Monday, July 12, 2010

DSC_5691 [psp] - Cake of DeathThe transit of Venus across the Moon.

At least that's what the loud voiced pretentious group of French people (I suspect it was only the heat that made them remove their berets. Yes, they were that close to embodying the café-intellectual cliché) decide a series of Wolfgang Tillmans' photographs must depict (parce-que il est impossible de photographier le soliel, ne c'est pas?).

I can only hope they try watching the event from a beach when it happens.

And did you know you get over 30 Venuses into the gap between the Earth and the Moon? Except for the whole gravity-induced shrinking of the gap and ultimate collision thing.

So there's Tillmans thing on at the Serpentine at the moment (I like the spiders one), right next to a big red thing that's very, very red, so very, very red that one starts to think one's camera isn't working properly because chimping just seems to show slight oranges on a very grey background, whereas it's actually just the human bit that isn't working properly.

Oh and I liked the spiders.

Um, so what else haven't I done? Well, Moore art.

Sort of self-explanatory notes:
- Pre-Columbian figures with 1920's hair.
- Room 4, wartime tube = Pompei.
- Room 5, Mother and Child = raptor [I blame... actually do you think the writers of Enron are fans of XKCD?].

A bit of Rude Britannia, but I found that much artful funniness a bit heavy going.

A bit of a do, in a male public convenience, featuring breasts, not nipples, and more importantly cake with alarm-clock decoration. It was a friend's birthday in a euphonious burlesque club. And it didn't quite shock me to my core (but then, according to some, I'm damn near unshockable; I don't quite beleive this). Anyway, a pleasant, slightly underwhelming experience (I didn't know what to expect, so feared the moderately bad).

- Champagne = not so shocking, except my ability to eek it out because the ticket was expensive.
- Cake = 60% gaudy buttercream = blood sugar shocking and otherwise faintly unsettling.
- Gambling with fake money = It was pontoon, with bits of plastic instead of matchsticks = not so shocking, except finding that playing only the dealer is much easier.
- IRL partially naked female not my mother, an absent-minded/drunk friend or breastfeeding = my world just ended. Or not. So completely don't get the fuss.
- Weak LED lighting cycling through various combinations = seismograph spectra = shockingly poor photography.
- Someone from the same school year being thirty = not so shocking; it's just a number; it's a lot less old than it used to be; who the hell cares anyway?
- Being told my shirt looks like a tea-towel = and your point is?
- Being told not to look so terrified = can't really claim to find that perception shocking.
- The now aged friend running through the changing rooms fountain outside the RFH while in a corset and dry-clean only shirt = yep, still not shocked.
- Ambling over to the P-Ride (yeah, that's not a good rebranding in terms of possible mental images) to meet by fluke a numerical man, fail to find anything to talk about (he tried to find me the right bit of rubbish; we both ended up staring at our shoes or vodkaed sandals instead), arrange to meet someone else but have them leave by the time I made it to the drop zone (turns out I can't [or maybe won't] walk at normally just-avoiding-ramming speed down OCS during Beforeafallfest), discover that Londondan was around so meet him instead, and then proceed to spend the rest of the evening quaffing gin, discovering German causes conversations and talking to someone from Camberwick Green and friend, before losing the friend and finding myself wandering through various "I'm sure they've banned drinking in the street round here" places with about a pint of gin and tonic, and then getting really excited (possibly due to the last item) about the London Eye looking tremendously pretty, so gallivanting down a handy pontoon to take blurry photographs of it, blaming the floatiness of the images on the river and not the river of Gordons within me. And then tiring of waiting for Londondan's bus to come so heading home via more Eye spy shots.

Other stuff: A1 mounted canvas prints are about as big as A1 drawings though less prone to curling (and needing less revision). Some do-better-next-time-ables in the batch, but as ever printing stuff is a good ego boost, especially when some sell before even being printed.

Anyway, tired now, so stopping.


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