Scrapbook

My Xmas Playlist

2010-12-22T07:39:00.001-08:00

Was Duchamp a coward?

2010-12-22T06:50:00.000-08:00

Jessica Rankin: Mind & Language | Art21

2010-12-19T09:25:00.000-08:00

Broadcast: Birmingham Based Awesomeness

2010-12-16T08:18:00.000-08:00

Wish You Were Here Part I

2010-09-23T00:16:00.000-07:00

Copyright: January 12th 2026
The apartments under London are sound proofed. The trains glide by with purpose and they make Marcia’s hanging plants sway a little with the vibration. She, like many other residents of London underground prefers to watch through tinted windows the realism of the constant rush of people-traffic or the slither of the trains. Only teenage boys in big hooded jumpers and huge trainers notice or care about the residents’ windows. They pull silly faces and make rude gestures, it doesn’t really matter to them whether they’re seen or not.
But if they stand in front of Marcia’s window for too long, the infra red detector notices them: ‘You are standing too close to the window and are posing a threat to this resident, please move along.’ It is Marcia’s voice, Copyright January 12th 2026. Every apartment beneath London carries this infrared detector, this message in Marcia’s voice. It is the Millennium Anti-Vandal device by Atlantis Systems. Unfortunately, the detector has quite a large margin for error, if a trolley or stack of magazines is left in front of the detector (which is always possible in a busy station in a busy city), it still goes off. Should the obstruction happen to be a person that will not move then they will consequently receive a mild electric shock, but if the obstruction is a stack of say, dry papers then it tends to set them on fire. Many’s the time a commuter has had his or her path crossed by the flaming face of a minor celebrity or politician, posing in front of a stately a home, often with a Labrador.
Marcia’s is the voice people hear when they try to overdraw on their bank account, and she will say ‘I’m sorry, but you have failed your finals and are not entitled to a degree. We wish all the best for your future’, when students scan through their academic barcode, which for some reason always sits by the photocopier in the library so that anyone copying chapters on contractual law or Kabuki theatre will hear every word. She has recently completed a big recording for the Texas sentencing system.
‘You have been found guilty of first degree murder and have been sentenced to death by electrocution. Thank you for your co-operation and God save you.’
Marcia came to the job through extensive market research and the monitoring of target audiences, she had begun her career on a science fiction show. She was cast as the voice of a ship computer in ‘Judge Xavier’s Intergalactic Court’. The show was a sci. fi. Courtroom drama set on Judge Xavier’s courtroom-in-a-spaceship, he wandered through outer space sorting out disputes between rival alien races and was watched all over the world. After a long auditioning process Marcia was picked from hundreds. She proved to be very successful, and the men’s lifestyle magazine, ‘Teste’ reported that her faked nude body was the most downloaded in the Western hemisphere, proving most popular in Croatia; the fact that the face was not hers either seemed to escape their notice. It’s said that Marcia’s voice alone is guaranteed to give most males a hard-on and he can give her any body he wants.
Six weeks after the last ever series of ‘Judge Xavier’s Intergalactic Court’ was aired, Marcia was offered the opportunity to produce a series called ‘Badass Space Girls.’ The series would star ‘flaming haired tease’ (‘Teste’ magazine, March 2025, the ‘Ginger Minge Sensation’ issue), Tremelo Stevens and the ‘busty blonde’ (‘Teste’ magazine, ‘Mammery Fans Special’ issue, February 2024), Cheyenne Harriet, but it was not to be when it was discovered that Tremolo’s famed glamour model and soft porn career had actually been a carefully spun lie, involving body doubles and desk top publishing. She had in fact been a legal secretary, the network pulled all funds for the pilot.
Atlantis had found that female voices were preferred to male voices due to their associations with the non-threatening and maternal. Marcia had been an ally for intergalactic peace seekers and now for the common man, and woman. It’s easier to direct the blame at a faceless voice than a faceless company.
And so Marcia and her voice (insured for 10,000,000 euro) on 1st June, 2030 walk along the stainless steel corridor of her apartment complex to the escalator. Marcia stares at little cardboard posters that mainly advertise internet sites with obscure names, chosen because all the best names had already been taken. Primates, Pebbles, Tripofalifetimes and Freefishfinance speed past her, she can only just make out the ads – as always the escalator goes a little too fast; at one point she thinks she sees an ad for a restaurant called Stopcock Experts but on second thoughts believes she could’ve been mistaken.
The street ‘s unedited content confronts her. Marcia looks out onto something not unlike a bad collage as concrete and glass frontages jostle for supremacy over carefully preserved nineteenth century arcades in which you are still no allowed to whistle. London is bursting at the seams, she moves through the endless bustle to the large hypermarket on the corner to buy a newspaper. When she speaks to the man behind the till, he feels a presence come over him as if he has been touched by something, he knows the voice so well, even though he’s never met her before. Already the woman is floating through the crowds.
Already streets are being cordoned off for the No-Global demonstration to take place the next day. Marcia casually glances at the paper she’s just bought. On the front is a picture of a suicide bomber – girl, nineteen- dead in a place with too many consonants in its name. Lying on the kind of concrete she used graze her knees on as a child, Marcia stops to look more closely at the picture of the pretty, empty face. Lips bloodless, mouth in what could be the beginning of a yawn as she wakes from sleep. Eyelids heavy and red. Her body’s intact, or should that be ‘the body’ now? We are always so sure that a bomb’s job is to blow everything apart, this girl is still, for the most part, as she was. Until the blood starts at her waist, staining her khaki green jacket, so many little clues to a life, but nothing solid. Marcia searches for references to her own life, to feel pity. When we hear a child is dead, how often do we say ‘he was nearly the same age as our …’? We do it to feel it.
‘I thought most people were happy.’ She looks up from the newspaper, now smudging her fingers to the street, to London, to something a little cleaner. How can something so intent on destruction not destroy the one person carrying it?
People come to London like spawning salmon, they inhabit old vinegar factories, department stores that gone bust, turned into large glassy apartments before the echoes of ringing cash tills have barely faded, occupied almost immediately. These places above ground are very expensive, Marcia could afford one but finds them poorly soundproofed with the atmosphere of a beehive. However the views are stunning from inside.

My Friend Stary

2010-08-29T23:47:00.001-07:00

My friend Stary is going to be famous. All you have to do is look at his work and the question becomes, 'Why have I never heard of this artist before?' Stary Mwaba: remember the name, you will not forget his work.

His paintings, within the cultural context of Zambia, his home, take great risks in their concepts and themes and yet his technique is so accessible, in other words he challenges the viewer without alienating them.

One of my favourites is entitled 'I am not Your Stereotype' (above). At first glance it may seem like a beautifully executed picture of a girl sitting, half-lounging (a common stance for Stary's subjects) surrounded by abstract, almost human forms. But let's look a little closer. First of all, see her hair, slightly golden brown in colour – unteased and natural. Then, let's look at the thigh and the back that are exposed, with the light glinting off them, wrapped casually in a chitenge – a Zambian cloth that women wear traditionally for modesty or to protect their clothes from dirt. In Zambian culture it is taboo for a woman to reveal these areas of her body, and yet here they are on display. Move now to the face and note the look of lazy defiance. She is beautiful, she is African and she is not afraid.
Stary's painting 'Baby' (below) was not well received in South Africa. The depiction of a black girl holding a white doll was seen as inappropriate, as if the addition of a white doll was an oversight, a mistake. That girl holding a doll, has a great deal of power in my opinion. The doll has no clothes apart from socks, whereas the girl is fully clothed. This touch subverts the nature of the poor African girl running around in rags – it is the white doll that is naked.

His marriage of technical skill, abstract exploration and genuine affection for his subjects in his paintings make your mouth water. If it is possible to be gently controversial, Stary Mwaba has achieved it.

I believe this is just the beginning for Stary, his work is becoming more experimental as he grows as an artist. In September, not only will he exhibit in Lusaka, but also fly to New York to take part in a residency at the Watermill, Brooklyn. For more on his work you can visit his website: http://starymwaba.webs.com/ or contact me directly.

The Reeperbahn

2010-07-20T02:43:00.000-07:00

I am a Tom waits fanatic and his music inspired me to start a comic based on one of his songs 'The Reeperbahn' from his 2005 album 'Alice'. More to come.

The Art Pages

2010-07-17T02:40:00.000-07:00

We've been hit by an internet gremlin and trying to do anything online has become a bit of a pain. Nevertheless we soldier on!

The Art Pages, the newspaper that will be launched in a couple of weeks is taking up a lot of my time right now, as we are desperate to keep to the deadlines. It's a slow process due to power cuts, incompatible files and various other glitches but we remain positive that we will launch on schedule - 29th July. More about The Art Pages here

Adventures in Zineland

2010-07-14T03:41:00.000-07:00

I finally finished my first ventures into zineland. One is the first part of a long story I have written, the other is a kind of picture and story combined as a poster. Despite all the frustrations of Lusaka, one thing I am able to do is get copying done fairly cheaply – who knew?

So I now have blog where people can buy the zines, here it is with more descriptions of the zines themselves.

http://joyoftextzines.blogspot.com

2010-07-10T03:40:00.001-07:00

Last weekend we went to the Victoria Falls as it was a long weekend. The journey down was pretty horrendous because they are re-doing the road and huge sections have been closed off and we had to navigate our crappy Toyota down horrible gravel roads. But it was worth it. We've both been to the Victoria Falls before, but have never seen it this powerful. There was a lot of rain this year and the falls are incredibly full. Basically there is no point trying to stay dry, the close you get the more it's like being in a torrential, freezing cold rainstorm. As you can see, even with our big Macintoshes we got soaked.

Little Lovelies

2010-07-01T03:32:00.000-07:00

My little lovely this time around is this lamp. I got it from a friend who was leaving the country and had to offload some stuff. I had it in my sewing hamper for months because it needed a new bulb, then recently I unearthed it and realised I needed a lamp for my new study. Zambia is not known for its high quality merchandise and it is touch and go whether anything electronic will last, that said I was thrilled to find that after putting in a new bulb, the lamp works fine.

I also love the handy little sections at the base, as you can see there are three each side, perfect for doubling up as a desk tidy. *sigh*

Birth of a Zine

2010-06-29T03:33:00.001-07:00

Funny how ideas come about. I have become pretty obsessed with the idea of self-publishing and zines for a while now and consequently mulling over what my first venture will be. I came up with making a fold-out poster zine, that would be an easy and compact intro for me.

I had been doing a lot of thinking and jotting ideas down, but didn't make a venture into the process itself until recently. It just goes to show that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to find your way. That's how I came up with 'The Breathing Porch.' During my trip to Asheville NC, I learned that the old houses were often used by patients with respiratory illnesses because of the clean mountain air. They would sit on the porch and hence, they were named breathing porches. I loved the name instantly and put it in the back of my brain as a possible title for something.
Then with some sketching I did my idea came together. The picture I ended up with became the shape for the story and thus the first issue of The Breathing Porch was born! I now have a series planned following the rules devised from the first issue.

The artwork determines the direction of the story

The artwork must be black and white only

The story must fit onto one side of the poster along with the artwork

The story thereafter written is the one and only draft, though erasures are permitted

Each poster is A3 sized and folded twice into a booklet. They are limited editions.

First issue will be out very soon!

Scrapbook Excerpts

2010-06-25T02:27:00.000-07:00

The Art Pages – An Update

2010-06-23T01:18:00.000-07:00

Work is going well, we already have two articles currently being edited as well as photos. So far contributors have been respectful of deadlines and been attending our meetings.

The key work right now is to look for funding for subsequent issues of the paper. We have managed to scrape together enough to publish our first issue but after that we need another source of funding. We are looking into some grants from embassies that have a keen interest in supporting the arts, but these grants can take some months to be approved. So we are have to be creative. We have a possible idea for raising some money but this idea is still in its early stages, stay tuned for more!
Despite these financial issues we are so heartened by the amount of support we are receiving from artists who feel this kind of newspaper is long overdue. For them and many others, we will continue the work.
We are also working on a website that will help promote The Art Pages, this is still very much under construction and we have to make allowances for our temperamental internet, but it is definitely getting there.

Little Lovelies

2010-06-21T01:36:00.001-07:00

At 16 I would tape pound coins to cardboard and mail them. Soon after would arrive the most exciting thing ever – a DIY zine or comic. At 16 getting stuff in the mail is addictive anyway, it's only when we grow older we associate the mail with junk and bills. But these zines were full of craziness, fascinating and weird stories and pictures. I felt kind of honoured that someone had sat and carefully devised this little book just for me, or for a handful of people like me. The other great thing was that for a teenager they were affordable, a few dollars at most. Sometimes I would get letters thanking me for buying their example of creativity. I devoured them. Then boyfriends, clubs, live music and University came along and I left those zines behind.

And then this spring in Asheville NC I stumbled into and found a little rack of them, unassuming but tempting. I bought a few (was complimented by the bookstore clerk on my selections) out of sentimentality and intrigue and I'm now hooked all over again. The edginess, the imperfections, the doodles and monochrome, people can do whatever they want when they autonomous so you get some really ingenious content. It's good to know that despite the birth and endless upward trajectory of the internet, some people still feel compelled to print their words. This rediscovery of DIY publishing is kind of part of my new intention to get back to my roots, to that time in my past when the creative world was new and fertile.I am now considering doing my own, I am already putting together some ideas as well as trawling sites to inspire me.

Welcome back.

Places to feed the zine greed:

Etsy – there are tons of very cool mags and comics on Etsy for a few dollars each

Microcosm

DIY Publishing Coop

In Kalingalinga

2010-06-19T01:37:00.000-07:00

Writers’ Group

2010-06-18T06:43:00.001-07:00

I've mentioned my writers' group before and how much I enjoy it. We met on Thursday evening after quite a long time and now there is currently only 4 us, and 3 on Thursday. 2 of our members left the country and another is away. But we do have a new recruit who writes the most amazing travelogues. I brought along a rough draft of the article I've been struggling with and came away with some very useful feedback. The others felt my writing was too distant and anaemic – full of facts but no opinion. I've had this problem before with my non-fiction.

We discussed how felt our experiences of a academia has influenced the way we write. We've all been grad students where a certain type of written expression was drummed into us. In my case I did a social sciences post grad degree and found I was constantly being told that my style was too journalistic and not objective and factual enough. I have to say that all in all the most important thing I learned was that I loathe social sciences! So now some of us feel we need to unlearn that dry academic style which is good for little else then communicating to other academics.

Thank goodness for this group! I often thought groups were kind of lame, either full of pretentious personalities or people with great enthusiasm but little talent. But if you find warm intelligent people who have a gift for writing and will also be honest, it's such a worthwhile experience and an education. Our group has gone through many metamorphoses, yet we're still going and nurturing each other and pushing each to be great writers. Very cool.

2010-06-16T04:45:00.001-07:00

Only the new will save you

Press a button and wait

Blink, wait

Move

Walking to school in autumn

Crispy leaves and socks

Skip, chill

Fire

Talking to women will learn you

Listener not a judge

Clean you

Ears

Helping old people will make

As good as gold

Ignore the

Fear

Shouting at TV will cure you

Thank God you feel

Care for more

2010-06-16T04:37:00.000-07:00

Baobab Jenkins could live here

Fact versus Fiction

2010-06-15T07:07:00.001-07:00

When the muse deserts you writing can become something of a punishment. I generally feel this way when writing non-fiction. Despite writing poetry, prose – personal fancies – for over twenty years, trying to write journalistic articles is like untying knots in a stubborn piece of a string. The sager among you may raise a rueful eyebrow, and you would be correct in doing so. Honestly, writing concise factual content along with macaroni cheese and Law and Order is my downfall. It's just plain hard. Not only do you have to determine what is the necessary detail to include, you have to write it well, write it in a logical structure and find the angle. Phew! I am new to this really, only within the last year have I even considered journalism and although I did it out of necessity (much more likely to get paid for this type of work than poetry or fiction) I have developed a fascination and huge respect for those who write beautiful non-fiction.

I am reading Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand and I am struck by her clarity, her effortless joining of research with anecdote and pitch perfect prose (excuse the alliteration). I mentioned to a friend that I was reading it and she told me that Hillenbrand wrote Seabiscuit while suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome. Can you imagine? Now that is talent. And also crippling to my psyche. While I sit at my shiny new desk squeeze even one good sentence out I am shamed when I think of Laura Hillenbrand.

I suppose part of it is feeling out of my depth as I have no journalistic background whatsoever, but I have to say part of it is fear. The piece I am working on at the moment is so important to me, partly because it is a subject close to my heart – art in Zambia – partly because it is for a magazine I greatly admire and to be published in it would be such an accomplishment personally and professionally and don't want to screw it up. I am down to the wire on this one as I want my writers' group to read this and help me out, we meet in two days.

It comes down to this, I will not leave this room until I have a rough draft of 2000 words done, wish me luck, I definitely need it.

2010-06-15T03:27:00.000-07:00

I finally have a desk, lovingly made locally. I am now settled in the spare bedroom where I hope I finally have some space to work, while my husband can use the table downstairs. Often we find ourselves both working from home so this has been a huge relief. Plus the desk smells really great, I love that new wood smell.

I've tried various set ups and even worked in the gallery for a while, hopefully this will be more permanent, well until we leave anyway!

Little Lovelies

2010-06-14T04:39:00.000-07:00

2010-06-13T08:17:00.000-07:00

The film I am currently obsessed with is 'Gentleman Broncos'. It's very, very funny, Sam Rockwell is brilliant, to be honest the whole cast is pretty solid. Jermaine Clement is also wonderful. But there is something else about the film that I loved.

The story follows teenager Benjamin (Jack's son from Will and Grace) who writes kitschy science fiction and has one of his stories 'Yeast Lords' (such genius) plagiarised by washed up sci-fi author Chevalier. The story splits between Benjamin's odd life with his widowed mother (played by the ultimate MILF from American Pie, ) and new found literary friends and the imagined story of Yeast Lords with Sam Rockwell fleshing out Benjamin's father substitute Bronco.
The set pieces are spot on, the weird Barbarella-esque sci-fi world and the oddly dated present day Utah.
I am sure I am one of many once geeky teens with whom the film really struck a chord. In the film Benjamin writes his stories and also designs the covers, one of the first scenes shows his room, his shrine to his dead father and home-made set for his novel complete with dolls. In that short scene director Jared Hess succinctly demonstrated just how much this world meant to Benjamin.
When I was a teenager I spent most of my time in my bedroom reading comic books, writing, make weird models out of wax listening to Tori Amos, Radiohead etc and watching films on my little red TV. My room was my world, and far from missing out on my teen years, I felt they were really import and a time I look back on fondly. Most of all I look back amazed at my ability to immerse myself in my imagination then, my endless creativity. Where did it go? Was it hormonal? When I left university I spent a few months writing my first novel, obviously it was rubbish, but I got up every morning at my parents' place, made myself coffee, went up to the spare room and wrote for two hours on an electronic typewriter. Now I'm in my thirties struggling to get together the motivation and momentum to write regularly, I can't believe that twenty-something was really me. Perhaps I need a room, maybe I need to listen to The Throwing Muses again. My hope is, that if I was like that once, I could be again.

Scrapbook Excerpts

2010-06-12T04:33:00.000-07:00

90s Woman - Go Here

2010-06-10T08:17:00.003-07:00

I found out about this site in Bitch Magazine. It reveres everything 90s with a girl slant. I pretty much wrote off the 90s remembering the 90s of MC Hammer and Boyz to Men. I was a young teen then. Then, after going on this site, I remember how brilliant that decade was as well. That was the era of Nirvana, of my formative years of fab indie films like The Unbelievable Truth and Sex, Lies and Videotape. What happened to Hal Hartley anyway? I became really into the arts then I think, as my previous post laments. I used by the now defunct Deadline magazine religiously and send off for all the DIY comic books in the back. Life was really exciting then, when you're that age – 15-20 – you're a discoverer.

90s Woman

My favourite band ever was The Throwing Muses, here is one of their best songs. Unfortunately the quality ain't great.

2010-06-10T08:15:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I was carrying out my promise of 500-1000 words a day, painfully, I was tackling a section I have been avoiding because it's pretty harrowing, when I suddenly, for the first time in four years I thought – my god, I think this is no good.

Honestly, I have had slumps and so on, but I was always convinced the story I am telling is not bad and has potential. Suddenly the risks I was taking looked like they could be juvenile, the violence in it so interminable and pointless – really the whole thing quite dour.

I am printing out and giving it to a friend who reads lots and was in publishing, I need some honesty and I trust her to do it. What a feeling, to think you have wasted four years on a piece of nonsense.

Did you know Akwila Simpasa?

2010-06-10T04:11:00.000-07:00

He died but I don't know when or how. He was friends with Eddy Grant and apparently Mick Jagger gave him a coat. He is pretty much regarded as the greatest artist that came out of Zambia. He lived only for art, was a bit of an artful dodger (taking back paintings he has already sold, getting thrown out of hotels for not paying his bill), and then, that's it.

I found a file on him in the gallery, but aside from a brief focus piece, there was little else. There were a number of copies of his work. The first few sketches left me cold, they seemed rushed and a little juvenile. Then came photos of his sculptures and paintings and I was transfixed by their energy and scope. He was a master.

The question "Did you know Akwila Simpasa?" is welcomed and tidbits of the man are proffered, but a full biography I have yet to uncover. So, did YOU know Akwila Simpasa?

2010-06-09T03:40:00.000-07:00

I watched this film with my husband at the weekend and miraculously he stayed awake.I take comfort in the fact that the author Henri-Pierre Roche, who wrote the book on which the film is based (phew how's that for clauses?), was over seventy when his novel was published. Hope for me yet?

Yesterday I made the resolution to finish my novel before anything else 500 - 1000 words a day. Have so far failed, but the day ain't over yet. Dumbfoundland is becoming a long gestation period, elephants are born quicker.

The Rains Continue in Zambia - Lonely Planet

2010-06-09T01:38:00.000-07:00

One of my blog posts picked up the Lonely Planet

The Rains Continue in Zambia - Lonely Planet

Little Lovelies

2010-06-07T04:35:00.000-07:00

My current little lovelies are my yellow notebooks. They are the perfect size for my hand bag, so I can whip them out at any time and jot something down. I had mini-panic when I looked in my bag on Thursday and found it was missing, thankfully I had only left it at the gallery! When I have used what's written on the pad, I can rip it off. This action serves three purposes. It means I don't carry lots of unnecessary pages around with me, or I can rip important pages of notes and file them for later and I get an immense sense of satisfaction ripping off the pages and seeing the pad get smaller, it makes me feel that I am making progress somehow. Whenever I am stuck I can riffle through my notes and find something to write about.

And look at that lovely sunny colour!

Facebook Cull

2010-06-05T06:25:00.000-07:00

Scrapbook Excerpts

2010-06-05T00:04:00.000-07:00

Hero of the Week

2010-06-04T04:10:00.001-07:00

My hero of this week is Edward Peck.

Mr. Peck is former ambassador to the US and a few days ago he travelled on a boat to Gaza along with a number of Turkish people to deliver much needed aid to the Palestinians. As we now know the Israeli military boarded one boat and after allegedly being threatened by those on the boat, they opened fire and killed nine of the Turks.

Mr. Peck was on the second boat and was unharmed. The reason he is my hero is because in the aftermath of outrage from all camps, accusations and justifications by Israelis, despair and anger from the Turkish community, Mr. Peck calmly and pleasantly stated his case to news network Al Jazeera. His opinion was that the Israelis could have used this opportunity to show compassion after a number of disastrous months where they have happily showed their ruthlessness. They didn't take him up on his offer. In his calm and logical delivery was a voice of reason in a world that is furious, confused and frightened. The fact that he is a US citizen adds credibility to the Palestinian struggle and proves that not every American political figure is in Israel's pocket.

Watch him here.

ad nauseum - Home

2010-05-31T23:52:00.000-07:00

Here is the website where I share all my creative writing, rough, unfinished.

ad nauseum - Home

From the River Arts District

2010-05-22T09:19:00.000-07:00

The River Arts District - My New Favourite Place

2010-05-21T07:41:00.000-07:00

So many cities have gentrified their arts districts for the benefit of tourists, which ironically makes them too expensive for artists to stay in and often removing the soul of the place. So it is really refreshing to find the the River Arts of District of Asheville is still a genuine work area for artists. It's a place of great integrity, where buildings from past industry have been repurposed with impressive respect.

During my exploration of the area I got talking to a ceramic artist in one studio, Greg Vineyard. His work is full of compelling rustic grace and you can find more of it here. He told me that a large number of the buildings in the district are owned by artists who rent sections out to other artists hence the rent is kept affordable. Where Greg rents space was an oil distribution building and the owner Constance Williams, herself a prolific and innovative artist, has been keen to keep the building well preserved. (More of her work here) No new nails are allowed in the walls, white temporary walls have been added for people to hang their work but are attached through already existing holes. We talked at length about art and influences, a rare treat.

Outside the sun lit the river bringing light and shadow to the buildings that still remain unused, but may one day live again through a new industry that has made the River Arts District of Asheville my New Favourite Place.

Pin in the Map

2010-05-20T16:58:00.000-07:00

When you have lived overseas as often/long as I have, deciding where to settle feels as random as sticking a pin into a map.
That wasn't quite what we did whne choosing Asheville, NC, but considering we'd never been there and were already trawling for job opportunities and houses, it may have seemed like a leap of faith. There was method in our madness, however.

So many people kept saying 'You guys would love Asheville' and the more we heard, the more we thought we would.

Last weekend after months of talk and planning we made it to Asheville and it was almost scary how much it fitted us as people. No matter where we went the smae thought came back to me - 'I could write here'. I saw me enjoying morning coffee at one of the hip and artistic coffee shops before getting some writing in. I saw me picking up the latest edition of Granta from the independent bookstore, I saw me walking the moutnains to clear my head after a day's work, I saw me discussing writing with others over wine and cheese.

It could be that after all these years we've found home.

North Carolinian Sojourn

2010-05-20T06:35:00.000-07:00

Every gust og wind is memory of another more familiar coast, but with dunes that carry a smell of dill and asparagus and warm, kind sand - this will do fine.

There was never so much air and sky.

Seai has that ability to make you feel tired, content, as if you've take part in good exertion even if you did nothing.

It's what we need after the landlock.

Whe we were there the sun stripped the land to a keen neon and the water broke into white horses chasing the shoreline until only sparkling foam. And my sunglasses turned everything sepia. The coast has no age, it is full of time and journey.

2010-05-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

2010-04-23T02:35:00.000-07:00

Nshima and Zambia’s food culture | Topics of the world#comments

2010-04-21T23:26:00.000-07:00

Nshima and Zambia’s food culture Topics of the world#comments

2010-04-18T01:28:00.000-07:00

A Modernist Gem - The Anglican Cathedral of the Holy Cross, Lusaka, Zambia | Matador

2010-04-16T06:45:00.000-07:00

A Modernist Gem - The Anglican Cathedral of the Holy Cross, Lusaka, Zambia Matador

Havianas Eat Your Heart Out

2010-04-13T06:46:00.000-07:00

These are my flip-flops. Actually in Zambia they're called tropicals or zappatas ( a wonderfully onomatopoeic word). I bought them the first time I was in Zambia and they set me back about $3. The soles are thick and I have trod on sharp rocks and nails without feeling a thing. They have a rainbow design that has since worn off but that gives them their name – rainbow tropicals. In a country of mass-produced tat that breaks after a week or two, they are my hope for the future.

2010-04-12T08:18:00.001-07:00

We bump down roads in the mellow afternoon, the fading sun turning the earth a more precious blood-red gold. The blood-red gold has spread to the plants and hedgerows that bow towards the road, the leaves of wild plants turned russet and burnt sienna, as if desperate artists had attacked them with coloured charcoal. The maize is grown and the stalks not yet burned back so the withered and dry vegetation shushes us as we drive. Bird song darts into our car, the rains has brought birds of neon blue, bright yellow and scarlet to the countryside, colours of a child's drawing. The green season has awakened an unexpected love of them in us.

Children, their skin the colour of new chestnuts, still shining from the their spiky cases. They turn idly towards our car then snap alive when they see us for foreigners. The stiff cyclist climbing hills meditatively, the boys fishing in temporary creeks with their homemade rods, women strolling with hands of leafy vegetable bouquets. Congregations of older women in their matching white headscarves and chitenges walking home in a regal file.

Because it is Sunday.

One Zambia, One Nation

2010-04-09T03:32:00.001-07:00

Zambia has over 72 tribes and languages spread over nine provinces. It's landlocked and some of these tribes drift into some of the neighbouring eight countries. In the 56 years they have been independent they have had very little unrest. When people look at the problems in Rwanda or nearby Congo and then remark that it's all tribal, it is east to cite Zambia as proving this is not the case. How is it possible that so many tribes with their own way of doing things have managed to live so peaceably together?

When Kenneth Kaunda became Zambia's first post colonial leader he did something quite clever. He must have seen how difficult life was becoming in other countries and felt it was necessary to instil in his people some sense of unity. Most tribes in Zambia are related to each other in some way and will call each other cousins, so Kaunda used this fact to remind Zambians that they were one family. 'One Zambia, one nation.' And it worked. This is quite amazing when you consider how divided and tumultuous much of the African continent became when colonialists cut up the 'great cake'. Tribes were split, nomads were fenced in. And if it is difficult to see how this is really so crucial (especially if you are like me, from a small yet powerful Island that has remained more or less untampered with for quite some time), you need only look at the problems of individual countries like Ethiopia and Eritrea, Congo, Burundi and Rwanda to see how dangerous dividing people by force can be.

But Zambia? Zambia kept its family going. That is not to say that there haven't been problems. When the civil war raged in Mozambique for example, families poured over the border into the Eastern Province of Zambia as they were the same Chewa tribe and felt that they had a right to be there. Although these refugees who weren't refugees may have had a point, it did cause security and food problems. There are also some tribal rivalries and preconceptions; women from Eastern Province's Chewa tribe are feared by women from other tribes, I am told because they are taught so well how to please a man and so might steal men from other tribes with their talents! And the Bemba tribe from the Copperbelt have the reputation of being thieves.

By and large though, these groups live together without great unrest. Perhaps Zambia is not considered a developed country, but surely the ability to maintain peace is a skill from which many developed and developing countries can learn.

2010-03-30T02:41:00.000-07:00

Retail Therapy at the Second Hand Clothes Market

2010-03-29T02:01:00.001-07:00

Salaula means second hand clothes and it's a pretty big business in Zambia. The clothes are shipped from the UK, US and other countries as donations. Then they are sold cheaply in markets throughout Zambia and I pretty sure other countries in the area too. There's been some controversy over the practice as many believe the glut of cheap clothing is stifling local manufacturing.

When I lived in Zambia out in Eastern province a few years back, I occasionally bought something from the local salaula but not often as there wasn't much selection. Then a few months back a friend took me to the huge salaula market here in Lusaka. I'd not thought of going before because I assumed it would be like a giant jumble sale. As it turned, it's well organised and quite low key. One writer friend pointed out that it's a little like a department store, children's clothes are in one section, skirts in another, household linens in another...

And the people who work there are helpful; on Saturday I was looking through skirts when one of the teenage boys hanging around pointed and said 'The blue one'. It wasn't really my colour but it was nice of him to help. I have bought a couple of things for my husband too, the man I go to asks for the size and colour and from his huge selection of shirts and trousers he finds ones that might be suitable.

After a few trips I am starting to select my favourite vendors, those with nice tops or with an eye for good quality. But salaula is also funny in that sometimes you will go and find very little, other times like today, you come away with a ton of goodies. On my last trip I walked off with two dresses and five tops including a Ralph Lauren jumper and spent about $20.

2010-03-22T02:25:00.000-07:00

In Mourning

2010-03-21T09:53:00.001-07:00

The room was cream and exactly like this; A calendar from the Zambian Police, a copper picture of rhinos in relief, a plaque that wasn't a plaque but was used as such all three high up along the same wall. The plaque said that Jesus looked over the house, was a silent listener and an unseen guest. There was a large patch of peeled back paint that had been painted over and looked like a badly healed scar. An armchair in dusky pink velour and then the floor was covered with reed mats and two thin mattresses. That was it. The calendar was hung level but the rhinos were a little askew.

Inside the fuse box outside the front door, sparrows were nesting, they dropped down on occasion and picked dry grass and fibres from the porch in their staccato little way. I saw a flat-bed truck in the yard and felt impressed that they had such a thing in their possession until my eyes went to the flat tire sunk firm into the dirt and the grass growing through the fuel tank.

5 women lined up on the mattresses, sitting modestly with their legs stretched in front of them and crossed, wrapped in chitenges. Mary's was especially faded. Most of their feet were clean and pink and from the soles they looked so young and tender. We sat very quietly while Mary's aunt sorted through a small stack of papers – medical cards, school exercise books covered in cheap wrapping paper and a small photo album. Mary's grandmother sat next to Mary and had a toothpick, she used it to idly pick out the small circles on her chitenge, she then traced them with the tip or picked at some imaginary stain or other, eventually bored of this, she used it clean her toe nails. Mary's mother died of low blood pressure. We asked the aunt what happened, she told us her blood pressure dropped and she went to hospital. In the hospital she didn't get any medicine and died after five days. There was going to be an investigation. 'And what was the result?' we asked, 'We buried her so...' she shrugged. No investigation.

We left wanting to know how it was possible that the aunt seemed better educated than the niece, she spoke better English and was large, while Mary spoke so little English and was so thin. In the end we were not really sure whether the grandmother was the grandmother, or the aunt the aunt and my husband said that he didn't think it was her mother that died. We had no idea who the other women were, cousins? Sisters? Families are so less clearly divided here.

And I wondered whether there is such a concept as a needless death in Zambia.

Zambian Modernism

2010-03-21T06:13:00.000-07:00

The Fluidity of Friendship

2010-03-20T01:22:00.001-07:00

This Friday I had a Writer's Group meeting. I am new to these meetings and I had reservations about joining them to begin with; writing can be personal and having others read it is sometimes uncomfortable. However, it has turned out to be the real highlight of my time here, the other members have become friends and I have learned a great deal from them. We meet, drink wine, eat cheese and talk about what we have brought along. However our meeting this Friday had something of the atmosphere of a wake. A long standing member of the group who is also a dear friend is leaving Zambia after 10 years and moving to Senegal. I have only known her a few months, but she has had been an important influence in my life here. And soon she will be gone. She is the second member of the group that has left in the last three months and soon another will be gone, back to England. The whole dynamic of the group is slowly changing.

The reality of living in Lusaka and being part of an ex-pat community is that people leave. By the time we ourselves depart in a year or so, I predict at least 50% of our social circle will have completely altered. When I was younger and more shallow I found no problem with this fact, meeting new people was exciting and I still believed that people who went away would email or write. Most of them don't and I know that now. Perhaps it is politically incorrect to have so many friends in the ex-pat community, but sometimes you need to be with people who understand what you are going through as a foreigner. I have become attached to my attachments, true friends are important, even more so when you're out of your comfort zone and struggling to live a full life in a strange land. And I am tired of saying goodbye.

Paradise is Comparative

2010-03-19T06:33:00.000-07:00

Women's day is a national holiday here so we decided to go away for the weekend. Lake Kariba was our destination, I'd been before and remembered it being lovely and not too far from the big smoke.
The drive down went from pretty to spectacular as we navigated winding roads overlooking the lake – it reminded me of the Gargano in southern Italy. While we drove we talked about whether there were any Peace Corps or VSO volunteers there and how lucky they would be to have such a placement.
Lake Kariba is home of the Kariba dam, a huge reservoir that spreads over the border to Zimbabwe. It used to supply about 50% of Zambia's electricity back in the '60s. It was built by Italian engineers and I really like the design, it feels like a Bond film should be set there. As lovely as the lake is, there are plenty of crocs and hippos so we didn't take the plunge and stuck to the pool instead which was more than adequate. We spent 3 days lazing at the bar, playing card games and relaxing.

While there we ran into someone we knew in Lusaka and she introduced us to some VSO volunteers who live in the area. We chatted and I remarked at what a great place it must be to live and one shrugged and said it was alright. Now this surprising remark – seriously look at the pictures! – made me think it was a result of one or both of two possible factors. First – they were British and we British and not really known for going overboard with praise or joy. I first realised this when I started to spend time with more Americans who are much more enthusiastic. Second – they have problems with their placement, who doesn't? But what they don't realise is how much worse it could've been. There are some really isolated and boring places in Zambia, I lived in one and although I was glad to leave, I still managed to enjoy the experience. I knew volunteers in even more out-of-the-way placements than mine, 12 hours from Lusaka on terrible roads in the middle of the bush and still they were desperately sad to leave.

Volunteering is all about your attitude and knowing your limits. If you have chosen to volunteer in a developing country you must decide yourself whether you really can manage to be in a different culture and the struggles that entails. Moreover, are you open enough to learn from the experience and look beyond the difference to see the beauty? It's hard for a reason but just sticking it out and becoming resentful proves nothing. I don't know the background of these volunteers and maybe they had very valid reasons for being nonplussed. I hope so, otherwise they will look back and kick themselves when they realise just how good they had it.

2010-03-18T06:44:00.000-07:00

Chaminuka Lodge – An Art Hideaway

2010-03-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

Finally got to Chaminuka. Chaminuka is a lodge outside of Lusaka with game, two elephants, a couple of lions and hyenas. It has amazing views of a lake and is designed in a 1970s modernist style, I won't say retro because I get the feeling it has been like this for some time.

We went to simply get out of Lusaka but also because Chaminuka has a large collection of art. And it does indeed. One of Zambia's most significant artists is the late Henry Tayali; his work is abstract meets expressionism often depicting groups, crowds of figures or landscapes that are also somehow crammed with uniformity – colourful, textured.

The lodge is pretty much crammed with art, everywhere you turn there is a stark white marble sculpture reminiscent of Moore or Epworth, there are large tribal masks staring down at you starkly so you feel transported to a dark corner of the British Museum. Truly it is a formidable collection that is democratic and diverse, but the sheer number pieces means that canvasses are on ever available wall space and the overall effect is overwhelming and a little tatty. More importantly there are no notes to tell you of the artist or the title of the piece or even where it is from and this is a grave shame. Perhaps it is time for Chaminuka to consider a space dedicated to this impressive collection and do it full justice.

Zambian Ingenuity

2010-03-16T07:02:00.000-07:00

Cleaning, cleaners and patronage

2010-03-15T05:49:00.000-07:00

I am beginning to see why so many people hate housework. We have been living in Zambia since September and since I don’t work, and our housekeeper turned out to be the worst, I decided it would be better if I did the household chores.

We don’t have a washing machine or a vacuum cleaner, we have to hand wash our clothes and sweep up – no carpets. It’s not so much that it’s hard work (and I am still piling on the pounds despite the sweat I build up), it’s the sheer futility of it. You sweep, you mop, you scrub and a day later you have to do it all again. Neither or I nor my husband are especially fastidious people but we live next to a construction site in a city that is already very dusty and as hard as I might try, the next day our living room resembles something Mrs. Haversham would be proud of.
Lusaka has no pavements, many of the roads are not tarmac, all you have to do is walk down the road and it’s like you brought a desert back on your shoes. And forget about wearing nice clothes, they get dirty and grimey and then fall apart from the rigours or hand washing.

So why don’t we have a cleaner? This is a tough one for many ex-pats or middle class folk here and there is no easy solution. Personally I found have a cleaner on her hands and knees scrubbing while I lazed around doing little seemed downright perverse. Perhaps if I didn’t work from home freelance I would feel differently. To be sure I had cleaners when I lived in Zambia before, but I was a young volunteer with lots to do and loved coming home to a clean house – who wouldn’t? I was quite lucky with my cleaners, only one out of the 3 I had took things (and I had 3 because I moved 3 times) and they never asked me for additional help. However the cleaner we had when we moved to Lusaka, not only cleaned worse than me, but constantly needed extra money for problems at home. And this seems to be quite common, it’s almost as if you are adopted by the people who work for you. A friend of mine who studied anthropology says it’s to do with the idea patronage. I’m not too clear on the details but it seems that in some cultures it’s commonly assumed that those with more will look out for those with less. Ex-pats are of course those with more. Although I am still not a fan of the practice, it does make me understanding of the situation here rather than just assuming I’m being taken for a ride. Despite the dust and hand washing though, I still have no plans to get a cleaner.

A Short Story

2010-01-15T23:41:00.000-08:00

This is what it said, 'One hundred feared dead off Coast of Yemen.' Amongst the traffic of the news, the bottleneck of headlines. News is news and it's not your life. Anyway it's Yemen.

Today you woke up and wanted to sob, you don't know why, there was no reason, not a one. Nevertheless, the sob was ready to come out, to break forth, a child ready to be born. The cosmic energy of the world would surely change if we all sobbed with sorrow and/or consternation, in realisation that books have lied and we are all so dull. A tuning folk struck through time and routine. We-are-dumb-as-dirt in the key of C.

They were from Somalia, Somalians. What do you know? Somalia, 'Black Hawk Down', faceless masses of shining brown 'Orc like' (Guardian review), ripping apart soldiers like a huge virus. Crawlng over helicopters and tanks – a bacteria attacking the good old boys who were just trying to help. They don't look like you, these people from Somalia, they look nothing like anyone you know. Except that one time when you asked that boy, young man really, where he was from and he said in a small voice Dharfur. And despite the fame and infamy, all you could think was how small his voice was when he said it. All you could think was nothing, but instinctively, instinctually respect was required, you knew that. A sitting back and a considered nod of the head 'Ah yes, Dharfur.' But he didn't really look like a Somalian, not really. So this is what happened; they were on a ship.

You have never told anyone this, but you are afraid of your own happiness. They were on a ship and they threw them, the pirates, the crew, threw them overboard.

Mornings are worst for no reason, the tiredness just doesn't shift. When you get on the bus and see the middle-aged man take the baby that once clung to him to school. The baby girl he once knew sits in a separate seat and he reads the newspaper in a beige raincoat. And you think there are not enough people like him in the world. He must be a good person. You woke up and it was as if you'd been thinking while you were asleep and you woke up thinking, never missing a beat and interrupted yourself. You checked the clock 5am not 4 – that's OK. If you don't wake up at 4 then you're not crazy or depressed. This is what happened, one hundred Somalians, on a ship, leaving, in the middle of the sea, a far away ocean.

Would that the iron in the blood were steel so the rust in you could not be felt. You hear the displeasure, the rattle of everyday.

Thrown overboard, making the deal void. It says what happened – the waters were shark infested. Well what do you expect? A country with no law.

You expose yourself to horror, you disgust yourself with everyday atrocities. It does not tell us men, women, children. It reassures us of the lawlessness of the waters. There is nothing about the prayers, the temperature of the water, the sound of someone fighting an animal, in water, to live. The darkness, the relentless night. The clarity of a fact is all and not everything. One darkness for another. How many are fighting for the lives right now. And why aren't you? Why aren't you?

Where Sculpture Comes to Die

2010-01-13T00:45:00.000-08:00

I had heard from some of my friends at the gallery about Rockston and finally made my way there on Monday. It's tucked away in the Woodlands area of Lusaka, a pleasant are near Chilenje where there quite a few artists living and some history. This was the area that the British colonists lived in and Chilenje is where Kenneth Kaunda lived, according to my sources, those fighting for independence used to sneek over from Chilenje to Woodlands at night to harass the Brits. Things are much quieter nowadays.

When arriving I was first struck with the beauty of the place. Woodlands itself lives up to its name, trees are abundant. Rockston has a large garden and as I pulled up to the gate I could already see through a gap sculptures dotting the grass. Unfortunately some of the pieces had seen better days, nevertheless everywhere I looked there was some example of art. Rockston claims to be a studio and gallery but at the moment nothing much is happening. There is certainly no gallery and the studios are lovely but badly in need of refurbishment. It is more the potential of the place that got me excited rather than where it is now. I hope that soon the managers will become more active.

From the Road

2010-01-12T00:12:00.000-08:00

The Art Academy

2009-12-12T02:20:00.000-08:00

New From the Lusaka Art Scene

2009-11-23T05:52:00.001-08:00

After waxing lyrical on Facebook about the Henry Tayali Gallery here in Lusaka, a visiting friend decided she wanted to find out what all the fuss is about. We went over on Saturday to find that the Augustudio exhibition had ended and been replaced with a collection by well established artists. My friend was impressed and we got talking to one of the most active artists Kapotwe whose abstract and vibrant paintings are often comments on social issues facing Zambia, particularly in connection with the environment.

Kapotwe chatted with us about his process of producing a painting and how he doesn't always know when he starts, what the work will explore. He simply paints and decides from what ends up on the canvas, what the painting will depict. He then mentioned that he sculpts too and we asked to see some examples. He led us out of the gallery to some studios in another part of the Showgrounds, outside the studios were some wonderful figures and animals made from scrap metal which were by Kapotwe and fellow artist Joseph.

Promoting the Henry Tayali Gallery

2009-11-17T00:42:00.000-08:00

The Henry Tayali gallery based here in Lusaka started an ICT workshop this week for artists to come and learn how to use ICT to promote their artwork. I talked to the group about social networking and was impressed with their level of enthusiasm.

This gallery has so much potential and could be key to growing an art scene in Lusaka, I hope to do more promotional work with them soon.

The search for art scene yields: The Visual Arts Council of Zambia

2009-11-09T01:52:00.001-08:00

When we first moved to Zambia, the chances of finding an art scene seemed slim, wherever I looked for info I came up with nothing. Some websites and tourist info stated there were no galleries in Lusaka.

When we lived here before we used to go to a little gallery in Eastern Province, where we bought some beautiful pieces, the gallery was VAC – the visual arts council of Zambia. Logic suggested there would be one in the capital and after looking in a good old fashioned phone book, we found it.

We attended the launch of its new exhibition on Thursday for its workshop 'Augustudio'. The work on display was a mixture of painting and sculpture – stone and wood, produced by students of Evelyn Hone college – a further education institution in Lusaka. Much of the work was competently executed and there was a great variation of styles. The subjects were very much rooted in the culture and landscape of Zambia and it was fascinating to see how these young people translated their experience into art.

Art is not taught much in schools in Zambia, it's seen as no use in getting a job and it's often difficult to see how creativity is really fostered here. That's why VAC and organizations like it are so important. VAC is funded by various international bodies including a few European embassies, many of the artists volunteer for the centre. The artwork is on sale and reasonably priced.

Here We Are Part 1

2009-10-07T00:15:00.001-07:00

The mosquitoes are everywhere they weren't before. You can't figure out how they got in, every night you flush them out with coils that make you eyes stream in the bathroom. Everyday here they are again. Things wake you at night, dogs mostly, something that has found its way into the back space and kept rustling the leaves last night, like it was trapped. Early birds singing. The banana tree brushes against the glass on top of the back wall.

You shape your day around domestic tasks, basic cleaning that makes you feel pure and moral and kind of like a hippy . Handwashing, sweeping, cleaning the floors: squat over with a cloth because you don't have a mop. You could borrow one, but you like doing it this way because it makes you feel pure and moral. You iron. Badly.

One day you were feeling down, there was no water and you looked through what is supposed to be the second window in the kitchen. Instead there is a mosquito mesh and those blocks with decorative holes cut. Trapped between these two things was the perfectly preserved skeleton of a rat. Looking prehistoric and somehow wise, the long tooth giving it away, strange paddle shape on its front legs. Did it thrash around? How did it get there? Did it just get fat and never leave?

You like to catch the mosquitoes in your fist with a Zen like ease. But sometimes you miss.

A Tale of Two Tates - notes from my Notebook

2009-09-17T10:21:00.000-07:00

Back to London for visa and to see husband off to Zambia. Out of laziness opted for Tates to visit.

I've always like the idea of Tate Modern, impressive building, great to see it being used again (what plans for Battersea?). Important to have a truly iconic modern art gallery in London. But Tate Modern is disappointing.

Why?

Dreary interior - grey, dark, little natural light.

Huge but poorly utilised space, massive walkways, reception areas, huge shop (of course) but little art in comparison. A floor for members only? Hmm.

Ok, building is great but does it really make good gallery? To appreciate it is to appreciate industrial design, wasn't built as a gallery unlike Guggenheims and other Tates (note to all and self - visit St. Ives!).

Didn't go to exhibitions had to pay for (doesn't tell you anywhere how much costs until you get to the floor they are on, then you have to go back to buy tickets, no thanks), just meandered. Anne Lee exhibition 'No Ghost Just a Shell' - big raspberry, trite, vapid - sometimes bad idea to let artists write, some truly awfully scripted video installations.

Pop Art room a nice find, Andy Warhols - pretty exciting to see in real life, 3 Way Plug by Claes Oldenburg a revelation - texturial, erotic, funny and overwhelming. Huge plug made from mahogany wood, hanging majestically in the space but gallery a bit pokey.

Tate Modern = tiring - no proper seats, just those weird stools that are so awkward, overcrowded

= cold!

Still love it for its flaws however, better if it tried to be less apologetic for being an art gallery and toned down the theme park aspect.

Tate Britain - now that's better.

Big spacious rooms, beautiful construction.

Places to sit!

Light!

Fascinating narrative of art through the ages in Britain. Great exhibition - 'Beating the Bounds', great work by Frank Auerbach - paint as sculpture, brilliant video installation Helen Appel, funny moving. Nice to see some Gilbert and George - have we forgotten about them?

Verdict: Tate Modern like a gritty communal shower

Tate Britain - a warm bath in a porcelain, private suite

Boredom Breeds Playlist

2009-09-13T13:03:00.000-07:00

Fabrics from a Distant Land

2009-09-11T12:33:00.000-07:00

A nice little short about the fabrics we see and feel to be so African. Although Shonibare is discussing west Africa, these types of fabric are found throughout many areas of sub-Saharan Africa, including Zambia. I love them and cannot wait to get back there and use them for my own projects.

Excerpts

2009-09-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

Below are some snapshots of my notebooks spanning my travels in Italy, China and Zambia. A little retrospective as I start my new notebook as a married woman and on the eve of our return to Zambia. They are an alternative way of recording life and travels.

Find more artworks like this on artreview.com

Killing Time

2009-09-06T10:36:00.000-07:00

Killing time in Hanley isn't much fun. Our 'city centre' has slowly been stripped of its charm replaced with every idol to mind-numbing shopping that you can think of. On Friday it was cold, windy, rainy and I had time to kill.
I went to Hanley Museum and Art Gallery.

More regularly patronised galleries are very different from the small town gallery. The museum in Hanley hasn't been refurbished in years, it is still that warm brown reminiscent of the 70s. Cord carpet, rich wood fixtures, the smell instantly took me back to my childhood. The museum was peppered with children with their parents, wiling away the last few days before the new term. Who would've believed that in this push-button, CGI, right here-right now culture, that so many little people would so fascinated by the stuffed animals on display, many that looked flea bitten when I was their age. Still there - the fox still frozen over a dustbin, the vacant stare of a badger, the mad march hares condemned forever to box. Years ago my uncled donated a bee's nest. I hope it never changes.

The art gallery had a Henry Moore sketch and quite a few Lowrys (not a fan), but aside from that painters and sculptors I had never heard of - not that that is saying much. Because of that, it was a nice surprise and impromptu education as well as looking quite fresh to me after my recent immersion in modern and conceptual art.

I was particularly taken with a self portrait by Gilbert Spencer, looking off to the side, he seemed lost and slightly worn. Dod Procter's 'Clara' painted in hard light, depicting a large masculine face, pallid and thoughtful. Many of the paintings seemed to have been chosen because they looked like work by more well known artist - William Boyer's 'Short Back and Sides', beautifully composed with a wonderful use of colour, angled so that we are looking at it as if through a mirror, bore a strong resemblance to an Edward Hopper. A work by Roderic O'Conor called 'Interior - Woman Sleeping' had the heavy brush stroke and palette of Cezanne.

Unlike a better resourced gallery in a more metropolitan city, this gallery was virtually empty (not even a gallery work tastefully dressed in black to watch you), with a table welcoming us with books on art and a very comfy chaise longue. I sat quietly reading and eavesdropping on a teenage girl explaining modern art to her mum and cassually chiding the absent naughty people who had the nerve to touch the paintings. Bliss.

Digbeth Art Exploration Part III

2009-09-05T06:53:00.000-07:00

The Ikon Eastside is an additional art space in Digbeth, a branch of the original Ikon in Brindley place a few miles away. It's a small space and only open from Thursday to Sunday, but plays host to talks and innovative art exhibits as well as Birmingham's amazing Flatpack Festival (see link below). At the moment, RAQS Media Collective from New Delhi are showing their work 'When the Scales Fall from Your Eyes'. In the warehouse sized room was a number of everyday objects - sofas, desks, fridges and other appliances - painted white. On each object was the exact same glass cast of a suited human torso, topped with weighing scales for heads, acting as vessels for various objects ranging from surreal to mundane.

The room, although not crowded, was comfortably filled with these creations and lit by a circular, gentle light about 6 foot across that slowly changed colour. The effect was truly beautiful, and I appreciated the work more taken as a whole rather than examining each piece individually. When I did so, I felt the work was not so strong and even looked a little shoddy, as the white paint was unevenly applied to some of the objects.

According to the literature provided by Ikon:
'When the Scales Fall From Your Eyes is devised to encourage a contemplative practice of considering 'muchness'. ' I can't say I felt it dealt with this effectively and seemed more of a study in the surreal or fetishism. Judging from the albeit cliched title of the show, I can only assume I was supposed to see some truth beyond our consumerist existence. I didn't. I enjoyed the work aesthetically but felt it failed in its message.

A couple of streets down from Ikon Eastside is Eastside Projects. As well as the similarity in name, Eastside's current exhibition is supported by Ikon and, like the RAQS Media Collective work, also explores modern life. Joanne Tatham and Tom O'Sullivan's show is called 'Does your Contemplation of the Situation Fuck With the Flow of Circulation?' The title is take from a Jan Verwoert text.

The work itself featured a large, cubic tunnel, painted white on the inside and with an abrstact pattern in pale pink, white and black on the outside. On one side is a wall decorated with a pale green pattern that bears posters that state 'Ecstacy kills'. On the floor are crudely rendered white outlines of maps and other objects I couldn't identify.

The work, is in some way a reflection of contemporary messages (in reference to the posters) but similarities have also been made with our current economic slump - the word 'circulation' perhaps referring to money. To be honest, I didn't get it. I read the interview with artists I was given when I went in, I still didn't get it. Sorry.

I also didn't like the space much, it was odd how the space was without boundaries and the work is very much dependent on the gallery itself, but from a more pragmatic point of view, I had trouble working out where the art ended. I found myself thumbing through some interesting publications displayed, then thought that perhaps they were part of the piece and gingerly put them back. They do, however, have an amzing office area constructed and the guy at reception was really helpful.

LINK ATTACK
Ikon Gallery - with pictures of exhibit
Eastside Project
Flatpack Festival - Awesome film festival in Birmingham

Digbeth Art Exploration Part II

2009-09-04T07:33:00.000-07:00

The thing about Digbeth is the variety of smells; greasy food, but mainly chemical smells like diesel, oil and paint. It's a quietly busy area with businesses ranging from graphic design studios to limousine rental places. You walk down a street not quite sure what you're going to find and then not sure what you actually have found. On several occasions I was sure I had found an art space of some kind but never found out how to get in or what it really was.

My full, 2 day exploration of Digbeth came about because I felt I had not done enough when I was still living in B'ham. When the chance came to go back, I also decided to return to Digbeth. I knew the Custard Factory well, it has been a favourite place mine for years. It's the old Bird's Custard factory turned into a complex with shops, art studions, galleries, a theatre, places to eat and its own radio station Rhubarb, amongst other things. Every time I go back something new and really cool has sprung up. This time I noticed the Creative Open Workshop (link below) seemed to have grown and there was a shop selling paints with a lad hanging out on a couch inside drawing amazing pictures with felt tips. Truly, the Custard Factory is an exciting place.

After checking out the Custard Factory I used my art map from the Digbeth Is Good website to find more hidden gems, more on those tomorrow.

LINK ATTACK:

The Custard Factory

Digbeth is Good - Get the map and follow the art trail

Studio 4 - Brilliant Gallery and Shop showcasing the best in local art talent and they offer free mags like Vice.

Rhubarb Radio

Creative Open Workshops - craft tutorials and a great craft shop, fairs regularly.

Digbeth Art Exploration

2009-09-03T09:25:00.001-07:00

Digbeth is an area of Birmingham full of diversity and now home to a burgeoning art scene. Yesterday I wandered around taking photos and hunting out galleries.

'I am What I am' - Jeff Koons at the Serpentine

2009-09-01T07:13:00.000-07:00

I was so DESPERATE to see this exhibition. I love Jeff Koons's work and have to admit to be a little attracted to him. Those sharp suits and his quiet of speaking and then the knowledge that he can be quite naughty (remember his work with now ex-wife La Ciccioline?).

I have to admire my husband who was willing to trek through Hyde Park to get to the gallery, knowing nothing about Koons - the joy of being newlyweds, what you won't do for each other!

On arrival we were met by a charming young gallery assistant politely requesting we don't touch anything or take photographs - sure! Isn't that always the case? Art gallery commandment number one thou shalt not touch the work.

When I first went in I felt quite unimpressed, I wondered through, trying to look intelligent and thoughtful. I got it in a way, the kitch aspect, the nod to pop art's revering the mass produced and commercial as still life, but my overall reaction 'meh.' Blow up pool toys, interlocked with chairs, and chains, isn't that more the realm of a graduate show?

And then I read the exhibition notes. I stupidly didn't realise they were casts made of aluminium, then meticulously painted. We chatted a little with gallery assistants who assured us that they realy were made of metal - and my view transformed. I also saw why we had been asked not to touch anything, my desire to reach and feel it for myself was almost overpowering!

Jeff Koons has said that he is interested in craft and how craft is used to produce pieces of art. In a sense this show was a celebration of craft. The show is so much more of course, reading Koons talk about his work and how the art he creates is about people and people's reaction to art, I felt how generous an artist he is.

Exhibiton ends: 13th September

LINK ATTACK:

The Official Jeff Koons Website

Article from Art Review on Popeye Series

Jeff Koons Talking about his sculpture of Michael Jackson - recommended

Walking in My Mind for the last time

2009-08-30T11:12:00.000-07:00

This is the last week for the successful 'Walking in My Mind' exhibition at the Hayward Gallery on London's South Bank, a kind of journey into the consciousness of various exceptional modern artists. I visited the exhibition a while back and found it to be a mixed bag, as you might expect. I enjoyed the theme parkey feel to the exhibition, particularly with the works by Thomas Hischhorn's cave and Yoyoi Kusama's polka dot installation. For the most part it was an exciting and unsettling experience and was no less enjoyable for that.

I would have to say that my stand out memory was of my friend Tracey and I out on the roof of the Hayward overlooking the city as the sun went down surrounded by Kusama's polka dots. People, mainly couples, were lounging on the astro turf and I was profoundly touched at how peaceful the scene was considering Kusama's reasons for using polka dots in her work.

It is no great secret that Yoyoi Kusama started to see dots as a child and for her represent salvation and probably also sadness, for she had a very unhappy childhood. That Kusama was able to use this disturbing psychological problem as an outlet for creativity is remarkable. A great gift for us all.

I also loved the fact the gallery is open late on a Friday, there is something very special about going to a gallery in the evening and wish more galleries did this.

LINK ATTACK:
Walking in My Mind
Interview with Yoyoi Kusama

Oxford Malmaison

2009-08-30T05:38:00.001-07:00

We don't often get the chance to stay somewhere swanky, but this was a little treat for us all at the end of my in-laws post wedding trip around the UK. The Malmaison in Oxford has won design awards for transforming the old prison into a high-end hotel. It is indeed an achievment.

It has become more and more common to turn old buildings of interest around so that they no longer remain derelict, but also make the buyers money. While studying in Aberystwyth I remember a rather stunning baptist church being turned into a bar. I really respect the fact that Malmaison made such an effort to keep the building's essential design and then developing the hotel from there. Although this is really admirable, I have to admit I felt a little strange padding barefoot over my heated tiled floor in the bathroom to the humungous shower head, knowing full well the previous tenants had little more than a slop bucket. The next morning we went to see the only cell that has been preserved as it was, a less than six foot by four space containing three iron bunk beds. I am glad I didn't see this before I sank into my huge bed with its feather-down duvet the previous night after a hot bath.

Before We Go - Plans to feed my Art Appetite

2009-08-30T05:05:00.000-07:00

In about 2 weeks we'll be returning to Zambia, all being well bureacracy wise. Art galleries in Zambia are a little thin on the ground - 1 in Lusaka (which I hope to get involved with) a little gallery in Eastern Province, and possibly 1 or 2 craft centres dotted elsewhere.

I've been quite lax in my gallery trips since I was busy working, my one concession was frequenting the Ikon as it was very close to my place of work. Now we're back in Stoke where there is only one art gallery to speak of, and I am aware that I should be making more of an effort to soak up as much as I can before we leave.

So, the To Do List is as follows:

Sort out my visa to accompany husband

Arrange finances

Buy ticket to Zambia

Visit Digbeth's burgeoning art section

Visit Walsall Art Gallery

Visit Wolverhampton Gallery

Visit at least 1 on Manchester's galleries

Go back to Tate Modern and Britain before we leave

Pack