Glamour of the Gods

Now into its last month or so, the Glamour of the Gods exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery delves into the John Korbal collection to showcase the so-called golden age of Hollywood, when stars were STARS.

What is most striking, aside from the super-high production values of these portraits, is the extreme and, now, obvious artifice involved. Nothing was left to chance--not the clothes, the lighting, the framing and, of course, the correction.

In the pre-Photoshop age, this must have been quite labour-intensive, but as one example showing Joan Crawford pre- and post-retouched shows, it makes all the difference. Gone are those freckles, worry lines, and, indeed, anything that might show her actual facial features. Wouldn't want those to get in the way of the arched eyebrows that were her trademark. Odd how influential this look was.

Still, it's always welcome to see Marlene, Katharine, Greta and others splendidly turned out, looking down on all us little people.

Raw materials

Everything in its time

A Worthy Winner

Congratulations to PJ Harvey for scooping the Mercury Music Prize for Let England Shake. A concept album about war is a hard sell, and those extra album sales "from a low sales base" (so sayeth WENN) will be well appreciated. Amazing she's been around for 20 years already, and yet still seems like a "new" artist.

The Gas Masked

This is what happens when two worlds collide south of the river on a sunny Thursday afternoon. Jude Cowan supplied the gas mask, bicycle, fan and camera. I busked the shots, in between sniffling. She edited to accompany one of her World News Vision improvised songs. Et voilà!

'80s Flashback: Lennox in Drag

For those who still think Lady Gaga is the epitome of out-thereness and originality, because she appeared on the MTV VMAs in drag, here is Annie Lennox of Eurythmics weirding out John Denver at the Grammys. In 1984.

The Pharmacy of Stories

To sunny Hackney to see a private view of Mermaid song and lustrous balm, a new show at The Pharmacy of Stories, tucked away behind a non-descript office building abutting London Fields.

A bijou space is transformed into a fantastical grotto, which on the night was populated by singing mermaids, salty tales and audience participation.

As I boarded my bus home, I noticed the paper badge I had been handed at the exhibit had fallen off its safety pin. I wonder what a passerby would make of the message: Consume my flesh and be immortal.

Support indie labels

One of the victims of the rioting in London was the Sony DADC warehouse, which went up in flames, destroying stock from the many indie labels distributed by PIAS.

The full implications of this catastrophe in such a difficult economy are as yet unknown, but in the meantime music lovers are encouraged to support the labels by buying their wares online or through local record stores. PIAS has put up a link to their catalogues on Spotify.

Beth does Madonna

Mwah. Mwah.

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