Wot? No Fish!!

A sneaky little exhibition that is currently hiding under a passage way that's part of the Southbank Centre.

Wot? No Fish!! is an exhibition that displays the doodles by Ab Solomons drawn on his wage packet given to his wife, Celie. (Who was often the subject matter of these mini artworks.)

This beautiful, quiet, unassuming exhibition charts the relationship between two people. The good and the bad. Everything is displayed very simply, to allow easy digestion of this very human story. It is definitely worth a peek, particularly as it is free!

Review: Decision (EXHIBITION)

Today I went to see the current exhibition on at the Hayward Gallery in London. It's a solo show featuring the work of Carsten Holler (imagine the umlaut) who is probably most remembered in London for his slide installation at Tate Modern some time ago. (I'm not going to lie, the slide that you see in the photo above was the main swung it for me.)

The exhibition is a little pricey (even with the student discount) unless you are an Art Fund Member. (I may write a post about this a different time.) With this discount it only cost a cool £6.75 to get in (otherwise it is £15 for a full paying adult.)

Now I came out of this exhibition thinking on thing: this is an art exhibition for people that don't like art. And that's because a lot of it didn't feel like art, because the form the artworks take can be interpreted as closer to objects of play than the preconceived notion of 'art'. So not necessarily a bad comment, or a good one to be fair. Some of the time it felt as if this work was just offering itself up the public, in a desperate attempt to be liked. This attitude towards making art is definitely one I enjoy, however, it can easily feel gimmicky and cheap. And occasionally, I felt like some of the pieces did this. At times it felt like more of an amusement park, than pieces of art. 

However, there were two stand out pieces for me. The first, was the very first piece you were confronted with. And confronted is completely the right word. 'Decision Corridors' basically does what it says on the tin. Immediately, after stepping foot into the exhibition you are in a corridor. A metal corridor that very quickly turns pitch black. You are given instructions before you enter. Walk slowly. Keep one hand on the wall at all time. I felt like I was in some sort of Greek Myth. Anyway, you slowly negotiated your way around this one way in one way out maze, until it spat you out into the florescent lighting of the gallery onto the next part of the exhibition.

The second, is, you've guessed it, the slides. 'Isometric Slides' are big. And fun. And reminiscent of fair grounds. Once you decide to go on these, there is no going back. These are the point of no return. Basically, it's how you leave the exhibition. And what a way to do so. Leaving in style. (Who cares about arriving anyway.) What I'm trying to get at, is make sure you've seen all the other parts of the exhibit before you slide on down. I found myself giggling/squealing as I went down (it was much more bumpy than I thought it would be) and it was much fun. I didn't really think about much though apart from how I can kind of see bits of London as I slide down this thing, and of course the bump thought and wondering what I sounded like to other people. It was kind of cool to think that I was the sliding down person that someone saw, just as I did before I went inside. (As a participant of the slide, you do essentially become the spectacle.)

All in all, I'm glad I went. However, I'm not sure I would have paid £15 to see it. (I do understand the reasoning for this cost - it's purely because of the amount of invigilators needed for each artwork, due to health and safety I imagine, because they are very participatory and things could easily go wrong if someone wasn't there to ensure the smooth running of the exhibition and the protection of the artworks.) But if you like art disguising itself in something else, or appearing to be something its not, this might be the exhibition for you.

Review: The Audience (PLAY)

After a brief absence we are back in business with an onslaught of posts! The first being a play that I saw on Monday. The Audience starring Kristin Scott Thomas in its second rival on the West End.

We paid the princely sum of £25 for a seat in the Grand Circle (a.k.a the Balcony as there is no higher level) and the view was really good! I was worried that we might find it difficult to seeing properly but for the price we paid I was very impressed! Unfortunately, most of the closer seats soon shot up in price to £50 and higher. (If you're interested, we were in Row E, with the seats closest to the aisle.)

Now I need to move away from my chat on seating otherwise I'll never stop. The play itself was very interesting. I have never thought about the relationship between the monarchy and elected politicians before. Although I am not a fan of the monarchy, the Queen has been the stable pillar for the past 63 years in between a revolving door of politicians. 12 to be exact. From Churchill to Cameron. And from the looks of it, she simply listens and nods to what they say. It was interesting to see these imagined audiences between the Queen and her Prime Minister. And much more amusing than I thought it would be. The tone of the play really was impressive as it balanced poignant moments with a handful of laugh-out-loud ones. It gives you insight to what it must be like to have a certain path forced upon you (in this case, to become the reigning sovereign.) Additionally, in a way, the play also acts as a history lesson.

And that's how it ends. The Queen, standing in front of what she calls 'her dirty dozen'. It is quite spooky to see these famous figures, leaders of the United Kingdom standing in one group together, solemnly looking out onto us, the real audience, as the curtain falls.

Definitely worth a ticket if you can grab one. On until 25th June 2015.

Review: A Victorian Obsession (EXHIBITION)

The beautiful painting that you see before your eyes, is called The Roses of Heliogabalus by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

And this beautiful painting is currently on show as part of 'A Victorian Obsession' at the Leighton House Museum.

I'll keep this brief and to the point. The house itself is worth visiting, purely for its Arab Hall. The famous painter Leighton (whom the house belonged to) found himself inspired by the Middle East during his lifetime, and as a result decorated his house to reflect that. This hall is one of the first things you see, and really does take your breath away. (Something you wouldn't expect in the sleepy streets of Kensington.)

Also the price of the ticket included an audio guide, which is definitely worth mentioning as you feel you get a little more for the entrance fee.

Then, as you make your way through the house, more and more paintings are on display (quite honestly I'm not sure whether or not these are part of the permanent collection, or part of the current temporary exhibition. Which has now been extended until the 6th April.) And as you can probably tell, I have a favourite painting that was on display. All the others seemed to lead up to this moment that you would meet the above artwork.

You enter a sectioned off room. Immediately, your nostrils are filled with a heavy sent of roses. Your eyes are then proceeded to be assaulted with this lavish, overflowing, large painting, arousing all the senses. Normally, I find it hard to engage with old paintings, I foolishly have begun to file them away somewhere labelled 'dusty relics' and 'outdated'. Yet here I am, imploring you all to go and see it if you can! Or if not, google it, make the image as large as possible for your screen and just stare.

The painting is based upon a (probably fictional) event concerning the Roman Emperor named Elagabalus (as known as Heliogabalus.) Depicting one of his lavish parties, it shows Elagabalus smothering his guests (to the point of death) with rose petals, released from the ceiling.

And with that I'll leave you.

Now google that painting! (Or stare at the tiny example above.)

Review: Romeo and Juliet - Rose Theatre (PLAY)

Romeo and Juliet. Infamous for their love. A story that we all know. The one that Shakespeare is probably most famed for.

This love story has been retold for over 400 years, and due to such familiarity, it poses a tricky task. Yes, it is probably a safe bet in terms of drawing in various audiences (who doesn't love a doomed tale of star-crossed lovers?) but it is equally risky. Do you change it? Do you add your own interpretation or even words to the masterpiece of William himself? How can you make a 400 year old love story something that contemporary audiences can resonate with?

This current version of the play has a run until the 21st March at the Rose Theatre in Kingston Upon Thames (a leafy suburb of London.) And most likely because of its location, the prices for this play are reasonably cheap. Particularly the tickets that we paid for on our visit last night. The Rose Theatre do this fantastic deal, where (for certain productions) you can pay £8 to sit in the 'Pit Cushions'. This basically means that you sit on the floor in the space in front of the stage. You either bring your own cushion or borrow one from the theatre. Simple. This deal is so fantastic, as you get a very good view. (If not one of the best.) Now, I naively thought that only young people would be snapping up these tickets, but to the far right of me, a pair of elderly ladies seemed to be quite content soaking in the Shakespeare with their cushions. I really think this is a great idea - and it's something I've never experienced before. I'm not sure I could really go back to normal seating again. There is something much more comfortable and informal about watching a play on the floor. (I did cheekily take my shoes off.) I think the reason I loved it so much was because it reminded me of being in Primary School and sitting cross-legged for story time. And this is exactly what theatre is. Just a shinier-more-glorified-adult-version of it.

Now to talk about the actual play (rather than my love for the floor.) This production took some bold risks. From the fact that Mercutio was a woman (which I very much appreciated) to the addition of a character that doesn't exist - Pedro. (Basically a servant of the Capulet household.) It took me a little while to settle into this version and to let go of the Baz Luhrmann adaptation (step aside Leo) but once I did I was swept away by the direction of Sally Cookson. She and the music maestro Benji Bower created a very intense story that pulsated and exploded in key moments throughout the play. There were moments of dance and physical theatre to highlight important emotional points that really gave this adaptation its edge.

Apart from the fantastic portrayals given by both Romeo and Juliet (especially the Nurse, she stole every scene she was in) praise must be given to the set designers. They've created a very dynamic stage, with different levels, that were used most effectively throughout the performance. I was very surprised at the athleticism of the actors, as they ran across the stage, climbed up the set and jumped down again. It really utilised the space and made for a fast-paced dynamic show. By having these explosive moments, they made the emotional scenes even more reflective and more powerful. Having this stark contrast really worked to the play's advantage. And equally made the dance/musical elements of the play make sense and hold more validity in their addition.

All in all, if you fancy a lovely evening (or afternoon) I heartedly recommend paying a visit to Kingston and seeing this adaptation of one of the best love stories to have ever been written.

For never was there a story of more woe,
than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Review: Whiplash (FILM)

Welcome to Whiplash. A film I only went to see because of its Oscar nominations, and because of its focus around jazz.

Both valid reasons, but if there is one reason that you must simply watch this film, it's because it is great.

It tells the story of a young aspiring jazz drummer and his unorthodox mentor at a fictional prestigious music school in New York.

Throughout its entirety you feel yourself completely enveloped by the film. I was sat in my seat for at least half of the film furiously shaking my foot to the beat (which I hope was neither dragging nor rushing, but simply on point.) What I think is most captivating about this film is its portrayal of honing a skill or talent. JK Simmons' character (the teacher named Fletcher) within the film states that the two worst words within the dictionary are 'good job'. It raises the question of whether they are really? Does it breed complacency or encourage growth? Fletcher believes in the former which partially explains his unusual teaching methods. Is he really inspiring greatness? Or simply breaking the souls of those that have the possibility to do so?

The protagonist, Andrew (amazingly portrayed by Miles Teller) goes throughout the film fighting to reach what seem to be the unattainable standards that Fletcher sets. His fingers bleed, his relationships suffer and so does his sanity.

The film brilliantly plays with its face-paced moments as well as its quieter ones, allowing each scene the space it needs to breathe, much like the set of a drummer. It ticks along nicely, turning in different directions that you don't see coming. This isn't your average run of the mill music film.

Expectantly, the score is fantastic and truly on point, with the musical performances from every actor true if not completely believable.

I'll leave with a simple note on the ending: it's probably the best moment we could hope for. And as with the end of a performance, it ends with a bang.

If you can, go and watch Whiplash. It stays with you long after you've finished watching.

From the RCA to Egon

Today a little trip was had. A trip of worth. A trip of note. A trip worth noting. 

This unusual outing was to see the Work-in-Progress Show at the Royal College of Art School of Fine Art. (Primarily this was seen for purely selfish reasons - inspiration for my own end of year Degree Show.) Now, I'm stating here and now that it really is worth seeing. However, (hence the haste for this post) it's only on this weekend. (10am - 5.30pm) So if you're in the London area get yo'self to Battersea and sniff around those open studios! 

Still being in the studios, and with many of the students still milling around, it's a very casual format of a traditional gallery experience. And I think that, that's nice, because with that comfort comes the ability to experiment and take risks, and that's what some of the pieces on display did. There was one piece in particular (whose name I have no idea of unfortunately) made the most magical thing I've seen from pieces of cardboard and torches. It really proves that you don't need bucket loads of dollar (or the Tate) to make something quite extraordinary.

Now onto the Egon. 

This is my newly discovered Schiele. One of his sister. And although it said she is wearing a hat, I like to think that she has very triangular hair. (But this is all besides the point.)

This is something that is ending very quickly. Tomorrow to be exact. It would help if I mentioned what this was about really wouldn't it? I'm talking about the exhibition currently being held at the Courtauld which ends tomorrow. (It costs £7.50 excluding the £1 donation for adults, or £3 for a student. Which for now is a category I fall in to.) 

Now, as I approached the gallery to join a queue which I was not inspecting, I was wondering whether or not this would be worth it. Particularly when the lady approached me to inform me that the next available slot to purchase tickets, were for 6.30pm. (It was roughly around 2pm as I stood in the queue.) And I wondered is it really worth the hype? It felt that as though because everyone was rushing to buy these tickets, and because they were selling out fast, that you had to go to see it. Simply because everyone else was, rather than the substance of the actual exhibition. Which is a feeling I hate. But it must have worked, because I bought a ticket, and busied myself until I could go to see some works about an artist I didn't particularly know much about.

And I'm very glad I did.

Mostly, when visiting exhibitions similar to this, that exhibit a very famous artist, I wonder why are they so popular? Why this artist? And it's very rare, that I'm in an exhibition, looking at a work, and feel as though I can see the genius that everyone talks about. But it happened this time. Throughout the exhibition, but especially with the image above. This small, pixelated copy does no justice to his mark making, his colour choices, or the shapes he conjures out of the simplest of lines. And maybe that's why I've never been terribly interested in Schiele before. Because in this format, you can't really see it. You're looking, but you can't see. 

And simply because of this revelation, (and the bonus of the cheap student ticket) I would go and see it if you can. It's not the largest exhibition, but it is one of the finest I have seen in a long time.