Monday, June 26, 2006

Tate St Ives

Last week i wandered down to Cornwall and visited the Tate St. Ives and the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Gardens. The Tate was lovely... tiny and intimate with two modernist retrospectives and a lovely selection of etchings/seriography available to purchase. To be honest, at first i was a little disappointed in the Tate St Ives... bear in mind my expectations were on the grand scale (perhaps naively) with the Modern in mind. The exterior facade of the Gasworks building hints at a huge interior of white spaces interrupted with art. Huzzah! Another point for architecture dwarfing is purpose! BUT once you enter the building you are shunted down a hall with reprints of modernist artists for sale... around a corner and tadaa you are in the Resident Gallery room... sure you get to see a Naom Gabo and a Hepworth and Ben Nicholson, all interesting pieces in their own right, but the 60sq ft room seems to be a minimal gesture.

Then you are presented with a strange spiralesque staircase that leads to the retrospectives up and down. I wont go into the retrospectives, I thoroughly enjoyed them but they arent the subject here... its the Tate itself.

The light and bowed glass windows add a lovely fishbowl feel to the work on display and although st ives is noted for its Mediteranean light, come on people... its friggin england... grey skys were always on order here. The intent was great but at the same time it lets the work down more often than not. Again, it seems the architecture of the Tate 'powers that be' is more important than the works its housing. Sure its indy-culturally sensative, and sure its avant garde, but really, its detracting. The coolest room was the courtyard which was filled with a sealed marquee (most likely full of shovels, whitewash/emulsion, and other crap).

The Tate modern suffers from similar problems. They commission artists to glorify the main space. Not fill it... the only show ive seen that successfully pulled attention away from the stratospheric space was Anish Kapoor's Marsyas... and that was because it completely obstructed any view whatsoever of the space it inhabited. It filled and threatened in such a way that you forgot you were in the tate. Personally i didnt like Marsyas... I couldnt get Alien Condom outta my head. Perhaps Im a pervert. LOL theres no perhaps about it is there.

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Interruption
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OMFG this dood (
Wesley Kimler) on BadatSports is SO damned annoying. Im not sure if its his accent or sanctimonious self aggrandising/advertising and complete and total hostile takeover of BAS but whatever it is... im glad i have the power of Volume. of course i really only listen to BAS for Duncans velvet/dulcet tones... o they stroke my tympanic membranes in such delectable ways. o ya heres a link for BAS Click HERE
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Sorry about that...hes droning on in the background as i type here. Im looking for razorblades... i swear to god.

O ya... so anyways.. the tate... nice... kool prints for sale... interesting take on local art history... even celebrates it... but it seems like a... half assed attempt at a 'Tate'. Ok heres a contrast for you... i went to a tourist trap a day later... the Poldark Mines... its a Mine... deep dark wet and cold... kinda scary and forces you to confront all sorts of inner issues and for some, Bat fetishes. The gift shop? a joke... most of the stuff on sale had a layer of dust deeper than my stubble is long. Shiddy nickknacks, fossils, tin ingots and personalized plastic 'nonspill' coffee mugs... not a whole fecking lot else. BUT the £7 entry fee... MORE than made up by the experience of being 130 feet below bedrock and the water table, standing on a rusty gantry above a black hole (depth unknown) that flooded a hundred years ago. Pumps and gushing and water trickling somewhere around the corner... and the knowledge a mine 20 yards to the left through the rock wall is flooded to about 50 feet above my head and they dont know how close the nearest shaft is to where we are standing... and they are still digging in a rather worrisome random way.

The Tate St Ives on the other hand... is like a poor facade of art and architecture made to support and house the Gift Shop. Its a really great gift shop... i mean it... i wanted so many things and had to be so so so so careful... after resisting the temptation to buy a reprint of a Hepworth Etching on my credit card i could easily refuse a new edition of The Shock of the New.

But please dont let me dissuade you from the St Ives tate, it is lovely. But more like a bastard runaway redheaded stepchild of the Tate Modern and the Tate Britain. Still a 'tate' but not quite worthy the full title in a Saatchi-esque way.

I had more fun at the bottom of a mineshaft though... but mebbe thats just me.


The hepworth museum and gardens though? So gorgeous. So so so gorgeous. In a mausoleum sort of way. Each piece is a beauty, but somehow, the entire place has a graveyard feel. Her kitchen space converted into a timeline of her life in sepia photos, her living room a gallery mixed with some original furniture... a nook has a partially carved 4 foot wooden block, chisle laid to rest as though she has simply stepped out for a pint of milk. In some ways the entire place is like one of those parents who lost a child and couldnt quite move on, they leave the room exactly as it was when their child last lived, and it remains as a shrine. The hepworth gardens are a shrine to one of the last great British artists.

Almost EVERYTHING else in this country, in fact large tracts of the country itself, is a memorial/mausoleum/shrine to the past or a great Noun from the past. The new has proved to most people as lacklustre and uninteresting. Or at least not covered by either football or Big Brother. Kinda sad eh?

Personally i LOVE graveyards and mausoleums... zombies aside. (most of the reason i like graveyards is zombies) and imagine zombies in the hepworth gardens... 'braaaaaaii*ooo look at the organic qualities of this bronze peice!!!* The gardens are truly lovely koipond and all. Its always nice to stroke that which you have only seen in glossies... what... shutup.

Ok im done... Im going to take Bad at Sports' tagline here and claim in dont know jack, revel in the irresponsiblity of being a vocal audience member instead of a journalist, and just make blanket statements to see if anyone cares.

cheers!!

p

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

MadcapRecap

Or something along those lines...

Well i have 1 day left in the great white north... and i must admit... i am sad to go.

But please dont get me wrong, I love my life in the UK... but when it all boils down, i love my fam and mates here in the land of ice and snow. I live a life of torn alliances! Oooo Torn Alliances... sounds like a nice title for a video game that has a 2 page splash in PCGamer but you never actually see on the shelves... ever.

Its a week since the food day. I have done SO much since then... heres my recap.. not necessarily in this order... in fact not at all.

Ive seen 2 movies... Cars and Napoleon Dynamite. Enjoyed both. If you disagree with my enjoyment tough shit.

Spent an amazing day in Banff... for the first time in my adult life i spent a day in banff NOT escorting someone around attempting to woo them with canada. Not that canada needs the help, but I do... Banff is a booster shot for my attempts to import future wives apparently.

Spent way too much time in Malls. Chinook Mall to be precise... and spent a shedload of cash... I am now broke and the month isnt even half over.. yay for me.

Revisted my Uni, and spied out the possibilities of furthering my career! More to come on that little foray.. but im not sure i want to divulge as yet.

Refreshed friendships with people i havent seen in years and remembered why i love them so much. This doesnt include P4J as i didnt actually need to remember.. i already knew i loved him.

Umm... lesse what day is it... *mutter... count fingers..... mutter... stare into space vacantly... mutter* ok... reREvisited same friends to get a double whammy visit in.

O YEAH!!! god i have a shit memory... spent a really great evening with the Tisdale and his very hot wife at a comedy club thing... this was my first time at a comedy club thing and was more than pleased with the faux brick wall and the comics and their shticks. LOVED it. And found a restaurant that is Gluten free. Im not gluten intolerant.. but i know loads of ppl who are.

Then... today... P4J scared the shit outta me with a lovely story about a guy who contracted Allergic Fungal Sinusitis. This particularly freaky story involved some poor fucker who got bread mould in his sinus cavity... and some plucky docs had to cut him up to get it out... and as they scooped deteriorated tissue out of his face they found that it just kept going... soon... the dood had no face... he had a fist sized/shaped hole where his eyes/nose/mouth were... how lovely. Now he breathes via trache... and his wife leads him by the hand. I thought... ya right paj.. you sick fuck... but o no. http://www.emedicine.com/ENT/topic510.htm That isnt a link to the particular case study but does actually document various other ones... *shiver*

NEVER EATING GREEN SPOTTED BREAD EVER AGAIN. EVER.
I dont care how hungry or lazy i feel. Nor will i trust the all consuming fires of my toaster to sterilized the violent penicillan spores.

I also beat the socks off the pajman with the lesyks cheese army. It was both fun and sorta not fun... i dont like making paj pout... he used to pout alot.. hes not pouting alot now... i prefer him nonpouty... and although the grey days of hotboxing camels in a beat up saab are historic.. the bleaks of basement jaxx and minor bouts of starvation are happily put behind me/us. The sneaky smile and eye twinkle I see is so welcome and fuzzy making that i can only smile back and thank the lovely Ms D. whom ive yet to meet.

I also bought socks.

One day left... and then... back to the land of mould and mildew... but this time with my father in tow!! huzzah! and then... later... my mom as well!! it will be nice to have them back at the flat with me... sort of ease me back into my life... and hopefully assisting me with my newfound me'ness. :)

well... umm.. i think im done now... i know theres other stuff... but i reckon that should be saved for another day! as i cant remember it all right now... its lateish. And i get one last run with P4J before 'the lag of the jet 2 - Time goes BACKWARDS'. yay.

cheers!

p

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Gastonomic Greatness

Today was a day that any future food day will have an amazingly hard time to compete with or even play in the same league as today.

Firstly, any future food day would have to have Paj as connoisseur co-captain. Cant beat the man. He has a green tongue. No he hasnt eaten a lot of green popsicles, thats a strange newly coined term that failed to relate to green thumb. BUT i still think it works. And since this is my blog and NOT yours, i can say Green Tongue.

Our gastronomic journey commenced with River Cafe. Both Paj's workplace in the summer and his mecca of food apprenticeship. I was treated and honoured with the Tasting Menu. A rare treat. There were oysters and muscles and scallops and smoked trout and wild caught Salmon and fresh early season asparagus and pork loin and a stellar rissotto and some funky crab salad of goodness and god knows what else. Every.Single.Bite. was an experience. The whole MEAL was an experience. Having a chef put specific thought into each plate and what follows for you personally is something i have never been on the recieving end of and felt quite honored for it. Its on par with an artist making a unique painting, just for you, while you wait. Each course was served with a thoughtful wine to compliment the flavours. I truly havent ever experienced such a feast. Desert was an amazing chocolate icecream/malt with raspberry compote and a side of pecan tart. so much... goodness.

We rolled/staggered/grunted and buzzed away from the restaurant, sated, satisfied and stunned. A walk was needed to be had.

We made our way via foot and train to chinook and took in District B13. A fun action movie of little depth but great feel. True to french style. Dirty, gritty, rough and ready. No fluffy extra crap... just good camera work, good script (most of the time), and the usual save the world whether it deserves it or not drama. Sure the setting had to seriously support the plot and the action had to serve as a distraction from the lack of depth, but in all, its an action movie ppl. Its not making any claims to otherwise. The baddies cant aim and the goodies dont die. Its a tried and true formula and it was tried and worked true in this film too. Go, have fun, dont think, and try to catch the few sneaky moments of cinematic still life that pop up unexpectedly to catch you unawares.

After that we wandered aimlessly more or less. Checkin out the girlies and talkin bout life the universe and everything. I totally realize i am out of sight out of mind of my life in the archipelago but here... for now... nothing is wrong, everything is ok and life doesnt seem all that heavy and depressing. Of course paj is a balm for most ailments, and food of suberb quality helps. I just hope and will strive to bring back some of my joie de vivre that i have here to my home in the UK.

Eventually we found ourselves in kensington in search of sushi. o. my. god. did we find sushi.





Sushi Club in Kensington... the best sushi ive had in so long... cant remember the name of this one roll.. takani... tamaki... tickytockytucktuck.... mangos coconut sushi... so fucking amazing. heaven on the palate. Nice sake... amazing sushi... another great meal... such a day.

We rounded it all off with some kickass gelato (i had the callebeut chocolate and Chicita Banana, and pajman had the coconut and pistacio) sooooooo good soooo creamy. we wandered back downtown and parted at the hilton. We musta covered a good 5 miles today. easy. The dogs are barking.

Tomorrow... the lesyk and some plastic fantastic. I will be pwned. horrifically.

Cheers!!

p

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Living Dead

I am zombie hear me gurgle...

Jetlags well and truly unpleasant. Mind you, this leg of the trip is helluva lot easier than going back. And i have to work the next day when i get back... o joy o fun.

Ya know what? I love blogger an all that.. and it has actually started me writing and enjoying writing... but my one gripe is have no idea what sort of traffic fungus gets... I know i have 3 semi regular readers now... which is lovely... but i would still write even if noone read it... I would probably write more tho... or at least with less restraint. Not that i have much of that... but... well blah.

I wish i could blog from my phone!!! no.. wait no i dont.. i hate texting... and it would be such a long arduous journey down predictive text that i reckon i would be hurling objects, inanimate and otherwise, at passersbye.

O due to recent musings and conversations ive decided to drop ticketyboo from my regular use of words. This will now ONLY be reserved for descriptions of engines running well and possibly in connection with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I think i will move onto a new word... honkydory. Similar but different. And has possible racist connotations! Retro words are cool. I may try to bring 'Hum Dinger' back into vogue... trendsetter that i am, i expect to hear Jeremy Clarkson use 'Hum Dinger' to describe the new audi.

Well i went for a very warm and sunny morning walk to starbucks. Sat down with a Rasberry/Rhubarb pastry thing... (tasty but messy) and read some of the collected short stories of Haruki Murakami. Haruki, for those of you who havent heard me laud his praises, is truly laud praiseworthy. Please excuse any types as im on a very peculiar keyboard and things are just barely stuttering along here. Yes, Haruki, the man is a genius. Yes people say 'ooo he/shes a genius!!!' all the time but really, i dont think we truly understand the full meaning of the word. Technically a genius is someone whos iq is over 125 or something. That would mean that most of my friends are geniusi. (geniusi sounds much better than geniuses). I suppose i could lump myself in there too.

But a true genius, the non run of the mill type, the kind of person whos work and mind produce something so incredible and possibly awe-inspiring are so few and far between. In todays society of mass info in record googled time, genius is usually glossed over, blurred out and in general lost. They still do their genius things but our attention span is ever dwindling. I think Haruki has publish around a dozen books... Most of which have been translated. I think i have 2 of them left. And all of them deserve my attention for at least 2 more readings each. Mind you i suppose genius, like beauty, is in the mind of the beholder. One mans genius, especially when it comes to writing i reckon, would be another mans boredom/paperweight.

I would heartily reccomend anything by haruki but ive become slightly tentative on book advice in recent years. Its such a personal experience... a massively insular, immersive, solitary experience. Im starting to think that sharing such an experience, even if by proxy, cheapens it for me. If i tell someone.... 'read this! its great!' and they do and say, 'ya that was nice...'. I realize i am a little too affected by other peoples opinion, but their apparent lack of similar enjoyment/revelation/appreciation/other slashed adjectives of coolness for something that moved me tends to spoil it.

The ONLY reason im lauding haruki now, keeping that last paragraph in mind, returns me to genius. He trys on genres like the rest of us try on clothes. Love stories to sci fi to Biography, politcal treatises, events, and cultural observations, its all there. Whatever your literary taste... im pretty sure he can write anything he pleases. And that pleases me. If it doesnt please you... im sorry.. but dont tell me. :P

Hrmm... i think i will go and find some lunch now, and possibly have a nap infront of the tele.

cheers!

p