Friday, May 28, 2004
Before it's too late in this fickle world of web-logging:
It's a crying shame about that Britart. I feel particularly gutted about Tracey's tent and Hell according to the Chapmans. The former has had a special part in my heart since I wrote an essay based on that, among with other art works, and Joyce's Ulysses (again!). People say that La Trace is a f*****-up sensationalist, but at least what she does has heart. And real pain. And lots of humour. Which is more than can be said about a lot of the Goldsmiths-stylee geometrical blah that's around these days.
And what does it prove? That art should never be hidden away in a storage room because a) it may burn and b) no one can see it.
A funny one for the weekend - 'Teachers' silent battles in exams':
'...The study found some teachers play tag as they move about the room. "It's just like the real game but without any running", said a contributor to an exams antics website set up by the Times Educational Supplement. Then there is the game of "chicken" in which teachers walk towards each other, the loser being the first to side-step to avoid colliding. The nastiest game is "ugly" where a teacher stands beside the least good-looking pupil.' (from Metro)
Since these games could be incorporated in my work, I think I'll, in a couple of weeks, take pleasure in a quiet game of "ugly" with my colleague.
It's a crying shame about that Britart. I feel particularly gutted about Tracey's tent and Hell according to the Chapmans. The former has had a special part in my heart since I wrote an essay based on that, among with other art works, and Joyce's Ulysses (again!). People say that La Trace is a f*****-up sensationalist, but at least what she does has heart. And real pain. And lots of humour. Which is more than can be said about a lot of the Goldsmiths-stylee geometrical blah that's around these days.
And what does it prove? That art should never be hidden away in a storage room because a) it may burn and b) no one can see it.
A funny one for the weekend - 'Teachers' silent battles in exams':
'...The study found some teachers play tag as they move about the room. "It's just like the real game but without any running", said a contributor to an exams antics website set up by the Times Educational Supplement. Then there is the game of "chicken" in which teachers walk towards each other, the loser being the first to side-step to avoid colliding. The nastiest game is "ugly" where a teacher stands beside the least good-looking pupil.' (from Metro)
Since these games could be incorporated in my work, I think I'll, in a couple of weeks, take pleasure in a quiet game of "ugly" with my colleague.
Monday, May 24, 2004
Kingdom Hospital doesn't rock my boat. All the right components are there, though; quirky story, mad interludes, good actors, Andrew McCarthy (I lost my heart to Andrew McCarthy when I was 11 and he's been lingering ever since), Lars von as executive producer etc etc.
And yet, I've watched two out of three episodes and managed to fall asleep during two out of two.
Firstly, the ant-eater. Now, while this is initially quite funny in a whatsitdoingthere-kinda way, it's out of place in devastatingly non-surreal-only-annoying kinda way.
Secondly, the too-obvious product-placement, in this case a character reading a Stephen King novel in close-up. Jeez. Not exactly subtle and definitely not clever.
Thirdly...well, even though many components are new, I feel like I've seen it all before. Which I pretty much have.
Sometimes you should just let sleeping dogs lie.
More succesful as 're-imagining' is von Trier's attempt to 'de-perfect-ise' Jørgen Leth's Det Perfekte Menneske, or The Perfect Human, if you will. The Five Obstructions is highly entertaining, funny, witty, warm, and even moral even though von Trier clearly enjoys torturing the poor Leth, who in turns looses dignity and gains respect (and vice versa, of course).
And yet, I've watched two out of three episodes and managed to fall asleep during two out of two.
Firstly, the ant-eater. Now, while this is initially quite funny in a whatsitdoingthere-kinda way, it's out of place in devastatingly non-surreal-only-annoying kinda way.
Secondly, the too-obvious product-placement, in this case a character reading a Stephen King novel in close-up. Jeez. Not exactly subtle and definitely not clever.
Thirdly...well, even though many components are new, I feel like I've seen it all before. Which I pretty much have.
Sometimes you should just let sleeping dogs lie.
More succesful as 're-imagining' is von Trier's attempt to 'de-perfect-ise' Jørgen Leth's Det Perfekte Menneske, or The Perfect Human, if you will. The Five Obstructions is highly entertaining, funny, witty, warm, and even moral even though von Trier clearly enjoys torturing the poor Leth, who in turns looses dignity and gains respect (and vice versa, of course).
Sunday, May 23, 2004
The Evelyn Waugh-article in yesterday's Guardian, is well worth a read. Being an arrogant, slightly racist twat does not exclude an interesting thought-process and amusing habits, as well as competent craftmanship. Again, Birth of a Nation can be watched with amazement at the skill, yet with a clear knowledge and opinion on subject treatment. Should you avoid Triumph of the Will ? Possibly, but you should also acknowledge the fact that Leni Riefenstahl was an accomplished film-maker and a succesful woman in a man's world.
*Ponder Paul Bettany as Charles Ryder...drool...offer Tinka my firstborn for the information*
*Ponder Paul Bettany as Charles Ryder...drool...offer Tinka my firstborn for the information*
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Bits:
The 'Shhh' exhibition at V&A is great; the permanent collection set to sound. It is interesting how a mood can be created (and changed) through sound installations and music. Highlights: Elizabeth Fraser and the Raphael Cartoons, Cornelius and the glass collection, Roots Manuva and David Byrne.
The hypocrisy of some: British censors ban nipple in European election film
The 'Shhh' exhibition at V&A is great; the permanent collection set to sound. It is interesting how a mood can be created (and changed) through sound installations and music. Highlights: Elizabeth Fraser and the Raphael Cartoons, Cornelius and the glass collection, Roots Manuva and David Byrne.
The hypocrisy of some: British censors ban nipple in European election film
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Forgot to mention that I went to Aarhus - for a variety of reasons, but also to check out the new ARoS Museum. It's a great building and the collection is all-round interesting, but to me, the most interesting bits were:
1. The CoBrA collection.
2. Ron Mueck's BOY
3. Five Angels for the Millenium by Bill Viola.
The latter is in turns beautiful and scary, moving and menacing, touching the viewer with the use of image and sound. It is really a study of movement, of bodies and water, of matter and life.
BOY, on the other hand, impresses firstly because of its size. A massive boy, crouching, looking down on the viewer, at the same time intimidated and intimidating. It calls to mind Mueck's other brilliant Dead Dad, a miniature man, naked, dead.
I slept all afternoon. Then I ate strawberry-cake and spoke with friends on the phone forever. I'm quite happy here.
Gwyn & Chris are naming their baby Apple. The first case of a privately sponsored child? Next; 'We bring Apple anywhere', say Gwyneth and Chris, while gazing lovingly at the child. 'Me too'! says the child, pulling a laptop from behind the mother's back.
1. The CoBrA collection.
2. Ron Mueck's BOY
3. Five Angels for the Millenium by Bill Viola.
The latter is in turns beautiful and scary, moving and menacing, touching the viewer with the use of image and sound. It is really a study of movement, of bodies and water, of matter and life.
BOY, on the other hand, impresses firstly because of its size. A massive boy, crouching, looking down on the viewer, at the same time intimidated and intimidating. It calls to mind Mueck's other brilliant Dead Dad, a miniature man, naked, dead.
I slept all afternoon. Then I ate strawberry-cake and spoke with friends on the phone forever. I'm quite happy here.
Gwyn & Chris are naming their baby Apple. The first case of a privately sponsored child? Next; 'We bring Apple anywhere', say Gwyneth and Chris, while gazing lovingly at the child. 'Me too'! says the child, pulling a laptop from behind the mother's back.
Ding Dong, the witch is dead!
- much to my pleasure.
However, this does obviously not mean that British soldiers haven't been involved in torture and humiliation in Iraque. More investigation into this, please, and a trailer in a park for Piers.
The Danish royal wedding is finally over, and I think I may have developed a special Royal tumour to go with all the live transmissions and shit. What annoys me the most is the notion that all women will sob in their hankies (because the Crown Prince is cute, and romantic and, well, a prince) and just because he declares his undying love for his wife, I am supposed to melt (because I am a woman) and find it the most romantic occasion, like, evah. I'm sorry, but then I'm not a woman.
- much to my pleasure.
However, this does obviously not mean that British soldiers haven't been involved in torture and humiliation in Iraque. More investigation into this, please, and a trailer in a park for Piers.
The Danish royal wedding is finally over, and I think I may have developed a special Royal tumour to go with all the live transmissions and shit. What annoys me the most is the notion that all women will sob in their hankies (because the Crown Prince is cute, and romantic and, well, a prince) and just because he declares his undying love for his wife, I am supposed to melt (because I am a woman) and find it the most romantic occasion, like, evah. I'm sorry, but then I'm not a woman.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Buying poetry in my hometown is a fruitless task. Every single one of the shops stock a couple of copies of the newest 'release' as well as one or two 'classics', but further than that, one must order. Then, if one is lucky, they can get the desired book from 'head office' or 'the shop in the other part of the country' - otherwise they'll advise you to go to the next shop up the road and there we go again.
There's definitely not enough poetry in my hometown.
There's definitely not enough poetry in my hometown.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
I know, it's pathetic, I'm on holiday, should go out into the, erm, weather, bla bla bla.
But I just had to share this: Burger King has a sense of humour. Weirdly addictive. Like The Sims. Only not.
But I just had to share this: Burger King has a sense of humour. Weirdly addictive. Like The Sims. Only not.
Part 2 of my forgotten cd-drawer content-listing:
David Bowie's Outside. On listening to it again, so many years later, it's not as bad as I thought it was, but it's too conceptual, and, after all, there's a reason why it's been in the drawer for so long, and not on my shelf.
Dureforsog's Knee. Why I bought it, I don't know, since it's really not my thing. Not saying that it's bad. And the song Henning? is fairly amusing.
Black Grape's It's Great When You're Straight...Yeah - well it might be great to be straight and the album is rather funky hunky dory, but I personally always enjoyed Shaun more when he was off his head. Doesn't mean that I want him to half kill himself.
Hotel Hunger's Frankie My Dear I Don't Give A Damn. The title has annoyed me, like, always. Why Frankie? Why not Frankly? Is it supposed to be a pun? But who is Frankie?
I give up.*
Neneh Cherry's Homebrew. I'm actually quite fond of Neneh Cherry, in every way possible, but after the novelty of Michael Stipe rapping, the album kinda wore off quickly.
* Frankly my dear I mainly bought the album because I fancied the pants off Jimmy Jørgensen. Still do. Although these days I almost prefer to hear him comment on this, that and the other. He is a good singer, mind, but give the man some decent songs!!! That said, the album is actually really good, although a bit college-y I guess. Will consider bringing it back with me.
My hometown is full of freaks. It's a sleepy little town full of people who wear the same clothes and speak in the same way and never wear heels and are politely ignorant towards tourists and politely hostile towards immigrants and politely dismissive of everything they don't know. Things like bicycle-helmets and tofu and men in skirts and Vespas and perhaps even Naser Khader (after all these years) are still having a hard time in my hometown. But at least it's pretty! And safe! And quite conservative and as much as I love coming back and hanging out, I would never want my kids to grow up here...
David Bowie's Outside. On listening to it again, so many years later, it's not as bad as I thought it was, but it's too conceptual, and, after all, there's a reason why it's been in the drawer for so long, and not on my shelf.
Dureforsog's Knee. Why I bought it, I don't know, since it's really not my thing. Not saying that it's bad. And the song Henning? is fairly amusing.
Black Grape's It's Great When You're Straight...Yeah - well it might be great to be straight and the album is rather funky hunky dory, but I personally always enjoyed Shaun more when he was off his head. Doesn't mean that I want him to half kill himself.
Hotel Hunger's Frankie My Dear I Don't Give A Damn. The title has annoyed me, like, always. Why Frankie? Why not Frankly? Is it supposed to be a pun? But who is Frankie?
I give up.*
Neneh Cherry's Homebrew. I'm actually quite fond of Neneh Cherry, in every way possible, but after the novelty of Michael Stipe rapping, the album kinda wore off quickly.
* Frankly my dear I mainly bought the album because I fancied the pants off Jimmy Jørgensen. Still do. Although these days I almost prefer to hear him comment on this, that and the other. He is a good singer, mind, but give the man some decent songs!!! That said, the album is actually really good, although a bit college-y I guess. Will consider bringing it back with me.
My hometown is full of freaks. It's a sleepy little town full of people who wear the same clothes and speak in the same way and never wear heels and are politely ignorant towards tourists and politely hostile towards immigrants and politely dismissive of everything they don't know. Things like bicycle-helmets and tofu and men in skirts and Vespas and perhaps even Naser Khader (after all these years) are still having a hard time in my hometown. But at least it's pretty! And safe! And quite conservative and as much as I love coming back and hanging out, I would never want my kids to grow up here...
Monday, May 10, 2004
I'm surfing the net, whilst listening to some old CD's, dug out from deep inside a drawer.
As usual; I go all sentimental when I stay at my parents' house.
The disc of today belongs to my youth, time spent in London, me chasing dreams of danger.
There was the hair, the tatoos and the, uhm, fruit incident.
Baggy trousers on a weak voice, an over-sized baseball cap perched on top, years before East 17 decided to do the same. Somewhere inbetween Happy Mondays' drug-induced, pidgeon-killing antics and Oasis', well, drug-induced mad-for-it antics, EMF just had so much fun.
And so one of them went on to perform with Whistler, whose albums are good, but who played one one the most boring gigs of 2001. Another died, which was almost a given - I know, not a nice thing to say, but he was the gorgeous one and if they don't succeed, they usually end up in prison - or dead, as it is.
I still quite enjoy their music, although I doubt that I would buy any of it now.
They still make me laugh, though. Silly little boys with too much money and too much time. Well up for it. Bless.
As usual; I go all sentimental when I stay at my parents' house.
The disc of today belongs to my youth, time spent in London, me chasing dreams of danger.
There was the hair, the tatoos and the, uhm, fruit incident.
Baggy trousers on a weak voice, an over-sized baseball cap perched on top, years before East 17 decided to do the same. Somewhere inbetween Happy Mondays' drug-induced, pidgeon-killing antics and Oasis', well, drug-induced mad-for-it antics, EMF just had so much fun.
And so one of them went on to perform with Whistler, whose albums are good, but who played one one the most boring gigs of 2001. Another died, which was almost a given - I know, not a nice thing to say, but he was the gorgeous one and if they don't succeed, they usually end up in prison - or dead, as it is.
I still quite enjoy their music, although I doubt that I would buy any of it now.
They still make me laugh, though. Silly little boys with too much money and too much time. Well up for it. Bless.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
So I'm approaching the Chanel counter, a bit flustered, 'cause I'm in a hurry, having spent 45 minutes inhaling perfumes and losing my general sense of smell. I'm pretty sure what I want, since I've lingered earlier, but there's no sales girl to approach.
I hang around for a bit.
Finally, slowly, a tall blond girl appears, one of those girls who at first glance look quite pretty and glamorous, but at closer inspection turns out to be quite plain looking, but also quite shiny, which can be deceptive. (Other girls in this category are: all the Atomic Kittens, most British TV presenters, espcially those who present music/youth programmes - except Miquita, whom I adore - the blond Spice Girl, quite a few of the girls I went to school with).
Sales girl looks at me.
I smile (hopefully in a friendly way, although I am in a hurry and just need that bloody product now) and ask for the Orient red. She looks up and down at me for about 30 seconds, with a smile that can mean a) 'buying Chanel with our last savings, are we?' or b) 'right, 'cause you're stylish enough to wear Chanel (not)!'
I consider ripping her hair off, but don't as I really need to catch my plane.
There's a famous Danish football player getting on the same plane, which excites the airport staff no end.
Then there's the, uhm, gig, in honour of the impending, goddam wedding and in spite of it all, I go all mushy when one of the heroes of my youth turns up on stage and looks just as lovely and sings just as sweet as he used to do.
I hang around for a bit.
Finally, slowly, a tall blond girl appears, one of those girls who at first glance look quite pretty and glamorous, but at closer inspection turns out to be quite plain looking, but also quite shiny, which can be deceptive. (Other girls in this category are: all the Atomic Kittens, most British TV presenters, espcially those who present music/youth programmes - except Miquita, whom I adore - the blond Spice Girl, quite a few of the girls I went to school with).
Sales girl looks at me.
I smile (hopefully in a friendly way, although I am in a hurry and just need that bloody product now) and ask for the Orient red. She looks up and down at me for about 30 seconds, with a smile that can mean a) 'buying Chanel with our last savings, are we?' or b) 'right, 'cause you're stylish enough to wear Chanel (not)!'
I consider ripping her hair off, but don't as I really need to catch my plane.
There's a famous Danish football player getting on the same plane, which excites the airport staff no end.
Then there's the, uhm, gig, in honour of the impending, goddam wedding and in spite of it all, I go all mushy when one of the heroes of my youth turns up on stage and looks just as lovely and sings just as sweet as he used to do.
Friday, May 07, 2004
What is this thing, with female American sitcom/comedy characters deciding to run off to Paris (always Paris! Never Rome or Madrid or London or, uhm, Reykjavik)?
And then they go there, or at least reach the airport from which they will fly there, when some guy (not parents! Not work! Just some guy!) make them change their minds, and they stay in the good old US of A.
1. Are American viewers (who one must persume to be the target audience even though these shows are exported abroad) so bloody...unimaginative, that they can only picture Paris as lovely and mysterious and worth going to (as opposed to other European cities)?
2. Do American writers realise that Paris is a city in France and not a country in Europe?
3. Are all American sitcom/comedy writers men?
Anyway Carrie couldn't live without Big and Rachel can't live without Ross, so they must go to Paris (Paris possibly being a metaphor for something really, like, deep) in order to realise what they can't know in New York. Obviously these storylines are supposed to appeal to most viewers (especially the women) who want to believe in everlasting love and the notion of a soul-mate.
I'm going to Denmark, which is itself embroiled in a whirl-wind, fairy-tale romance, that I suspect has reached vomit-inducing levels by now. I predict that I'll mainly be slung on the sofa, in the company of the great Paul Auster.
See you later.
And then they go there, or at least reach the airport from which they will fly there, when some guy (not parents! Not work! Just some guy!) make them change their minds, and they stay in the good old US of A.
1. Are American viewers (who one must persume to be the target audience even though these shows are exported abroad) so bloody...unimaginative, that they can only picture Paris as lovely and mysterious and worth going to (as opposed to other European cities)?
2. Do American writers realise that Paris is a city in France and not a country in Europe?
3. Are all American sitcom/comedy writers men?
Anyway Carrie couldn't live without Big and Rachel can't live without Ross, so they must go to Paris (Paris possibly being a metaphor for something really, like, deep) in order to realise what they can't know in New York. Obviously these storylines are supposed to appeal to most viewers (especially the women) who want to believe in everlasting love and the notion of a soul-mate.
I'm going to Denmark, which is itself embroiled in a whirl-wind, fairy-tale romance, that I suspect has reached vomit-inducing levels by now. I predict that I'll mainly be slung on the sofa, in the company of the great Paul Auster.
See you later.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Question 1 of the day is:
Will blogging ever be resumed here?
2. Can I be arsed to partake in the End of Story-thing?
3. Do I work with the most whiney people on earth or is it merely a conspiracy to make me quit?
4. Do farts really smell more when they are released underwater?
5. Why are barbecue considered the best thing evah, given that it's ultimately a bit crap, having to balance your food on your knees/the vegetables often burning to a crisp/the smoke-inhalation making you feel sick/the insects feasting on your left-overs, up and down your trouser-leg/wasps attempting body-combat/etc etc?
Will blogging ever be resumed here?
2. Can I be arsed to partake in the End of Story-thing?
3. Do I work with the most whiney people on earth or is it merely a conspiracy to make me quit?
4. Do farts really smell more when they are released underwater?
5. Why are barbecue considered the best thing evah, given that it's ultimately a bit crap, having to balance your food on your knees/the vegetables often burning to a crisp/the smoke-inhalation making you feel sick/the insects feasting on your left-overs, up and down your trouser-leg/wasps attempting body-combat/etc etc?
Monday, May 03, 2004
Am starting to sort out wedding.
Need copious amounts of alcohol to cope.
This is not as enjoyable as I have been led to believe.
First stop: venues.
Need copious amounts of alcohol to cope.
This is not as enjoyable as I have been led to believe.
First stop: venues.
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