NERDGIRLS Mash by poemproducer AGF 8 March 2014 - for equality, diversity and world peace by Poemproducer Aka Agf on Mixcloud
Saturday, March 08, 2014
IWD Mash-up
Happy International Women's Day! I have just been sent a link to AGF's amazing mash-up of women electronic music artists from the 1930s-onward. Get squelchy!
Friday, March 07, 2014
Off Road
Elisa Amoruso's film Off Road, which is playing in London as part of the Cinema Made in Italy festival, is an intriguing, puzzling documentary which raises questions about identity and constructed lives.
At the centre of it is Beatrice, previously known as Pino, a mechanic with a lovely life shared with Marianna and the latter's son Daniele. Beatrice is quite matter-of-fact about her transition from life as Pino and is a boisterous character, dressing in bright pinks and always in search of a new dress. She is also head over heels in love with Marianna, explaining how she set eyes on her and immediately professed her love and her desire to take her home.
Marianna, for her part, is more reticent, and I noticed after the film ended, that she never declared her love for Beatrice. In fact, she didn't refer to Beatrice as Beatrice or even she, calling her Love and Darling, and in her interviews consistently referring to Beatrice using male pronouns. Oh, dear. Despite Beatrice's emphatic embracing of a female gender, those around her consistently named her as male, including her mother and Daniele, who had claimed her as Dad, despite meeting her after her transition. They seem to regard her more as a man who cross-dresses and Beatrice as the personification of this identity.
How does Beatrice manage this contradiction? Well, she seems not to acknowledge it, preferring to dwell on her skill as a mechanic (the team she works for "never spoke about" her transition), and tend to her ill dog, Kira, as well as her menagerie of farm animals in what seems to be a rural idyll.
As the film develops, it turns out Beatrice has run away from a previous life, including a child who is heard but not seen, and the story takes a bit of a sad turn (even the dog sub-plot turns sour). Beatrice appears as not such a carefree soul, but one burdened by unresolved issues and a bit of anger, if determined to claim her space on the road.
Elisa Amoruso will appear at the screening of Off Road on 8 March for a Q&A.
At the centre of it is Beatrice, previously known as Pino, a mechanic with a lovely life shared with Marianna and the latter's son Daniele. Beatrice is quite matter-of-fact about her transition from life as Pino and is a boisterous character, dressing in bright pinks and always in search of a new dress. She is also head over heels in love with Marianna, explaining how she set eyes on her and immediately professed her love and her desire to take her home.
Marianna, for her part, is more reticent, and I noticed after the film ended, that she never declared her love for Beatrice. In fact, she didn't refer to Beatrice as Beatrice or even she, calling her Love and Darling, and in her interviews consistently referring to Beatrice using male pronouns. Oh, dear. Despite Beatrice's emphatic embracing of a female gender, those around her consistently named her as male, including her mother and Daniele, who had claimed her as Dad, despite meeting her after her transition. They seem to regard her more as a man who cross-dresses and Beatrice as the personification of this identity.
How does Beatrice manage this contradiction? Well, she seems not to acknowledge it, preferring to dwell on her skill as a mechanic (the team she works for "never spoke about" her transition), and tend to her ill dog, Kira, as well as her menagerie of farm animals in what seems to be a rural idyll.
As the film develops, it turns out Beatrice has run away from a previous life, including a child who is heard but not seen, and the story takes a bit of a sad turn (even the dog sub-plot turns sour). Beatrice appears as not such a carefree soul, but one burdened by unresolved issues and a bit of anger, if determined to claim her space on the road.
Elisa Amoruso will appear at the screening of Off Road on 8 March for a Q&A.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Derek Jarman: Pandemonium
Fighting with London's sluggish traffic and ever-so-unaccommodating weather, I met up with my friend Bev to take in this exhibit wedged somewhere between King's College's Strand campus and Somerset House.
Descending the elegant spiral staircase, I felt like I'd been invited to one of the ambassador's parties, as we arrived at the exhibit doors. In we swept, depositing our mink stoles---Oh, sorry. No, actually, we picked up some cards and I tried out the MP3 player that is offered to visitors, containing "music from Derek Jarman". Not music to accompany the silent Super 8 films, but music that has some connection to Derek Jarman. I think it was used in some of his other films, but certainly an odd choice.
Perhaps the curator felt contemporary visitors couldn't bear to watch films in silence. It's not as if they are especially long films, and I found that every time I popped on my headphones, Bev had some illuminating comment to make about the films, and so I kept removing my headphones to listen to her. Some of the music was by Simon Fisher Turner, I know, but I didn't hear enough to really form an impression as to whether it added to my experience of the films.
Since Bev is both a Super 8 filmmaker and dedicated modernist, I thought she would be an ideal companion, and we spent quite a bit of time discussing Jarman's preference for "urban ruination", which is also something we feel has vacated London in recent years, as the glass boxes have proliferated and the scruffy elements have been swept under the carpet or pushed out of the gentrifying districts.
This was especially apparent as we watched Jarman's films shot in his loft in Butler's Wharf in the 1970s. Has there been any area more tarted up than the Docklands? A view on to the Thames allowed him a panorama of bridges, buildings, swooping seagulls and the lapping water, as well as the attractions within his own walls, seen in such films as Jubilee.
The works on show, which include some paintings and some influential books (including volumes by Ginsberg and Shakespeare) are mainly from Jarman's early years, pointing the way to his later features and a life cut short by HIV. There is also something of a vanished London in it, making it both celebration and memorial.
Descending the elegant spiral staircase, I felt like I'd been invited to one of the ambassador's parties, as we arrived at the exhibit doors. In we swept, depositing our mink stoles---Oh, sorry. No, actually, we picked up some cards and I tried out the MP3 player that is offered to visitors, containing "music from Derek Jarman". Not music to accompany the silent Super 8 films, but music that has some connection to Derek Jarman. I think it was used in some of his other films, but certainly an odd choice.
Perhaps the curator felt contemporary visitors couldn't bear to watch films in silence. It's not as if they are especially long films, and I found that every time I popped on my headphones, Bev had some illuminating comment to make about the films, and so I kept removing my headphones to listen to her. Some of the music was by Simon Fisher Turner, I know, but I didn't hear enough to really form an impression as to whether it added to my experience of the films.
Since Bev is both a Super 8 filmmaker and dedicated modernist, I thought she would be an ideal companion, and we spent quite a bit of time discussing Jarman's preference for "urban ruination", which is also something we feel has vacated London in recent years, as the glass boxes have proliferated and the scruffy elements have been swept under the carpet or pushed out of the gentrifying districts.
This was especially apparent as we watched Jarman's films shot in his loft in Butler's Wharf in the 1970s. Has there been any area more tarted up than the Docklands? A view on to the Thames allowed him a panorama of bridges, buildings, swooping seagulls and the lapping water, as well as the attractions within his own walls, seen in such films as Jubilee.
The works on show, which include some paintings and some influential books (including volumes by Ginsberg and Shakespeare) are mainly from Jarman's early years, pointing the way to his later features and a life cut short by HIV. There is also something of a vanished London in it, making it both celebration and memorial.
Tuesday, January 07, 2014
Many Happy Returns
Having rung in the new year, it's time to see what's on the horizon for 2014. I already have a very busy January planned, and am wondering how to squeeze in everything I want to see after a recumbent December.
First up this week is the very welcome return of filmmaker Vivienne Dick. I had heard over a year ago she was working on a new film, and she will be in attendance when it screens this Saturday at the ICA in London.
It's also worth popping over to Jude Cowan Montague's Nuclear Winter on Sunday the 12th, as she casts an eye over the situation in Fukushima. I may be screening a new film of mine, shot at a Cold War spy station, if technical facilities allow.
First up this week is the very welcome return of filmmaker Vivienne Dick. I had heard over a year ago she was working on a new film, and she will be in attendance when it screens this Saturday at the ICA in London.
It's also worth popping over to Jude Cowan Montague's Nuclear Winter on Sunday the 12th, as she casts an eye over the situation in Fukushima. I may be screening a new film of mine, shot at a Cold War spy station, if technical facilities allow.
Next week sees some tasty-looking artists' films at the remodelled, swanky Tate Britain, as part of the Assembly series. I especially like the look of Assembly: Regeneration II on 13 January.
And starting tomorrow, Anat Ben-David has a new installation, entitled MeleCH premiering, with a live performance to follow on the 15th.
Loadsa arty doings in London Town!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Pussy Riot Freedom compilation
As the year winds down, spare a thought for the two members of Pussy Riot still detained in Russia. While there are noises that they may be released before year's end, there are still legal fees to be paid, as well as costs for the young children separated from their mothers.
The electronic music music producers female:pressure are releasing a compilation. Here's what they have to say:
[The] electronic music producers of female:pressure offer their music in solidarity with Pussy Riot calling for freedom for imprisoned Pussy Riot members Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Maria Alyokhina. We have heard that they may be set free, and hope that this effort increases exposure for their cause and celebrates their liberation.
All money raised from this compilation will be donated directly to the Voice Project who is managing the International Support Fund for Pussy Riot.
Let's hope the remaining members of Pussy Riot are free soon.
The electronic music music producers female:pressure are releasing a compilation. Here's what they have to say:
[The] electronic music producers of female:pressure offer their music in solidarity with Pussy Riot calling for freedom for imprisoned Pussy Riot members Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Maria Alyokhina. We have heard that they may be set free, and hope that this effort increases exposure for their cause and celebrates their liberation.
All money raised from this compilation will be donated directly to the Voice Project who is managing the International Support Fund for Pussy Riot.
Let's hope the remaining members of Pussy Riot are free soon.
Sunday, December 01, 2013
Factory Acts in London
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| Factory Acts at Surya, London; photo by Val Phoenix |
Anyway, this rare live music venture was to see the London debut of electronic duo Factory Acts from Way Up North (or Salford, as the kids call it) at a venue new to me, Surya. I've heard a few of their songs (they were featured on one of my podcasts last year, along with an interview with keyboardist/vocalist Susan O'Shea), but was keen to check out how they sound in a live arena.
It was a short but satisfying set, running only six numbers, but seemed quite full, actually. With only two people on-stage, multi-tasking Susan and bassist Matt, one might think the sound would be thin or the presentation lacking, but they created quite a racket and were also backed up by some arty visuals flickering on the screen at the back of the stage.
Matt's bass was very reminiscent of early '80s post-punk, and Susan handled the complex keyboard set-up with aplomb (I especially liked her elaborate hand flourishes while triggering some kind of effect) while also delivering a Siouxsie-esque wail that rendered the speakers redundant.
The final song, "Americans With Guns", featured snippets of NRA nutjob Charlton Heston in all his pomp. That gave me a chuckle.
So far, their recorded output is limited to a few singles, but they are hoping to rectify that soon.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Jack Smith: Cologne, 1974
An intriguing little exhibit on now at Space in London is Jack Smith: Cologne, 1974, featuring a film of the artist by Birgit Hein, as well as photos by Gwenn Thomas.
In the corridor outside the images is a photocopy of a typically contrary interview with Smith that also appeared in 1974, in which he rages against "Uncle Fish-hook" (Jonas Mekas) and offers many poetic and somewhat incoherent opinions.
I have always been a bit bemused by Smith, as well as his work. I do wonder if he didn't suffer from some kind of personality disorder, given the way he conducted and expressed himself and seemed possessed by so many grudges that seemed to drive his work. Certainly, he vented his spleen in a most expressive way, but was he a well person? I have my doubts.
The film by Hein, which is shown on a television, depicts a visit Smith made to the Cologne Zoo, in which he holds court by some cages and calls for an end to the selling of artists' work to galleries and museums that exploit them. "Art should be free!" he demands, calling for museums to be open all night or filled with something useful.
On the walls of the bright white room (I could still smell the paint) are black and white photos by Thomas of the same appearance showing Smith in an elaborate head-dress or pith helmet interacting with the cages, as well as with a human figure. Not sure who that is. Did Smith identify somewhat with those caged beasts?
In the corridor outside the images is a photocopy of a typically contrary interview with Smith that also appeared in 1974, in which he rages against "Uncle Fish-hook" (Jonas Mekas) and offers many poetic and somewhat incoherent opinions.
I have always been a bit bemused by Smith, as well as his work. I do wonder if he didn't suffer from some kind of personality disorder, given the way he conducted and expressed himself and seemed possessed by so many grudges that seemed to drive his work. Certainly, he vented his spleen in a most expressive way, but was he a well person? I have my doubts.
The film by Hein, which is shown on a television, depicts a visit Smith made to the Cologne Zoo, in which he holds court by some cages and calls for an end to the selling of artists' work to galleries and museums that exploit them. "Art should be free!" he demands, calling for museums to be open all night or filled with something useful.
On the walls of the bright white room (I could still smell the paint) are black and white photos by Thomas of the same appearance showing Smith in an elaborate head-dress or pith helmet interacting with the cages, as well as with a human figure. Not sure who that is. Did Smith identify somewhat with those caged beasts?
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