Silver Jubilee

Today marks the 25th anniversary of my receiving this piece of kit, which has been my electronic companion through thick and thin. Together we have traversed continents, attended concerts and found ourselves privy to many a fascinating conversation.

Now in semi-retirement, it still manages the odd dubbing session. Though I have searched high and low, I have yet to find anything digital to replace it. All hail the analogue recorder.

DCF recap

A bit late reporting back from Dirty Cop Friday, but I took awhile to download my pix. The one displayed here shows Dangerous Dinky onstage with the Electric Puffs, while Sista Kist from Anarchistwood dances with abandon. Dinky's crop is not in this photo, but was certainly present throughout much of the set, smacking botties aplenty. Ahem.

I also made my debut as a video interviewer, but have yet to see the footage.

This week: Dirty Cop Friday

Dirty Cop Friday is back in two days, with an array of bands, DJs and art at the Old Police Station.

Bands:
Anarchistwood
Healthy Junkies
Dogshite
Dangerous Dinky
The Electric Puffs

DJs:
Dave Dog
Tiddles

Exhibition:
Cartel Show - curated by Dave Beech

Ballad of the bad muffins

This being blackberry time, I trudged up to my favourite patch and collected the first pickings of the season. I only got 1/2 kg, but it was enough for a yummy smoothie and some pancakes, so I checked back three days later and was able to gather 1 kg, with minimal blood lost (a snagged trouser leg).

It wasn't enough to bother with freezing, so I pondered how to put the haul to good use and decided on muffins. Now, my last few batches have been a bit hit-and-miss. I made some pretty awful oily corn muffins some weeks back, but the next batch was tasty.

Fresh blackberry muffins! In the oven they went and I settled down with a paper. And forgot them for a bit. When I took them out, they looked a little browner than optimum. But, they had risen nicely and I could see the blackberries peeping through. I lifted one out, made some tea and took a bite.

It was foul. Wow. Really bad. Maybe excess heat or excess baking soda was to blame. The texture was moist and there was plenty of blackberry, but the thing was barely edible. How could muffins that looked so yummy be that bad? Never mind. I can't bear food being wasted. I made myself eat it, washed down with copious amounts of tea. I shall now apportion one bad muffin a day until they are all done. And enjoy the smoothies.

Word of the day: de-arrest

Just finished watching a new doc on environmental activism and I was struck by a wave of deja-vu observing the planning and training that goes into such actions. "Oh," I thought. "We used to do that", regarding going limp and so forth. Ah, yes, back in the day, in the early '90s, when the streets of San Francisco were alive with shouting.

One tactic that was new to me was "de-arresting": if someone gets grabbed by the police, the person shouts "De-arrest!" and the rest of the affinity group swarms around in an act of collective liberation. Imagine how that would work in the wider world: you're walking down the street and confronted by an assailant. You shout "De-arrest!" and people come out of the woodwork to your aid. Most empowering.

Tracey Emin: Love Is What You Want

Now showing at the Hayward Gallery through August, this Tracey Emin retrospective is a dizzying mass of wood, neon, cut-up clothing and found objects, all filtered through the lens of La Emin. Which isn't to say Love Is What You Want is bad (Brian Sewell's bilious review notwithstanding). But, given Emin's raddled image and how much the prospective visitor thinks s/he knows about the artist, it is illuminating.

Walking through the warren of rooms on multiple levels, I tried to recall what other Emin artwork I had seen over the years and found myself faltering. Was it White Cube in the noughties? Tate Modern in the '90s? Hadn't I seen that shack before? Or was it on the internet? I really couldn't recall, as Emin has such a high profile, her actual art gets less scrutiny than her life.

But, seeing the works close up (or as close up as one can when so many are under glass--peering through a glass case to fathom tiny printed letters, I was chastised by a guard for "leaning on" the glass; my notebook may have brushed it in passing, but I put no weight on it whatsoever), I found myself warming to some and was left indifferent by others. The drawings, for instance, didn't hold my interest nearly as much as the quilts, cut from the clothing of loved ones and stitched with Emin's texts, many of which seem to be messages to herself. Some are funny, some poignant, but, all demand to be considered.

The neon works are less emotive, but also notable, even if only to punctuate the exhibit. A pity so many were stacked up in one place, giving the black corridor the look of Soho on a Saturday night.

What really startled me as I entered each room was the array of people sketching. Even in rooms showing films, there were earnest people sitting cross-legged in dark corners, sketching away. For once, as I scribbled my observations in my notebook, I didn't feel so out of place. Was it student day or is every day like this?

Themes that emerged were Emin's ambivalence over her abortions; her conflicted relationships with family members; her grappling with the past; and her quest for love, of herself and others. In the video work, "Conversation with My Mum", Emin and her mother sit at a table, munching chocolates and smoking while debating whether the younger Emin should or should not have a baby. I sat there, jaw dropped, as the older Emin proffered words of wisdom to her daughter along the line of: "Every woman who doesn't have one wants to have a baby" and "Having a baby would ruin your life." Contradiction obviously runs in the family.

Wood and spirals leapt out at me. The first she admires for its weathered, natural qualities and the second, I am guessing, because it moves inward as it travels.

I also discovered that 3 July is Tracey Emin's birthday, celebrated in 1993 with the closing of her enterprise with Sarah Lucas, The Shop, which is recalled here with a jumble of objects in a case, including a box with the ashes of the unsold goods. This was juxtaposed with the work recalling her beloved nan, "There's a lot of money in chairs", with text appliqued to the back of an antique chair Emin took on tour in the USA.

The Hayward is incorporating a lot of social media into this exhibit, including an intriguing Tracey Tuesdays feature, in which visitors can ask Tracey Emin questions and get responses on Facebook. Before I visited the exhibit, I checked out the page and was amused to see some of Emin's responses, including advice on where to eat in Margate.

Fever Fever at Glastonbury

Quite a lot of goodies up on the BBC Glastonbury site, including a live feed from 6Music and videos of gigs, including one from Norwich's Fever Fever, whom I have played a bit on my show. Nice to see them getting some national exposure.

Die Hymne zur Frauen-WM

A quick side-step to football now, with the Women's World Cup about to start in Germany. But, what drew my attention was the theme song for the competition, as sung by none other than Melanie C, "Rock Me". One can see the thinking behind this: the one-time Sporty Spice, Girl Power, u.s.w., I mean, and so forth.

The song is a bit of Europop, proclaiming a desire to feel the fever. So far, so "World in Motion".

But the video is what caught my attention. What is going on there? OK. It's suitably urban, with arty graffiti I couldn't read, but apparently reads: Rock Me. There are even women displaying, gasp, footballing skills. But, Mel herself seems to have misread the script and appears to be auditioning for a spot in the Playboy mansion. Stop grabbing yourself, woman! Most odd.

Back to the football. Go, England! And do avoid penalties.

Renée

Word comes via Women and Hollywood that Renée, a doc on tennis coach/ophthalmologist Renée Richards is doing the festival circuit in the USA.

Richards, born Richard Raskind, was undoubtedly the first transsexual person of whom I was aware, and her struggles to play on the women's tennis tour after sex change surgery became tabloid fodder. Her becoming a coach to Martina Navratilova, my favourite player, only added fuel to the fire and increased my admiration for her.

As a teen, I remember reading Richards' autobiography, Second Serve (later turned into a TV movie), and being surprised that both Richard and Renée were actively heterosexual. Most confusing to an adolescent, but evidence of the wonderful multiplicity of human behaviour.

Sounds like things didn't go so smoothly between Renée and her son, mentioned in the book as preferring her to dress in men's garb when they had a visit. They later became estranged and the film explores their painful relationship, too. Let's hope the film makes it to this side of the pond.

I couldn't find any video relating to the doc, but here's a clip of Vanessa Redgrave from the TV film.

So There

Sisters of Mirthy DIY podcast

The new Sisters of Mirthy podcast (not actually downloadable) on the subject of DIY is up and features interviews with zine makers and musicians, as well as yours truly ruminating on San Francisco, Berlin and DIY film-making. It's a bit quiet, so best for headphone listening.

Sisters of Mirthy, Vol. 3 by London Fields Radio on Mixcloud

The GBS comes to LDN

If only summertime were always like this--blue skies, sun-kissed gardens, roses abloom. A great day for washing the cat, admiring the views, etc.

Kate Bush on 6Music

Haven't been able to hear it myself yet, but all this week, the reclusive Kate Bush is appearing on 6Music's new Radcliffe and Maconie show, speaking about The Director's Cut, her new album of old songs.

Check out the Listen Again function, which also has a handy list of tracks played, hinting at just where Ms. Bush's interview clips may crop up, facilitating fast-forwarding (I used to enjoy Radcliffe on Radio 1, but Maconie irritates me).

The Ring Revisited

Flipping stations idly trying to find some intelligent conversation or good music, I found myself on Radio 3, mid-opera. As I ran my bath, I found I recognised the language (German) and, slowly, the music. It was Wagner's Ring Cycle, but which opera?

Hmmm. A baritone (probably a bad guy), tenor (probably a good guy) and soprano (could be heroine or love interest) locked in some kind of conflict. The tenor was singing a lot about his Vater, so I guessed Götterdämmerung, but eventually was informed differently. It was Die Walküre, Act I and live from The Met.

Wow.

Having grown up in New York and having first heard opera on WNYC's Live from The Met broadcasts, introduced to Wagner by an impassioned music teacher, this was a real find. As I reclined in my bath, I tried to follow what was going on. Ah, yes, Sieglinde and Siegmund had just run off together, incurring the wrath of the gods. And Brunnhilde was about to get in a LOT of trouble.

Now Brunnhilde and I had some history, as I had played one of her sisters, Waltraute, and also been Brunnhilde's understudy in a children's version of the cycle, though I was much relieved I never had to go on-stage in this role. Too much pressure. But, I loved the costume, and especially my winged headgarb. That was pretty cool for an 11-year-old. But, I still marvel at the utter inappropriateness of kids playing out a drama that involves such a plethora of sexcapades and murders. Oh, well. I am sure it didn't shape my world view in any view. Ahem.

It did inspire me to learn German. And visits to The Met were a ticket to the promised land, extremely rare and to be treasured. Sitting in the nosebleed seats, peering through a black scrim, trying to fathom what was happening. For six hours. Bliss.

At the end, with Wotan bidding farewell to a sleeping Brunnhilde alone on her mountaintop, punished for daring to follow her instincts, I felt a pang for the past.

Ooh! Get us!

The second best arts venue sarf of the rivah, according to Ye Olde Guardian....

Movie MayDay

I haven't been to much at this year's East End Film Festival for its tenth anniversary, but tomorrow is Movie MayDay, with screenings, quizzes and other cinema-related events at 88 venues across the East End. Bank Holiday Monday and free cinema! Hurrah.

Poly Styrene RIP

First Ari Up, now Poly Styrene. Not so unexpected, as she had been fighting cancer for awhile, but still.... Aargh. Never met her, never saw her play, but am an admirer from afar of her and X-Ray Spex. And "Identity" is one of my favourite songs EVAHHH!

Hit So Hard

Just stumbled on Hit So Hard, which tells the life story of drummer Patty Schemel and had its premiere at SXSW last month. Schemel is an interesting enough subject and, naturally, the doc features interviews with her and other members of Hole. But, my eye is taken by the other names featuring, including Phranc, Gina Schock and Alice de Buhr. Sounds like it's just as interested in investigating the continuing invisibility of lesbians in the music world as in Schemel's struggles with drug addiction. Sounds ace.

I can't embed this extremely awkward Q &A which followed a recent screening in New York, and is most notable for the delicate pas de deux between estranged Hole members Courtney Love and Eric Erlandson, as they avoid any eye contact whatsoever, while standing on the same stage. But, here's the trailer.

Record Store Day 2011

Record Store Day, which is 16 April this year, just gets bigger and bigger. I couldn't have missed it coming, what with all the hoopla on the BBC. Championing independent record stores is a worthwhile endeavour. And, despite the arrival of an untimely spring cold, I will do my best to support it.

While New York gets a special Regina Spektor gig, London hosts all-day events at Rough Trade and a night-time gig at 93 Feet East. And loads of bands and labels are issuing one-day-only releases.

I am intrigued to learn that RSD has an official film, as well, Jeanie Finlay's Sound it Out, which will get multiple screenings.

Sapphic Subversions at Fringe!

Tonight sees the start of the film screenings at Fringe!, East London's new queer film festival.

My film War With Love is showing as part of the Sapphic Subversions shorts programme.

We will be upstairs at a pie and mash shop (very cockney!) on the oh-so-hip Broadway Market. It starts at 19:30, with repeat screenings later on.

Last night I attended the launch party at the much vaunted Dalston Superstore. Didn't stay long, just enough time to admire the collection of frocks and haircuts on display. Back when I lived in Dalston, it was pretty much a no-go area for non-residents. My, how it's changed!

LLGFF: Roundup

With the festival now finished, here are the last few stragglers.

A Marine Story by wife-and-husband team of Dreya Weber and Ned Farr. Expelled lesbian Marine takes a teenaged tearaway under her wing and tries to get her ready for recruitment into... the Marines. Aside from the repugnant gung-ho politics, I found this surprisingly moving and Weber certainly kicks ass as the heroine.

Break My Fall--This DIY Hackney-based dyke drama (in every sense of the phrase) features a top-notch soundtrack and an uneasy balance of comic and dramatic scenes, as a young lesbian couple's relationship slowly disentegrates.

The People I've Slept With--Hit or miss comedy about sexually active woman who has to find out quickly who the father of her baby might be, from several candidates. The fact that the lead character, played by Karin Anna Cheung, is Asian-American is pretty much the only standout, but Wilson Cruz offers able comic support as her gay BFF.

LLGFF: Together Alone

This year's just concluded LLGFF featured a coachload of ensemble pieces, such as New York-based comedy The Four-Faced Liar and wartime London drama The Night Watch.

The former, which closed the festival last night and is due out on DVD on Monday, is a witty take on that old trope, the conversion job, as 20-something dyke player Bridget falls for straight girl Molly, while they are, eh, researching a project for a literature class. Yes, somehow Wuthering Heights brings them together. That Emily Bronte.

What is interesting in terms of the structure of the film is that the lesbian character is foregrounded among a group of five: straight couples Trip and Chloe and Molly and Greg, plus Bridget. Far from being the odd one out, Bridget is the link between the groups, as she is the housemate of Trip, who becomes friends with deadly dull Greg.

The film has great fun contrasting the dude bonding of the two straight guys with Molly and Bridget's girl-bonding over Bronte and their emotional heart-to-hearts, while at the same time illustrating Bridget's desire to avoid emotional entanglements with anyone. Of course, it all gets terribly messy, but writer-producer-star Marja Lewis Ryan, who adapted the story from her play, is a real find.



Meanwhile, Monday saw the premiere of the BBC adaptation of Sarah Waters' Blitz-era novel The Night Watch. I found this book a bleak read, with the reversed chronology telling the unhappy ending before finishing with the meeting of two of the main characters, Kay and Helen.

The filmed version kept this structure, though sweetening it slightly. Anna Maxwell Martin, who plays Kay, is physically slighter than I would have imagined, but has a very careworn demeanour that fits with the character's stolidness. The Blitz scenes really come to life, and the non-Kay storylines, which I found less interesting in the book, also stand up well.

LLGFF: Hey Boy, Hey Girl

After the inter-generational lesbian clash of The Owls, it's interesting to view films pairing young gay men and straight women.

Sasha is a German coming out drama whose titular character comes from a conservative ex-Yugoslav background. His pal Jiao, though disappointed by Sasha romantically, stands by him, as he negotiates the tricky terrain of lusting after his older gay piano teacher, while keeping his budding sexuality secret from his warring parents and the prying eyes of his younger brother. It's mostly played for laughs, with Sasha's fumbling attempts to seduce the teacher contrasted with the desperate aspirations of his mother.

I was very curious to see Heartbeats, the latest from the hotly tipped enfant terrible, Xavier Dolan, and it didn't disappoint. A frustrated menage-a-trois featuring Dolan's Francis and his best pal, Marie, both lusting after the cherubic and sexually ambiguous Nicolas, the film plays as a coming-of-age comedy-drama, with Francis and Marie's relationship coming under severe strain, as their increasingly desperate efforts to gain Nicolas' favours takes its toll. Brilliant use of pop tunes adds to the tension and air of yearning, with Dolan showing a sure hand as writer, director and co-star.

LLGFF + Lacan

Although the truncated London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival is well underway, I have only made the most cursory of visits so far. Oddly, though I have seen fewer films, I have been invited to more parties and what eye-openers those have been! Tonight, for example, I popped into a trans party and re-made the acquaintance of someone I haven't seen for five years. And there was cake!

Sunday night I was rubbing shoulders with the great and good connected to The Owls, Cheryl Dunye's collaborative lesbian thriller. Except it didn't really seem that collaborative: she is credited as director and co-writer and it was her story. But, the cast rewrote the script. It turned out as not much of a thriller, but had some great comic moments and the behind-the-scenes doc, Hooters, was a scream, providing some unintentionally hilarious moments of lesbian processing that had the audience in hysterics.

As it happened, this evening I also bumped into Lisa Gornick, one of the stars of The Owls, and asked her if the shoot was as much of a nightmare as Hooters suggests. She said not, but that it was a one-time experience for her: next it's back to her auteur films, this time not on the theme of babies, as had been the case with Tick-Tock Lullaby. This led to a lively discussion of lesbians and babies and how interesting that experience is to see on screen, and then she dropped the L-bomb: Lacan.

Yes, she said it was about "Lacanian lack". At the festival launch some weeks back, Gornick had told me queer film festivals were all about intellectualising and flirting through the brain, but here it was in evidence. Gotta love those brainy women.

Born in Flames

More underground NYC culture, at a viewing of Lizzie Borden's dystopian future vision at the finale of Reproductive Labour.

While I had seen the film years ago at a queer film festival, I didn't recall much of it. On this re-view, I found it quite thought-provoking and prescient, with its mix of female rebellion, eroding labour rights and African revolutionary struggles all conflated into one seething city, plus cameos from future stars Kathryn Bigelow and Eric Bogosian.

The Downtown New York Scene

A visit to Laurie Anderson, Trisha Brown, Gordon Matta-Clark, Pioneers of the Downtown Scene, New York 1970s is quite the eye-opener, especially conducted under the watchful eye of the "supermoon".

In truth, the moon wasn't much in evidence when I arrived at the gallery for an early Saturday evening visit. And when I emerged two hours later, the moon was nowhere to be seen. But, SOMETHING was in the air. How else to explain the strange confluence of events, from the mysterious piano appearing on the pavement of a Shoreditch street to the gravity-defying yoghurt accident that befell me? London felt like one big performance piece.

But, back to the exhibit, a sprawling beast taking in two floors, numerous rooms and multi, multi-media: sculpture, sound art, Super 8 film, drawings, and even some dance. Trisha Brown's gymnastics-infused choreography is performed several times a day on the walls of the Barbican, as well as on the floor. I saw two pieces, Floor of the Forest and Walking on the Wall and was left rather bemused. But, it's certainly unusual. Too bad there is no recreation of her dances performed on the roofs of NYC. That must have been something to see.

Laurie Anderson I know mostly as an innovative musician, but her visual art was a revelation. Even her handwriting is artistic, perfectly formed letters that could be plucked from cartoons. No surprise then to discover she was a political cartoonist at the university newspaper. Is there nothing this woman can't do? Her drawings for such pieces as The Handphone Table were beautifully wrought, witty and clever.

And then to see the piece below and watch people's reactions to it was fascinating. When I'd arrived, I'd walked right past the cluster of her works, imagining the odd clasping gestures I witnessed to be one of the live performances scheduled. But, no, we were the performers for these pieces, as they were in the interactive section. Laying my head on the Talking Pillow, I heard Anderson whispering to me, while seated at The Handphone Table, hands pressed to my skull, I heard some bass frequencies.

By contrast, Matta-Clark's and Brown's displays were much grander: large-scale installations grounded in urban architecture and movement. Anderson's concerns seem more intimate and wittier and to me, more endearing. Though there was no video, just stills of it, I could well imagine her performing her Duets on Ice on the streets of New York, wearing ice skates encased in ice, playing her violin to passing jaded habitues of the city.

And there was a bit of nostalgia for me in this very New York show. Though much younger than the artists, I well remember the crumbling, grumbling New York City of this time in the early 1970s when The Big Apple was on the verge of bankruptcy. Though it spawned punk, No Wave and a host of counter-cultural movements, it was a difficult time. But, very exciting.

Of course, "downtown New York" meant Manhattan and I lived in the Bronx, oblivious to the world of performance and avant-garde. While Gordon Matta-Clark may have been "dancing with buildings", cutting sections out of them to highlight neglect, I was living a more mundane existence, full of subways, Yankees and the odd teachers strike. It takes a certain detachment to see everyday life as an art project.

When Ida Met Bridget

Earlier in the week I popped into the National Portrait Gallery to check out the new exhibit, tantalisingly titled Ida Kar: Bohemian Photographer, 1908-1974 (actually, having the dates in the title rather spoils the effect). That's quite a promise and the exhibit, to my mind, doesn't live up to the title.

Ida Kar sounds like a fascinating character, born in Moscow, educated in Paris, an established photographer in Cairo before she moved to London in 1945 and opened a gallery with her husband. She worked in several areas of photography, including portraiture and photojournalism. In fact, in some ways, her career paralleled that of Lee Miller, who has also been "rediscovered" after a period of neglect.

But, I didn't have nearly as strong or favourable a response to Kar's work, which occupies one corner of the NPG, divided up into various alcoves, illustrating her different eras, including trips to Havana and eastern Europe.

Much of the exhibit is devoted to her portraits of actors and artists of the mid-20th century, but I found this the dullest section, firstly, because I didn't recognise many of the names (how quickly the famous are forgotten!), but secondly, because they followed a rather staid formula: serious-looking artiste stares down the camera, surrounded by the detritus of his (and they are overwhelmingly male) profession. If he's a writer, he sits at a desk surrounded by books. If he's an artist, he stands by one of his works in a studio. The pictures were perfectly competent, but the subjects seemed rather stiff and self-important. I didn't feel invited into their worlds, fascinating though they may have been.

The one exception to this was a marvellous portrait of Bridget Riley. Positioned between two planes of one of her signature Op art pieces, Riley seems to actually emerge from her own art work and stares up at the camera, looking pensive and ever so slightly vulnerable. Partly, this is owing to the high angle of the shot, which is unusual in Kar's work. But, part of it must be down to something caught between Riley and Kar which is curiously absent from the rest of the show.

By chance I had just seen Riley's exhibit over the road at the National Gallery and was struck by her working methods and her presence in her studio, surrounded by assistants, recorded for a rather stodgy TV feature in 1979. Kar's portrait, shot in 1963, shows her in an earlier phase of her career, a promise of things to come.

BEV: Sound and Silents

Friday night saw a coming together of music and silent film at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, as Birds Eye View (or was it WOW? I got confused) presented four silent films with new live scores.

Of the four, I had only seen Meshes of the Afternoon, and so was intrigued to discover a plethora of old and new work, musical and cinematic. Sometimes I didn't know whether to watch the screen or the stage, as the performers could be quite animated.

First up was Hänsel and Gretel by the German pioneer animator Lotte Reiniger, scored by Micachu, standing behind a bank of computers. This was the toughest pairing for me, with Reiniger's delicate silhouette figures paired with Micachu's industrial squeaks. I wasn't quite sure this worked, but it was bold of Micachu to produce something so unmelodious for a fairy tale.

This was followed by Alexander Hammid's / Maya Deren's Meshes of the Afternoon, scored by Seaming, seated at a keyboard and clutching a clarinet. She added some piercing screams, as well, which was quite dramatic. I was enraptured, both by the film-making innovation (Deren's presentation is strikingly forward-looking) and the score.

Last before the interval was Tara Busch sitting down to another bank of instruments to score Lois Weber's melodrama, Suspense. Busch's music was quite modern, in contrast to the film, which was the most conventional narrative of the bunch.

After the break was the premiere of Imogen Heap's ambitious a cappella score with a 30-plus piece choir for Germaine Dulac's completely wacky surrealist film, La Coquille et le Clergyman. WTF? Heap's score featured hand claps, whistling, and some cooing, as well as conventional singing. In fact, one section was positively jaunty, considering the action on screen featured a priest attempting to strangle his love rival. Marvellous stuff.

Birds Eye View Festival preview

Tomorrow, International Women's Day, sees the premiere of the Birds Eye View festival of women's film-making (albeit missing an apostrophe). Having seen a handful of the films, I think it's a pretty strong bill, featuring features, shorts, live music and some filmmaker Q & As.

Best of the bunch I've seen is Zeina Durra's debut feature, The Imperialists Are Still Alive! The title gives a clue to the film's tongue-in-cheek style. After a standout opening sequence featuring an Arab conceptual artist in New York staging a photo shoot with gun-toting Iraqi women, and champagne-swigging guests in an art gallery discussing a possible CIA rendition of a friend, my mouth was hanging open. The juxtaposition of the deadpan performances with the art-world-meets-global-issues was breathtaking. The film loses its way a bit, but Durra displays a keen eye for irony and sharp social commentary.



Compared to that, Susanne Bier's Oscar-winning drama, In a Better World, was a bit of a disappointment, a melodrama considering masculinity and power in both Africa and rural Denmark. It all goes a bit kitchen-sink-drama, as a troubled boy draws his bullied friend into a revenge fantasy. The scenes in an African refugee camp, in which a Swedish doctor attempts to provide treatment while wrestling with his marital problems, display a problematic issue for western filmmakers: none of the African characters has a name. They are merely types: victims, helpers or warlords. Quite disappointing.

Of the docs, Orgasm Inc. and Women of Hamas are timely and thought-provoking, as well as illustrating the lengths filmmakers will go to get their story out. Israeli filmmaker Suha Arraf was unable to get into Gaza once the border was closed, but enlisted local filmmakers to gather her footage. Liz Canner was working for a pharmaceutical company that was developing a new product for "female sexual dysfunction" when she found herself questioning the party line and embarked on a quest to discover the truth behind the need for this product.

Special events include an appearance by Margarethe von Trotta, who is the filmmaker in focus. Imogen Heap, Micachu and Tara Busch are among the musicians providing live scores to classic silents by Maya Deren and Germaine Dulac in Sound in Silents.

Nesting

Other than Thursday's filmic forays, mostly the last two months have been spent at home, considering various improvement schemes of the personal and business kind. As I've moved around so often since I have been in London, I have fallen into the pragmatism of not bothering to do much decorating of my space. But, since this is the first place I have ever had that actually had room for a division of work and private, I spent a bit of time when I first moved in setting it up, mostly painting and installing shelves for my voluminous boxes, boxes, boxes (someday to be a brilliant book. Or DVD. Or website. We'll see how technology develops over the next millennium).

But, with the council insisting on refurbing my bathroom, I took the opportunity of the disruption (two weeks???!!!) to look at other areas that could use some TLC. Which basically means everything.

So far, before I tweaked my wrist today, I had managed a coat of paint on the foyer and front door (I declined the council's invitation to replace it. If it ain't broke, don't fix it), and finally painting the trim, trim being an option in my mind. Who looks at trim? Really.

Was going to get onto painting the office, but then decided it was well and truly time to tackle the accumulation of dust bunnies. OMG. The dust bunnies. I could knit a large coat with the dust bunnies I unearthed. I also disturbed a family of spiders that have taken up residence between my posters of Governor Ann Richards (RIP) and The Go-Gos reunion album of 1994. I decided it's too cold to rehouse them outdoors, so that web is staying for now. The dust bunnies, though, are well and truly expunged. For now. I am always amazed at the resilience of dust.

The nesting instinct is actually a bit ironic, given that the two months of the Shunda K Challenge ended with me holding the exact same status as before. Although not of a scientific bent, I can still see how there were significiant variables in our approaches to life that might explain the differing results achieved. Then there was the god thing. That wasn't happening. But, all is not lost. I am now creatively visualising clean walls, bright ceilings and shiny floors.

Where Art Meets Commerce

Yesterday provided a double helping of alternative cinema, as I visited Reproductive Labour, Cinenova's exhibit at the Showroom. Running for another three weeks, it offers tiny section of the archive of this longstanding feminist film distributor.

Each day of the exhibit a selection of films is screened. What I hadn't realised until I was in the space was that visitors could also request films. After a brief browse at the display of ephemera from various films in the archive, I settled down to watch Friday's selection, chosen (unseen) by Howard Slater, both on the theme of "father". The Death of the Father and The Father is Nothing both proved to be artful depictions of power and control, made in 1986 and 1991, respectively, quite a fruitful time for feminist film-making. I had a nose through some of the files on show and was amused to see some contained rejections from film festivals and apologies for delayed royalties! Perhaps too revealing. The next three Saturdays feature lectures and more extensive screenings.

That evening it was on to the launch of the 25th London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival. Festival launches tend to be little more than extended thank yous to sponsors, interspersed with a few clips to tantalise the punters. This one proved rather more dramatic, as the future of the festival was being loudly debated, first by the announcement of a Facebook campaign to "discuss" the BFI's stewardship and then at the after-party, as the rumour going round was that this is to be the last festival! What? I wondered. Funding cuts to the BFI mean the future of the LLGFF will be assessed between the end of the festival in April and the calendar year, and that comes from BFI director Amanda Nevill.

Which rather cast a pall over what should have been a pretty joyous knees-up. 25 years is pretty good going. This year's festival has been curtailed to one week, because of the missing money, but it still boasts some intriguing films and events, including a preview of The Night Watch and The Owls, a new feature from Cheryl Dunye starring a who's who of dyke cinema.

But, as the volunteers who run Cinenova know, providing a platform for artistic excellence is no guarantee of finding financial support. They haven't had a grant in years.

Best Gig Lineup Ever?

People of Gateshead, rejoice. You are about to be blessed with a superlative bill of punk and post-punk legends. Yes, Gina Birch, Viv Albertine and Helen McCookerybook are packing their gear into the latter's car (road trip!) to play Friday night at The Central Bar, there to be joined by Pauline Murray. Wow!!! Wish I could be there. It's rockin' oop north.

The Buddha of Shoreditch

Where does Shoreditch end and Hoxton begin? That's the question I asked myself as I trudged up and down the L-E-N-G-T-H of Curtain Road looking in vain for the elusive Queen of Hoxton public house. "It must be at the top end, near Hoxton," my logical brain told me. Nope. "Uh, then it must be by the bottom end, close to Liverpool Street," came the reply. Yes, there it was, sort of where I started some 25 minutes earlier, at the end of a rather long day, after a rather long weekend.

The occasion was Cover Wars, a live competition to redesign the cover of The Buddha of Suburbia, Hanif Kureishi's novel, courtesy of YARN, the multidisciplinary festival in its second year. I was curious to see what live cover-designing involved, and as Kureishi was also reading, thought it would be an interesting test of multi-tasking.

So, down the stairs I trooped, emerging into the darkened bar to find a veritable frenzy of activity, with two artists on-stage, beavering away at their easels, while compere/festival producer Gemma Mitchell verbally prodded them along, and Kureishi sat in the front row, occasionally offering a comment. He was put to work, coming on-stage to judge the efforts, reading some passages from the book and also signing in between judging rounds.

Alas, I had to leave before the tension-racked finale, but I must say I disagreed with the judges' choice in the first round. Fix!

Le Cinema des Femmes presents True Homance

This month's LCdF screening, True Homance, celebrates female friendship in its most precious form: the homance. OK, so that's a bit of a trendy-street-slang word, but nonetheless it gets the job done. For a thoughtful consideration that takes in Daphne and Velma AND Oprah and Gayle, see my colleague Annette's post on the subject.

The films are Ghost World and Romy and Michele's High School Reunion. Rumours of broken-heart cookies and BFF badges have yet to be confirmed...

Free Duke Spirit gig on Friday

Should you be in London this Friday, the 18th, it may be worth making the journey down Tooting way to check out The Duke Spirit at Remedy.

Here's a LiveBuzz performance they did of "Surrender" last year.

PJ Harvey on BBC 6Music

Today is Queen Polly (!) Day on 6Music. Don't know if she is a royalist, but PJ Harvey is getting some much-earned love from the station, ahead of the release of her new concept (!) album, Let England Shake. Tracks from the record are being played throughout the day, and she is also in conversation with Steve Lamacq after 16:00. Should be cool. I have only heard snippets, but it sounds as if she is pursuing an entirely new sound. Always worth hearing.

Here's the second in a series of videos, accompanying the album.

Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under

What do you do when stuck in the house? Well, review downloads, OBVIOUSLY. Don't know why I didn't think of it before. I downloaded this last week and my first listen of it was punctuated by loud mobile phone conversations from my bathroom occupants. I have now given it my undivided attention and my reaction is much the same as the first, distracted listen: very patchy.

Amanda Palmer is an undeniable force (one blogger referred to her as a phonomancer--had to look up the word, I admit). Her gig last year about this time in Vienna stands out as one of the best I have ever attended. She had such a strong connection with the audience, such mastery of stagecraft and such a great catalogue of songs, it was truly inspirational. And she is not above playing to the gallery, dotting her repertoire with site-specific songs and garnering big love points.

So, to Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under, her love letter to the people of Australia and New Zealand, which has come out..... just as she started a tour of Australia and NZ. Imagine that! Now, an album of songs about either of those countries could be great. As could a live gig recorded there. Or an album of songs written in those countries. What Palmer has opted for is a mish-mash of all three. Hmm.

There's the Nick Cave cover, "The Ship Song", that closes the album. A few songs recorded at a Sydney Opera House gig. And then songs that may or may not have a connection to her surroundings, such as "In My Mind" and the intense piano ballad, "On an Unknown Beach".

My personal favourite is "Vegemite (the Black Death)", which is f___ing hilarious. And topical. And recorded live at the Sydney Opera House, and therefore gets a lot of laughs from its target audience. Win all around. Unfortunately, nothing else on the album (12 songs, including a Vegemite commercial sung by the audience) really matches that, although "Map of Tasmania" is pretty special.

Now that she is free of her hated record deal, Palmer can record and release whatever and whenever she wants. And she certainly seems to be having a whale of a time in Australia, as her blog attests. Maybe she will do another round of recording and release a more cohesive album.

Until then, enjoy "Map of Tasmania" (now with added Peaches!).

Homework

I've not been getting out much, so have little arts news to report (ah, being skint--it's like a permanent staycation). Granted, I have bit of a Brutalist installation going on in my bathroom, complete with AM radio, drilling and Russian accents, an exciting melding of form and function. But, that is only temporary and strictly private view.

I have also reached the midway point of my Shunda K challenge. No sign of any vows or even a Joy of Cooking. But, I have acquired a copy of the Qu'ran, shrink-wrapped, which seemed, eh, contradictory. #thingsI'vebeenhandedinthemarket

Mysteries of the Universe #46

How is it that my scrupulously vegetarian flat smells of corned beef?

My New Look

These fists of fury belong to none other than your humble pacifist scribe. I have never had a tattoo (sensitive skin), but perhaps this will inspire me to reinvent myself as a hard woman. Thanks to Annette for the spiffing ink work.

This Sunday: Revenge Is Sweet

It's the first outing of 2011 for the Cinema des Femmes collective's monthly events, and this time it's all about pinky violence.

It's a genre that's new to me, but one of our number is quite keen and the trailers certainly look entertaining: sword fights, punch-ups and plenty of flesh on show. Ah, yes, it's one of those 1970s sexploitation cult genres that divides opinion. Seeing as we are coming from a feminist POV, we are looking at the upside: powerful women standing up for themselves and not taking any BS. Naturally, there are dissenting opinions on this. I had a look online to find a feminist analysis of PV, but couldn't find anything, alas. (edit: ask and ye shall receive. )

The two films we are showing are Female Prisoner 701: Scorpion + Sex and Fury.

So, prison drama and pick-pocketing!

The CdF gals are going to dress up as a biker gang and are busy coordinating our outfits. Looking forward to it. It's this Sunday at the Horatia in London. Full deets.

Women's Voices from the Muslim World

Here's a collection of 98 films showing online, in which women from predominantly Muslim countries share stories: from a bus driver in Iran to a would-be sunglasses purchaser in Afghanistan. The films are in competition ahead of the Women's Voices Now festival in March in Los Angeles. View and vote.

RIP Trish Keenan

Just heard the horrible news Trish Keenan of Broadcast has died, after a struggle with swine flu. Details are extremely sketchy, and I don't even know how old she was, but certainly she went way too soon.

I first heard Broadcast through John Peel's show on Radio 1 in the 1990s and always found them a wonderfully atmospheric outfit, utterly lacking in the trappings of celebritism required to achieve mainstream success. That their first EP was called The Booklovers said it all.

Sadly, I only had one abortive opportunity to see them live, interrupted by grotesquely lesbophobic venue security, so left without enjoying the show.

Here is Broadcast in action in happier times:

London Short Film Festival

This one always creeps up on me, coming as it does so early in the new year. But, there is a plethora of interesting screenings in store, among them Queer Brit, Salon des Refusés, and Straight 8.

Among the live events are two that pique my interest. Firstly, the unwieldily titled Club des Femmes and Spinster Take New Berlin, which pairs a feature film with some live performance.

Also in the music + film arena is Whirlygig Cinema & The Cabinet of Living Cinema Present: Making Tracks, in which films are presented with live scores. I have participated in Whirlygig events in the past, but not, sadly, this time. Should be exciting, as the filmmakers will not have heard the scores until they are performed on the night.

London Short Film Festival runs 7-16 January in London.

Creative Visualisation

Have just had a marvellously entertaining Skype chat with Shunda K, some of which will go out on my show next week.

What stayed with me (aside from her amusing habit of calling me "Ms. Val"--perhaps I should insist on this honorific in my daily life) was the extraordinary story of how she met her wife. I won't give all of it away, aside from saying that she turned to God and promised to remain celibate for two months. I can't promise this works for everyone.

Indeed, I hadn't given a moment's thought to finding a wife, but, given that it's a new year and I have made no resolutions, I may conduct an experiment, in the interests of science, you understand.

I well remember my older sister being given a copy of The Joy of Cooking on her 21st birthday and exclaiming: "Now I don't have to get married!"

Perhaps I should visualise The Joy of Cooking.

2010 Moments

While I am still not keen on lists, I do have a few memories to share from 2010.

Favourite film: The Arbor. Clio Barnard's experimental documentary may have attracted attention for its miming technique, but what stuck with me was the raw emotion extracted from the audio interviews.

Favourite exhibit: Gender Check at MuMok, Vienna. So huge, so expansive, it was almost draining, but this survey exhibit of gender expression in Eastern European art was awesome to behold.

Favourite song: "Found Love in a Graveyard", by Veronica Falls. It came out at the start of the year, but kept coming back. And it still sounds great.

Favourite album: City Splits #1: Berlin. A slight cheat, as it presents two bands--Jasmina Maschina and Golden Diskó Ship--from one city on one record, but this was one of my favourite spins of the year. A delightful rainy Sunday afternoon record.

Favourite gig: Amanda Palmer at Arena, Vienna. One woman, one keyboard, one ukulele. Mind-blowing.

Favourite random moment: AGF singing "Bau Auf Bau Auf" to me over Skype.

And it only remains for me to wish all eine bessere Zukunft.

Mounting frustration

Was hoping to wrap up the year with some work on my various unfinished film projects, which live on an external hard drive that I carry with me to various public access sites, as I don't own a Mac.

Alas, last week the hard drive disconnected itself from its partner and steadfastly refuses to show its face or mount, as it's known. Cue visits to the shadowy world of the internet forum to check on this phenomenon and discover it is, sadly, quite common for this particular brand of external hard drive. And the company is not actually that helpful, to boot.

I am not giving up on my external hard drive, yet, but as I do not actually own the requisite computer to connect it to, it will have to wait some weeks to make another visit and get, I hope, reacquainted. The tension mounts (or doesn't, yet).

The Yvonne Rainer Project

Hopped on down to the Southbank Centre on Sunday to visit the ongoing Yvonne Rainer exhibit and specifically see some films that were only on show over the weekend. What I thought were her films turned out to be "Yvonne Rainer + artists' films". Hence, over an 80-minute period I only caught about 30 seconds of one of her films and it was one I'd seen before. Doh! Ah, well. Some of them were interesting, one was brilliant and quite a few were way too lo-o-ong. Ah, artists' films. Gotta love 'em. Sadly, can't really review them properly as most had no titles and I could not match up the films viewed to the descriptions in the programme. Ah, artists' films. Gotta love 'em x2.

So, to the ongoing exhibit. Well, there are three installations on view in the Gallery. Of these, I had a whale of a time at the circular work, After Many a Summer DIes the Swan: Hybrid, 2002. In this, a raised projector rotates 360 degrees, and the viewer follows the action by sitting in the centre. But, here's the fun part. The seat is a kind of Space hopper on wheels! Such fun. I was spinning all over the shop. If a group went, it would be like bumper cars. Awesome. The actual projections are quite enjoyable, as Rainer muses on the early 20th century avant-garde in Vienna.

The other two pieces in the Gallery were of less interest to me, being videos of some dance pieces she produced. Quite the multi-skiller is Ms. Rainer: filmmaker, choreographer, et al. I am not intimately familiar with her work, but her name crops up all over discussions of feminist cinema and art, and I found her role as the roller-skating artist in Madame X - an absolute ruler quite amusing.

Some of Rainer's own films, including Journeys from Berlin and The Man Who Envied Women, are on show at the BFI throughout December while an excerpt from Lives of Performers is on show in the Atrium.

The Yvonne Rainer Project continues at the Southbank Centre through 23 January 2011.

This Sunday: Growing Pains

Le Cinema des Femmes presents GROWING PAINS: a celebration of teenage angst, American-style.

Relive those high school memories of heartbreak, hormones, fitting in, and coming out… as we bring you two classic movies featuring implausibly white-toothed teens experiencing the
agony of adolescence:

BUT I'M A CHEERLEADER [1999]
A girl sent to a sexuality re-programming camp gains unexpected insights. Directed by Jamie Babbit.

+

SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL [1987]
An age-old tale of unrequited love, teenage longing and questionable outfits, directed by the late John Hughes.

Bring your steady squeeze and snuggle into the back row for some heavy petting!

Plus:
Popcorn!
Cakes!
Zines!

And a very special DJ set from The Girls Are's Annette Barlow, who'll be spinning teen angst anthems til late.

Dress code: High school archetypes
(Think: freaks vs geeks, jocks vs goths, cheerleaders vs do-gooders)

£4 entry

Sunday 12th December - from 5pm
The Horatia
98-102 Holloway Road
London N7 8JE
(Nearest tubes: Highbury & Islington, Holloway Road)

First Snowfall

How surprised was I to awake this morning to find snow falling! Though I knew Scotland has been deluged since the weekend, I didn't think it would make it this far south. Cue frantic scrabbling for winter boots. Perhaps it is time to put the bulbs out for their ever-so-brief yearly appearance.

Some things never change: while the roads were perfectly clear, the pavements were slippy and slushy. Last winter I took to walking down the middle of the road to avoid ice. Once I was even called upon to rescue an elderly woman. No sign of snow-bound pedestrians yet. But, it's only November.

UnderWire Festival

The inaugural UnderWire festival of women's short film work is in full swing and concludes tomorrow with an awards ceremony.

Visiting the third day of the festival, I caught the Editing and Directing categories, preceded by a lecture by screenwriter Linda Aronson. Speaking in rather non-linear fashion, she offered some anecdotes from her career and then moved on to a suitably convoluted explanation of parallel narrative structure. This was, unfortunately, rushed, owing to time constraints, but she has some books out that would shed some more light on a fascinating topic. Her message: don't be afraid of flashbacks!

Next up was the the Directing category of five films, the standout of which was The Storymaker. An atmospheric and increasingly creepy set-up finds a bedridden woman delivering unintelligible thoughts to a group of Expressionist-looking scribes. At first I thought it was a wry commentary on artistic inspiration. But, then I decided it was a metaphor for Alzheimer's or some other degenerative illness. Visually striking and gripping, it lingered in the memory. Marigolds was also memorable for its cringe-making mother-son relationship. The climactic scene had audience members gasping and laughing in discomfort.

In the Editing category, I was impressed by Skateistan, a doc on a skate park in Kabul and also liked Dear Mummy, a clever mix of live action and animation.

The awards ceremony for the various categories is tomorrow evening .

Ladyfest Ten: day three

So, finally, the thrilling conclusion of a three-day epic. A not so early start didn't really help me catch up on sleep, but I was ready to go for the afternoon start of the film programme, which started with a workshop on DIY film-making, courtesy of Kanchi Wichmann, who shared clips from her forthcoming feature, Break My Fall.

I had to run up to the Resource Centre to check on the other film-making workshop, which was actually due to start later, so I wasn't around for the whole slot, but returned in time to deal with some DVD burning drama, which meant we had to switch around our second programme, running the feature Too Much Pussy before the three shorts that accompanied it. I kept expecting someone from the library to walk in during what was a very sexually explicit, very queer doc on a performance troupe's tour. Very funny to screen that in a public library.

With our work as the film group done by 5:15, we were free to enjoy what remained of the festival, and I spent a very enjoyable hour listening in on a beatboxing workshop run by Gracious B, who had performed on Friday night and blown me away with her vocal percussion prowess.

After a brief rest, it was on to the Garage for what was billed as lo-fi day, which I found amusing. For me it was more like post-punk day, with a bill featuring Viv Albertine, Tender Trap, Wet Dog and Trash Kit. For me, Viv Albertine was the undoubted highlight, offering more connection with the audience and some very personal songs, delivered in spiky and forceful style. The closer was a slow-burning indictment of married life, from one who knows. Wow. After that, the kids just couldn't compete, though I enjoyed the racket they made.

After a quick group photo, our film group scattered to the four winds. Life just won't be the same without Ladyfest.

Ladyfest Ten: day two

Wow. Wow. Wow. So tired I can barely type, but will do a quick recap of Saturday, which started at 10 with me not taking the Victoria line to Highbury, because of engineering works. Instead negotiated a replacement bus (or Ersatzbus as we have taken to calling it) and a tube, so was a bit late.

Had a brief chat with Gabriella Apicella of UnderWire film festival on the paucity of decent women characters onscreen, then took a DVD up to the Holloway Resource Centre and crashed a Queer Health workshop, but not before I sptted a familiar face and had a reunion with Lena, formerly of Ilsebill, but now studying in Loughborough and down in London for the weekend. Then it was back to the library screening room for Tina Gharavi's narrative screenwriting workshop, where we learned to make cliches our friend, so that we can subvert them.

After a super-quick turnaround, it was time for the headline act: JD Samson introducing Le Tigre: On Tour. This had taken awhile to arrange and we were all relieved when she strode in, accompanied by Ginger from MEN and other friends. It fell to me to do the introduction and run the Q & A as my colleagues were too shy. Aside from one ill-fated mention of Christina Aguilera, I think it went OK. And I also grabbed a quick interview with JD for my radio show. Amazingly, we finished early and were able to exit the library, without being shoved out by security.

Thereafter, I watched the excellent bill at the Garage, consisting of Veronica Falls; Vile, Vile Creatures (who lent MEN a guitar when a string broke); Battant; Nicky Click; and headliners MEN (JD's other band), which left me quite energised, although security there were needlessly brusque. MEN proved a revelation, as the two songs I'd heard had left me underwhelmed. But, live it worked really well, the throbby bass lines and beats lifting the energy, while frontwoman JD proved equally adept at working her computer and the crowd. She also wished Ladyfest a happy tenth birthday, which went down, not surprisingly, quite well.

One more day.

Ladyfest Ten: day one

Just back from a buzzing evening at the Horatia, watching some fantastic UK hip-hop as part of Ladyfest Ten. I only caught a few acts, but I was really impressed by Patricia Panther and Lykez, two acts who couldn't be more different in presentation but are marvellously entertaining to watch. Whereas Lykez is all streetwise teenaged cockney attitude, Patricia Panther offers a soulful Glaswegian take on beats and rhymes. I was positively energised.

Which is saying something, as I had a heavy dose of Ladystress when I turned up at the film venue for our opening programme. We had a few last-minute hicccups and were not entirely prepared when we opened our doors. But, we had an awesome bill of films, and Kim Longinotto turned in a mighty fine introduction to her film, Divorce Iranian Style. I imagine she must've introed this film hundreds of times since its production in 1998, and the Islington Central Library is not the most glamourous locale for a screening. But, she was very thoughtful and entertaining in providing some context for it and got everyone well warmed up to see it. Hurrah.

I mostly stayed at the library during the day but did pop over to the Horatia briefly to see the Big Debate panel, as I was keen to see Viv Albertine. It was pretty much winding up, but I did catch a few comments by her to the effect that she feels like girls are more clued up than they are given credit for, and pop culture isn't necessarily detrimental to their development.

Back to the library for some more screenings and we just made it out the door at 5pm, having discovered very late that one of our filmmakers had been sitting there all day without introducing herself! Most unlike a filmmaker, not to shout from the rooftops. Verv sweet.

My proudest moment came watching the Ten Years of Grrrls Creating Culture doc that our group curated from past Ladyfests. Seeing some of my lo-res footage and stills mixed in was very pleasing. I finally feel part of Ladyfest and it makes me think I must have been doing something right these last 20 years.

Two days to go.

Ladyfest Ten this weekend in London

So, it's finally, finally here. I have been immersed over the last couple of months in the film group for Ladyfest Ten, which is on this weekend in London.

Things I have experienced in the organisation of Ladyfest Ten:

• unravelled the mysteries of the Ning

• created spreadsheets

• uploaded Google Docs

• applied zombie make-up

• baked chocolate cakes

• accosted a filmmaker at the London Film Festival

• encouraged a colleague to accost a musician at a club

• got locked in a house

• scoured my archive for film, photos and audio

• discussed codecs, at length

Ah, the magic of Ladyfest.