Tonight I am packing, in a weeks time I move to an ‘as yet undisclosed location.’
There is some perverse part of me which loves to categorise, to pack and unpack- so I don’t suffer from the pain of leaving somewhere old, after all – tat travels.
It’s times like this – as I wrap up my Chinese medecine boxes, catholic mini shrines, afro combs, pictures of Francis bacon, giant china tigers and my small herd of buddhas – that all the reasons I ever did anything come flooding back. Some of these souvenirs (I use the word in it’s original, undiluted French sense) bring back nice memories, some not so nice. But all bring back something tangible – and that is why I keep them year after year.
Unfortunately I now have to pack up the kitchen, and alas no amount of wishful scrutiny will enchant the objects there with much magic. Sigh.
I haven’t done this commute in years. When I was on my foundation at Chelsea I used to get the 7 something, wait by the same door on the platform everyday.
After a while you learn the regular early morning occupants of your carriage. The blissful silence of a train full of sleepy professionals is heaven- no phones, no children, no food. Just suits and silence. It would of course be a deeply relaxing experience if it weren’t for the fact you had to go to work at the other end, but for this morning I will pretend I don’t know the meaning of the word work, and instead enjoy the view.
See that? That’s the remains of an excellent panini, and a capuccino which I haven’t drunk yet. The salad is my next port of call.
Grazie is a tiny cafe on the vauxhall bridge road, it’s only been open for 3 weeks and I sort of love it. They have a needlepoint mona lisa and red leather seats. They do a small selection of sandwiches and salads and a lip smackingly good capuccino.
Who knows if they will succeed (they are very nice, and certainly deserve to) but it’s such a rare pleasure just finding a nice, simple, non-chain cafe in central London.
Pendant by Reid Peppard, Gorgeous male model in Dazed.
I went for coffee with Reid Peppard – internet sensation – today (honestly – google her!) As the years speed by she is fast becoming an ‘old uni friend’ which is wierd (the time flying, not the lovely Reid)
She was kind enough to sell me one of her beautiful pigeon foot pendants – which I think are stunning bits of jewellery, and work unusually well on women and men (well – it looks bloody great on me – I haven’t taken it off yet). We keep chatting about me maybe taking some photos of her at work, which would be fascinating – so lets hope that happens and I will do a proper post then… but in the meantime please please check out her fantastic work on her superb website (designed by yet another talented uni-friend of mine – Alistair T Willey).
It really is utterly exhausting being friends with all these talented people.
I had to put this poster up - it's so beautiful.
The last few days have been quite the filmic experience for me – I have managed to cram in both Precious and A Single Man.
First off, Precious – the Oprah backed, super hyped grit-a-thon from director Lee Daniels. The story of an extremely overweight and illiterate girl – Claireece Precious Jones - living in New York, the film focuses on her attempts to better herself and overcome the horrific abuse inflicted on her by her hideous mother and errant father. The plot has been much discussed in the press, and the supporting actors (Lenny Kravitz and Mariah Carey) have tended to dominate reviews on the film.
In reality the film does contain the expected bouts of abuse, neglect and suffering, but what really captivates is both the cinematography, and the depiction of the fantastic scenarios which Precious escapes to. The ‘real’ precious barely speaks through much of the film – giving a taciturn but brilliant performance reliant on silence and subtlety (vaguely reminiscent of the brooding Heath Ledger character in Brokeback Mountain). In contrast to the grim reality of the character come the fantasy sequences into which she escapes – a really interesting device which shields us from the worst of the abuse, but also serves to portray the person she aspires to be in a genuinely touching way. Gabourey Sidibe in the lead role is utterly mesmerising, and the cast of supporting characters are strong, with La Diva Mariah putting in a performance which really earns her a part in the narrative – making her more than just a tacked on star.
In contrast to the largely physical anguish of Precious, A Single Man focuses instead on internal torment. Colin Firth plays George, an ageing closeted english professor who has just suffered the sudden loss of his Partner. The film charts one day in the life of George, as he attempts to reconcile life without his lover. With stellar performances by Julianne Moore (possibly the most gorgeous woman on the planet?) and the quite amazing Nicholas Hoult. This is what I suppose mainstream gay cinema looks like, interesting the fact noone has labelled it as such – I wonder if this is because its less important to make the distinction now, previous ‘gay films’ were for ‘gay people’? The flatmate and I travelled to the Barbican to see the film, so we were in the company of about a zillion wine quaffing fortysomethings – even they though giggled at the bits where boys got naked and were kissing.
Colin Firth was magnificent – utterly majestic in this, and it was incredible to watch a film where he wasn’t an Austen character or hooking up with Renee bloody Zellweger. The film has the stillness, detail and subtlety of the Christopher Isherwood book on which it is based, and Firth is stunning, conveying grief and conflict with an eloquence and grace which is genuinely moving.
Apart from that of course is the Ford factor – this is an obsessive film, it is beautiful – it delights with perfection and dazzles the viewer with note perfect period detailing. I long for a wardrobe/house/car/stationary set/local bar like Firths character, and the influence of the Mad Men team – who did the art direction for this film, shines from the screen.
Both of these films were just as magnificent as I hoped they would be – and neither of them were easy to sit through. Eschewing typical modern filmic pace they focus on narrative, on detail and on the creation of a tangible reality which allows you to really immerse yourself in the lives of others. Because ultimately real life isn’t present in endless sweeping vistas and cunning angles, it resides in fried chicken stains and frozen loaves of bread.
I thoroughly recommend both films. (Phewf! – film reviewing is exhausting. Reminds me of A level film studies – apologies for my adjective overuse – an affliction I never managed to overcome as a youth.)
The high pitched girly laughter in the background is mine. The sound of small children being run over by a tractor – that is Myrtle the pug baby, which belongs to my aunt.
It scares me so much that I find it hysterically funny – it also seems to have serious issues with having its photo taken – a bit like Cher.
These apparently contain expressions of love.
After a couple of utterly rubbish weeks, which culminated in my ‘defeat’ (see below) and then having to miss my best friends birthday meal on Friday night (11pm office fun). Home – i.e. Winchester – land of my father, and of the well heeled middle classers -seemed like a nice place to escape to.
After finally escaping the dante inspired machinations of the office, I eventually got back to Winchester via the 1140 pm vomit comet (afros, pasties and drunk women galore). Saturday I spent staggering around watching people frantically running hither and thither buying up anything pink they could get their hands on. There were many highlights (the black and red ‘Ring for Sex’ bell the very pinnacle).
For some reason though I ended up doing a double take at this superb Alexandre Dumas inspired Barbie.
The intriguing thing is that ‘Barbie & the Three Musketeers’ should really be ‘MUSKETEER BARBIE’ because this barbie transforms into a musketeer – oh yes, and this is what made me laugh like a drain (at the back of a toy shop… on my own… in the barbie section ahem.) Check this out for a catchphrase;
Genius non? I think perhaps ‘Voila! I love how my gown becomes a cape!’ may be my new mantra.
At this point, I didn’t know what was funnier;
- A cape which becomes a dress (who wouldn’t want that?)
- A catchphrase in a thought bubble – because Barbie is a Musketeer but its a secret see? Barbie = mistress of deception, wandering around *thinking* empowering thoughts.
- The idea of 3 huge blonde American women in full on slap running about in france skewering people (Athos Jolie, Porthos Hilton and Aramis Lohan?)
The back of the box…
And that turned valentines around for me – yes its sad that I don’t have anyone to buy Musketeer barbie for, but it doesn’t matter – I know that someone somewhere thought this was a good idea, and I love them for that (did I mention her tiara transforms in to a mask? immense).
Big papery pile of defeat. Luckily I have spanky new camera to record these things.
Its now 2:47 am – the heating is off and I am sitting in my duffel coat staring at what looks like a pile of scribblings on paper, but is infact creative defeat.
For some insane reason I thought I could do this project (which is part of the application process for an evening course in advertising run by D&AD) in a day – this is despite the fact that I only got back from site work in Barcelona last friday, and am also working full time on the logistics job from hell.
*laughs manically*
Its a shame really, i’ve never had to give up on a project like this before – so the feeling is new to me. But at the same time I have definitely taught myself some sort of lesson about multitasking and creative walls and blah blah etc etc.
There will be other ways into doing what I want to do (please god) so perhaps this is the cruel and gnarly hand of fate telling me to go to fucking bed.
I have managed to come up with a bizarre digital system (mostly in my mind) which lets tourists plan a trip to London using live data from everywhere, drag and drop, space alien technology and unicorn tears. I realised too late that this will only make sense to me, and that whilst I am sure the nice people at D&AD would read my scribblings with benevolent bemusement, ultimately I have run sprinted smack bang into a big fat dead end. I have not come up with a cohesive multi channel solution to up tourism in London, I have not got a neat strapline which runs through all my mediums… I nearly had a steven fry themed popup though which would have doubtless been fun.
Good night internets, tomorrow is another day after all – a day filled with registration based torment, but a day nonetheless – onwards we go.
RIP McQ, you deeply talented man – you will be missed, even by me – someone who has had nothing to do with anything you’ve ever done, but thought you were amazing all the same.
Leon continues to please me in ways it shouldn’t be able to.
The stickers, the cooking, the fact they play that ‘every morning there’s a halo hanging on the corner of my girlfriends four-post-bed’ song. It’s all so GOOD.
Today I have obtained a get out of jail free card and am working from the Tate modern members lounge on a project which will hopefully lead onto bigger and better things (if I get it).
Ambitiously as ever I have allocated myself a day to pry this particular rabbit out of a hat which I don’t yet have – man I love a deadline. In this way I am quite unlike Mr Douglas Adams – I don’t like ‘the whooshing noise (deadlines make) as they go by’ I like the rush of air they create as they come towards you, the threat of danger.
If I do it I may bung it up here. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves eh?
Today has been a lovely day – after a horrifically drunken night out on the town with LL, I went round to his for breakfast then met the flatmate for a long walk to a little cafe.
The cafe is called Il Molino – and is situated between Battersea and Clapham – 284 Battersea Park Road I believe. This place does the best most authentic paninis I have encountered outside of Italy.
However, this post is about a far more exciting culinary outing we have planned. This evening we inadvertently discovered that we live almost next door to EUROPES ONLY KASAKH RESTAURANT. This is VERY EXCITING NEWS. Suffice to say they have a koi pond, belly dancers and rugs – also the predominant language spoken is Russian. I am VERY EXCITED and intend to buy a small digital camera so I can do my first restaurant blog.
(The lady above by the way is dancing in the aforementioned hotels turkish bath – and we just thought it was a scummy hotel on the walworth road – SO WRONG. SO EXCITED.)
One of the first aid drops in Haiti on 18th January
The disaster in Haiti plays out – a nightmare from the other side of the world, and doesn’t touch us here – so many atrocities don’t – our own small island lies still and safe. A serious earthquake to most britons is something we will never experience, it is inconceivable – a fantastical catastrophe – imagine the entire world you know being shaken into nothingness.
What has amazed me is how much the definition of help has changed. The internet has enabled donation, debate and commentary to flood the visible and invisible networks of the world in an unignorable torrent. We have artists like Sia appealing for medical equipment on twitter (a friend is flying out to help the relief effort) and empassioned pieces of writing such as this beautiful piece in the guardian by The Arcade Fires Régine Chassagne.
And now, 12 days after the quake we have the global release of a charity album from itunes – ’Hope for Haiti Now’ featuring artists like Shakira, Beyoncé, Justin Timberlake and Wyclef Jean (and too many others to mention). The album has some lovely highlights (especially Timberlakes quite beautiful duet with Matt Morris on ‘Hallelujah’ – which admittedly may be the most covered song of all time, but this is a worthy version). Albums like this are nothing new – this one accompanied a mammoth celebrity telethon in the US – but the speed at which this has become available – 12 days after the quake, with most proceeds going to help Haiti – is astonishing.
In the aftermath of the disaster iTunes opened up a donations page – suddenly here was a way to donate money at the click of a button, with clear information and no need to resort to pleading – this is charity for the new decade – fast, simple and accessible.
Technologies enabled by the internet – like twitter and blogging – mean that the world is no longer able to ignore suffering, cries for help travel faster. I hope that overwhelming global responses like this become the new standard – that this becomes how my generation learn to give charity, with fewer impediments and more intelligence.
Heres hoping that Haiti gets every possible help it can – that it rebuilds and becomes stronger. I’m reminded that yesterday in quiet, safe London I climbed the monument to the Great Fire of London, erected in 1671 by the then King Charles II in tribute to the resilience of those Londoners from the distant past who lost everything. There have always been, and will always be disasters – and thankfully there will always be those people who are willing to help.
To donate through iTunes click here
To buy the ‘Hope for Haiti Now’ album click here
Below – Beyoncé performs Halo in support of Haiti.
