IAMCURIOUSMICHAEL
Friday, 20 April 2012
TIME'S BIG JOKE...
There is, sad to report, a new reason for national embarrassment. Unusually, it has nothing to do with Jeremy Clarkson, Julian Fellowes or Simon Cowell; indeed, unlike those Britons, this source of shame can be relied upon never to say anything controversial. Time magazine has just announced its annual Time 100 list of the world's most influential people. No British politicians appeared on the list, but the Middleton sisters – one a new princess, the other the sister of a new princess – are included, heralded as "avatars of aspiration".
Surely Time has discovered, not before time, a sense of humour. But, no, this is not satire. "Latter-day Mona Lisas, they smile mysteriously and keep their mouths closed," reads the citation. "In an age of bleating, tweeting, confessional celebrity, the middle-class Middletons show real class."
The British media clearly agree with this mind-boggling assessment. Having despaired of being able to write anything interesting about the Duchess of Cambridge, the press has promoted Pippa Middleton as a figure of endless fascination and glamour. This week, she did something in France – snog a Frenchman, was it? – and her activities have been the subject of slavering coverage.
There is nothing wrong with a woman in her twenties gadding about in Paris, but the idea that she should be considered as someone to be envied, emulated and even admired reveals just how silly and defeatist our culture has become. In what way do the values embodied by Pippa Middleton represent "real class"? She became famous simply by virtue of her sister becoming engaged to a prince. When the wedding took place, it proved so uneventful that desperate editors made a story out of the shape of her bottom which became the unofficial symbol of the event. She does a trivial, part-time job for the family firm, and shows no inclination to do anything interesting with her life apart from going to parties. She has not used her fame to any charitable effect, but has availed herself of a £400,000 publishing advance for a book, presumably ghost-written, on party-planning. In her smiling, dimpled way she has done more harm to the cause of women than any airhead celebrity or Page 3 girl.
No ambition, lots of parties and a much-photographed bottom: Pippa's way of life is all right, if limited, but when one of the world's best-known news magazines ranks it as more significant than that of any political leader, something odd and alarming is going on. If Pippa Middleton has had any influence, it has been to remind the world that looks, connections and social class are still what matter most in 21st-century Britain. Time's "latter-day Mona Lisa" offers these simple aspirations for a young British woman: don't work, keep your bum trim, and, above all, develop a talent for smiling and saying nothing.
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
REPETITION - REPETITION
I I went went to to Tate Tate Modern Modern on on Sunday Sunday to to see see the the works works of of Yayoi Yayoi Kusama Kusama and and Alighiero Alighiero Boetti.
OK, you're fed up? Well, so was I, - up to a point.
The factor linking both of these totally absorbing exhibits was that there seemed to be so much repetioin in each of the artists' works.
Kusama, who, now in her 80's, lives full time in a hospital in Japan is constantly re-inventing herself and her styles.
Whether it's furniture upholstered with penises (or should I say "phalli"), or large framed images of hundreds of airmail stickers, the punch comes at the very end which finally confirmed to me what a zany, but huge talent she is.
It is atotally darkened rectangular room with a zig-zag path traversing its length. Each of the walls and the floor is mirrored and suspended from the (mirrored) ceiling are hundreds of little light bulbs that each intermittently flash different colours. It's a totally magical experience and I was completely captivated. Much better to go mid-week and not be rushed through so that its idea examining "infinity" can better be appreciated.
I have no doubt at all, that Yoko Ono was deeply influenced by her work and ethos.
Then, on to see the remarkable works of Alighiero Boetti. Again, much repetition is experienced in his work, but I was particularly struck by the fantastic huge tapestries of hand-stitched maps of the world. The man is a genius! I also laughed at his imaginative use of sending letters to imaginary (i.e. non-existant people at similarly non-existent addresses) destinations, thereby causing them to be returned to him undelievered. Each returned letter would then be put into another envelope and sent out again...if this sounds odd, you can get a better idea if you see the exhibit. Great fun, actually.
OK, you're fed up? Well, so was I, - up to a point.
The factor linking both of these totally absorbing exhibits was that there seemed to be so much repetioin in each of the artists' works.
Kusama, who, now in her 80's, lives full time in a hospital in Japan is constantly re-inventing herself and her styles.
Whether it's furniture upholstered with penises (or should I say "phalli"), or large framed images of hundreds of airmail stickers, the punch comes at the very end which finally confirmed to me what a zany, but huge talent she is.
It is atotally darkened rectangular room with a zig-zag path traversing its length. Each of the walls and the floor is mirrored and suspended from the (mirrored) ceiling are hundreds of little light bulbs that each intermittently flash different colours. It's a totally magical experience and I was completely captivated. Much better to go mid-week and not be rushed through so that its idea examining "infinity" can better be appreciated.
I have no doubt at all, that Yoko Ono was deeply influenced by her work and ethos.
Then, on to see the remarkable works of Alighiero Boetti. Again, much repetition is experienced in his work, but I was particularly struck by the fantastic huge tapestries of hand-stitched maps of the world. The man is a genius! I also laughed at his imaginative use of sending letters to imaginary (i.e. non-existant people at similarly non-existent addresses) destinations, thereby causing them to be returned to him undelievered. Each returned letter would then be put into another envelope and sent out again...if this sounds odd, you can get a better idea if you see the exhibit. Great fun, actually.
Friday, 30 December 2011
MORE WIGMORE!
To London’s stunning Wigmore Hall on Wigmore Street.
Hard to keep your eye on the stage unless.....
I must admit that it has been over a year since I was last there, but I was taken this time by a singer friend of mine who said that I simply must come along with her to see what she called a “revelatory pianist”.
...Katya's tickling the ivories!
From the moment Katya Apekisheva played the opening flourish of Schubert’s Sonata in A minor D537 I knew what she meant. Magical more like it!
This is an extremely intricate piece to play, seemingly all over the place, but Katya had the measure of things and drove it along with a passion I have seldom seen in any pianist. I could have sworn I heard the man next to me gasp at her command of the fortissimi.
Next she played Schumann’s Kinderszenen. The Wigmore has a massive Steinway there on stage and Katya wasn’t afraid of it at all. She knew how to tame it! What a gal!
This was a sensational concert, and I'm ashamed to say that I hadn’t heard of her before. Her superb command of the keyboard will, I’m certain, ensure that she will be unknown no more! Brava!
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
BREAKFAST OF CAMPIONI (with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr)
On my ever expanding quest to better myself as a showoff cook, I attended the Caldesi Cookery School in London's Marylebone Lane. The evening was arranged once again (see posting passim) by the Italian Cultural Institute's (ICI) Anna Mondavi and hosted by "Lady Chef", Rita Monastero. Accompanying me once again was the Luscious Laura who was unafraid to get her hands dirty. Among items on the agenda were tortelloni with ricotta and spinach and an extremely rich chocolate and candieds fruits and almond cake. All made from scratch!
Those of us who knew how, made our own egg pasta (again) and then we were shown the mystic art of how to make the little filled pasta shapes.
Throughout the evening we were warrmed inside (while it was chucking it down outside) with a oenologist (look it up) called Angela who is actually a real MW (Master of Wine). And her banter about grape varieties and origins went on throughout the evening.
Angela shows us her teeth polished by Pinot Grigio!
We got to taste wines from all over Italy (courtesy of the ICI's extensive regional wine cellar) and all I can tell you is that I had the mother of hangovers the following morning.
Later the following day, I met up with Rita and her husband, Enrico to take a walk through Soho and Marylebone High Street and we had a delicious lunch at Cafe Coco Momo. Enrico tried, and pronounced highly enjoyable, a "full English" breakfast (at 2pm!).
We exchanged gifts and vowed to see each other again in the new year.
Salute!
Those of us who knew how, made our own egg pasta (again) and then we were shown the mystic art of how to make the little filled pasta shapes.
Laura stirs, while I stir it up... |
Angela shows us her teeth polished by Pinot Grigio!
We got to taste wines from all over Italy (courtesy of the ICI's extensive regional wine cellar) and all I can tell you is that I had the mother of hangovers the following morning.
Later the following day, I met up with Rita and her husband, Enrico to take a walk through Soho and Marylebone High Street and we had a delicious lunch at Cafe Coco Momo. Enrico tried, and pronounced highly enjoyable, a "full English" breakfast (at 2pm!).
Coco Momo in Marylebone serves up a Full English all day long, especially for Italians! |
We exchanged gifts and vowed to see each other again in the new year.
Salute!
Monday, 5 December 2011
SPITALFIELDS MARKET
This has to be my favourite London market!
It has an enormously rich and varied history dating back to the 300’s when it was originally the site of a Roman cemetery.
In 1197 ‘The priory of St. Mary of the Spittle’, a medieval hospital, was founded: the first part of the name ‘Spitalfields’ derives from the word ‘hospital’, which to the medieval mind was understood as ‘hospitality’, a place of rest as well as medicine.
A big leap forward now to when Jewish families first began settling in Spitalfields in the seventeenth century. In the 1880s, anti-semitic pogroms in Russia and Eastern Europe triggered a major Jewish exodus, and thousands joined the existing communities in Spitalfields and Whitechapel.
Representing these districts was the Liberal MP Samuel Montagu, a well-liked philanthropist, leading banker, keen fly fisherman and devout Orthodox Jew. He was dedicated to the welfare of his new constituents, lobbying for their humane treatment and founding a number of shelters and working men's clubs specifically for their use.
He was chairman of the Spitalfields Benevolent Society, which was formed to help the area’s poorer inhabitants, and he founded the Federation of Synagogues. In 1907, Montagu was raised to the peerage and became the first recipient of the title Baron Swaythling.
The Jewish community thrived in Spitalfields for several decades before gradually moving towards the suburbs, a trend eventually accelerated by the heavy bombing of the East End during the Second World War.
Representing these districts was the Liberal MP Samuel Montagu, a well-liked philanthropist, leading banker, keen fly fisherman and devout Orthodox Jew. He was dedicated to the welfare of his new constituents, lobbying for their humane treatment and founding a number of shelters and working men's clubs specifically for their use.
He was chairman of the Spitalfields Benevolent Society, which was formed to help the area’s poorer inhabitants, and he founded the Federation of Synagogues. In 1907, Montagu was raised to the peerage and became the first recipient of the title Baron Swaythling.
The Jewish community thrived in Spitalfields for several decades before gradually moving towards the suburbs, a trend eventually accelerated by the heavy bombing of the East End during the Second World War.
I have been visiting the market for nigh on twenty years, and today, having been, until 1991 a fruit and veg market (that’s now moved to a purpose-built site in Leyton, east London), the market has been thoroughly renovated, a new roof (thank goodness they’ve fixed that. The times I've spent browsing and got wet from the leaks when it was raining outside and having to walk through puddles). It’s been expanded all the way through to Liverpool Street now with new shops and craft outlets with, of course, plenty of places to meet all eating requirements! Accents seem to be on Oriental street food.
I'm a huge fan of Harris Tweed!
Memo to Bart Simpson: Yes, you can have a cow!
Just opened after a complete gutting and refit is the Ten Bells pub. This place is noted (if that’s the right word) for having been associated with Jack The Ripper. Now run as a rather super new restaurant run by the self-styled Young Turks, we had a scrumptious dinner there. I thought that the standard mark-up of £10.00 whatever wine you purchased was a particularly appealing feature.
This is what the place looked like before the YT's took it over!
It's ahad a splash of paint on teh outside and the new interior is a whole new cosy thing with absolutely no matching furniture. Look out for the neon sign mysteriously imploring "Keep Me Safe".
More soon. Probably...
Monday, 24 October 2011
IN THE MEANTIME ( QUITE LITERALLY!)
Hello my little stars!
To Greenwich and the Astronomers Ball at the Royal Greenwich Observatory in southeast London. And what an unusual and remarkably interesting evening it was! In truth, I had never visited this august loication previously, so I had no idea what to expect, but was very pleasantly surprised at what I did experience.
On arrival, you can get to see and touch, what is claimed to be the oldest object on the planet. A rather large and hideously deformed metallic meteorite.
Rock of ages, and ages, and ages.....
The event, hosted by my friends at the Polish Cultural institute and Secret Garden, was spread over the entire property with “pop-up” modules. One such event was a secret tour of the giant telescope (still the seventh largest in the world even after 150 years!), hosted, in costume by a suitably attired Mittel European girl, with her accomplice (foreground) who, becuase I happened upon the tour a little late, refused to tell me who she was and just glared!.
Pay attention at the back and stop taking pictures...
A "workshop" presented by two "starlets" in silver space suits explained to us the history of astronuats' food, and even took the trouble to ensure that we experienced first hand such marvelsd of culinary science with a pieceof dehydrated carrot and a tube of what looked like brown toothpaste - but could have been either beef extract or chocolate. I didn't try it!
What's for lunch?......
The problem with eating biscuits in zero gravity was a problem because of crumbs that could get in the way of important equipment. This problem (we were told) was solved by coating the biscuit in jelly!
...and dessert?
Another, and startlingly effective coup-de théatre was played by an actor and actress in Dutch attire of the 15th Century explaining their fear of the Church, but keen to impart their astronomical knowledge, then, somewhat spookily distracted by my camera!
Elsewhere, an intergalactic travel bureau had been set up where you could book a trip into space and visit all the sights of the planets. The two girls I filmed were about to be charged 33 million Pounds (about $50 million). Sounded like a bargain to me, but they remained to be convinced!
Many chose to dress up for the evening.
Menage-A-trois at my planet or yours?
The Museum’s shop remained open throughout the event, where one could purchase a very good value (I thought) high powered “beginner’s” telescope for a mere £150.00.
At the end of the hill beside the observatory is the wonderful, romantic and highly spectacular view across the river to Canary Wharf and its environs.
Time, for me, stood still…..
To Greenwich and the Astronomers Ball at the Royal Greenwich Observatory in southeast London. And what an unusual and remarkably interesting evening it was! In truth, I had never visited this august loication previously, so I had no idea what to expect, but was very pleasantly surprised at what I did experience.
On arrival, you can get to see and touch, what is claimed to be the oldest object on the planet. A rather large and hideously deformed metallic meteorite.
Rock of ages, and ages, and ages.....
The event, hosted by my friends at the Polish Cultural institute and Secret Garden, was spread over the entire property with “pop-up” modules. One such event was a secret tour of the giant telescope (still the seventh largest in the world even after 150 years!), hosted, in costume by a suitably attired Mittel European girl, with her accomplice (foreground) who, becuase I happened upon the tour a little late, refused to tell me who she was and just glared!.
Pay attention at the back and stop taking pictures...
A "workshop" presented by two "starlets" in silver space suits explained to us the history of astronuats' food, and even took the trouble to ensure that we experienced first hand such marvelsd of culinary science with a pieceof dehydrated carrot and a tube of what looked like brown toothpaste - but could have been either beef extract or chocolate. I didn't try it!
What's for lunch?......
The problem with eating biscuits in zero gravity was a problem because of crumbs that could get in the way of important equipment. This problem (we were told) was solved by coating the biscuit in jelly!
...and dessert?
Another, and startlingly effective coup-de théatre was played by an actor and actress in Dutch attire of the 15th Century explaining their fear of the Church, but keen to impart their astronomical knowledge, then, somewhat spookily distracted by my camera!
Elsewhere, an intergalactic travel bureau had been set up where you could book a trip into space and visit all the sights of the planets. The two girls I filmed were about to be charged 33 million Pounds (about $50 million). Sounded like a bargain to me, but they remained to be convinced!
Many chose to dress up for the evening.
Menage-A-trois at my planet or yours?
The Museum’s shop remained open throughout the event, where one could purchase a very good value (I thought) high powered “beginner’s” telescope for a mere £150.00.
At the end of the hill beside the observatory is the wonderful, romantic and highly spectacular view across the river to Canary Wharf and its environs.
Time, for me, stood still…..
Sunday, 9 October 2011
SPACE PARTY AT THE INSTITUT FRANCAIS
GALS FROM OUTA SPACE!
L'Institut - c'est formidable!
In Douglas Adams’ Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, they serve a drink at the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe called a “Pan Galactic Gargle-Blaster”. This exotically named cocktail came to mind last night when I attended the crazy Space Party at the beautiful Art Nouveau Institut Français in South Kensington and downed a couple of the barman's creations. As part of the Passion et Bande Dessin (that’s French for comic book) weekend, the party – which was preceded by a screening of Roger Vadim’s Barbarella – it was a little bit of Paris in Londres.
Is this how you want me to hold it?
My record company, Harkit Records, were, along with Absolut Vodka, joint sponsors of the party.
We had just re-released the soundtrack to the aforementioned film, and it was on sale at the Institut. At the time of the film’s initial release in 1968 at Paramount’s flagship cinema in London, the Plaza (now sadly, the way of all buildings in the UK – a Tesco supermarket), it flopped miserably. After 5 days, they shoved in Lyndsey Anderson’s “If....” which, in case you didn't know, went on to win the “Palme D’Or” at Cannes the following year.
"If..." made Malcolm McDowell
In the intervening period, Barbarella has gone on to become what is known as a “Cult Classic”. God! How I hate that term, but it does serve a purpose I suppose. Watching it last night with many who had not seen in before, it looked arch and dated, with just a little too much sadism for its own good.
I had hot-footed it from synagogue in the west end following the termination of the Yom Kippur holiday, where I partook of a splendid dinner at the Institut’s terrific bistro where I got to chat with some of the gamer girls, including the organiser Natacha, who had dressed up for the party later on.
Natacha - she is very strict! "If you are not on ze leest, you are not coming een!"
These French gals are out of this world!
There were probably about 200 people there dancing a drinking the space-themed and vodka-based concoctions, but alas, no Gargle Blaster! As I write this, I haven’t slept for 30 hours...
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