temporary insanity

Two fun things last night: 

El Ultimo Grito at the Aram Gallery. I like the Aram Shop (on Drury Lane). It's hard not to be sucked in to four floors of perfectly laid out imaginary room settings. Like going to six dinner parties in a row, snooping about to have a look at how other people organise their living spaces, their lives. There's something strangely voyeuristic about furniture shops, but without the creepy element of actually spying on anyone. It's like you're being a voyeur but the subject of said voyeurism is an alter-you, a you in an imagined reality. A you with a nicer dining table.

Anyway, at the very top of the Aram shop is the Aram Gallery. Surprise, surprise. El Ultimo Grito's show is split into three parts: cardboard tables, glass models, and quotes as design. The tables are made of cardboard and resin and sit uncomfortably in the space. Not that there's anything wrong with the tables, but EUG present them as an alternative design and production method for more permanent dining tables (whatever that means. presumably tables that last longer than one meal...), bit of a dangerous gamble given the number of gorgeous tables scattered throughout the shop floor. Given £5,000, I'd much rather pick something from Aram's collection than take home a blood red resin-lacquered table made of cardboard. 

Then, there's the 'Found objects: Dialogues' series of amateurish photographs of Roberto and Rosario which are overlaid with well-known slogans/quotes (e.g. you are born modern, i'm lovin it). There's an interesting idea here - the appropriation of certain sayings/terms as a vehicle by which marginalised groups alter/reclaim the balance of power - but one gets the sense that EUG don't really mean it; this isn't about making a statement (political, intellectual or otherwise), it's about playing around with words. Perhaps that's why the work feels so flat: it's poorly designed and less than compelling.

For me, the exhibition was redeemed by the utterly delightful and exquisitely crafted pieces of glasswork on display. So called explorations of architectural archetypes, the glass pieces represent alternative interpretations of a hotel, a spa, an apartment building, a theatre, and a car park. The whimsical presentation had me chuckling out loud: the glass pieces are set on white pedestals, with naive pencil drawings of the 'building' drawn directly on to the pedestal. Wonderful. Sometimes less really is more: if the exhibition had consisted solely of the glass pieces, it would have been sensational. As it was, the unfocused clutter of the tables and the photographs only detracted from the creativity and innovation so clearly evident in the kind of imagination required to create, quite literally, an entire new world out of glass.

(both photos from Aram)

Temporary restaurant at the Corinthia Hotel. After Aram, we cabbed it over to Whitehall Place and wandered through quite a lot of scaffolding before finding the entrance to the building site that is the soon to be (in October 2010) Corinthia Hotel on the site of an old MOD building. Corinthia have cottoned on to the pop-up trend that's manoeuvred its way into the luxury market: brands from PPQ to Selfridge's have opened pop-ups with reasonable success. The restaurant in the Corinthia is slightly different, of course, because it's merely a precursor to the real thing. A corner of the grand ballroom (the ceilings are amazing, thanks in part to a false ceiling whacked up in the MOD days) has been boxed off with temporary walls for the restaurant. It's tiny: four tables, thirty-two covers, and one open kitchen. It's all Glyndebourne chic, a nice aesthetic for a temporary restaurant, but I have to say, for a vegetarian the actual experience of eating in the place was pretty dire. To be fair, I was eating there for free and it was a four course fish menu (I don't eat fish either...), but a bowl of leaves (yes, just leaves) is not acceptable from a chef about to open a restaurant in a five-star establishment. My fish-eating accomplice was more than delighted with everything put in front of him, but he is a man... No really, it looked delicious and I'm sure it will be a marvellous place to eat once the restaurant is open to the public. The experience itself went some way toward making up for the bowl of leaves and the plate full of parmesan cheese (you don't want to know), thankfully. There's something sickeningly fun about being in a place not open to the public and I love the company that has enough balls and ingenuity to open a temporary restaurant on a building site to build up publicity for their venture. And installing a full-size bathroom from one of the hotel's suites was a stroke of genius: more people were talking about the bathroom than the restaurant. I hope the next invitation from Corinthia is for one of those suites...

(rubbish, furtively-snapped pics) 

summer style (pic of the day)

Was flicking through April issue of Vogue on the train up to Edinburgh this weekend when I spotted this ad for the Prada SS10 campaign. The only difference between this pic and the ad is that PRADA appears in nice white lettering and sits halfway down the page on the right image only. 

I think it's gorgeous: the prints are divine and you can't really see it in this photo, but the hems are unfinished so there's a raw edge to the skirt and the jacket. I like that such a glam look has an intentionally messy finish to it - bit rock n roll, that.

But it was the styling that most caught my eye. Not all of the images in the campaign are like this, but there's nothing else to see here - gorgeous model, gorgeous clothes - c'est tout. No giant handbag, no jewellery, no shoes, no sunglasses. It takes a hell of a lot of brand confidence to pull such a thing off, but Prada does it beautifully. I love it.

Senate House

So, last Sunday I was writing up my LFW piece for the AR.  Lots of talking about how LFW is finally coming round to exploiting the architecture of London for show venues. This season alone saw the Royal Courts of Justice, Freemasons' Hall, and the Parade Ground at Chelsea College of Art serve as the backdrop for a host of gorgeous dresses. One of the more interesting venues this season was Senate House. Interesting to me anyway as I'm absolutely crazy about Senate House. I think it's a love it or hate it sort of building, but for me it's love all the way. Rather surprising, as Senate House is where I spend an awful lot of time doing research for my PhD, but I'm strangely loyal like that. In an otherwise homogenous part of London, it's gloriously unique. If you haven't been inside, you should go and check it out - the interior spaces are stunning as well. Anyone can access the building and I love that you can walk through it at ground level - there's a beautiful open internal courtyard the connects the North and South Wings - you can walk through from Malet Street to Russell Square Gardens easy like.

Writing my piece, I did a quick Wiki check for construction dates and came across a wonderful quote from the seriously forward thinking Vice-Chancellor, William Beveridge, who pushed for the construction of a new building for the University of London. He raised some dosh from the Rockefeller Foundation and bought back the land that was previously bought and then resold by the government from the Duke of Bedford. Sounds messy. 

Anyway, Beveridge had his money and a site to build on, but whoa, did the man have a mission. He saw the University of London as one of global importance, a serious contender to Oxbridge and thought that the UoL should have a new building, one which stated the University's importance through architecture:

"the central symbol of the University on the Bloomsbury site can not fittingly look like an imitation of any other University, it must not be a replica from the Middle Ages. It should be something that could not have been built by any earlier generation than this, and can only be at home in London ... (the building) means a chance to enrich London - to give London at its heart not just more streets and shops ... but a great architectural feature ... an academic island in swirling tides of traffic, a world of learning in a world of affairs."

I'm so impressed by this, especially in light of Rick Trainor at KCL going out of his way to purchase a wing of Somerset House (which I also love, don't get me wrong), instead of having the vision to do something different, say, not fire a whole host of academics. But that's something else altogether and I've already ranted enough about Trainor and Co. 

I guess it's just that it's increasingly rare to hear anyone make this kind of statement about the role of architecture in a community. The opportunity for a building to enrich its city and its community instead of the ego of the architect. Why are things like Renzo Piano's atrocious Central St Giles being built in the middle of town without so much as a fuss? Do the architects really think these buildings are at home in or enriching London? And I love Beveridge's ambition - he wanted to create a symbol firmly rooted in its time and place - something so of its generation and its city that it would forever symbolise the academic mission of those who created it. What will people say about the London that built Central St Giles and the Strata tower? That we valued electric razors and games of Connect 4? For all the pomp and circumstance of Senate House, it nevertheless remains 'an academic island in swirling tides of traffic', seventy years later. A pretty impressive feat.

Baby, I'm yours

Saturday

Breakfast at the lovely Fleet River Bakery.


Followed by more coffee at Monmouth. What is everyone looking at, you wonder.



Ah ha! Protestors! Apparently Ahava is evil and no one should shop there. On a street with way too many interesting shops/cafes/smutty lingerie boutiques, I never really looked twice at Ahava anyway. 


Moi, une poseure? Jamais...


Spot of record shopping at the ever wonderful (££££) Phonica.


Have I mentioned my crane obsession? No? Probably for good reason.



Checked out the Jitish Kallat and Chiharu Shiota shows at Haunch of Venison. Saw a couple of things I liked, but overall was a bit disappointed.









Post-art cinnamon rolls and (more) coffee at The Nordic Bakery. It should be obvious by now that much of my weekend revolves around eating and drinking good coffee. I stopped at Flat White earlier too (post-Phonica pick-me-up).


Darwin Deez gig in the Westminster Reference Library. First ever gig in a library. It was brilliant good fun. I wish more gigs were like this - more about having fun and playing good music and dancing - less about posturing and looking too cool to not have any fun.


How can you not love a band that does choreographed dance breaks to the Bangles in between songs?


Gig over. Bye bye.


I've been too busy/lazy to write proper posts lately, but doing picture days is really quite fun anyway. I've always been about the writing so it's nice to force myself to document life in a different medium.


Lastly, in celebration of this sunshiny day of wonderfulness (I saw some daffodils this morning!!), my cheery mates over at We Are Not A Rockband have come up with a tune (Breakbot's Baby I'm Yours) that makes me want to start a disco-dance commune in Hyde Park, kick off my shoes, and dance in the grass all summer long. Bring on the festival season.

the mechanical bride

When I got back from Krakow I had just finished reading the Curtis White book I've already gone on about in a previous post.  He mentioned a few books a number of times, so much so that I wondered if it wasn't some kind of subliminal advertising. If that was indeed the case it appears to have worked, for I ordered the complete poetry and prose writings of Wallace Stevens, Viktor Shlovski's Zoo, or Letters Not About Love, and Herbert Marshall McLuhan's The Mechanical Bride as soon as I got home.  Wallace Stevens arrived first, but I haven't had a look through it yet, and McLuhan's sinister looking book arrived in the office this morning. I can't wait to take a closer look, especially after reading the preface waiting in line to get my morning coffee. Now here's a chap who isn't afraid to pull a few punches! Check out the first paragraph: 

Ours is the first age in which many thousands of the best-trained individual minds have made it a full-time business to get inside the collective public mind. To get inside in order to manipulate, exploit, control is the object now. And to generate heat not light is the intention. To keep everybody in the helpless state engendered by prolonged mental rutting is the effect of many ads and much entertainment alike.

Ouch. Love it. Will report back once I've finished reading it.

Until then, I leave you with a gorgeous little track. I'm a big fan of Foals (and not afraid to say so!). They're coming out with a new album in May and have released a sneak peak of their new single, Spanish Sahara. I'm not super keen on the official version, but the Mount Kimbie Remix is aural bliss.

a (Sun)day in pictures

Sunday doesn't have to be boring...


a little early-am reading in bed


bike ride


baked eggs and the most heavenly flat white ever at Caravan


stocking-up art supplies


big canvas - they don't sell stretchers and linen at CASS :(


tunes on the new toy (old skool Revolver)


mixing paint


bike ride v.2.0


get down, get down at FACT mag's night at the Lock Tavern


Glasgow boy, Rustie, throwing it down

a cultural Pounding

I picked up a little volume of poetry from a lovely bookshop in Krakow last weekend: Pound's Diptych Rome-London, which comprises 'Homage to Sextus Propertius' and ' Hugh Selwyn Mauberley'.

For some reason I've never really been able to get into The Cantos, but I saw this tiny book and thought I could handle two shorter Pound poems. It's such a shame that critics and commentators are so quick to draw the reader's attention to Pound's fascism - does this matter for our interpretation of his artistic output? Personally, I'm not interested in making retrospective moral judgements. I'm interested in understanding Pound's world through his poetry and seeing whether or not he has anything to say that resonates with or challenges how I view contemporary society.

Hence my fascination with his attack on what he viewed as the increasingly mindless and oppressive nature of American culture. I think it's interesting how little seems to have changed in some regard - to read the work of an artist so frustrated with the cultural society he found in his midst - and the channelling of that frustration into beautiful and provocative poetry.

Pound's critique of a culture which has lost sight of the value of craft in favour of the rapidity of mass produced visual images is in many ways just as relevant to 2010 as it was in 1917, when Pound wrote 'Mauberley'. I don't know enough about Pound and the rest of his writings to offer a more precise opinion, but I found this work to be particularly useful and thought-provoking over the course of a weekend spent reading Curtis White's excellent The Middle Mind and pondering the state of contemporary aesthetics.



Anyway, enough is enough. I leave you with (the very short!) 'II' from 'Mauberley' :

The age demanded an image
Of its accelerated grimace,
Something for the modern stage,
Not, at any rate, an Attic grace;

Not, not certainly, the obscure reveries
Of the inward gaze;
Better mendacities
Than the classics in paraphrase!

The "age demanded" chiefly a mould in plaster,
Made with no loss of time,
A prose kinema, not, not assuredly, alabaster
Or the "sculpture" of rhyme.