Lichtenstein @ Tate

Oops. A few days without any blog posts. So much for ten minutes per day with a photo.

I'll have to make do with a catchup post today, and it's another one from a gallery.

I first saw the famous Roy Lichtenstein 'Whaam!' picture many years ago when it was on display in what is now the Tate Britain. I think the gallery was still simply the original Tate Modern at the time.

I think the Tate owned Whaam! and along with a few other landmark modern pictures like the almost all red 'Eve' by Barnett Newman, some of the Mark Rothko's and even some of the Jackson Pollocks, it created some striking ways to observe art.

Then I saw a few more Lichtensteins in New York, probably at the Whitney. Something that doesn't always seem apparent from the pictures is the sheer size of some of the paintings.


The artist studio pictures and the bedroom 'interior with water lilies' seemed massive and surprisingly intense the first time I saw them and indeed the Donald Duck picture hanging on the wall in the artist studio is pretty much a full size replica of the original painting.

Although Roy Lichtenstein is known for the comic style pop pictures, I found the hybrid ones of Picasso and other artists in Lichtenstein's style to be particularly interesting, along with the triptychs showing deconstruction of a picture through various stages.

The show at Tate Modern finishes at the end of the month, but is well worth a look, providing a unique assembly of Lichtenstein's work and a chance to step through the development of his style.

As he said: "I'm interested in what would normally be considered the worst aspects of commercial art. I think it's the tension between what seems to be so rigid and cliched and the fact that art really can't be this way."

an impossible girl and the sky is calling

The sky was calling from early this morning.

First, before breakfast with a clear blue sheen. I cycled in the bliss of a fine day. Then, a short pause for coffee and an onion bagel, as the sky whitened to a slight edge of drizzle.

It's strange what can flick through the mind on a bike ride and I found myself pondering the bagel circle of crumbs from yesterday's Doctor Who episode.

Not so much the 'Who is Clara?' part, which everyone else is already on to. Check out the astonishing number of Clara Theories.

I'd need a theory around Clara wearing a lot of Roses, being spread across many time periods and having double heart-shaped motifs.

No, I was intrigued by the 'Impossible Girl' reference. Some of us spent a good chunk of a journey to Newcastle listening to 'The Impossible Girl' recently.

We'd started with the daily ditties recorded one January, and then moved onto a separate whole album.

The same Impossible Girl had sent me a brown envelope with her album and as I'd opened it, sequins and stars had fallen from it.

So, how does it all join up?

Yesterday's episode of Doctor Who was written by Neil Gaiman.

He of American Gods, Neverwhere and Stardust, among others.

And married to Amanda Palmer. Amanda Palmer's friends and accomplices include the sisters sometimes known as Vermillion Lies comprising Kim and Zoe Boekbinder.

Here's them all together performing that ironic tune "What's the use of wond'rin' ?" - it could almost come from an episode of Doctor Who.

And now the Impossible Girl part - well that's Kim, who is just about to release a new space based CD - the sky is calling. Catch a track from it here - although it's not due out until mid June.

And to reinforce the connection here's a clip of the Impossible Girl playing ukelele with Amanda Palmer in -er- a restroom (don't ask).

the sniper in the brain

Chatting with a friend at the National Cafe provoked the idea for a new project. It's something that I'll need to fit in around Proper Work although it has a good sense of fun about it.

Then later a different friend asked me to get involved with another off-piste project, and a small group of us are meeting London on Monday evening to start making plans.

And there's already a third collaborative project underway.

When I look at what they each are about, 'Project One' is very zeitgeisty - of the now, 'Project Two' is predictive of future outcomes and 'Project Three' is more retrospective. Kind of Past, Present and Future.

There is also a Project Four, but I think three taps to pull are sufficient for the moment. Not to mention the various half-finished novels lurking on the hard drive.

None of these ideas are even faintly related to my Proper Work, nor domestically inclined like the imminent remodel of the 'music room', yet these projects all have great potential to entertain.

I also realise that Projects 'One' and 'Three' are in areas where I have interest, but very little experience. Whole new learning curves.

Next week I'll need to decide how much to pursue, dependent on time clawed back from the day job.

I'm almost two years into my revised working model now and fortunately it seems to be providing me with some good space.

around the globe

A few of us had got together for an early evening drink. A venue selected between a couple of the London railway termini, to help the commuters among us get away afterwards.

There's countless pubs in central London, but it's surprising how certain ones get referenced and used as landmarks as well as known for their various uses.

Close to where we'd picked, there's a good selection of well known ones.

There's the Anchor, which is a good pub to sit outside, to watch the Thames go by on a sunny evening. It was used in one of the Mission Impossible films and featured Tom Cruise sitting drinking outside.

It's just along from The Market Porter, which is a massively popular market-side pub with people spilling onto the pavement. Despite being busy, there's a fast service, and a good selection of beers. It's another easy place to meet before heading off somewhere else. A standing up kind of pub, also seen in TV series, particularly cop shows.

Then there's The George. This is an old coaching inn with a Shakespearean history. It's got a galleried timbered appearance and nowadays is owned by the National Trust as a historic building. It had to be rebuilt after it was burned down in the Great Fire, so the version that is there now probably dates from the 1677 rebuild. More a place we'd go to in a larger group.

The Globe is mainly a locals' pub, and like the Market Porter, it is adjacent to Borough Market. This one was used in Bridget Jones and in the movie Bridget lived in a flat above the pub.

We'd all arranged to meet just along from this stretch, but applied one of the rules. The 'More than two pubs along' rule. That's the one related to where we were all working. The nearest pub to an office is the one for quick drop-ins. The one after that is for quieter conversations.

The 'third pub away' has two advantages. Less chance of conversational accidents and the geometric progression of possible pubs dilutes unexpected co-incidences.

There's another more complicated rule about pubs with suspicious names. Like the 'Slug and Lettuce' or 'The Barrow Boy and Banker'. But maybe that's a rule to save for another day.

AxME at the Tate

I've listened to Ellen Gallagher on Radio 4, and she seems good humoured, interesting and engaging.

I found it tougher to appreciate her artwork in her huge AxME exhibition at the Tate Modern. Maybe it was the sheer scale, or perhaps the need for me to have more of an understanding ahead of the viewing?

The show is still very new, and weirdly I thought I could smell fresh paint or paste as I walked in and noticed the walls covered with what looked like the fine lines of Gallagher's own drawings (Yes, I did sniff the walls - a first for me).

A large proportion of the work related to important African-American topics. Slavery, finding identity, social pressures and insecurities. I could get the idea, but at times it felt overwhelming. Maybe that was the point.

I looked at a painting called Oh! Susanna - which was reflective of the original slave song. Of course, the song became a folksy standard via Stephen Foster and the painting depicts the make-up eyes and mouths once used to caricature black minstrels in American popular culture. These carnival-like miniature eyes and mouths then popped up again on another range of paintings showing further arrangements related to a similar theme. I think there was an important message about subjugation and its universal adoption, but ironically also a risk of the same theme's dilution by over-use.

Similarly with a series about hair and wigs.

Vintage repurposed advertisements about changing a racial identity. Original editorial exploitative of racial insecurities. Emphasised by the artist showing the new adapted and aspirational hairstyles in yellow plasticine. I got the general idea, but there were then so many versions of it (hundreds?) that I almost didn't know where to look.

In another room, there were what at first looked like a range of empty frames. I was alone in the room (which also had a large metal framed structure in the centre) and wondered if I'd accidentally strayed into an area that was still being assembled. Then I saw someone else looking. The picture frames did contain careful paper cuts and effects applied across the canvas.

Another room had huge black canvases, with carefully arranged cutouts of wigs, lips and other forms pasted on, seemingly forming other larger shapes and all encapsulated in a black film. I could understand that these pictures required effort to view effectively. Stand in front and they go shiny black. Stand to the side and you can only see a part of the work. The scale was huge, there were clear thematic connections between works, but by now the repetitions were somehow causing me to disengage.

Occasionally there was a picture that stood out as a more accessible work. The Egyptian Abu Simbel temples, adapted with African faces, and an Afrofuturistic spaceship arriving, probably landing with a jazzy Sun Ra soundtrack. It still had the 'eyes', but there was a whimsical and mythical quality that stood it apart.

All along it was making me wonder about this artist's process. Maybe the repetition of themes was emphasising the scale of the situations being depicted? Maybe it was obsessive? Maybe it was trying to make sure the viewer would not forget? Perhaps it was a curator's challenge to find the right filter?

I'm glad I visited, it left a strong impression, but I can't help thinking it might be a case where less could have been more.

under construction

Back in the Smoke today, along the South Bank for a meeting.

The daily changes of London sometimes sneak up and it's when I'm with someone from out of town that I notice it more. Along the lines of "Gosh, isn't the Shard tall?" or similar comments.

The Shard's restaurant has just opened, but my main picture today is of the new configuration as the Cheesegrater and the Walkie Talkie building start to mask some of the views of the Gherkin.

For many years, the old Nat West Tower (Tower 42) dominated this part of the skyline, but then the Gherkin appeared and a few other buildings were chopped down to make room for a new series of taller blocks.

The above picture is one I took a few years ago, when an area on the edge of the City was being flattened.

There's similar re-developments across the river in the mainly low-rise area around Nine Elms now, with the planned arrival of the new American Embassy zone and already there's a couple of new tower blocks well under way, just along from the site being cleared for the Americans.

I sense a few more Shard-like structures are emerging.

A brief diversion to Stanage Edge

When I'd planned my original route through the Peak District, I'd marked a few places to visit, which included Mam Tor and Stanage Edge. I was alone for this part of the journey, but decided it would still be fun to get to the top of both locations. I've got the regulation "I'm at the top" pictures from both places, with me holding a camera at arm's length.

At Mam Tor it was still early enough for me to be the only visitor, but by the time I reached Stanage, the climbers were beginning to arrive in numbers.

Stanage is a gritstone escarpment, where the top of a fold in the rocks have been eroded akin to the top of a hard boiled egg being sliced away.

It's also on the route of an old road called the long causeway and is one of several notable broad stony paths across the area, once used by Romans and pack mules, nowadays bridle paths and used by hikers.

she did whatever she wanted with his things and his paintings

A visit to the BALTIC during the weekend, to see Marcin Maciejowski's exhibition.

It's a kind of mixture of new painting derived from other works such as photos, magazine items, posters. I've seen a couple of his party scene pictures before. They are really quite striking.

There's other sets which take a look at fashion, celebrity, politics - some don't include the faces, representing a substitutability of form in some situations - like his series of faceless red carpet people.

It seems appropriate to view these pictures, reflective of half remembered mental snapshots, during the weekend when the gallery also allowed photography.

So below, my own (found) creation from the same gallery.

Hidden Power.
(rashbre)
Masking Tape, Plaster board, emulsion.

one cubic metre of beauty

We visited the Fabrice Hyber 'Raw Materials' exhibition today. It's bursting with ideas. A quick one above is called "1 cubic metre of beauty" and is made of wood, metal, plaster and YSL Number 1 beauté lipstick. It's part of a larger piece and the show includes several big themed sections.

There's a cloud and elemental section in another area, including a tin shed which, if you open its door, creates a gale force wind. Another wooden shed is filled with rain, thunder and lightning.

Behind the main display area is another area of ideas, hung on multiple washing lines like so many sheets. Or a couple of long corridors filled with partly completed sketches. An invitation to browse the evolving raw material ideas of a fertile and creative mind.

ambient chilled motorway driving

What with this being a Bank Holiday weekend, I'm now pleased to be sightseeing ahead of many of the motorists who will be hitting the road.

It wasn't all plain sailing though. There was a vehicle fire on the motorway which held me up for a long time.

I was one of the motorists not breaking the law during the incident. There were hundreds more who decided that they had important places to visit and so they would use the emergency lane on the motorway instead of staying in line like the rest of us.

It started with just a couple of foreign-plated vehicles (Romania and France), and then in minutes had turned into a complete flow. As a side note, I notice that some foreign plated articulated lorries also seem to be using the outside lane on 3 and 4 lane motorways, which is prohibited for those that read the highway code.

The emergency lane is really for emergencies, such as breakdowns, or in the case of a fire on the motorway it is so that service vehicles can get through quickly.

This was a case in point, where the extra lane just became a traffic jam of law-breakers and effectively blocked the access to the emergency site from the fire, police and ambulance services.

In the picture you can see an incident vehicle to my left trying to get past a row of cars which have all decided to use the emergency lane. It took them about 10 minutes to pass just three or four cars to my left and at one point they had to get out of the vehicle to direct traffic back onto the legal part of the motorway.

No spring lambs harmed in the creation of this post.

I'd better explain. The road signifies my meandering route during Thursday, on the way to meet with blog friend Debra. I decided to make my journey to the north a diagonal one through the Peak District, so that I could stop off on en route for a visit.

Our little group had arranged to meet - as usual to sort out our real names, and to go to a certain pub, which I will describe as idyllically in the middle of no-where.

That's when we found the interesting element on the menu. Turn away faint hearted or vegetarians. It was Lamb Henry. OK, I thought lambs were kind of 'Lamb 47', but this did add a different dimension. The waitress wasn't phased and when we enquired she explained that Henrietta was also waiting in the kitchen. That was until she gave the real explanation, which I won't provide here - although it is easy to google and comes with mint and rosemary.

So here's a picture from my wandering around the Peaks - Please note the spring lamb in the picture is fully functional.

And then, when I arrived at my next more northern hotel stop, I was slightly surprised to see the complementary shampoo and conditioners.

They seemed to be trying to tell me something.

the square mile

I could tell it was a posh do by the filled triangular pyramids of champagne and wine glasses stacked up in the entrance area. And as for the geometrically structured canapés! Well...It slightly surprised the wine-waiter when I asked for 'something non-alcoholic' although he produced some chilled fresh orange juice from under the counter.

It was the opening of a new exhibition at The Ark and I was there meeting a couple of friends, one of whom was exhibiting.

My question was whether it felt like 'being on duty' when it was an event like this, but I was told 'it depends'. My own experience is that it's far more demanding to be an organiser and not even get to try the canapés.

It turned out that this show had been organised by others, so it was a question of turning up and being relaxed, rather than having to hover and orbit. My friend's last show had been at another gallery where she was an organiser and much more 'on duty' making sure everyone was greeted/spoken to/schmoozed with and so on.

Instead, we could move freely around admiring and critiquing the works on display.

It was mainly hung work rather than sculptures, and had a variety of mainly abstract themes.

As this was the private view, there were a fair few of the artists around, so a certain care was needed before making pronouncements. I'm not sure what the official distance is, but most artists would stand at least 10 metres from their own work, and often would have a varied but somehow tell-tale dress code that helped them be identifiable.

There were some fine pieces on show, and some good and interesting ideas.

I enjoyed the show, and must admit to even acquiring an artwork to eventually be hung in rashbre central. Of course, for the next seven weeks, it remains on display at the Ark, with a little red dot beside it.