I've been a bit quiet on the blog-front this week, but all sorts of things have been going on, hence this catch-all post:
I went to see Neil Gaiman read from The Graveyard Book at LSE, thanks to a spare ticket from Ade. It was pretty good, and I've decided I want my own pocket Gaiman that I could carry around so he could read me stories when I'm feeling bored or depressed. Not just his own stories, either; I have a feeling that he would be a great story-teller reading work by other people, too. Actually, I think that everyone would feel better with pocket Gaiman to carry around and tell them stories. Maybe we should clone him.
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I decided not to go to Thought Bubble up in Leeds next weekend, since it clashes with some other things I want to do in London. Instead, I'm spending Friday evening bidding farewell to Adam and Beth before they move to Tennessee, and going to see Dave McKean being interviewed by fellow artist Andrzej Klimowski at Comica on Sunday. I'm also thinking of going to see some silent movies and artists' films accompanied by live music at the Barbican on Saturday; either the Millennial Territory Orchestra meets Laurel & Hardy, or Bill Frisell scoring Jim Woodring and Buster Keaton. Or both. If anyone else wants to come? I am sad to be missing everyone going to Thought Bubble, though. Hope it's a good weekend!
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I stumbled upon Rafael Lozano-Hemmer's Frequency and Volume at the Barbican, which was good fun, but would probably have been more effective with more people there.
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I went to the Polaroid retrospective at the AOP gallery with Paul. It was both interesting and disappointing. I was interested to see how much of the work on display looked nothing like yer basic humble medium format everyone-could-afford-one Polaroid photos that most people would be familiar with — but that was also the first disappointment. There were a lot of very interesting techniques used, but, frustratingly, absolutely no information about what those techniques were, or what type of Polaroid camera was used. Since most of these techniques are going to be lost once Polaroid film becomes completely obsolete, and since this was ostensibly a celebration of what Polaroid had to offer in its heyday, it seems such a shame not to have documented the processes to an audience that would obviously be interested. But it's a nice little gallery, and it was good to have the opportunity to visit it in the evening, so I'll be looking out for other shows there.
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I went to Tuttle Club a couple of times, and I signed up to Amp08, but I'll write about that some more in its own post.
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I went to the launch of Street or Studio: A Photobook at Tate Britain. The book is pretty good (see the pictures here), but the party was a bit odd. We weren't allowed to take drinks into the section where the book table and the projections were, and there was a room full of old masters that had been done out like a disco, with pumping music and flashing lights. It wasn't part of the Flickr party, just a regular part of the Late at Tate event, but it was somewhat surreal and, frankly seemed pointless since no one was dancing and it was too loud and too dark to actually look at the pictures! I'm not sure who they were trying to appeal to, except that it was so full of business suits that I thought it was some kind of private corporate party. Only it wasn't. Very weird. So we escaped to the Morpeth Arms just in time for them to have stopped serving food. It's had a refit, with all the normal height tables and chairs replaced by those stupid high tables and towering bar stools that make you look like an undignified idiot when you try to climb onto them, and are a liability if you're drunk. Fortunately, the furniture upstairs is at normal proportions, and the Tribute ale was tasty.
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I popped into Handmade & Bound at the awesomely kitsch and untouched St Aloysius Social Club, a place I've been past many times but never gone inside. I didn't buy much from the fantastically packed stalls, though there was a lot of beautiful stuff to be had, including one woman who makes the most gorgeous pop-up books. Unfortunately, once again, most people didn't have any kind of business card for me to to take so I could remember who they were afterwards. It was nice to see Xtina, Marc, Mark and Gav, anyway. Next time I'll try and buy more stuff!
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I went to Tarek's leaving drinks at The Couch, where they have no couches, and they serve disgusting Gordon's gin when you ask for a G&T, rather than the better-tasting Bombay Sapphire that's become the more standard basic gin of choice in most pubs and bars. But the company was great and we ended up in the New Evaristo (No.3 in Gentry Style's top five London bars); one of those after-hours basement drinking dens that is ostensibly a members' only place but, according to the lass who signed us all in, it seems that to become a member, all you have to do is get on well with the doorman so that he remembers you next time. Great end to a great night, anyway. (Good luck in Qatar, dude!)






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