appArt Art & Sculpture Exhibition 2012

This weekend saw the close of the appArt Art and Sculpture Trail at my local garden centre.  I didn't have a lot of time to look around, but it was great to see some local art in such an idyllic setting. I can't deny there were some beautiful paintings – but for me, it was the sculpture that really stole the show. 

Carlos Dare's Fox

There were two stand-out sculptors for me. The first was the self-taught Carlos Dare, whose menagerie of aluminium animals was particularly striking. They somehow managed to be cute and menacing in equal measure, and an example of industrialism meeting nature like I've never seen before. I was surprised to find that a Google search on Dare when I got home brought up one particularly scathing Guardian review, which I can only put down to the most noxious kind of art snobbery. I certainly don't claim to be an expert, but I do know that the crowd around Dare's sculptures the day I visited was unrivaled anywhere else in the exhibition. I also know that if I'd spent too much longer there I may well have ended up with a vulpine addition to my own garden.

Snowy Owl Pair by Daren Greenhow

The other sculptor whose work I know I could happily live with is Daren Greenhow. And I know this because I already do. I currently have an impressive bald eagle made from bicycle parts perched on a border fork in my conservatory. The intention was for him to relocate outside in the summer, but I'm not sure that summer ever really came this year, so no-one's had the heart to put him out yet. He could easily have ended up with a couple of new friends in this pair of gear-sprocket snowy owls. I absolutely love them, and to make something so characterful from something so functional is an art in itself. I can't wait to see what else Greenhow comes up with in the future.

Postcard Art I: Jurek Nems

Ever since I started Postrcrossing a few months ago, I have found myself getting more and more frustrated with the quality of the postcards available in the shops. I know there are some amazing artists and photographers out there, and yet most of the postcards I see are either painfully tacky or seriously outdated, low-res images that I would be embarrassed to send.

I can’t understand why there isn't more focus on getting some great postcard lines on the market. I mean, these are cards that are sent out internationally, to people who may know little or nothing about the country. They may form an impression of the UK based on this card, which could in turn influence their decision on whether or not to visit. I genuinely believe we are missing a huge tourism marketing opportunity here. I remember when I was young I tore out a series of photos from an old issue of National Geographic. They showed an idyllically snowy Toronto scene, with children making hand prints in steamed-up windows, and carefree residents skating down the frozen river. From that point on I wanted to visit. I’ll admit I haven’t made that trip yet…but I will. And all because of a few great photos. The point is, you shouldn't underestimate the persuasive power of images.

That’s why I was so excited to find these gorgeous London postcards while wandering down the Southbank this weekend. Photographed and hand processed by Jurek Nems, they are striking and modern, while still focussing on the traditional landmarks and icons associated with the City. He even makes the typical dark clouds and rain of London look moody and artistic.  Finally some postcards I will be proud to send.....if I can bear to part with them, that is.

National Poetry Day

On National Poetry Day, how can you fail to have a 'what's your favourite poem' discussion?

Unfortunately for fans of brevity, I'm not one to pin myself down to having a favourite one of anything....especially in such a diverse area as the arts. I couldn't pick a favourite poem any more than I could pick a favourite film, or piece of music. It depends entirely on my mood. I have fond memories of some of the poems from the shelves full of poetry books I had as a child. Back then I unashamedly devoured poetry. I think I must have asked my parents for a new poetry book for every Christmas, birthday, and with every new issue of the Puffin Post at school.  There was Please Mrs Butler (Nobody leave the room / Everyone listen to me / We had ten pairs of scissors / At half-past two / And now there's only three), Roger McGough's Imaginary Menagerie, Robert Louis Stevenson's A Garden of Verses, and countless others I've long-forgotten. And I even remember raiding boxes of my parents' old books where I was delighted to discover Pam Ayres Thoughts of a Late Night Knitter.

Unfortunately, I think studying poetry at school took away some of the magic for me. Analysing one war poem in painstaking detail for two hours just doesn't hold the same appeal as dipping into a book of light-hearted, neatly-rhyming verse.  I like poems that rhyme, and I don't care who knows it! To this day, it still makes me smile when things rhyme, especially unintentionally.

But, there have been one or two poems since those days that have struck a chord with me. One of those is Seamus Heaney's Scaffolding, which describes perfectly the way I feel about true friendship, and is a definite contender for the title of favourite:

Masons, when they start upon a building,

Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,

Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job’s done

Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be

Old bridges breaking between you and me

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall

Confident that we have built our wall.

And if you don't like that one, maybe you'll like my mum's favourite poem:

There was a man who always wore, A saucepan on his head.
I asked him what he did it for - ‘I don’t know why,’ he said.
‘It always makes my ears so sore, I am a foolish man.
I think I’ll have to take it off and wear a frying pan.

Chainsaw Carved Benches at Winkworth Arboretum

While I was walking my sister's dog around my local arboretum this weekend (doesn't everyone have a local arboretum?!) I came across these beautifully carved benches. I have no idea who the sculptor is -- only that the fox bench was carved as a tribute to Dr Wilfred Fox who created the arboretum and later donated it to the National Trust. 

Layla and I appreciating the fox bench

Considering the benches are carved out of tree trunks with chainsaws, the detail is absolutely amazing. I also love this as an example of how well art and nature can be combined. And of course, I love any excuse to sit down!

Gorgeous owl chainsaw carving

See the carvings for yourself at Winkworth Arboretum, currently open 10am-6pm daily. 

National Theatre's Propstore

Walking along the South Bank this week I noticed the National Theatre's summer café/bar, 'Propstore'. It makes up part of the National Theatre's Inside Out campaign, which aims to bring a taste of what goes on inside the theatre to the outside spaces of London.  The pop-up café does this brilliantly, being built from stage sets and scenery, and filled with props from past productions. 

The townhouse set from Comedy of Errors makes up part of the outside of Propstore

As if the outside of Propstore isn't dramatic enough, there is so much to look at once you get inside, with luggage tags explaining the significance of each prop. A goose puppet from War Horse adorns the bar, not to mention the crocodile from Peter Pan and monkey from Once in a Lifetime….and that's just the animals. Even the practical items are theatrical -- the light fittings hail from She Stoops to Conquer, and the bar is made from a pool table covered in old scripts. 

Seating in Propstore overlooked by the tortoise from Really Old, Like Forty Five

I have never felt so genuinely delighted by the sight of a café and so compelled to go inside.  Whether it will convince more people to venture inside the theatre, I don’t know, but what a unique and creative idea, and such a welcome change from the generic coffee shops and branded restaurants we are so used to. I love it.

Propstore will be open until 29th September -- don't miss it!

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

If you haven’t seen the Sweeney Todd musical yet, you really need to get down to the Adelphi before the end of the current run.  I finally got around to seeing it yesterday, and absolutely loved every minute.   

Even before the auditorium lights went down, the ensemble appeared on stage one by one, setting the scene of a dark and grimy London.  Speaking as someone who always arrives early, but hates waiting for shows to start, I was immediately won over by this detail. And the rest of the show didn’t disappoint either. The multi-level set design in particular was incredibly clever, and that alone could have kept me mesmerised for the duration of the show. 

Predictably enough though, it really boiled down to a two man show. You know you’re always going to be in safe hands with Michael Ball (despite being almost unrecognisable in the role of Sweeney) but Imelda Staunton was the real showstopper for me. I had no idea she could sing so well, and the comedy she brought to the role of Mrs Lovett was much needed in such a dark story. I’d never expected to laugh so much, and believe me it was a relief after some of the more sinister scenes. Throat-slitting I can handle, but Judge Turpin’s scenes of rape and self-flagellation made for very uncomfortable viewing.

An honourable mention has to go to Jason Manford too, in his short-lived role of Signor Pirelli. I’d been expecting him to handle the comedy, of course, but again was pleasantly surprised to see him hold his own vocally alongside Michael Ball.  I think Jason himself says it best -- "Anyone that's wondering what a comedian is doing singing in the West End should remember that once upon a time Frank Spencer became the Phantom - this is the West End, where anything can happen."

Sweeney Todd is on at the Adelphi Theatre until 22 September 2012. Book tickets here.

BT ArtBoxes

This week saw the end of the BT ArtBoxes project -- an artistic celebration of the iconic red telephone box. Just like the Big Egg Hunt earlier this year, artists and designers from around the UK each took a fibreglass replica and transformed it into a unique artwork to be displayed in the streets around London.

I wish I had seen more of the boxes, but with all the rain this month, walking the streets of London hasn’t been the most appealing way to spend my weekends. I admit it -- I'm a fair-weather art enthusiast. I did spend one Sunday afternoon searching out ArtBoxes though, and it was just as much fun as I’d hoped. Despite the torrential showers (which, fittingly enough, we had to dodge into a genuine red phone box to avoid) and the ink from the map I had printed running so badly that I couldn’t see where I’d been and where I was supposed to be heading next, we managed to find around twenty of the boxes. 

Here are a couple of my favourites:

‘Long Distance’ by Benjamin Shine

I’ve been a big fan of Benjamin Shine since his ‘Egg Letter Box’ in the Big Egg Hunt and Taxi Elephant in the Elephant Parade back in 2010, so I was excited to see his contributions to this project. I had read about his ‘Box Lounger’ which unfortunately I didn’t see in person, but this one was a complete surprise as I rounded a corner in Leicester Square. Great fun, and really popular with passers-by of all ages. I love how well the leaf-eating giraffe connects the ArtBox with its surroundings, where other boxes perhaps looked a little out-of-place. Apparently it represents the extending reach of communication through technology, but I think mostly it’s just fun to see a giraffe in a phone box.

‘Cell Phone’ by Bert Gilbert

I'm sure I've mentioned before that I love wordplay, so this ArtBox really made me smile. It was also the most tactile of all the ArtBoxes I saw, and it’s always nice to see people interacting with an accessible artwork.


Many of the ArtBoxes are currently on eBay and the rest will be sold at a gala auction at the National Portrait Gallery tomorrow, with all proceeds going to ChildLine for their 25th anniversary.

Remembering Maurice Sendak

I have to admit to not being very familiar with Maurice Sendak or his work. I never read Where the Wild Things Are when I was young, although the illustrations are instantly recognisable, even to me. News of his death on Tuesday was sad, of course, but also led to a smile as this extract from an old interview made its way around the Internet:

I love the story, and I love the way Sendak tells it. I think maybe I'll give his books a try after all.

Dirty Car Art by Tamara Navarro

With the hosepipe ban in the South East at the moment, I was expecting my car to be filthy by now. As it turns out, it hasn't stopped raining since the drought officially began, so it's not faring too badly.  If it does eventually end up covered in a layer of dirt, though, I hope Tamara Navarro's around to use it as a canvas. There's something intriguingly contradictory about making something so well-thought-out and beautiful out of something so dirty and neglected. And if nothing else, I'd have an excuse to never wash my car again.

Pentametron

After seeing the Pointless contestants struggle over the poetry round earlier this week, I started thinking how sad it is that more people don't enjoy poetry -- how it seems to be marginalised and considered either irrelevant or pretentious.  I'm no poetry expert, but I've always enjoyed wordplay and I especially love it when things inadvertently rhyme. There's a Dr Seuss-like neatness to it that just appeals to me.

And that's when I discovered Pentametron.  It uses Twitter to "find inadvertent poetry in the endless torrents of language that slosh around the internet".  Pentametron uses algorithms to search through up to 5 million tweets a day and find those unwittingly written in iambic pentameter.  Then it puts them together in a collection of rhyming 'sonnets'. What a great way to bring poetry into the 21st century, social-networking spotlight -- I love it!

Follow Pentametron on Twitter @pentametron.

Pointless Poems

I'm a huge fan of the BBC quiz show Pointless, and I just had to share today's round on 'Poems and Their Poets'.  If you haven't seen the programme before, the basic idea is that before the show they've given 100 members of the public the names of twelve poems and asked them to name the poets who wrote them. The contestants on the show then have to choose the poem they think the lowest number of those 100 people knew…but they also have to be able to name the poet who wrote it themselves. The ultimate achievement is to get a 'pointless' answer -- that is, to know the answer to one that none of the 100 people knew.  I suppose it's kind of a Family Fortunes in reverse. Does that make any sense? I doubt it -- my skills of explanation are not my strongest point, and I know it took me a few watches to get my head around the concept! But rules aside, these are the poems:

I managed to name the poets of eight of them. And I kicked myself when I found out the answer to one of the others. The remaining three I've never heard of and should probably look up sometime.  

How many can you get?

Olivier Awards 2012

Musical Theatre is one of my guilty pleasures, and I honestly can't imagine a better way to spend a rainy Sunday evening in than watching the Olivier Awards.  It's a great opportunity to see some classic performances by old hands (no Oliviers ceremony would be complete without a belter by Elaine Page) and there were plenty that I couldn't help but sing along to.  Fortunately there was no-one around to hear my questionable accompaniments to 'I Know Him So Well', so I think I got away with it.

As a personal favourite of mine, I was really pleased to see Les Misérables win the BBC Radio 2 Olivier Audience Award.  Having seen it twice in the West End, I still can't get enough of it, and I loved the rousing performance of 'One Day More', with Enjolras at the head of the march proudly brandishing their Olivier Award in the place of his usual rifle.

Other highlights for me were Sir Tim Rice's acceptance speech for his outstanding contribution award: "if anyone could thank God I suppose I could. I've made a lot of money off of God", and the impressive improvisation of Rory Kinnear when the sound failed at the most inopportune moment -- during his introduction to the montage of theatre professionals who have died this year. The cast of the Lion King taking over the entire theatre for the finale performance was also breathtaking as always.

The biggest winner of the night though, was Matilda. The cast and crew took home seven awards between them, including Best New Musical, Best Actor in a Musical, and Best Actress in a Musical which was shared by the four Matildas. The girls now hold the record of the youngest ever recipients of an Olivier Award.  I haven't seen Matilda yet, but I love Tim Minchin and was pleased to see it do so well.  I really must try to get tickets -- but after tonight I have a feeling I won't be the only one. I’d better get on the waiting list…

A full list of winners is available on the Olivier Awards website.

Diem Chau’s Crayon Sculptures

I happened across these crayon sculptures on the Internet this week, and I absolutely love them.  I'm always impressed by carving, since it's something I wouldn't have the first clue how to do myself -- but there's something particularly striking about Chau's work, as seen in this Chinese zodiac set.  I love the bright colours, and there's something ironic about making a drawing tool into the actual focus of the piece. Mostly it’s just incredibly talented and fun, and makes me want to search out a box of crayons so I can try it myself. 

This image is taken from the Packer Schopf Gallery's website, but there are plenty more on Chau's blog.  I've just lost the best part of an evening being mesmerised by all the crayon sculptures I found there.

The Big Egg Hunt, Part 2: 'The Grand Eggstravaganza'

At the risk of being tediously repetitive, I feel I have to blog about the Big Egg Hunt again….it is Easter after all. This weekend was the 'Grand Eggstravaganza' in Covent Garden's piazza, where all 210 of the decorated eggs were displayed.  I still didn't manage to find them all (which greatly upsets the obsessive side of my personality), but I wanted to share my top 5 favourites of the ones I did see.*

*My amateur photography skills in no way do these eggs justice!

5. 'It Is But It Isn't' by Andrew Sturgeon

There was something about the rusticity (or was it just rust?!) and the use of negative space that drew me to this egg.  Having since read Sturgeon's description, I now understand that it represents different stages of life -- including birth, the decay as we age (represented by the missing segments and tarnished exterior), and the youthfulness we carry inside even in later years (represented by the polished interior).  I'll happily admit that I didn't decipher any of that myself when I saw it, but it was one of only a few eggs that I felt I could realistically live with long-term. I hope it's not too derogatory to say that I could imagine it sitting perfectly as a sculpture in my garden?!

4. 'Alpha Egg of London' by Joanne Holbrook

Despite (or maybe because of) this being one of the more light-hearted and seemingly child-targeted eggs, I spent by far the longest time looking at it.  It's great to see such a simple concept so charmingly executed, and the imagination that went into compiling such a comprehensive alphabet of London is impressive by any standard.  I can even forgive the tenuous 'X is for OXO Tower' for the inspired 'S is for apples and pears'.  Great fun.

3. 'On/Oeuf' by Oliver Clegg, and 'Metropolis' by Rob & Nick Carter

Technically two eggs, I know, but it was the combination of the two together that made them so striking.  The brightly coloured neon of Metropolis shining through the clear glass lightbulb of On/Oeuf was mesmerising, and reminded me of spending far too long decorating the Christmas tree, arranging and rearranging fairy lights behind glass baubles trying to get the best effect.  For me, On/Oeuf also wins the best egg pun hands down (and trust me, there were a LOT of bad egg puns to choose from!)

2. 'Egg Letter Box' by Benjamin Shine

In contrast to Andrew Sturgeon's deep meaning, I had to admire Shine for simply imagining a weird parallel universe where everything is egg-shaped.  I love the Egg Letter Box and its nod to such an iconic British structure.  It made me feel nostalgic for my young letter-writing self, and the wonder of communicating with penpals on the other side of the world simply through one of these post boxes. My favourite detail, though, has to be the apt EGG monogram.

1. 'The Birth of a Legend' by Theo Fennell

There's not much to say about this one. I just love unicorns, so Fennell's egg takes the top spot for me.  Apparently it symbolises the current renaissance of craftsmanship, but the main reaction it inspired in me was an outbreak of Agnes's Despicable Me song:  'unicorns I love them, unicorns I love them, uni- uni- unicorns, I loo-oo-oove them'. Thank you Theo Fennell for making me smile today.

The Big Egg Hunt

This weekend I finally got around to joining in with the Big Egg Hunt in London.  If you've been in central London in the last 6 weeks, you will most likely have passed at least one of the giant eggs in question.  There are over 200 of them, each decorated by a different designer, artist or celebrity, and hidden in any one of 12 different "egg zones" right across London.  Downloadable zone maps tell you which eggs are in which zone, but it's down to you to find them, and when you do, to text in the egg's unique keyword to be in with a chance of winning the £100,000 Diamond Jubilee Faberge egg.  All proceeds go to the two charities behind the Big Egg Hunt: Elephant Family and Action for Children.

'Street Homage to Faberge' by Zandra Rhodes

There are so many things I found inspiring about this project.  First of all, it's just plain fun.  I completely lost myself in the thrill of the hunt.  There's just nothing quite like the buzz of spotting an elusive egg across a crowded plaza, through a shop window, or suspended high above the street.  The search took me to places I'd never been before -- even walking the usually familiar Southbank, I saw the river from a new vantage point on the top terrace of the National Theatre.  It also simultaneously brought out characteristics of grave competitiveness and heart-warming teamwork.  One minute I was arguing with my egg-hunting buddy about which of us had spotted a particular egg first.  The next minute we were both comparing notes with another couple in Covent Garden studiously crossing items off of their own zone map.  They told us they'd spotted over 150 eggs already, and I'm really rooting for them to find the rest.  Getting strangers to talk to each other in central London is no mean feat, and I think the organisers should be truly proud of themselves for achieving that.

'Eggsquisit London' by Paul Kenton

But not to lose sight of the artworks themselves -- another just as impressive achievement of the project is that it has made a whole exhibition of painting and sculpture effortlessly accessible to all.  With such a diversity of style and approach, I'd be amazed if you couldn’t find an egg that makes you smile.  I know I barely stopped smiling all day.  I overheard dozens of conversations admiring the unique beauty of one particular egg or another.  I have to say I noticed a lot of these conversations happening around Brodie Neill’s 'Gregg', which seemed to be a firm favourite.  Generally, though, I can't remember the last time I heard an exhibition of artwork inspire such enthusiastic discussion -- picking out favourites, and discussing how we might have decorated our own eggs given the opportunity. 

'Sarah' by Natasha Mann

For the record, my personal preferences were for the more "sculptured" pieces that focussed on the egg shape as the basis for the design concept – Sponge Creatives' 'Pop', for example, and Rachel Waldron's 'Busby'  were especially good fun.  Speaking as a self-confessed unicorn fan, though, the hands down favourite for me was Theo Fennell's 'The Birth of a Legend'.  If only I had a spare £4,000, I'd put a bid on it at the Big Egg Auction.

I'm only sorry that I didn't have time to explore more egg zones. I would have loved to have searched them all out.  But I look forward to seeing all 210 on display in Covent Garden over the Easter weekend, and I can't wait to see what Elephant Family come up with next time.