happily without the Kennel Club’s interference. For the last century, breeders have been trying to conform to artificial and frankly arbitrary written breed specifications – based on appearance only. BUT judges judge based on a subjective understanding of those rules; if the rules say a flat nose is required, the flattest nose wins. That animal goes on to breed more; the next generation will have flatter noses than their forebears, but the flattest nose out of the new generation will win the prizes, and the process continues. Eventually you end up with the bizarre mutations we get today.
My parents had a pedigree boxer but thank heavens he didn’t have epilepsy. I can remember a friend who was a boxer enthusiast being very excited to see a white one. Now I know why these are so rare – white boxers are verboten according to the breed rules; those unfortunate enough to be born white are ‘culled’.
On to the BBC, where Aunty blew the pedigree dog business to smithereens. Geek. Pedigree dogs are now going to join fur coats, intensive battery hens and veal farming at the apex of animal welfare concern. It really was pretty shocking, and made great TV in that Kennel Club officials and pedigree breeders in general are so far in denial they’re oblivious to how they come across, which makes brilliant TV. Poor doggies. Over-breeding has created a situation where about a third of Cavalier King Charles spaniels have a congenital condition where their brains are too large for their skulls. The programme also featured a Pug which was bred from a champion and had ‘perfect’ pedigree features but whose back legs dislocated when it tried to walk; had breathing troubles, stomach troubles, in-grown eyelids and a backbone twisted like a corkscrew. Great.
The Crufts 2003 Champion, a Pekinese called Danny, apparently had had surgery to correct a congenital deformity to its nasal passages and even then had to be sat on an ice pack after winning to prevent it overheating during the press photoshoot.
It pretty much stands to reason, when you think about it. The breeds developed quite happily without the Kennel Club’s interference. For the last century, breeders have been trying to conform to artificial and frankly arbitrary written breed specifications – based on appearance only. BUT judges judge based on a subjective understanding of those rules; if the rules say a flat nose is required, the flattest nose wins. That animal goes on to breed more; the next generation will have flatter noses than their forebears, but the flattest nose out of the new generation will win the prizes, and the process continues. Eventually you end up with the bizarre mutations we get today.
My parents had a pedigree boxer but thank heavens he didn’t have epilepsy. I can remember a friend who was a boxer enthusiast being very excited to see a white one. Now I know why these are so rare – white boxers are verboten according to the breed rules; those unfortunate enough to be born white are ‘culled’.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Yay, George!
My new discovery George Monbiot gives it to the USA:
"If we seek to understand American foreign policy in terms of a rational engagement with international problems, or even as an effective means of projecting power, we are looking in the wrong place. The government's interests have always been provincial. It seeks to appease lobbyists, shift public opinion at crucial stages of the political cycle, accommodate crazy Christian fantasies and pander to television companies run by eccentric billionaires. The US does not really have a foreign policy. It has a series of domestic policies which it projects beyond its borders. That they threaten the world with 57 varieties of destruction is of no concern to the current administration. The only question of interest is who gets paid and what the political kickbacks will be."
Monday, August 18, 2008
Queer London: Perils and Pleasures in the Sexual Metropolis, 1918-1957
(Matt Houlbrook, University of Chicago Press, 2006)
The beautiful image on the cover seduced me into buying this book (and I felt the need for some educational reading). It’s a fascinating read; most enjoyable and informative. I loved the way Houlbrook itemises the particular geography of queer London, and has even sourced photos of historic queer places (largely from police records, it would appear). Knowing where these old clubs, bath houses, urinals etc actually were will definitely add another dimension to my experience of London.
The book is (fairly obviously) based on his PhD thesis, so is written in full-on academic-speak. Houlbrook does manage to enliven this jargon-heavy discourse with some wit and flexibility; I just feel an opportunity to reach the general reader has been missed. There is certainly enormous human interest here, and loads of original research. As it was, I felt like a student at the back of queer-studies class.
My other issue is that he imposes an off-the-peg Marxist analysis on the history: not particularly convincingly, in my view. Slippery queer men evade the class categories he constructs for them at every turn. He nostalgically looks for a moment when the [queer] proletariat storms the gates of the Winter Palace – the closest incident he finds is a massive police raid on a proto queer club-night in a Holland Park Street Ballroom run by “Lady” Austin for her “Camp Boys”, in the 1930s. The police gained undercover entrance to this by dragging up and passing as queer. One policeman enthusiastically boasted about “trading twice” with “my boyfriend” – this part was subsequently suppressed at the trial.
Houlbrook clearly shows the camp boys had a vocal and articulate critique of their arrest and the laws which led to it. However I think he overemphasizes the differences between the camp boys and middle-class ‘respectable homosexuals’: the camp boys clearly were trying to keep their night as private as possible, given that the police had to go to extreme lengths to gain entry. Moreover, the camp boys clearly supported the abolition of the Act, following the call of the middle-class Oscar Wilde and prefiguring the middle-class 'respectable homosexual' lobbyists at the Wolfenden commission.
These lobbyists clearly did create a mythical ‘respectable homosexual’ – but surely as a deliberate ploy to counter the demonized stereotypes then prevailing in public discourse. They needed to speak the language of the law-makers in order to persuade them to change the laws.
In the end, the tragic Lady Austin saga had no effect on the liberation struggle one way or the other. By contrast, the arrest and trial for cottaging of the middle-class war-hero, sportsman and public schoolmaster Frank Champain (at midnight, in one of London’s most notorious urinals under the Adelphi arches just off the Strand) had a dramatic effect on police activity after Mr Champain was spectacularly acquitted on appeal.
It is quite clear that he must have been totally guilty, but his solicitor skillfully spun his arrest as police entrapment and this so enraged the appeal judge he berated the policeman involved. The police were so cowed by this that arrests for cottaging fell dramatically after this trial and stayed well down for years afterwards. So, by helping to minimize persecution during a lengthy period of oppression, this has to be counted a small tactical success.
In the final analysis, the Camp Boys protested but did not physically fight their arrest – very much unlike the New York Stonewall Bar gays of decades later. Stonewall became an iconic and liberating moment for gays all over the world. Why didn’t this happen at the Holland Park Ballroom? - are our police less brutal? are we too respectful of the law? Whatever the answers, it would seem that the European reformist strategy has overtaken the activist tradition in the States. Despite the explosive and psychologically liberating Stonewall moment, America today is massively behind Europe in awarding equal rights to its gay citizens – and even has a fundamentalist and activist right-wing trying to turn the clock back even more.
The beautiful image on the cover seduced me into buying this book (and I felt the need for some educational reading). It’s a fascinating read; most enjoyable and informative. I loved the way Houlbrook itemises the particular geography of queer London, and has even sourced photos of historic queer places (largely from police records, it would appear). Knowing where these old clubs, bath houses, urinals etc actually were will definitely add another dimension to my experience of London.The book is (fairly obviously) based on his PhD thesis, so is written in full-on academic-speak. Houlbrook does manage to enliven this jargon-heavy discourse with some wit and flexibility; I just feel an opportunity to reach the general reader has been missed. There is certainly enormous human interest here, and loads of original research. As it was, I felt like a student at the back of queer-studies class.
My other issue is that he imposes an off-the-peg Marxist analysis on the history: not particularly convincingly, in my view. Slippery queer men evade the class categories he constructs for them at every turn. He nostalgically looks for a moment when the [queer] proletariat storms the gates of the Winter Palace – the closest incident he finds is a massive police raid on a proto queer club-night in a Holland Park Street Ballroom run by “Lady” Austin for her “Camp Boys”, in the 1930s. The police gained undercover entrance to this by dragging up and passing as queer. One policeman enthusiastically boasted about “trading twice” with “my boyfriend” – this part was subsequently suppressed at the trial.
Houlbrook clearly shows the camp boys had a vocal and articulate critique of their arrest and the laws which led to it. However I think he overemphasizes the differences between the camp boys and middle-class ‘respectable homosexuals’: the camp boys clearly were trying to keep their night as private as possible, given that the police had to go to extreme lengths to gain entry. Moreover, the camp boys clearly supported the abolition of the Act, following the call of the middle-class Oscar Wilde and prefiguring the middle-class 'respectable homosexual' lobbyists at the Wolfenden commission.
These lobbyists clearly did create a mythical ‘respectable homosexual’ – but surely as a deliberate ploy to counter the demonized stereotypes then prevailing in public discourse. They needed to speak the language of the law-makers in order to persuade them to change the laws.
In the end, the tragic Lady Austin saga had no effect on the liberation struggle one way or the other. By contrast, the arrest and trial for cottaging of the middle-class war-hero, sportsman and public schoolmaster Frank Champain (at midnight, in one of London’s most notorious urinals under the Adelphi arches just off the Strand) had a dramatic effect on police activity after Mr Champain was spectacularly acquitted on appeal.
It is quite clear that he must have been totally guilty, but his solicitor skillfully spun his arrest as police entrapment and this so enraged the appeal judge he berated the policeman involved. The police were so cowed by this that arrests for cottaging fell dramatically after this trial and stayed well down for years afterwards. So, by helping to minimize persecution during a lengthy period of oppression, this has to be counted a small tactical success.
In the final analysis, the Camp Boys protested but did not physically fight their arrest – very much unlike the New York Stonewall Bar gays of decades later. Stonewall became an iconic and liberating moment for gays all over the world. Why didn’t this happen at the Holland Park Ballroom? - are our police less brutal? are we too respectful of the law? Whatever the answers, it would seem that the European reformist strategy has overtaken the activist tradition in the States. Despite the explosive and psychologically liberating Stonewall moment, America today is massively behind Europe in awarding equal rights to its gay citizens – and even has a fundamentalist and activist right-wing trying to turn the clock back even more.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
smelling dirty
Popped into Kingston yesterday lunch time to buy a few bits and ended up in John Lewis's ground floor, where I never usually go. There is a huge section devoted to male colognes, so I had fun browsing a bit. Squirted some Paul Smiths before noticing a display of Juicy Couture's new fragrance, Dirty English.
This was a surprise, because all the advertising I have seen says it's exclusive to Selfridges at the moment. The advert is fab: full marks for creativity. Apparently the whole deal is referencing the Sex Pistols. The fragrance would be a great gift for that Australian Olympics official who was making remarks about English soap earlier this week.
Anyway, as it was there I had a squirt of that too. Smells nice, sort-of like gingerbread I thought. Couldn't really decide if I would like it; whatever.
Went back to the office, washed hands, had lunch; washed hands several more times in the afternoon; went home, washed hands, made dinner, watched tv, washed up, brushed teeth, went to bed. Dirty English still on my hands, noticeably. The scent just never dies. Use with caution!
This was a surprise, because all the advertising I have seen says it's exclusive to Selfridges at the moment. The advert is fab: full marks for creativity. Apparently the whole deal is referencing the Sex Pistols. The fragrance would be a great gift for that Australian Olympics official who was making remarks about English soap earlier this week.
Anyway, as it was there I had a squirt of that too. Smells nice, sort-of like gingerbread I thought. Couldn't really decide if I would like it; whatever.
Went back to the office, washed hands, had lunch; washed hands several more times in the afternoon; went home, washed hands, made dinner, watched tv, washed up, brushed teeth, went to bed. Dirty English still on my hands, noticeably. The scent just never dies. Use with caution!
Friday, August 08, 2008
Monkey Olympics
If Olympics TV coverage promos were an official Olympics sport, the BBC would win gold!
This is soo much better than the tedious ol' Olympics will be . . .
Well done to Damon Albarn, Jamie Hewlett and the BBC team (inspired by the Journey to the West opera)
This is soo much better than the tedious ol' Olympics will be . . .
Well done to Damon Albarn, Jamie Hewlett and the BBC team (inspired by the Journey to the West opera)
The Revenger's Tragedy
I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat and avoid violence in entertainment, so the National Theatre’s Revenger’s Tragedy was not for me, so I thought. I only booked to go after the disappointment of Afterlife (all the Revenger’s reviews I read were brilliant – typically my luck to go for the dud instead). I finally saw it last night.Wow! Interval saw me hurtling forth, highly discombobulated, in search of strong drink – but in a good way. This production is simply sensational. Absolutely fantastically designed and acted, with sublime use of the NT’s revolving stage. The sound and lighting was especially good too.
This is a very louche 80’s Versace sort-of Renaissance Italian court – sharp sexy club clothes; maximalist interiors featuring massive blow-ups of the most salacious bits out of Titian and Veronese. Gender-bending minions and principals in search of perverted sex. Murder and necrophilia. Huge animated skulls. The end of the first act sees the revolve go hyper-drive, with the duke savagely murdered by the protagonist to pounding underground club beats while watching his duchess having very noisy athletic sex with his bastard son. Phew! How very unlike the home life our own esteemed monarchy.
Absolutely wonderfully directed (and co-designed) by Melly Still. It ends this month, so catch it fast!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
let's all go nuclear
George Monbiot is the latest eminent environmentalist to come out in (qualified) support for nuclear power stations. James Lovelock of course has been vocally advocating nuclear for some time. Newsnight debated this last night, and poor George was attacked quite personally from both sides – a governmental nuclear apparatchik called him a “slow learner” on the one hand (one would think they would have welcomed his contribution – Mr Monbiot potentially can deliver millions of Guardian readers to their cause) – and on the other Jonathan Porrit castigated Monbiot for selling out. In fact Porrit seemed far keener on castigating Monbiot than on addressing environmental causes.
Newsnight presenter Gavin Esler did nothing to moderate these personal attacks (even appearing to find them quite funny). George kept his cool and came out really well, I thought, especially in the face of Porrit’s provocations. Perhaps Mr Porrit is a little envious of Mr Monbiot’s environmental star status.
Anyway, even Julie Burchill is attacking him now – he replies to her criticisms in today’s Guardian:
“The environment is inseparable from social justice. Climate change, for example, is primarily about food and water. It threatens the fresh water supplies required to support human life. As continental interiors dry out and the glaciers feeding many of the rivers used for irrigation disappear, climate change presents the greatest of all threats to the future prospects of the poor. The rich will survive for a few decades at least, as they can use their money to insulate themselves from the effects. The poor are being hammered already.
In reality, it is people like Julie Burchill – who is, incidentally, far richer than almost any green I have met – who treats the poor with contempt. So that she can revel in what she calls "reckless romantic modernism", other people must die. But at least you can't accuse her of hypocrisy: she cannot fail to live by her moral code, for the simple reason that she doesn't have one.
Sure, we are hypocrites. Every one of us, almost by definition. Hypocrisy is the gap between your aspirations and your actions. Greens have high aspirations – they want to live more ethically – and they will always fall short. But the alternative to hypocrisy isn't moral purity (no one manages that), but cynicism. Give me hypocrisy any day.”
Newsnight presenter Gavin Esler did nothing to moderate these personal attacks (even appearing to find them quite funny). George kept his cool and came out really well, I thought, especially in the face of Porrit’s provocations. Perhaps Mr Porrit is a little envious of Mr Monbiot’s environmental star status.
Anyway, even Julie Burchill is attacking him now – he replies to her criticisms in today’s Guardian:
In reality, it is people like Julie Burchill – who is, incidentally, far richer than almost any green I have met – who treats the poor with contempt. So that she can revel in what she calls "reckless romantic modernism", other people must die. But at least you can't accuse her of hypocrisy: she cannot fail to live by her moral code, for the simple reason that she doesn't have one.
Sure, we are hypocrites. Every one of us, almost by definition. Hypocrisy is the gap between your aspirations and your actions. Greens have high aspirations – they want to live more ethically – and they will always fall short. But the alternative to hypocrisy isn't moral purity (no one manages that), but cynicism. Give me hypocrisy any day.”
Quote London
- Penelope Fitzgerald (1916 – 2000)
Friday, July 25, 2008
Gehry in London
Gehry’s 2008 Serpentine pavilion is a masterful answer to his recent archi-critics, who can’t stand his popularity and have accused him of being a ‘one-trick pony’.
The pavilion is wildly different to Gehry’s recent buildings – not a curve or titanium tile in sight.
It is still wildly modernist, yet pleasingly references history (Gehry said on tv he was intrigued by the Roman invasion of England; hence the catapult-like form) and pays flattering homage to the Serpentine Gallery. Looked at frontally, the pavilion forms a delicious, wildly eccentric frame for the classicizing older building.
Some of the initial drawings show the shattered roof line was going to made up of curved panels – the built version has flat panels; by far the better aesthetic option.
It is also the first pavilion to have a lift!
Great stuff. A really wonderful addition to London summer ’08.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Journey to the West
This classic Chinese text’s title is pretty confusing to Westerners – the tale tells of a journey from China to India, both countries very far to the east of us. Calling India ‘the west’ just feels wrong, but of course to the Chinese it is quite simple fact.
Personally, I blame Diocletian’s division of the Roman Empire into “East” and “West” in AD285. To us Europeans, the East will always begin in the eastern end of the Mediterranean.
Heavens it’s been a while since I was last at the Royal Opera – to my shame, my last visit was pre-rebuild/extension, which puts it at least 8 years ago!
- But I was there last night for the London premiere of Damon Albarn’s, Jamie Hewlett’s and Chen Shi-Zheng’s opera Monkey: Journey to the West. It’s fabulous – the Floral Hall is a fantastic ‘see and be seen’ sort of space, and the terrace overlooking Covent Garden piazza and central London’s roofscape is just lovely for a snack or drink pre-performance, especially in the evening sun; the terrace catches soothing evening breezes. The Opera house was decorated monkey-style for the event, and was serving monkey cocktails. The capacity crowd was really buzzing with anticipation.
The opera itself is visually spectacular and very beautiful; brilliantly conceived by Jamie Hewlett. Chen Shi-Zheng directs the cast of thousands with amazing control – the focus on the story is sharp despite a cast of thousands doing absolutely stunning things – awesome acrobatics, aerial ballet, exciting kung-fu fights etc etc. It’s actually so complicated it’s remarkable the whole thing went off without a single apparent mistake.
Damon Albarn’s music is gorgeous; individually the numbers are very beautiful. However, as opera one can’t compare it to Verdi or Wagner – it’s fairly episodic, and there isn’t an arc of musical development over the full piece. However, I’m still looking forward to the CD being released.
I have to mention Fey Yang as the Monkey King – he was absolutely magnificent; endearingly cheeky, yet acrobatic and superb at the fighting (in character). An incredible performance, giving out 100% energy from beginning to end.
The three co-creators came on stage at the end of a well-deserved standing ovation.
Personally, I blame Diocletian’s division of the Roman Empire into “East” and “West” in AD285. To us Europeans, the East will always begin in the eastern end of the Mediterranean.
Heavens it’s been a while since I was last at the Royal Opera – to my shame, my last visit was pre-rebuild/extension, which puts it at least 8 years ago!- But I was there last night for the London premiere of Damon Albarn’s, Jamie Hewlett’s and Chen Shi-Zheng’s opera Monkey: Journey to the West. It’s fabulous – the Floral Hall is a fantastic ‘see and be seen’ sort of space, and the terrace overlooking Covent Garden piazza and central London’s roofscape is just lovely for a snack or drink pre-performance, especially in the evening sun; the terrace catches soothing evening breezes. The Opera house was decorated monkey-style for the event, and was serving monkey cocktails. The capacity crowd was really buzzing with anticipation.
The opera itself is visually spectacular and very beautiful; brilliantly conceived by Jamie Hewlett. Chen Shi-Zheng directs the cast of thousands with amazing control – the focus on the story is sharp despite a cast of thousands doing absolutely stunning things – awesome acrobatics, aerial ballet, exciting kung-fu fights etc etc. It’s actually so complicated it’s remarkable the whole thing went off without a single apparent mistake.
Damon Albarn’s music is gorgeous; individually the numbers are very beautiful. However, as opera one can’t compare it to Verdi or Wagner – it’s fairly episodic, and there isn’t an arc of musical development over the full piece. However, I’m still looking forward to the CD being released.
I have to mention Fey Yang as the Monkey King – he was absolutely magnificent; endearingly cheeky, yet acrobatic and superb at the fighting (in character). An incredible performance, giving out 100% energy from beginning to end.
The three co-creators came on stage at the end of a well-deserved standing ovation.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Pygmalion
The West End Whingers were slightly premature in their praise for the apparently newly-oiled seats at the Old Vic. My seat last night was as squeaky as an annoyed bat – however, Peter Hall’s production of Pygmalion was so good this minor irritation evaporated. And the seat itself was in the distinctly posh part of the auditorium – the poshest I’ve ever been at the Old Vic (6th row central, stalls, no less).
I’m glad I shelled out, because the production and performances were so beautifully detailed it was wonderful to be able to appreciate them all close-up, as it were. The “Not bloody likely” scene was side-splittingly funny: Eliza’s (Michelle Dockery) partially-transformed accent got spontaneous applause mid-way through.
This was a belt-and-braces properly traditional production – down to real rain and a real taxi on stage. However, so intelligently done it was a tremendous pleasure. My doubts about Shaw were quite quelled.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
oily adventures
Tate Modern opened its oil tanks to Tate members this weekend – yippee! Power Stations are a bit of a thing with me, ever since my work placement as a student at the HQ of a power company in South Africa. Bless her, my boss didn’t have a clue what to do with an art history student, so she sent me out on field visits to the power stations, leaving me with very fond memories of the “dark Satanic mills” kind. Actually, they are very exciting, even sublime places – the furnaces, the turbines, the cooling towers, etc etc etc.
My field of expertise is coal-fired stations, so seeing the remaining innards of an oil-fired station intrigued me. Also, I missed the tours of Bankside before the deplanting, which I have always regretted.
Anyway, I have to say the oil tanks were a slight disappointment. I’m not a driver, so I don’t really have a feel for how fast oil is burnt in a combustion engine. I was anticipating the tanks for a power station to be absolutely vast (at least 5 stories high) – so although these are big, they definitely are smaller than I was thinking.
The Tate was planning to convert the spaces into auditoria, but artists who saw them persuaded the authorities to leave them as ‘found spaces’ for artists to play in. So think circular versions of the turbine hall, not as high.
All very exciting, and the Tate is apparently going to announce Herzog and de Meuron’s developed plans for the new Tate Modern extension this week. It is planned for completion in time for the 2012 London Olympics. Yay!
P.S – I know I’m being retrogressive in insisting on ‘The’ Tate, but I really hate the branding company’s arrogance in attempting to annihilate the definite article. It’s an act of foreclosure on the English Language, no less, and imperial overstretch by ‘Tate’. Nicholas Serota will have to threaten to discontinue my membership before I submit to the ugliness of the naked Tate.
My field of expertise is coal-fired stations, so seeing the remaining innards of an oil-fired station intrigued me. Also, I missed the tours of Bankside before the deplanting, which I have always regretted.
Anyway, I have to say the oil tanks were a slight disappointment. I’m not a driver, so I don’t really have a feel for how fast oil is burnt in a combustion engine. I was anticipating the tanks for a power station to be absolutely vast (at least 5 stories high) – so although these are big, they definitely are smaller than I was thinking.
The Tate was planning to convert the spaces into auditoria, but artists who saw them persuaded the authorities to leave them as ‘found spaces’ for artists to play in. So think circular versions of the turbine hall, not as high.
All very exciting, and the Tate is apparently going to announce Herzog and de Meuron’s developed plans for the new Tate Modern extension this week. It is planned for completion in time for the 2012 London Olympics. Yay!
P.S – I know I’m being retrogressive in insisting on ‘The’ Tate, but I really hate the branding company’s arrogance in attempting to annihilate the definite article. It’s an act of foreclosure on the English Language, no less, and imperial overstretch by ‘Tate’. Nicholas Serota will have to threaten to discontinue my membership before I submit to the ugliness of the naked Tate.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Major Barbara
No doubt about it, there’s a George Bernard Shaw boom on at the moment. The NT’s Saint Joan last year was pretty awesome; I’m a little bit more quizzical about its production (just ending) of Major Babara.Undoubtedly, this play raises interesting and still very relevant questions. I thought the second act in the Salvation Army shelter was as great as theatre can get – it’s just the last act, despite the spectacular setting in an armaments factory (brilliantly realized in this production) displays some of Shaw’s most wordy faults. It does drag – worse, the characters Undershaft and Cusins debate loftily at length while the rest of the cast sit around like Madame Tussaud’s waxworks. Occasionally Lady Britomart Undershaft or Charles Lomax pop up with a comedy turn to jolly things along. The only dramatic tension is the choice facing Adolphus Cusins, and how he will square this with Barbara. The contrast with the morally fluid and dramatically explosive second act is pretty extreme.
I loved the cast and production – this was just a Shaw thing with me, I think. I’m seeing Pygmalion this week, so we’ll see.
Pope's Villa at Twickenham
Context really does affect how one experiences art. I always find looking at things in Sotheby’s or Christie’s quite exciting – everything’s for sale!! – but if it is an important piece, the time one spends looking at it is somehow more heightened and valuable than if it was, say, in the National Gallery where it will still be next week, if one fancies coming back.
I popped into Sotheby’s last week to have a look at the ‘Sudeley Turner’ – Sudeley no more as it has now been sold for almost £5.5 million. I’ve never seen it before, and can’t really say it featured heavily in my Turner studies at Uni. Its official title is Pope’s Villa at Twickenham.
It’s pretty gorgeous: Joseph Mallord William Turner in the full flow of his attempt to out-do the miraculous evening glow of the celebrated French master Claude Lorrain. Indeed, one critic immediately after viewing this picture called Turner “indisputably the first landscape painter in Europe”.
Turner was motivated by the vandalism of Baroness Howe (known as “Queen of the Goths”), who so hated the literary tourists drawn by the poet Alexander Pope’s villa that she decided to tear the villa down. Turner portrays the already roofless villa catching the raking last rays of the sun (very restrained and subtle, the melodrama of the Fighting Temeraire is absent here). The sun-washed villa is reflected in the limpid Thames. In the foreground, a group of workmen are negotiating the sale of architectural salvage from the house.
It is fascinating that a lively debate about national heritage was thriving that far back in history, and it is equally ironic that the painting itself enacts its own circumstances, as another great piece of national heritage is lost, perhaps to leave the country forever.
I popped into Sotheby’s last week to have a look at the ‘Sudeley Turner’ – Sudeley no more as it has now been sold for almost £5.5 million. I’ve never seen it before, and can’t really say it featured heavily in my Turner studies at Uni. Its official title is Pope’s Villa at Twickenham.
It’s pretty gorgeous: Joseph Mallord William Turner in the full flow of his attempt to out-do the miraculous evening glow of the celebrated French master Claude Lorrain. Indeed, one critic immediately after viewing this picture called Turner “indisputably the first landscape painter in Europe”.
Turner was motivated by the vandalism of Baroness Howe (known as “Queen of the Goths”), who so hated the literary tourists drawn by the poet Alexander Pope’s villa that she decided to tear the villa down. Turner portrays the already roofless villa catching the raking last rays of the sun (very restrained and subtle, the melodrama of the Fighting Temeraire is absent here). The sun-washed villa is reflected in the limpid Thames. In the foreground, a group of workmen are negotiating the sale of architectural salvage from the house.
It is fascinating that a lively debate about national heritage was thriving that far back in history, and it is equally ironic that the painting itself enacts its own circumstances, as another great piece of national heritage is lost, perhaps to leave the country forever.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Burial at Thebes
The Rose is Kingston’s new theatre (opened 2008). I’ve been wanting to check it out, and Nottingham Playhouse Theatre Company’s production of Seamus Heaney’s new translation of Sophocles’ Antigone seemed a good opportunity to do so.
While Kingston is quite a comfortable area of south west London, I feel the town centre is also quite a bit chavvy, so I was very worried The Rose would struggle to find an audience. I was totally relieved therefore to see it had quite a respectable turn-out: the theatre seemed about two-thirds full when I went.
The translation was pretty magnificent: simple and clear, but powerfully poetic when it needs to be. Greek tragedy is pretty wonderful stuff – it draws you in to the moral issues at stake quickly, presents all the arguments for and against without redundancy or over-analysis, gets on with the story, and wham bang all over in about 75 minutes. Brilliant.
Great ensemble work from the company. Their use of the set was good – I don’t know whether it was their own or they were just using what is there already. Apparently, The Rose is unfinished and it’s the backstage area which is still incomplete. The set certainly looked very rawly concrete.
While Kingston is quite a comfortable area of south west London, I feel the town centre is also quite a bit chavvy, so I was very worried The Rose would struggle to find an audience. I was totally relieved therefore to see it had quite a respectable turn-out: the theatre seemed about two-thirds full when I went.
The translation was pretty magnificent: simple and clear, but powerfully poetic when it needs to be. Greek tragedy is pretty wonderful stuff – it draws you in to the moral issues at stake quickly, presents all the arguments for and against without redundancy or over-analysis, gets on with the story, and wham bang all over in about 75 minutes. Brilliant.
Great ensemble work from the company. Their use of the set was good – I don’t know whether it was their own or they were just using what is there already. Apparently, The Rose is unfinished and it’s the backstage area which is still incomplete. The set certainly looked very rawly concrete.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
a tea discovery
The Taste of London festival also featured loads of food and drinks suppliers and manufacturers. In the Taste of China section I came across Chinalife’s stand and they were giving out tastes of their various teas.
I absolutely love everything about tea, it’s history, folklore, manufacture, its rituals – making it and drinking it. Although all tea is good, I generally prefer Chinese teas. The black teas from Yunnan are my current favourites.
I was completely bowled over by Chinalife’s white tea “Amber Mountain”. Apparently, this variety was reserved for the exclusive use of the Emeror. It’s pretty gorgeous. From their blurb:
The tea leaves are pretty amazing - unfurled in boiling water, they look like they've just been picked from the camellia sinensis bush.
So now I’m happy drinking like a Chinese Emperor! :-)
I absolutely love everything about tea, it’s history, folklore, manufacture, its rituals – making it and drinking it. Although all tea is good, I generally prefer Chinese teas. The black teas from Yunnan are my current favourites.
I was completely bowled over by Chinalife’s white tea “Amber Mountain”. Apparently, this variety was reserved for the exclusive use of the Emeror. It’s pretty gorgeous. From their blurb:
”Highest grade rare tea produced in very small amounts. It creates a beautiful, glowing infusion that tastes like pure dew from an early Spring morning, with a subtle complexity of flavour that is intense and mesmerising.
[cut]
White tea is made from new growth buds and young leaves and derives its name from the tiny, silver white hairs on the dried tea. White tea is a specialty of the Chinese province of Fujian. It can only be picked for a short time each year, making it rare and more expensive than other teas but connoisseurs love the pale colour, delicate, sweet flavour and silky finish. White tea is the closest to the natural state of the tea leaf and contains high amounts of anti-ageing antioxidants.”
The tea leaves are pretty amazing - unfurled in boiling water, they look like they've just been picked from the camellia sinensis bush.
So now I’m happy drinking like a Chinese Emperor! :-)
Unknown Knowns
“We pride ourselves for living in a society in which we freely decide about things that matter. However, we are constantly in the position of having to decide about matters that will fundamentally affect our lives, but without a proper foundation in knowledge. This is frustrating: although we know that it all depends on us, we cannot predict the consequences of our acts. We are not impotent but – quite the contrary – omnipotent, without being able to determine the scope of our powers. While we cannot gain full mastery over our biosphere, it is in our power to derail it, to disturb its balance so that it will run amok, swiping us away in the process.”
- Slavoj Zizek, The Observer 29th June
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Taste of London 2008
My flatmate asked if this entailed kebabs and dirty pavements, and my brother thought jellied eels would be a sure bet. However, Taste of London is a food festival in Regent’s Park showcasing the cream of London’s restaurants, each giving ‘tastes’ of three of their signature dishes to hoards of hungry punters. Well, not exactly giving – you have to pay to get in, and pay for the food too, with vouchers called crowns which you have to buy from the organizers as well.
Our tickets got lost in the post, so they had to provide replacements on the day. I had ordered an extra book of the vouchers, only to discover this had not been included after I had entered the fair. So back out again, fighting security all the way, fighting with the ticket office, blah blah blah. Eventually, fully ticketed up we entered into the fray inside.
The fun is diving from one restaurant to the next, snacking. I very much enjoyed a Parmesan custard with anchovy toasts from Le Café Anglais (I got a recipe card!) and an extraordinarily rich, flavoursome and foamy white tomato soup from Rhodes Twenty Four (Gary Rhodes himself was present on his stand to charm the public). My top tastes however were from Le Gavroche (Smoked chicken and foie gras terrine with lentils and truffle vinaigrette) and this extraordinarily pretty tiger prawns with wasabi mayonnaise alongside little cubes of mango and Thai Basil seed from Kai Mayfair:
As you can see from the above, you can easily ingest a huge variety of types and styles of foods very quickly. Luckily my stomach was able to take the pace.
Some restaurant staff appeared to get a bit competitive, shouting orders (over) loudly back and forth, especially if their neighbours were a bit slow. It was all quite fun and silly.
There was a separate section devoted to Chinese cuisine and food products. Harbin Beer had hired an ice sculptor to carve their logo lion, in really sparkly, glittery clear ice:
Our tickets got lost in the post, so they had to provide replacements on the day. I had ordered an extra book of the vouchers, only to discover this had not been included after I had entered the fair. So back out again, fighting security all the way, fighting with the ticket office, blah blah blah. Eventually, fully ticketed up we entered into the fray inside.
The fun is diving from one restaurant to the next, snacking. I very much enjoyed a Parmesan custard with anchovy toasts from Le Café Anglais (I got a recipe card!) and an extraordinarily rich, flavoursome and foamy white tomato soup from Rhodes Twenty Four (Gary Rhodes himself was present on his stand to charm the public). My top tastes however were from Le Gavroche (Smoked chicken and foie gras terrine with lentils and truffle vinaigrette) and this extraordinarily pretty tiger prawns with wasabi mayonnaise alongside little cubes of mango and Thai Basil seed from Kai Mayfair:
As you can see from the above, you can easily ingest a huge variety of types and styles of foods very quickly. Luckily my stomach was able to take the pace.
Some restaurant staff appeared to get a bit competitive, shouting orders (over) loudly back and forth, especially if their neighbours were a bit slow. It was all quite fun and silly.
There was a separate section devoted to Chinese cuisine and food products. Harbin Beer had hired an ice sculptor to carve their logo lion, in really sparkly, glittery clear ice:
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
summer sounds
I’ve been tagged by Boz! Thank you Boz for the shout and the challenge, which I hurry to complete.
The task:
I feel slightly hesitant, largely because I’ve just fallen in love with the new Coldplay album, and in my world there is not a single person who admits to liking them. I get an awful lot of stick about it. Someone surely must buy their records; apparently they are the biggest band in the known universe or something. Anyway, even I thought X&Y was dire, and they were on probation with me. Luckily, Vida la Vida is a vast improvement. I’m choosing the title track as my first song.
Radiohead’s In Rainbows precipitated a reassessment of their post-2000 oeuvre. Can’t live without it; am choosing Jigsaw Falling into Place as my second song.
I don’t get the Arctic Monkeys at all but Alex Turner’s side project The Age of the Understatement (by The Last Shadow Puppets) is a really refreshing listen; a retro sound created anew for today. I love the wistful last song The Time has Come Again.
Fourth up is Alison Moyet’s A Guy Like You from her excellent The Turn. Her voice is so amazing, and I’m loving the Yazoo revival this year. Pity I don’t have tickets.
Her Royal Madge-sty is next with Devil Wouldn’t Recognize You from Hard Candy. It’s one of the quieter songs from the (super) album, and somehow very cinematic in feeling.
Bleak, monumental, sublime – Portishead’s Third is really good when you need to turn the volume up loud and wallow in the misery. I choose The Rip.
And to end on a lighter note, I Hear a Symphony by The Supremes. I’ve just bought their complete hits album at the V&A. It’s accompanying the exhibition of their stage clothes and an excited shop assistant told me the CD is exclusive to the V&A. Well, as exclusive as a Supremes greatest hits album can be, anyway. Uplifting.
Well, that’s me done. I’m amazed I left out Arcade Fire, easily my best discovery of the last year.
I’m throwing this open to everyone now – what are your seven favourite songs of the moment?
The task:
"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs."
I feel slightly hesitant, largely because I’ve just fallen in love with the new Coldplay album, and in my world there is not a single person who admits to liking them. I get an awful lot of stick about it. Someone surely must buy their records; apparently they are the biggest band in the known universe or something. Anyway, even I thought X&Y was dire, and they were on probation with me. Luckily, Vida la Vida is a vast improvement. I’m choosing the title track as my first song.
Radiohead’s In Rainbows precipitated a reassessment of their post-2000 oeuvre. Can’t live without it; am choosing Jigsaw Falling into Place as my second song.
I don’t get the Arctic Monkeys at all but Alex Turner’s side project The Age of the Understatement (by The Last Shadow Puppets) is a really refreshing listen; a retro sound created anew for today. I love the wistful last song The Time has Come Again.
Fourth up is Alison Moyet’s A Guy Like You from her excellent The Turn. Her voice is so amazing, and I’m loving the Yazoo revival this year. Pity I don’t have tickets.
Her Royal Madge-sty is next with Devil Wouldn’t Recognize You from Hard Candy. It’s one of the quieter songs from the (super) album, and somehow very cinematic in feeling.
Bleak, monumental, sublime – Portishead’s Third is really good when you need to turn the volume up loud and wallow in the misery. I choose The Rip.
And to end on a lighter note, I Hear a Symphony by The Supremes. I’ve just bought their complete hits album at the V&A. It’s accompanying the exhibition of their stage clothes and an excited shop assistant told me the CD is exclusive to the V&A. Well, as exclusive as a Supremes greatest hits album can be, anyway. Uplifting.Well, that’s me done. I’m amazed I left out Arcade Fire, easily my best discovery of the last year.
I’m throwing this open to everyone now – what are your seven favourite songs of the moment?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
V&A update
Yesterday I popped into the V&A’s Blood on Paper exhibition again – it ends this weekend. It’s quite terrific, on a subject I would have thought potentially could be quite dull:
Also beautifully designed and mounted, China Design Now gives a handy introduction to the design work emanating from the rapidly developing new China. The confidence and aesthetic daring of China’s patrons are well attested by the spectacular architectural commissions in Beijing for the up-coming Olympics; however a quiet little building “Father’s House” by Ma Quinyun was quite outstanding in its happy assimilation of traditional and international modernist styles and its use of local river-washed pebbles.
Graphically, I enjoyed Lam Hung’s “Peace of Mind” poster which portrayed the Chinese ‘xin’ character in pop-art dots which only coalesced at a certain viewing distance from the poster. I would have loved to buy a copy in the shop; however they didn’t have any.
They did have t-shirts marked down to £10 – however, at the till I was told the shirt I had chosen wasn’t marked down, even though the sign was on top of it. Very naughty of the V&A to pull this hoariest of old retail tricks.
“This exhibition examines what happens when major artists of today and the recent past consider the meaning of books.The exhibition is a work of art in itself – lighting, projection, space and wall colour are used to amazing effect but never overwhelming the artworks on display, which are clearly and informatively laid out. Most are traditional artist’s limited edition books, but the likes of Anselm Kiefer, Anish Kapoor and Damien Hirst have created quite monumental, sculptural presences, and the Estate of Francis Bacon has produced a limited-edition facsimile of a suitcase containing items from the deceased artist’s studio. It’s a completely absorbing, fascinating show and well worth catching.
Books do more than transmit texts and images. They proclaim authority, permanence or ‘culture’. They give out messages as we approach them, and as we open or hold them. Their physical presence alone has the power to stimulate memories, to reveal a particular universe of thought or to provoke a dialogue.”
Also beautifully designed and mounted, China Design Now gives a handy introduction to the design work emanating from the rapidly developing new China. The confidence and aesthetic daring of China’s patrons are well attested by the spectacular architectural commissions in Beijing for the up-coming Olympics; however a quiet little building “Father’s House” by Ma Quinyun was quite outstanding in its happy assimilation of traditional and international modernist styles and its use of local river-washed pebbles.
Graphically, I enjoyed Lam Hung’s “Peace of Mind” poster which portrayed the Chinese ‘xin’ character in pop-art dots which only coalesced at a certain viewing distance from the poster. I would have loved to buy a copy in the shop; however they didn’t have any.
They did have t-shirts marked down to £10 – however, at the till I was told the shirt I had chosen wasn’t marked down, even though the sign was on top of it. Very naughty of the V&A to pull this hoariest of old retail tricks.
Monday, June 23, 2008
three cheers for Democracy
I followed my own advice and wrote to my MP, Kate Hoey, about the Government's dastardly attack on civil rights. Quite excited to get a reply!
I've only recently become exercised about this, so I didn't know she has been very consistent in her approach to this issue. Nice to know. Great work Kate!
I've only recently become exercised about this, so I didn't know she has been very consistent in her approach to this issue. Nice to know. Great work Kate!
Friday, June 13, 2008
frankly evil
I'm as puzzled as everyone as to why David Davis has seen fit to resign and refight his seat, but putting his political career at stake surely shows he means this on principle.
Very much unlike our own dear Prime Minister who should know better and all the Labour hacks who voted for this appalling measure against their consciences. It's a sad day when a Prime Minister wrecks our constitutional safeguards for the sake of a few points temporary advantage in the polls.
Bravo and Good Luck to Mr Davis and all the brave Labour rebels, including Clapham's MP, Kate Hoey. Let us hope this issue returns to shame the government.
Very much unlike our own dear Prime Minister who should know better and all the Labour hacks who voted for this appalling measure against their consciences. It's a sad day when a Prime Minister wrecks our constitutional safeguards for the sake of a few points temporary advantage in the polls.
Bravo and Good Luck to Mr Davis and all the brave Labour rebels, including Clapham's MP, Kate Hoey. Let us hope this issue returns to shame the government.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Afterlife
What do The Sound of Music and Michael Frayn’s new play, Afterlife, have in common? – They both are set in Leopoldskron, a prince-archbishop’s Baroque palace in Salzburg. Also, both stories feature 1930s Austrian theatrical luminaries fleeing Nazi oppression. Alas, Afterlife doesn’t have Julie Andrews, cute singing kiddies togged up in curtains, or even a lonely goatherd.
Leopoldskron was owned by the legendary theatrical impresario and founder of the Salzburg Festival, Max Reinhardt. His signature production was a revival of the Medieval morality play Everyman. Frayn cleverly conjoins the play with the life, creating a sort of grown-up metaphysical version of Noises Off. The best bits are when the 1930s characters suddenly start speaking in a pastiche of morality verse, or when Max (Roger Allam, excellent) addresses the audience directly or directs the ‘real’ action. I wish this had been explored more, because the notorious weaknesses of the two genres, their relentless predictablity – the biographical and the morality – just build on each other and overwhelm Frayn’s wit.
The relentless rhyming rhythm of the morality verse becomes tiresome quickly, and the biography loops from A, and then to B, and then years pass, and then to C, and then years pass and pass. Unfortunately, the character most responsible for explaining years passing, Gusti Adler, is played by Selina Griffiths in a strident one-note sort of way, which certainly gives the impression of years passing. Otherwise, one can’t fault the acting. David Burke as the Archbishop is especially enjoyable. One suspects that this was Frayn’s favourite character to write.
I wonder to what extent the set lets down Frayn’s play. Wonderfully, we can compare and contrast with Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s current London production of The Sound of Music, whose set also references Leopoldskron. I’ve never seen the actual building, but based on these two sets it must have a trio (at least) of very large arched French windows opening onto a terrace. Lloyd Webber’s version, as I recall, is a pastelly rococo dream, set on a revolving stage so the audience gets varying views of it. The National Theatre’s is monolithically hard-core h e a v y Baroque – relentlessly frontal, symmetrical and drearily putty coloured. Flatly lit, mostly. It has very few tricks up its sleeve – it just trundles ponderously backwards and forwards, up and down. It emphasizes all the text’s structural weaknesses.
Max all too frequently protests his adoration of his house. To this viewer, not credibly on this set. And call me a flint-hearted cynic, but surely – on the scale of Nazi atrocities, fleeing Austria for Los Angeles and then New York with one’s family, friends, staff and luggage intact can hardly register. Even the Von Trapp family suffered more. They had to climb a mountain. Singing.
Yes, he lost his house. But he spent the whole play verging on defaulting on his mortgage through his radical financial fecklessness, so realistically, how sorry can one expect an audience to be?
But my biggest bugbear was the repetition of the first words of Everyman again and again and again, emphasized by their own theme music played on trumpets. By the end I was digging my fingernails into my seat and clenching my jaw to avoid screaming.
Thank goodness for gin and tonics in the NT bar. Thank God for gin and tonic.
Leopoldskron was owned by the legendary theatrical impresario and founder of the Salzburg Festival, Max Reinhardt. His signature production was a revival of the Medieval morality play Everyman. Frayn cleverly conjoins the play with the life, creating a sort of grown-up metaphysical version of Noises Off. The best bits are when the 1930s characters suddenly start speaking in a pastiche of morality verse, or when Max (Roger Allam, excellent) addresses the audience directly or directs the ‘real’ action. I wish this had been explored more, because the notorious weaknesses of the two genres, their relentless predictablity – the biographical and the morality – just build on each other and overwhelm Frayn’s wit.
The relentless rhyming rhythm of the morality verse becomes tiresome quickly, and the biography loops from A, and then to B, and then years pass, and then to C, and then years pass and pass. Unfortunately, the character most responsible for explaining years passing, Gusti Adler, is played by Selina Griffiths in a strident one-note sort of way, which certainly gives the impression of years passing. Otherwise, one can’t fault the acting. David Burke as the Archbishop is especially enjoyable. One suspects that this was Frayn’s favourite character to write.
I wonder to what extent the set lets down Frayn’s play. Wonderfully, we can compare and contrast with Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s current London production of The Sound of Music, whose set also references Leopoldskron. I’ve never seen the actual building, but based on these two sets it must have a trio (at least) of very large arched French windows opening onto a terrace. Lloyd Webber’s version, as I recall, is a pastelly rococo dream, set on a revolving stage so the audience gets varying views of it. The National Theatre’s is monolithically hard-core h e a v y Baroque – relentlessly frontal, symmetrical and drearily putty coloured. Flatly lit, mostly. It has very few tricks up its sleeve – it just trundles ponderously backwards and forwards, up and down. It emphasizes all the text’s structural weaknesses.
Max all too frequently protests his adoration of his house. To this viewer, not credibly on this set. And call me a flint-hearted cynic, but surely – on the scale of Nazi atrocities, fleeing Austria for Los Angeles and then New York with one’s family, friends, staff and luggage intact can hardly register. Even the Von Trapp family suffered more. They had to climb a mountain. Singing.
Yes, he lost his house. But he spent the whole play verging on defaulting on his mortgage through his radical financial fecklessness, so realistically, how sorry can one expect an audience to be?
But my biggest bugbear was the repetition of the first words of Everyman again and again and again, emphasized by their own theme music played on trumpets. By the end I was digging my fingernails into my seat and clenching my jaw to avoid screaming.
Thank goodness for gin and tonics in the NT bar. Thank God for gin and tonic.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Sex and the City
Two sex posts in a row – almost becoming a sex blog (!)
Finally caught the movie last night, in the company of the flower of Clapham womanhood: Clapham Picturehouse was packed with 20-30 somethings of the female persuasion, many of them clutching cosmopolitans (the cinema is offering 2 for £10!) This two weeks after the movie came out.
Apparently, Sex and the City is beating Indiana Jones at the box office, so props to Sarah Jessica Parker and her team.
I suppose it’s a cliché to say if you liked the tv series, you’ll love the film – but it’s true. They have made the step-up to the big screen in a most assured manner. Amusing to see some macho reviewers complaining of a ‘lack of plot’: obviously some knuckleheads feel only a car bowing up or someone getting shot counts as plot development.
Finally caught the movie last night, in the company of the flower of Clapham womanhood: Clapham Picturehouse was packed with 20-30 somethings of the female persuasion, many of them clutching cosmopolitans (the cinema is offering 2 for £10!) This two weeks after the movie came out.
Apparently, Sex and the City is beating Indiana Jones at the box office, so props to Sarah Jessica Parker and her team.
I suppose it’s a cliché to say if you liked the tv series, you’ll love the film – but it’s true. They have made the step-up to the big screen in a most assured manner. Amusing to see some macho reviewers complaining of a ‘lack of plot’: obviously some knuckleheads feel only a car bowing up or someone getting shot counts as plot development.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
sex exploring with Rupert
Clearly, Rupert Everett speaks his mind very fluently, if not wisely – he’s in all sorts of trouble for his off-the-cuff comments about the contemporary British army’s will to fight. Oops.Watched his Channel 4 documentary on the “Victorian sex explorer” Sir Richard Burton last night. It was actually great – very well written and presented, taking full advantage of the strange way Roops’ fruity accent rendered quite salacious material relatively ‘safe’. Me, I was gagging for more detail – filthy minds want to know – but although Sir Richard went ‘native’ he remained discreet enough not to tell all, so there is still plenty of room for conjecture. Of course, his Catholic wife destroyed lots of his papers, so we will never know. Richard’s career went ker-ash after a British Army secret mission to investigate the male brothels servicemen were patronizing in India. Apparently, Sir Richard investigated them all too enthusiastically, raising queries over his sexuality that have never gone away.
Rupert got into character, channeling Sir Richard with a studly no.1 crop and fiercely trimmed beard. He showed a lot of well-maintained torso and biceps, and the camera-man did him proud; he looked pretty gorgeous in all sorts of beautifully lit exotic locations. It was cute seeing him flirt with Hirjas (extremely radical Indian transsexuals); nuns; an Egyptian masseur who offered ‘hard’ or ‘soft’ sexual extras to his male clients; an elderly Indian lady fan at Bombay docks, etc etc etc.
Monday, June 09, 2008
a big week . . .
. . for our historic civil liberties, coming up.
Henry Porter, in The Observer:
Labour MPs need every encouragement to vote against this draconian measure which will alter the nature of British democracy forever, very much for the worse. Write to your MP today!
Henry Porter, in The Observer:
"This is not about Gordon Brown. However, reading his article in the Times last week, I was struck by the disturbing echo of Blair's 2002 WMD dossier. He may be sincere, but his conjuring of nightmares, the many hypotheticals followed by solemn avowals of principle and statesmanship, was exactly the formula which took us into Iraq. He is still talking in the language of the war on terror, a campaign that turned out to be as much against the rule of law as terrorism and which has caused the death of hundreds of thousands of people, enabled torture in Guantanamo and, as the Guardian revealed last week, the unlawful detention of suspects in nightmarish prison ships.
The proposal to hold people for six weeks without charge, or even giving them a reason, is part of that desperate, panicky convulsion which has seen the end of so many liberties in Britain."
Labour MPs need every encouragement to vote against this draconian measure which will alter the nature of British democracy forever, very much for the worse. Write to your MP today!
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
the lure of the east
I was feeling a bit blah about Tate Britain’s Orientalist exhibition, but actually it’s an extremely enjoyable show on a number of levels.
I have to confess I succumbed to the very un-PC chocolate-boxy exoticism of the largely Victorian imagery on display (although the exhibition does make the point that westerners were fascinated from the 17th century on – fantastic portraits of Charles I’s ambassador to Persia and his wife in “oriental” costume kick off the show).
But in a highly imaginative stroke (or perhaps in an effort to cover their backs ideologically), the Tate has invited Islamic scholars to comment on the paintings on display and their commentary is affixed next to the paintings along with the provenance labels. This is great, because a lot of it is very contentious and partisan stuff and definitely widens the scope of the exhibition.
Designer add-ons include a magnificent Islamic patterned fretwork screen running across the gallery containing ‘harem’ pics, and a large projected animated map showing the history of the region.
I thoroughly enjoyed this show, and will hopefully go again one quiet Sunday morning to have another look.
The Lure of the East: British Orientalist Painting
4 June – 31 August 2008
Tate Britain
I have to confess I succumbed to the very un-PC chocolate-boxy exoticism of the largely Victorian imagery on display (although the exhibition does make the point that westerners were fascinated from the 17th century on – fantastic portraits of Charles I’s ambassador to Persia and his wife in “oriental” costume kick off the show).
But in a highly imaginative stroke (or perhaps in an effort to cover their backs ideologically), the Tate has invited Islamic scholars to comment on the paintings on display and their commentary is affixed next to the paintings along with the provenance labels. This is great, because a lot of it is very contentious and partisan stuff and definitely widens the scope of the exhibition.
Designer add-ons include a magnificent Islamic patterned fretwork screen running across the gallery containing ‘harem’ pics, and a large projected animated map showing the history of the region.
I thoroughly enjoyed this show, and will hopefully go again one quiet Sunday morning to have another look.
The Lure of the East: British Orientalist Painting
4 June – 31 August 2008
Tate Britain
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Hip hip hurrah!
Today is my blogiversary! This blog is two years old today. I’m amazed I’ve kept it up. Also, today is the first anniversary of my burglary. I still haven’t replaced my laptop, so for half my blog’s life it has been typed on borrowed computers.
Friday, May 30, 2008
scallops again
All that shopping made me hungry, so I headed to M&S to pick up something suitably yummy for dinner.
From their Cook! Fish range, I selected Wild Scallops with a minted pea dressing – “succulent sweet wild Alaskan scallops with fresh baby spinach and a light crème fraiche and minted pea dressing” - £6.99, 316kcal, “serves 2”.
To accompany the scallops, I bought my favourite frites (£1.19, 410kcal, “serves 1”) (so much for no more carbs!), and some cherries for dessert.
M&S portion control is all over the place – I felt the scallops would be a bit of a stretch for two, whereas the frites could quite easily be enough for two. Also beware the cooking advice – they say 8 minutes for the scallops, which by my reckoning is way too long. Overcooked scallops are not good.
Dinner was very delicious – the minted pea dressing was very subtle, but complimented the scallops perfectly. I think Kensington Place started this minted pea thing with scallops (it’s one of their signature dishes), and I would say M&S has achieved a rather good supermarket version.
From their Cook! Fish range, I selected Wild Scallops with a minted pea dressing – “succulent sweet wild Alaskan scallops with fresh baby spinach and a light crème fraiche and minted pea dressing” - £6.99, 316kcal, “serves 2”.
To accompany the scallops, I bought my favourite frites (£1.19, 410kcal, “serves 1”) (so much for no more carbs!), and some cherries for dessert.
M&S portion control is all over the place – I felt the scallops would be a bit of a stretch for two, whereas the frites could quite easily be enough for two. Also beware the cooking advice – they say 8 minutes for the scallops, which by my reckoning is way too long. Overcooked scallops are not good.
Dinner was very delicious – the minted pea dressing was very subtle, but complimented the scallops perfectly. I think Kensington Place started this minted pea thing with scallops (it’s one of their signature dishes), and I would say M&S has achieved a rather good supermarket version.
an evening at Ted Baker
I detect a new training programme for Ted Baker’s sales staff. They are trained to be friendly and engage with customers and lead the customer on to more purchasing opportunities. That’s ok with me; what I really dislike is the crude high-pressure sales technique one can come across in other shops. Reiss certainly was quite unpleasant a few years ago; I don’t know what it’s like now because I haven’t gone back!
Anyway, I got an invitation to Ted Baker’s Summer Evening of Shoppping with a 20% discount. I needed some shirts, so I thought I’d better check it out.
My Bank Holiday foray was to check out the scene in advance. What I didn’t say then, was that an assistant helped me with jacket sizes, and when I said I wanted to look at shirts, told me to try on a few for size because “this season we are cutting our shirts slim”.
Did she just call me fat??! Cue Hedgie leaves shop fast.
However, the lure of a bargain and Mr Baker’s shirts drew me back last night.
Luckily, I still seem to fit into my old size of shirt. :-)
However, the lighting in the changing rooms is very unforgiving – it makes me look like a pregnant hippo!
Right, that’s the end. My exercise programme is going into high gear and No Carbs! None!
Anyway, I got an invitation to Ted Baker’s Summer Evening of Shoppping with a 20% discount. I needed some shirts, so I thought I’d better check it out.
My Bank Holiday foray was to check out the scene in advance. What I didn’t say then, was that an assistant helped me with jacket sizes, and when I said I wanted to look at shirts, told me to try on a few for size because “this season we are cutting our shirts slim”.
Did she just call me fat??! Cue Hedgie leaves shop fast.
However, the lure of a bargain and Mr Baker’s shirts drew me back last night.
Luckily, I still seem to fit into my old size of shirt. :-)
However, the lighting in the changing rooms is very unforgiving – it makes me look like a pregnant hippo!
Right, that’s the end. My exercise programme is going into high gear and No Carbs! None!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
what I did on my bank holiday weekend.
I love the wet weather. For most of the weekend, I stayed snuggled under the duvet, making sporadic forays to the kitchen for more te and chocolate biscuits.
It’s really the most amazing feeling there is, to be in bed listening to the rain patter down outside.
Unless it’s havinf a bank holiday extension – heh heh! Everyone has gone back to work but I have two more days of weekend left! Yippee! :-)
Boz recently blogged the seductive charms of a ‘me’ day in London. Here follows mine (although without the helpful illustrations, I still haven’t replaced my camera :-( )
Bank Holiday Tuesday - Slept in late. Eventually got up. Reorganised the packing of the Christmas decorations (don’t ask). Put sofa throw in the washing machine. Made breakfast – oats porridge made with filtered water in the microwave, topped with chopped banana, honey, Greek yoghurt and semi-skimmed milk. Followed by a cup of tea. Soundtrack: Madonna: Hard Candy; The Last Shadow Puppets: The Age of the Understatement; Hot Chip: The Warning; and the best bits from Hot Chip: Made in the Dark.
Made a jug of Java in the cafetiere. Drank it. Caught up on the newspapers. Read about a scandalous sex book in Germany – apparently sprouting avocado stones can be used as masturbatory aids?? WTF???! Need to google to find out more.
Put throw in tumble dryer. Put jumper in the wash. Showered. Got dressed.
Cycled around Clapham Common for a bit. Went up Clapham High Street to have haircut, stopping on the way to look at the menu at Trinity, where I’m having lunch tomorrow. They’ve just brought in a new menu! Yum!
On the way back from the hairdresser, decided to stop by Macaron for a half-baguette and Moens for four slices of herbed Italian ham, which I had with slices of perfectly ripe, juicy and tasty tomatoes already in my fridge. Absolutely the most totally awesome ham and tomato sandwich. Bliss. :-)
Then I caught the 137 to Sloane Square and mooched pleasantly up the King’s Road. Looked in Peter Jones, Oliver Sweeney, Ted Baker and Waterstone’s before finally buying a bottle of shampoo at Kiehl’s.
Then caught the bus back home for tea and chocolate biscuits. Napped.
Dinner was lemon, chilli and crab linguini, followed by a bout of The Apprentice on the sofa with the flatmate. At last! Michael Sophocles is fired! Result!
Perfect day. I would adapt so well to not being a wage slave.
It’s really the most amazing feeling there is, to be in bed listening to the rain patter down outside.
Unless it’s havinf a bank holiday extension – heh heh! Everyone has gone back to work but I have two more days of weekend left! Yippee! :-)
Boz recently blogged the seductive charms of a ‘me’ day in London. Here follows mine (although without the helpful illustrations, I still haven’t replaced my camera :-( )
Bank Holiday Tuesday - Slept in late. Eventually got up. Reorganised the packing of the Christmas decorations (don’t ask). Put sofa throw in the washing machine. Made breakfast – oats porridge made with filtered water in the microwave, topped with chopped banana, honey, Greek yoghurt and semi-skimmed milk. Followed by a cup of tea. Soundtrack: Madonna: Hard Candy; The Last Shadow Puppets: The Age of the Understatement; Hot Chip: The Warning; and the best bits from Hot Chip: Made in the Dark.
Made a jug of Java in the cafetiere. Drank it. Caught up on the newspapers. Read about a scandalous sex book in Germany – apparently sprouting avocado stones can be used as masturbatory aids?? WTF???! Need to google to find out more.
Put throw in tumble dryer. Put jumper in the wash. Showered. Got dressed.
Cycled around Clapham Common for a bit. Went up Clapham High Street to have haircut, stopping on the way to look at the menu at Trinity, where I’m having lunch tomorrow. They’ve just brought in a new menu! Yum!
On the way back from the hairdresser, decided to stop by Macaron for a half-baguette and Moens for four slices of herbed Italian ham, which I had with slices of perfectly ripe, juicy and tasty tomatoes already in my fridge. Absolutely the most totally awesome ham and tomato sandwich. Bliss. :-)
Then I caught the 137 to Sloane Square and mooched pleasantly up the King’s Road. Looked in Peter Jones, Oliver Sweeney, Ted Baker and Waterstone’s before finally buying a bottle of shampoo at Kiehl’s.
Then caught the bus back home for tea and chocolate biscuits. Napped.
Dinner was lemon, chilli and crab linguini, followed by a bout of The Apprentice on the sofa with the flatmate. At last! Michael Sophocles is fired! Result!
Perfect day. I would adapt so well to not being a wage slave.
the end of green politics?
Catherine Bennett, in last Sunday's Observer:
Love her line about Cameron's flexibitity. So true. Sigh.
"We are what we do. The piercing wisdom of the Anya Hindmarch bag in relation, at least, to middle-class green consumers is confirmed yet again by new figures showing a decline in sales of organic food and, outside the home, by a general apathy in the face of Heathrow's third runway and the exclusion of airline emissions from the watery I'm Not a Climate Change Bill.
Events in Crewe and Nantwich illustrate the difficulties of politicians intent on doing anything, such as carbon-taxing to avert catastrophe since a) no one really believes it's coming, b) they'll be dead anyway, c) the recession has left them much too fearful and poor to care, and d) they won't vote for anyone who tries to make them.
So Brown won't make himself more unpopular by reducing airline emissions or introducing personal carbon allowances. Neither he nor Cameron nor Clegg will, to their collective shame, unite behind an effective carbon policy which, appearing identically in every manifesto like the nasty nougat in every box of chocolates, may put the interests of future generations before contemporary self-pity. And when Cameron, versatile friend of both glacier and motorist, finally prevails, his strategy for 'green growth' has as much chance of holding back the rising seas as did the Anya Hindmarch bag.
And fair play to the bag: at least you could carry stuff in it."
Love her line about Cameron's flexibitity. So true. Sigh.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Bags Part 2
The Guardian last weekend published some photographs by James Mollison from his latest project The Disciples – photos of fans at rock gigs. Quite amusing to see Marilyn Manson and Rod Stewart fans dragged up as their favourite pop star.
Less so for me, however, was the pic of Radiohead fans.
Chuck Klosterman explains:
By "diagonal strap" Mr Klosterman (American?) is referring to the visible part of an over-shoulder messenger bag. Of course, these are far more prevalent here than in the USA. However, from the photo it is very clear that the vast majority of Radiohead fans wear these bags. Pretty alarming, for me – I love wearing using messenger bags too (great ones at Mulberry and Ted Baker)! – moreover, like the other Radiohead fans in the photo, I wear jeans with jackets, jumpers, and dark denim. Also waistcoats (or cardigans). Argh! I am clearly part of a social sub-group!
As I have said before, I absolutely love In Rainbows, Radiohead’s latest album. I kind of lost the plot with Kid A. My boss bought me Thom Yorke’s semi-solo effort The Eraser, which I also loved. Encouraged, I went back to the dreaded Kid A. I last played it (or, as I remember, the first 3 songs) 8 years ago as soon as it came out. Unfortunately for me and many other fans, this album was the anti-OK Computer: Radiohead did it deliberately to piss us off! I was absolutely amazed trying it again – it’s gorgeous, in every respect the equal creatively of OK Computer. It just took me 8 years to catch up with it!
So I bought the other intervening albums – Amnesiac (which I think is their weakest) and the much better Hail to the Thief. But In Rainbows is definitely another career peak for them. Absolutely magical.
Less so for me, however, was the pic of Radiohead fans.
Chuck Klosterman explains:
“What is far more fascinating is the way true fanatics can see aesthetic consistencies within the seemingly unremarkable. Until glancing at these photographs, I had never realised that the defining quality of a die-hard Radiohead fan was the wearing of a diagonal strap across one's torso. What does that even mean? What do these people hear on Bodysnatchers that makes this visual determination so self-evident? It's not like this extraneous strap is some kind of widespread youth trend that lead guitarist Johnny Greenwood is spearheading; this is not like thousands of teenagers getting Beatles haircuts because that's the style of the time. It is not a look that will spill over into conventional society.
This personal choice has something to do with proving that you are not like a normal person, and it suggests you understand something about Radiohead that the average citizen cannot see or hear or feel. It goes to the nucleus of why pop music matters - at its highest levels of achievement, rock'n'roll is supposed to serve as "lifestyle music". It should have the potential to inform every single decision about being alive. And for these photogenic goofballs, it obviously does.”
By "diagonal strap" Mr Klosterman (American?) is referring to the visible part of an over-shoulder messenger bag. Of course, these are far more prevalent here than in the USA. However, from the photo it is very clear that the vast majority of Radiohead fans wear these bags. Pretty alarming, for me – I love wearing using messenger bags too (great ones at Mulberry and Ted Baker)! – moreover, like the other Radiohead fans in the photo, I wear jeans with jackets, jumpers, and dark denim. Also waistcoats (or cardigans). Argh! I am clearly part of a social sub-group!
As I have said before, I absolutely love In Rainbows, Radiohead’s latest album. I kind of lost the plot with Kid A. My boss bought me Thom Yorke’s semi-solo effort The Eraser, which I also loved. Encouraged, I went back to the dreaded Kid A. I last played it (or, as I remember, the first 3 songs) 8 years ago as soon as it came out. Unfortunately for me and many other fans, this album was the anti-OK Computer: Radiohead did it deliberately to piss us off! I was absolutely amazed trying it again – it’s gorgeous, in every respect the equal creatively of OK Computer. It just took me 8 years to catch up with it!So I bought the other intervening albums – Amnesiac (which I think is their weakest) and the much better Hail to the Thief. But In Rainbows is definitely another career peak for them. Absolutely magical.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Greener than Thou
Carrier bags are potent symbols of status and taste. Gay Banker recently posted his boyfriend’s bag hierarchy theory; we’re absolutely on the same wavelength because I do the same! – But now, the age of the shop logo’d carrier may be coming to an end. The supermarkets especially are promoting the idea of ‘bags for life’ in order to save the planet.
I’m really good at home – I use my woven recycled plastic (good!) fairtrade (excellent!) carrier bags flown in from South Africa (Oops!). However, I’m struggling to train myself at work. Usually I run out at lunch and buy myself a sandwich and a few bits of fruit to last the afternoon. Working in Kingston, I am blessed with the choice of M&S, Waitrose, Sainsbury’s and Asda all within easy reach. In my desk drawer I have ‘bags for life’ from all of them. Somehow, and I stress not by design, I always tend to end up at Sainsbury’s and Asda with bags from M&S or Waitrose. It bothers me slightly – will people think I’m some sort of Hyacinth Bucket character? Even worse – am I??! So, picture my relief the other day when I finally found myself at M&S with an Asda bag. The glow of righteousness was truly blinding.
I’m really good at home – I use my woven recycled plastic (good!) fairtrade (excellent!) carrier bags flown in from South Africa (Oops!). However, I’m struggling to train myself at work. Usually I run out at lunch and buy myself a sandwich and a few bits of fruit to last the afternoon. Working in Kingston, I am blessed with the choice of M&S, Waitrose, Sainsbury’s and Asda all within easy reach. In my desk drawer I have ‘bags for life’ from all of them. Somehow, and I stress not by design, I always tend to end up at Sainsbury’s and Asda with bags from M&S or Waitrose. It bothers me slightly – will people think I’m some sort of Hyacinth Bucket character? Even worse – am I??! So, picture my relief the other day when I finally found myself at M&S with an Asda bag. The glow of righteousness was truly blinding.
Quote London
"Living in London is a wonderful thing, but it's dangerous in a credit crunch. However gloomy the predictions on house prices, food prices and share prices, as a Londoner, it can't escape your notice that a swathe of the population appears to be completely unaffected. We are sharing our city with Russian oligarchs, City whizzes, steel magnates and retail billionaires, not to mention the landed gentry, a handful of Hollywood actors and Madonna. Granted, these super-rich citizens might comprise a tiny percentage of the population, but their near-constant presence in the papers creates a false - and persuasive - impression that their rarefied lifestyles are the norm.
"Why shouldn't I have that?" we think, as our Visa bills ratchet up to the sky. "Because I'm worth it" might be the best advertising slogan ever penned, but as a credo for living, it's a bloody disaster."
- Laura Craik, Evening Standard
Monday, May 19, 2008
Good Lord!
Rush along now to The Guardian site; this blew me right off my chair.
Germaine Greer singing the praises of Victoria Beckham:
Actually, Germaine makes a very strong point. It’s also nice that someone serious is saying nice things about Victoria – it’s really not fair and too easy and cheap to take pot shots.
And it’s wonderful that the founding spirit of modern feminism can write such penetrating fashion analysis!
Germaine Greer singing the praises of Victoria Beckham:
"Real elegance requires not only a great dress, but a discriminating and disciplined wearer. Suddenly I was reckoning Victoria Beckham among the all-time greats, alongside Wallis Simpson and Coco Chanel."
Actually, Germaine makes a very strong point. It’s also nice that someone serious is saying nice things about Victoria – it’s really not fair and too easy and cheap to take pot shots.
And it’s wonderful that the founding spirit of modern feminism can write such penetrating fashion analysis!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Cans Festival
Well, if even the mighty TimeOut has only just got round to posting Cans Festival pics, I as a humble blogger am not too bad.
The festival was amazing, and spectacularly popular: would you believe a one hour + queue on a gloriously sunny Bank Holiday Monday to get into a mangy old tunnel underneath Waterloo Station?
Banksy curated a crew of graffiti artists from around the world, and enthusiastic young spray can fans had the chance to add their own work too. Huge fun, and some amazing work as well. Banksy’s hoodie was very strong.I might upload it later when Blogger's image uploader is cooperating!
Thursday, May 08, 2008
One Nation Under Guard
I went to the Cans Festival in Leake Street under Waterloo Station this weekend, and felt I had to post the following from the catalogue (badly credited but I thin it's by Henry Porter):
In 2008 Britain is enjoying the most serious attack on personal freedom and privacy ever mounted during peacetime. Technological advances and changes to common law are threatening liberties we have held sacred for centuries, all of which is being met with barely a murmur of disapproval. Apparently if you've done nothing wrong then you've got nothing to hide, but if you've got nothing to hide then surely there's something wrong with you?
There are over 4.2 million CCTV cameras in the UK, more than one for every 14 people.
Over 600 agencies are now authorised to access personal records such as details of phone calls, emails and websites visited. These agencies include groups such as Local Authorities, the Charity Commission and the Marine and Coastguard Agency.
In the year 2006/07 there were over 32,000 such interceptions. Less than 20,000 of these were by law enforcement agencies.
All journeys undertaken on motorways and through town centres in the UK are recorded by the network of automatic number-plate recognition cameras with information retained for two years.
The National DNA Database permanently holds the DNA details of nearly 4 million individuals - proportionally the largest in the world.
40% of black men in the UK have their DNA recorded on the database, compared to 13% of Asian men, and 9% of white men.
You do not need to be charged with a crime to have your DNA recorded and it is an offence to refuse to do so.
The National Identity Register is being formed as part of the ID card scheme and will form an audit trail every time you interact with the state, such as apply for benefits, use NHS services or enrol in education.
The register will eventually contain information such as your medical records, school reports, and employment history. Information that the government has already announced it will sell to commercial companies.
Laws introduced because of terrorism mean you can currently be detained without charge for 28 days. The Government wants to increase this to 42 days. Essentially abolishing the right to trial by jury (habeous corpus) has been the foundation of British law since l215AD.
Under section 44 of the Terrorism Act over 75,000 people were subjected to a "stop and search" last year in London alone. Less than 1% were arrested, the majority of these were for crimes unrelated to terrorism.
'It is poor civic hygiene to install technologies that could some day facilitate a police state'
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
One sees strange sights on the tube these days . . .
. . . Boris Johnson, 11am on the east-bound circle line at Victoria Station. Surrounded by a gang of suited acolytes, but no obvious tv cameras to be seen.
And in other Boris news, a sad reflection on the state of Google these days:
(click on pic to make bigger)
'yippee Boris wins' arrives at THIS blog?? WTF??!!!
Ok. I promise. This is the very last post I make bemoaning the unfairness that is Boris winning the mayoral elections. Moving on now.
And in other Boris news, a sad reflection on the state of Google these days:
(click on pic to make bigger)'yippee Boris wins' arrives at THIS blog?? WTF??!!!
Ok. I promise. This is the very last post I make bemoaning the unfairness that is Boris winning the mayoral elections. Moving on now.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Friday, May 02, 2008
Three cheers for the weekend . . . hic
Settling down behind my desk and hoping for a nice, quiet, chilled Friday afternoon . . . went out last night with the office to say goodbye to a colleague and can report several bottles of pinot grigio mixed with spicy, greasy “Thai” food scrambles your liver, despite gallons of water and vitamin C before bedtime.
My boss and I shared a ‘vegetarian feast’ – one of the dishes was fiendishly hot. Unfortunately, we were both too smashed to work out which one it was so we ended up being annihilated by the chilies.
My boss and I shared a ‘vegetarian feast’ – one of the dishes was fiendishly hot. Unfortunately, we were both too smashed to work out which one it was so we ended up being annihilated by the chilies.
so how was it for you?
Just as well I voted before work yesterday – afterwards would have been impossible.
I’ve always thought of myself as a decisive voter: not so much this time. At various stages of the campaign all three leading candidates appealed - in the latter stages I hovered between Ken and Brian as my No.1.
Wanted to vote for Ken as frankly he was the best candidate but simultaneously send him a message about Arrogance, al-Qaradawi, Dubious Funding Strategies, 2ce is enough etc etc etc. Didn’t want to be so shallow as to vote for Handsome Gay Hunk Mr Paddick but I think that’s how it turned out in the end:-(
I’ve always thought of myself as a decisive voter: not so much this time. At various stages of the campaign all three leading candidates appealed - in the latter stages I hovered between Ken and Brian as my No.1.
Wanted to vote for Ken as frankly he was the best candidate but simultaneously send him a message about Arrogance, al-Qaradawi, Dubious Funding Strategies, 2ce is enough etc etc etc. Didn’t want to be so shallow as to vote for Handsome Gay Hunk Mr Paddick but I think that’s how it turned out in the end:-(
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Floods in Kingston
Last year we had spectacular flooding. The last several months have seen Thames Water digging vast holes in the roads and putting absolutely massive pipes down, all in an affort to protect us from more flooding. But this morning there was still an expansive lake under the railway bridge - great fun watching motorists splasing through it.
Anniversary
My Dad died one year ago today. Quite a thought; the time has gone by so swiftly. My mum is being very stoic, but she is currently suffering from a bad bout of 'flu which is no doubt related.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
The Election Looms
Last Friday a brochure dropped through the letterbox outlining all the candidates in the forthcoming election.
Yikes. I didn’t realise so many of them are so retrogressive – and I don’t mean Boris Johnson! Really, everyone should vote for someone vaguely respectable, if only to keep some of the dire types out of City Hall.
I’ve watched several of the tv debates and Boris has been quite effective, if not quite his usual charming witty self. He seems to have spent some time in a Cameroonian re-education centre.
Brian Paddick has tried hard but his lack of political expertise has damaged him: I feel he was too eager in debates, and often sank to quite coarse personal attacks, which is an off-putting characteristic.
Which leaves Ken. I feel that he won all the debates I watched – he came across well (relaxed, in command, never defensive) and seemed more on top of detail than the others. Boris’s bendy-bus gimmick was a terrible fiasco.
I’m an extremely counter-cultural voter; I always vote for parties when they are about to lose. Now everyone has gone off Labour I will probably vote for them. I can’t say however that I will cry terribly if Boris wins: it will at the very least be interesting to see what he does. Also, it is true that three terms may well be too much for any individual.
Yikes. I didn’t realise so many of them are so retrogressive – and I don’t mean Boris Johnson! Really, everyone should vote for someone vaguely respectable, if only to keep some of the dire types out of City Hall.
I’ve watched several of the tv debates and Boris has been quite effective, if not quite his usual charming witty self. He seems to have spent some time in a Cameroonian re-education centre.
Brian Paddick has tried hard but his lack of political expertise has damaged him: I feel he was too eager in debates, and often sank to quite coarse personal attacks, which is an off-putting characteristic.
Which leaves Ken. I feel that he won all the debates I watched – he came across well (relaxed, in command, never defensive) and seemed more on top of detail than the others. Boris’s bendy-bus gimmick was a terrible fiasco.
I’m an extremely counter-cultural voter; I always vote for parties when they are about to lose. Now everyone has gone off Labour I will probably vote for them. I can’t say however that I will cry terribly if Boris wins: it will at the very least be interesting to see what he does. Also, it is true that three terms may well be too much for any individual.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Yum!
So glad Itsu on Piccadilly survived the polonium scandal! Had lunch there today – definitely the best chain-type sushi available in London, with or without added polonium.Afterwards, gossiped beautifully with an ex-colleague about my late unlamented employers: they are rapidly going down the plug-hole! Yippee!!
That set me up for the weekend, then :-)
Monday, April 14, 2008
Revenge of the Books
I shared a very large house with Ivan and Liz for 9 years. I could happily buy as many books as I liked and they would be easily swallowed up in the vast spaces available everywhere. This house was actually in CLAPHAM for the benefit of those “friends” and “relatives” who I have subsequently to my horror learned always secretly thought we lived in St Ockwell.
NOT STOCKWELL. CLAPHAM CLAPHAM CLAPHAM !!!
However, these days I do indisputably live in the Clapham heartlands, albeit in a tiny little flat. Foolishly, I took all 19 meters of my books (I remember the number because I had to measure for the mover’s quote and he said he had to come round “to see what 19 meters of books looks like”.
Well, it fills my spare room.
Need to use the room now, so have been studiously de-accessioning to the Trinity Hospice Charity shop over the past several weeks. I reckon I’ve got rid of at least 4 meters. I spent the weekend moving the bookcases (and books) into the sitting room. I now measure 18 meters of books.
The mis-match is possibly because I am adding books almost as quickly as I am getting rid of them. Sheesh. I really haven’t bought a book for ages and ages. Except for the one I bought on Saturday.
NOT STOCKWELL. CLAPHAM CLAPHAM CLAPHAM !!!
However, these days I do indisputably live in the Clapham heartlands, albeit in a tiny little flat. Foolishly, I took all 19 meters of my books (I remember the number because I had to measure for the mover’s quote and he said he had to come round “to see what 19 meters of books looks like”.
Well, it fills my spare room.
Need to use the room now, so have been studiously de-accessioning to the Trinity Hospice Charity shop over the past several weeks. I reckon I’ve got rid of at least 4 meters. I spent the weekend moving the bookcases (and books) into the sitting room. I now measure 18 meters of books.
The mis-match is possibly because I am adding books almost as quickly as I am getting rid of them. Sheesh. I really haven’t bought a book for ages and ages. Except for the one I bought on Saturday.
Monday, April 07, 2008
America's current standing in the world
A picture says a thousand words, as they say.
via Joe. My. God.. Too good not to steal, particularly since I'm having a political Monday.
The Triumph of Boris
“It is a unique feat to be the only politician to have prospered in the face of the ferocious opposition of both Thatcher and Blair, the two most powerful Prime Ministers of the past 60 years. So what a miserable end it will be for Ken if his nemesis turns out to be Boris Johnson, priapic cabaret artist and the most hapless host there has been in the history of Have I got News for You.”
- Andrew Rawnsley in The Observer, 6 April 08, trying to encourage Ken to find his mojo.
- Andrew Rawnsley in The Observer, 6 April 08, trying to encourage Ken to find his mojo.
Olympic Flame Shame
Hooray for London! What a fantastic disruption of the whole Olympic propaganda scenario: snow, chanting, chaos, squads and squads of Chinese “officials” and British police (almost as many as George Bush needed when he came to visit) – my favourite bit was the fire-extinguisher. Personally, as a complete non-sporting couch potato, I couldn’t care less about sporting boycotts etc, but it has to be said China has left itself wide open to this sort of protest. After all, they specifically said having the Olympics would help them develop human rights in China, and in fact almost the opposite has occurred. So they deserve all they get.
I do like the pageantry – but as London as demonstrated, a good protest looks as good on TV as a festival.
I do like the pageantry – but as London as demonstrated, a good protest looks as good on TV as a festival.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Post Mugabe?
And we hold our breath as the aged autocrat Mugabe decides which way his country will go. It seems the foolish would-be dictator believed his own propaganda and didn’t have a Plan B for stealing the election. His age, his uncharacteristic pause for thought, and the overwhelming electoral win of his opponents all seriously weaken his position and it is likely he will have to go.
But how? He can choose to go quietly: negotiate an exit deal that will give him some real honour and give his country the opportunity to recover. Or else he can dig in, unleash the dogs of war and create a cataclysm.
It all goes to show elections are really quite powerful things. As I was born in Zimbabwe I feel quite involved and am hoping very much for the best.
But how? He can choose to go quietly: negotiate an exit deal that will give him some real honour and give his country the opportunity to recover. Or else he can dig in, unleash the dogs of war and create a cataclysm.
It all goes to show elections are really quite powerful things. As I was born in Zimbabwe I feel quite involved and am hoping very much for the best.
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