I cannot be dictated to by a watch

Eeeek. I haven't been writing here nearly as much as I've wanted to. I love writing. It's one of the things I, you know, do, but I'm sort of leading four different lives at the moment and something simply must give. Not that I'm complaining. Life number three is CJ as art curator, where I run SALON (LONDON), a nifty little thing I started last year to organise exhibitions and indulge my love of finding, nurturing and promoting young artists. You'll probably remember me going on (and on and on) about the first show/project/extravaganza last September.

Well, I'm pleased to say that SALON show number two opens tomorrow (whoa!). I've been working on this project since last October just after the first show closed so it's really exciting to have it opening at last. It's a fantastic exhibition - we did the install today and I don't think I've ever felt so proud - sometimes everything  comes together in a way that completely surprises you. The concept is strong, the space is perfect and the work is beautiful. 

As I was sweeping up at the end of the day, thinking about how much hard work I put into these shows, I started thinking of all those people grafting away at something they didn't really enjoy in the hope that all their hard work would pay off later. The best thing about doing an installation is that your hard work is  almost immediately rewarded.  Having said that, even with all the months of preparation, if not a single one of Noemie's photographs sells or not one critic reviews the show (or reviews it unfavourably), I get to stand in the middle of the space at the end of the day, look at the work on the walls and think I did this. I made this happen. I can tell you, there ain't no feeling quite like it.

The show opens tomorrow night at 7pm and runs until 6 July at 97 Clerkenwell Road.  If you're in London, do come down.

ps there's a really lovely preview piece of the show over on Spoonfed.

fashion crush: gabriella marina gonzalez

There's something a little bit Gaga about the A/W10 collection from Gabriella Marina Gonzalez, but I'm okay with that. In fact I'm more than okay with that. I want every single piece, accessories and all.

Bonjour, Tetris

Met the lovely Simon Barraclough for a coffee and a chat yesterday morning.  I've been so busy lately that I haven't made it out to all the events I've wanted to, one of which was the launch of Simon's new pamphlet, Bonjour Tetris. 

Aside from the fact that this may be the best ever name for a published volume of poetry, the physical object is itself a thing of marvellous beauty.  Though I'm a staunch fan of Barraclough, you'll have to buy the pamphlet (or his excellent first collection, Los Alamos Mon Amour) and judge his poems for yourself.

Given that I work in academia as well as in print media, I get rather cross when I read/hear the phrase, 'print is dead'.  Take all the hype over the iPad. I got to play about with one at work a few days ago and it's pretty and nice, but ultimately useless. This is classic advertising: create a problem where previously none existed in order to solve said problem with a brilliantly marketed and totally superfluous gadget.  Why do people need printed books/magazines, so the naysayers cry, when they can carry around hundreds of them on an iPad.

The physicality of books, magazines and newspapers is one of the best things about them.  Reading a newspaper on the internet is rubbish (cried the petulant little child).  The thought of toting an iPad with me to Saturday morning brunch to read the weekend FT makes me feel like a robot, not a chilled-out, eggs-florentine eating human being. Besides, when people like Tom Chivers at Penned in the Margins are taking care to produce such marvellous pamphlets and then packaging them so that you feel like you're opening a birthday present instead of a slim volume of poetry, why would you prefer screen to stamped, limited edition, sand-coloured boxes. Exactly. Glad we're on the same page.

too busy for words

but aren't these images lovely? Je te presente Veronique Pecheux.