tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81809815964803765182011-10-12T16:39:20.449+01:00News, reviews and general cultural happenings in London.Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.comBlogger1981100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-5926391653557182142011-09-13T12:08:00.001+01:002011-09-13T12:13:16.441+01:00

God, i feel ESTRANGED from this blog. still i hope to change that in the coming months. My distraction, in part, has to do with my new love affair with Pinterest, which is siphoning off my interest in posting all things visual. If you haven't discovered it... Do.   It's a series of online pinboards where you can pin things you like the look of. Genius. Anyway, I digress. this advert is quite

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-77127695833214654742011-06-07T10:07:00.000+01:002011-06-07T10:07:42.522+01:00

My dear friend Sam Hodges is playing our esteemed Prime Minister in a new 'urban' musical political satire, NICKED,which premiered at the HighTide theatre festival a few weeks ago. I'm off to see it this week with existing enthusiasm buoyed by this you tube trailer which is hilarious. political rapping: bring it.  

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-53483877563985037152011-06-02T14:35:00.000+01:002011-06-02T14:35:17.513+01:00

Mini bucket-and-spade jellies and chocolate ice creams from M&S bring sweet beach treats to, well, the office. Bite-sized delights. so dinky, so cute, so cool.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-32566614801925609932011-05-26T11:17:00.000+01:002011-05-26T11:17:47.201+01:00

 Oh GOD. Practical and affordable (£9). i wasn't expecting that.  Can't quite say the same for the below. but hey, what they lack in usefulness, they make up for in F.U.N 

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-36551295140673500332011-05-26T10:19:00.000+01:002011-05-26T10:19:36.911+01:00

£17.50 for a badge?! seemingly so. does my moustache obsession warrant such a ridiculous and unnecessary expenditure? Hmmm. Still, thank you Sam for drawing it to my attention (x).

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-61357363216166456112011-05-26T10:14:00.001+01:002011-05-26T10:21:40.900+01:00

Hopefully this won't stop me flying tomorrow. though it is rather impressive looking. so much so it is currently my sister's screensaver. she's a funny one - fabulously so.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-23608036871714419332011-05-20T15:00:00.000+01:002011-05-20T15:00:44.389+01:00

I have decided to start a fantasy art collection - ie a collection comprised of pieces of art that I'd like to buy, but can't. sort of like fantasy football but, you know, not. Although, in theory, one could start out with a fantasy lump sum and buy art like mad, and see how much the collection had appreciated at the end of each year. or something. Anyway. i saw this today and thought - I'd

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-4658095600384492342011-05-19T15:45:00.000+01:002011-05-19T15:45:51.678+01:00

Good it's been eons since i posted anything. Yikes. Still, this is where, who and how I wish I were today.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-86742425110643847192011-04-18T18:31:00.000+01:002011-04-18T18:31:17.363+01:00

Yet another chapter in my 'book of obsessions' (see moustaches, matryoshkas et al) relates to pencils. more specifically pencils with rubbers on the end, which i steal on a regular basis from swish hotels and with which I write all the time. but when i was sent a link to this post on Sharon Montrose's blog i sort of felt put in my place. writing with pencils with rubbers on the end is clearly

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-79870120430713385122011-04-14T17:35:00.000+01:002011-04-14T17:35:54.083+01:00

I came out of Wastwater, a series of three short, tangentially linked plays (an elliptical triptych is what the Royal Court call it), having very much enjoyed them, but really quite foggy about what their point was. which was a bit strange. for some reason beforehand i though they had an eco link. but while watching, nothing of that nature particularly struck a cord. Each story takes place in the

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-59375916239829650562011-04-08T18:25:00.000+01:002011-04-08T18:25:55.023+01:00

At last, a play at the National Theatre that I've actually enjoyed this year. Huzzah. Clifford Odette's play, set in New York, in the sweltering summer of 1938, in a dentist's waiting room to be precise, is a hothouse of anaesthetised emotion... trapped in a stuffy, humid, small, soulless room the atmosphere is claustrophobic, constrained, stale, uncomfortable - much like the life of dentist Ben

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-54924029672812178892011-04-08T17:34:00.002+01:002011-04-08T18:27:12.791+01:00

After Antichrist, dare we watch Lars von Trier's latest offering? I think yes....though we'll have to wait until July 1st.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-20891928534442248712011-04-07T17:34:00.000+01:002011-04-07T17:34:26.131+01:00

Yes people, this is really happening - the world beard and moustache championships. Trondhjem. Norway. May 15th. words ESCAPE me. well, except for: Huzzah!

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-61079235154432451062011-04-07T17:28:00.000+01:002011-04-07T17:28:06.041+01:00

LOVE LOVE LOVE. about 2 years old. but better late than never, je pense.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-79274913573821523712011-03-19T12:58:00.001Z2011-03-19T12:58:20.261Z

Art i am lusting after... Harland Miller's new penguin prints from Other Criteria. What's annoying is when i first saw one of these and loved it, it was £500. now they are selling for £1,250. Fuck, bugger, bollocks.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-70703825744760764962011-03-18T17:02:00.000Z2011-03-18T17:02:32.201Z

The Pet Shop Boys and Javier de Frutos' ballet interpretation of the Hans Christian Andersen story The Most Incredible Thing is indeed just that; The Most Incredible Thing. or at least i thought so as i sat there grinning manically and thoroughly caught up in the gloriously dynamic innovation of this magical story. The tale itself is a simple one - a king promises  his daughter's hand in marriage

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-68355764496333362132011-03-11T11:36:00.000Z2011-03-11T11:36:53.126Z

Kneehigh's darkly unnerving subversion of the fairy tale The Red Shoes by Hans Christian Andersen was one of their first productions, and given how much of a fan of theirs i've become over the years, it was interesting to see a revival of play (at the BAC) that 10 years ago catapulted them from bucolic creative exile in Cornwall into the mainstream cultural throng of the capital - this year sees

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-70951135269893887712011-03-07T10:49:00.000Z2011-03-07T10:49:18.025Z

Last week I was invited along to the first in a series of seven deadly sins salons hosted by art collective ContainerPLUS, of whom i am a MAJOR fan. Held in their very cool offices in Shoreditch, the theme was lust, and racy talks by Coco de Mer founder Sam Roddick and historian Hallie Rubenhold (something of a historical specialist in wanton ladies) both titilated and amused, as did the

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-61520775796254678912011-03-04T16:35:00.002Z2011-03-04T16:36:16.880Z

The school of life has hooked up with Morgan's Hotel Group - each room now has a mini bar for the mind as well as a chic fridge filled with over-priced alcoholic delights. i love the idea of getting steaming drunk on miniatures and launching into pretentious drunken conversations WITH A POINT. or a purpose. or a direction. or something. very pretty packaging, isn't it?

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-68871422594240455772011-03-02T14:59:00.000Z2011-03-02T14:59:50.101Z

Whilst wandering around the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam this weekend i stumbled across this grandfather clock... it's a video installation by Maarten Bass which appears to have a man inside it who draws the hand s of the clock to mark the time. insanely cool.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-14926276148736709432011-02-22T19:09:00.000Z2011-02-22T19:09:38.642Z

Always a sucker for a book jacket that has the wow factor, one that does so by brazenly flouting current social etiquettes is likely to appeal to me even more. And so to Stuart Evers' Ten Stories about Smoking which looks, as you might have guessed, like a rather stylish giant cigarette packet, and which is filled with ten smoky tales metaphorically sucked through the filter of a cigarette, a

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-26626520985586854442011-02-18T19:19:00.001Z2011-02-22T19:15:39.506Z

I'm not sure what happened at the National Theatre on Wednesday night. Apparently it was a stage adaptation of Frankenstein, directed by Danny Boyle, starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Johnny Lee Miller. I'm not so sure, more like a viciously masticated version of the brilliantly disturbing Romantic novel by Mary Shelly, a story that weaves the horrors and fears of childbirth (her mother, Mary

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-14924272601311445982011-02-18T17:40:00.000Z2011-02-18T17:40:35.248Z

So, it's a bit after the event, but my valentine's weekend was rather more filled with sex and lovers than i expected... yes, OK perhaps not literally, but what the hey, it was a riot. Friday saw me head to Battersea Power Station for a Lost Lover's Ball, which despite sounding like a woeful soft porn flick in the blurb was actually a pulsating throng of fancy-dressed and masked people buoyed by

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-18241103575506443732011-02-10T20:11:00.001Z2011-02-10T20:16:38.758Z

You may know this play as the film The Loudest Whisper with Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine. I didn't, so went along to the Comedy Theatre's current production starring Keria Knightley, Elizabeth Moss and Ellen Burstyn, happily unaware of the shocking plot twists in store. It's a fantastic play, which, in brief and without the major revelations, tells the story of two female teachers who

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-28498937014536646442011-02-10T19:20:00.000Z2011-02-10T19:20:41.568Z

The last time i went to 5x15 (a monthly storytelling event a bit like The Moth in NYC, and where 5 speakers each stand up and talk for 15 minutes about a subject of their choosing) it was for the launch,and I'm thrilled the project has gone from strength to strength. Happily the second strength has landed them in The Union Chapel on Upper Street, rather than The Tabernacle in Notting Hill which

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-72721433620378930112011-02-07T16:12:00.000Z2011-02-07T16:12:18.472Z

Seems I'm not the only one who likes playing with moustaches. This kids play set from Cow&Co seems to agree they are fun for all the family. Who's have thought? Still, £74 (yes, you read right) seems a little steep.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-83276059718550142832011-02-01T18:23:00.002Z2011-02-01T18:25:43.907Z

The John Stezaker exhibition at the Whitechapel Gallery is a complete joy to wander round. You can absorb the ideas and aesthetics, and push them round your mind marinating on them without wrenching your brain into a achingly high gear (nice on a Sunday afternoon) yet still feel nudgingly challenged and provoked. Most pictures are minimalist collages that take images of glamorous men and women,

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-6214076347787304592011-01-28T18:13:00.000Z2011-01-28T18:13:24.470Z

 Whilst on James' blog (see below), i saw these incredibly cool Lanvin playing cards. $85 maybe, but Ace none the less.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-74965145358877450442011-01-28T18:08:00.001Z2011-01-28T18:08:26.530Z

James Lambert's video art installation at Sketch on Conduit Street is awesome. Kind of like David Shrigley on an acid trip; simple little bird like creatures (drawn in a 1970s-esque block colour palette of mauve, orange and black), dance, bob about and busy themselves to a schizophrenic but seriously fun soundtrack (at least that's what i heard when i was in there)  in a video collage of

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-55475855354977717872011-01-27T18:51:00.000Z2011-01-27T18:51:49.111Z

Hmmm. wasn't sure about this at all. Directed by the amazing Sir Peter Hall  and starring his daughter, the beautiful Rebecca Hall, it had so much promise, but was, sadly, only a so-so production, though one elevated from complete forgetability by a stalwart handful of stand-out performances. What were brilliant were the comic roles - Simon Callow, Charles Edwards and Finty Williams as Toby

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-66716544630503872672011-01-25T18:30:00.000Z2011-01-25T18:30:56.549Z

After four and a half hours spent moseying round the London Art Fair this weekend, I was pretty much ready to skewer my head on a shard of metal passing itself off as contemporary art. Still, in the main it was incredibly helpful re the book i am working on, which is about buying contemporary art. In terms of wanting to buy individual works myself, there were a few things which, had a i a few

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-91391707764800459432011-01-21T18:32:00.000Z2011-01-21T18:32:48.098Z

The Fitzrovia Radio Hour combines two of my obsessions, theatre and all things vintage. The troupe of writer-performers stage original 1940s-style  radio shows which are performed as if being broadcast live, accompanied by riotously funny sound effects using household implements and otherwise mundane items, creatively deployed... the banging and squelching of cabbages and watermelons simulate the

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-5447461396572468062011-01-20T11:53:00.000Z2011-01-20T11:53:16.731Z

Russian Vogue commissioned a series of fashion designers to design their own Russian Dolls. Died. Heaven. To. Gone. And. I've. and not necessarily in that order.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-53645480636004121572011-01-18T19:09:00.002Z2011-01-19T11:36:38.938Z

Quest, mystery, theatre, adventure, treasure hunt. Accomplice is all of these things – an immersive theatrical experience which summons participants to a location revealed mere hours before the show/adventure begins and thrusts them headfirst into a mystery in which they must play a role. From the initial location, you are given the backstory to the shady situation by the first character, and

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-27571184434261365562011-01-14T19:19:00.002Z2011-01-15T01:42:16.363Z

A standing ovation for the Donmar's current production of King Lear. Where to start? With Derek Jacobi in the title role i suppose; Lear’s fall from sanity, power and confident majesty to babbling, confused, wandering simpleton has never moved me quite the way this performance did. It’s not just that it’s believable, it’s the texture and dimension of the emotional mastication he suffers – it’s

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-29807868649517508572011-01-14T18:25:00.001Z2011-01-15T01:44:16.101Z

I felt broken by Blue Valentine. It almost makes one never want to fall in love. almost. And yet, despite being heart-wrenchingly upsetting, it's also a beautiful meditation on falling out of love. The film opens with a couple (Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams) about 5 years into their marriage. it's awkward to watch the subtle signs of their failing relationship, the willful miscommunication;

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-52377897154155840412011-01-12T22:07:00.001Z2011-01-12T23:27:46.656Z

In The New York Times today were these seriously cool pictures of bookshelves, which cater to my specialist interest in bookshelf porn. The feature was about some guy in the US, whose job is to make bookshelves in the homes and properties of moneyed, artsy types look uber cool. This might involve wrapping them in silver jackets to match the decor (below), sourcing books along a theme to

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-27935616583275632462011-01-04T14:21:00.001Z2011-01-04T14:30:23.996Z

The most magical experience I had over Christmas was going to The Royal Festival Hall to hear Jarvis Cocker read Prokofiev's 1936  classical composition and children's story Peter and the Wolf, accompanied by the Philharmonia Orchestra. Jarvis' deeply mellifluous voice rolled out each word of the tale like another musical instrument alongside the flute-bird, clarinet-cat, oboe-duck,

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-7955088728843363862011-01-03T20:05:00.000Z2011-01-03T20:05:57.644Z

A very happy new year. clearly my moustache obsession shows no sign of abating. oh dear. 

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-17637760910333329272010-12-27T15:53:00.002Z2011-01-12T23:29:59.676Z

I'm really sad to say that i was terribly disappointed by Kneehigh's production of Hansel and Gretel at the Southbank. I'm a huge fan of the Cornish theatre company, whose inventively interpretative productions of plays including Brief Encounter and A Matter of Life and Death have captured my heart and imagination in a way like few other plays over the last few years. Perhaps it was because this

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-81871217229368753252010-12-27T15:37:00.001Z2010-12-27T15:55:50.156Z

I literally can't stop listening to these Broken Hearts covers of songs. LOVE them. i want to be in the videos, clad in neo-burlesque finery with a heart shaped bob.  

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-82485316344896779252010-12-27T15:32:00.001Z2010-12-27T15:54:55.236Z

There is a very particular significance to my liking this video. the end. 

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-48742054962531326092010-12-10T16:08:00.000Z2010-12-10T16:08:07.341Z

 JAMES TURRELLSustaining Light, 2007Wood, computerized neon setting, glass pieceAperture: 62 1/4 x 46 1/2 inches (158.1 x 118.1 cm) Everyone's been talking about the James Turrell exhibition at the Gagosian Gallery, getting all giddy with excitement in their explaining of it. I can now understand why.  It's incredible. Today, the last day,  through nothing short of a gloriously unexpected miracle

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-33107467458755821672010-12-10T15:17:00.003Z2010-12-10T16:24:16.613Z

I'm not sure what it would be like to be in a graphic novel, as in to actually see events unfold in 2D animated life, but i imagine it'd be something like 1927's production of The Animals and Children Took to the Streets at the BAC. the story concerns an insalubrious, dilapidated, cockroach and weirdo ridden tenement block staffed by a melancholic caretaker, called the Bayou Mansions. We learn

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-48398465088503535952010-12-10T11:44:00.000Z2010-12-10T11:44:58.586Z

Last Friday night was rather a bizarre evening as I ran around town to events which couldn't have been less connected to one another. Still, they were all wonderful in their own way. First up was a trip to House of Voltaire, a pop up shop run by contemporary arts organisation Studio Voltaire above Rupert Sanderson's shop on Bruton Place, in Mayfair which sells affordable contemporary art by

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-63121750271559787502010-12-09T14:38:00.001Z2010-12-09T14:38:30.793Z

I went to see Janelle Monae at the Shepherd's Bush Empire on Sunday. She's completely incredible - lungs like bellows and a natty sartorial style - she's a monochromatic, sexy, pixie-like teddyboy-tomboy, with a quiff to die for and super cute dance moves. She's playing at The Roundhouse in March. The song Tightrope rocks big time. 

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-73128399682655217822010-12-09T11:23:00.001Z2010-12-09T11:24:39.673Z

I don't seem to be getting bored of my moustache obsession. in fact it seems to be growing. some things which have caught my eye... A Field Guide to Typestaches, $24 Etsy (+$8.50) Moustache Hip Flask, £14 Urban Outfitters Moustache Mugs, £16.95 Pedlar's Cushion cover, £49, le Cerise sur le Gateau, Lifestyle Bazaar Moustache Tumblers, £16.99, Peter Ibruegger The Windows of French Connection (

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-89478974736786008672010-12-02T18:42:00.000Z2010-12-02T18:42:25.761Z

Hmmm. where to start when trying to describe the Complicite/ENO collaborative adaptation of Bulgakov's story, A Dog's Heart? Frankenstein meets War Horse meets Quentin Crisp's Gothic fantasy Chog? possibly. Frankenstein because it's a Gothic fable that sees the scientific creation of a monster symbolising the proletariat (more or less), War Horse because the eponymous dog is a puppet manually

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-48028304784266064252010-11-08T18:06:00.000Z2010-11-08T18:06:04.251Z

I'm not quite sure if I was killing time, wasting time, filling time, making time for, passing the time or keeping time but in the spare couple of hours before I had to be at a party in central London on Saturday evening I spent time watching Christian Marclay's video installation at White Cube: Mason's Yard - The Clock. It's amazing - completely absorbing in a strangely mesmerising way. 

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-60914350633839814432010-10-19T13:41:00.000+01:002010-10-19T13:41:34.061+01:00

I left Frieze on Friday and literally slumped down in a heap on the floor outside the tent in Regent's Park; a little pool of misery. I had to take myself off for a cup of tea and caramel waffles to pep up my spirits which had been culturally steamrollered. As usual, the fair was completely overwhelming even though I pretty much let the art wash over me like a cultural salve rather than allowing

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-51877288473945224672010-10-15T12:22:00.000+01:002010-10-15T12:22:21.063+01:00

Harland Miller print, £500, White CubeWhile the whirr of Frieze continues apace in Regent's Park, the inaugural and alternative Multiplied Arts has set up shop very nicely thank you very much at Christie's on the Brompton Road. Filled with over 30 galleries (most of whom aren't at Frieze) the fair focuses on limited edition prints, artist box editions, and multiples, which means the prices are

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-35505343061226492292010-10-14T10:32:00.000+01:002010-10-14T10:32:24.631+01:00

I braved Louis Vuitton's new(ish) shop on Bond Street yesterday to have a snoop at the Tracey Emin  curated book shelf  in the 'Louis Vuitton Librarie'. To be honest it's a thoroughly intimidating experience, with about 702 staff greeting you emphatically as you enter the vastly spacious shiny, glitteringly gold and twinkling 3 floor store - light bounces off seemingly every surface: the floor to

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-43353060134622345492010-10-12T10:02:00.003+01:002010-10-12T10:33:14.966+01:00

Polly Morgan's flapping pigeon wings suspended and frozen in time A Bacon-like vision of hellish metamorphosisBodies cocooned in clingfilm hang from the vaulted ceilingA ball of Swarovski crystals hang in a cloud of suffocating, claustrophobic dry ice - as the light reflects off the crystal, the ball seems to pulsateAn armada of gold boats hang suspended, their shadows eerily sailing along the

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-24092891501568072142010-10-11T15:35:00.000+01:002010-10-11T15:35:42.093+01:00

I completely adore this picture, which was a Guardian Weekend reader picture, submitted by Jake Harris. It's SO DAMN COOL. I'm not sure i would have submitted it under the title 'action', though - surely there's  a word that would have been more fun? Hmmm.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-79374071112190156142010-10-11T14:54:00.001+01:002010-10-11T15:36:35.977+01:00

  They are pretty impressive, really, these huge Polaroids, taken on a behemoth of a machine: a dolly-mounted, 20x24 inch 1970s camera. There are some poetic sepia pictures; intimate, off duty, snatched moments of downtime easiness captured on film. Others are in vibrantly bright colours, aggressive technicolour - often with paint streaked on top to exaggerate the colours and the mood. There

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-13357897860850922532010-10-08T19:38:00.001+01:002010-10-14T10:37:57.499+01:00

I'm not even on Facebook (stubbornly remaining part of the Faceless few) and i loved this film. 'The film that defines a generation' is the tag line (along with the above), and I'd probably have to agree in many ways. It's Mark Zukerberg's voracious desperation to achieve status, recognition and popularity that's really his motivation, his driving force: to be accepted, applauded, to get girls.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-82333922131433339162010-10-08T18:52:00.000+01:002010-10-08T18:52:41.588+01:00

The New Yorker has a festival; a weekend literary one. In NYC, obvs. anyway, by luck (the luck of the Icelandic volcano that postponed my trip by 6 months), I was in town for this year's one. Obviously i didn't go to all the events, but i did go to a few, my favourite being The New Yorker teaming up with The Moth. The Moth organises storytelling nights where speakers come and tell a story, a true

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-6161122130631993832010-10-08T17:57:00.000+01:002010-10-08T17:57:28.936+01:00

 Kara Walker, Gone: An Historical Romance of a Civil War as it Occurred b'tween the Dusky Thighs of One Negress and her Heart, 1994.MoMAWhat a title. what a image to cover an entire wall.Hannah Hoch, Rome, 1925, Guggenheim (Chaos and Classicism exhibition)Mussolini gets the Dada treatment  Marcel Gromaire, The Banks of the Marne, 1925, Guggenheim (Chaos and Classicism exhibition)I love the

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-42695318288753673642010-09-22T19:20:00.000+01:002010-09-22T19:20:49.958+01:00

When i was about 18 or so I went to a dinner party and found myself sitting next to a guy (a bit older, quite hot), who worked for Shell Oil (the bureaucratic side of things). I literally had to clasp my mouth shut to stifle the groan that rumbled from the depths of my consciousness, and pretty much wanted to gauge my eyes out of my head, but resigned myself to enduring what i thought would be

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-61673876815112505812010-09-21T13:58:00.010+01:002010-09-21T15:18:55.949+01:00

I basically died and went to heaven this Saturday when i went to Goodwood Revival, the historic motorsport and aviation event held every September at Lord March's estate near Chichester. Please god when i die can this be where I end up....Primarily a car racing event for vehicles from the 1940s, 50s and 60s, with an additional field for vintage aeroplanes too, Goodwood is also a chance to dress

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-4801649156115911522010-09-17T18:16:00.006+01:002010-09-17T18:57:40.067+01:00

.Despite it feeling more than a little un-PC to get dressed up in Arabian garb and travel on the train via Finsbury Park for Secret Cinema's screening of Lawrence of Arabia, once there it proved itself to be the most incredible experience in many ways. Walking from the station to Alexandra Palace (where the film was being shown in a vast exhibition hall, with 4,000 people sitting on the floor

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-10667773616713827302010-09-03T14:38:00.003+01:002010-09-03T16:48:32.459+01:00

Watching Headlong's production of Earthquakes at the National Theatre is like standing in the middle of an insanely vibrant and wild firework display. Hot, bright, nervy, exciting, eye catching. Bursts of activity happen with explosive force, lighting up the theatre. Scenes pulsate with energy, rhythm, emotion and passion. Unbridled hedonism mixes with controversial political activism, attention

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-62899544735541666632010-09-03T14:10:00.003+01:002010-09-03T14:29:27.131+01:00

I braved the arctic temperatures of the river at Figheldean this Bank holiday weekend (above) and despite the grumblings of a nearby fisherman about the unsuitability of the water (river rats and Weil's disease... tosh, i say, he wanted the place to himself) and total submersion feeling not unlike being stabbed with thousands of tiny daggers and then doused in acid, it was lots of fun. The

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-8306104743751000922010-08-26T11:00:00.004+01:002010-08-26T11:31:31.300+01:00

La Cerise Sur le Gateau is a French linen company of which i am already a fan, but the photo on this this invitation to visit their trade stall at theMaison et Objet fair in Paris (which i received today) really made me smile on this grey, grizzly day. God, how i wish i was hanging upside down in a surreal cherry tree somewhere in the French countryside in the middle of a scorching summer's day.

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-79176993536952544852010-08-19T16:38:00.003+01:002010-08-19T17:06:14.778+01:00

.As part of The Barbican's exhibition The Surreal House, a labyrinthine edifice designed by architects Carmody Groarke intended to be a "mysterious dwelling infused with subjectivity and desire", Liberty have created some fabulously surreal windows (above). They're fabulous. my photography is less so, but you get the idea. (and you might just be able to make out that I'm wearing a rather fun

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-54706233758714698512010-08-17T17:41:00.004+01:002010-08-17T18:05:47.076+01:00

Several things i like about this debut 4 track EP from Marthas & Arthurs....It's a little bit folksy, in a way that makes you smile and want to hold someone's hand who you like very much (more than they probably know), and maybe live your life as if filmed in tea-stained super8. If i listen to it twice it gets me from my front door to work. I like the spelling of Aeroplanes. Airplanes makes my

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-69468689235227470022010-08-16T17:31:00.009+01:002010-08-16T18:29:07.960+01:00

Festivals where people wear heels are my kind of festivals. the scales first fell from my eyes about the sartorial prospects and potential of festivals when I went to Lost Vagueness (the burlesque, cabaret and period fashion inspired off-shoot of Glastonbury) about 5 years ago. Heels rather than wellingtons just make everything better. the end. and if there's a tea dancing tent where you can be

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-77747081850337386052010-08-09T17:38:00.003+01:002010-08-09T17:54:08.526+01:00

Apparently I am not unique in being a Beatrice who loves guys with moustaches... see The Moustache Chronicles. SHIT. .PS this 'interest' in moustaches is most definitely of cultural significance to me, rather than a slightly pervy obsession, in case you were wondering. PPS the fact that i was alerted to this blog by someone who once had a moustache, and whom i tried to sexually assault during

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-323627568986235562010-08-06T18:13:00.009+01:002010-08-09T17:52:37.901+01:00

.I have fallen HEAD OVER HEELS in love with a blog... Bookshelf Porn; images of piles and piles, row upon row of books - in shops, houses, on the streets, as art installations, as pictures... anyone who has been into my flat will understand why i love it so much. below are a few pics from the site. Above is my personal favourite image of books; it's a photo taken by my friend Jo, of a picture she

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-73219708998688667522010-08-03T18:53:00.006+01:002010-08-06T18:39:56.586+01:00

Hotter than hot lifelong crush.I spent a not inconsiderable amount of time at Field Day, running around with a fake moustache on, thanks to a spectacular Pin-the-Moustache-on-Tom Selleck stall run by the more-than-fantastic Romy Westwood. Mmmm. .Idiot, you may think. well, NO. from this day on i am never going to a festival WITHOUT a fake moustache glued to my upper lip (Casanova was the variety,

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-55874010211768952172010-08-03T18:36:00.004+01:002010-08-03T19:14:22.179+01:00

There was a moment, after we read the first few paragraphs of The Prince of Homburg programme, when we seriously considered getting the fuck out of the Donmar and nipping round the corner to the newly opened Jamie's Italian on Upper St Martin's Lane. Something to do with Heinrich von Kleist committing suicide shortly after writing it, aged 34, possibly, or it being about the Prussian Cavalry and

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-65731860482636875662010-07-22T18:06:00.006+01:002010-07-23T10:22:40.379+01:00

This exhibition, by Brazilian artist Ernesto Neto at the Hayward is completely bonkers. Brilliantly so. It is absolutely the thing to pop into over the summer - it'll lift your spirits, make you smile and if you bring your cozzie you can have a dip in the rooftop pool (see above, book in advance by telephone 0844 847 9910), which is a sort of bastard child of a swimming and a paddling pool.The

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-49516830242061875722010-07-15T18:14:00.002+01:002010-07-15T19:19:42.997+01:00

Ok, so i thought it was about time that a pair of pneumatic, grossly inflated breasts were no longer the first thing anyone clapped eyes on when they clicked on my blog... it's time to finally post something new after AEONS.And so to Andrew Lloyd Webber's Aspects of Love, currently showing at The Menier Chocolate Factory, on Southwark High Street. a few things we should probably clarify. i was

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-23357623588786131182010-06-07T18:10:00.006+01:002010-06-09T18:38:12.530+01:00

I felt like a complete perv wandering around Marc Quinn's latest exhibition at White Cube - must have been the giant tits, and cocks and vaginas on display. But I seemed to be rather in the minority in liking it, it has to be said. I liked the way it takes classical and religious sculptural constructs and established dialogues about the creation, beauty, sexual identity and defined sexual roles

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-31629036102913360922010-05-28T17:47:00.004+01:002010-05-28T18:10:41.259+01:00

Even though i enjoyed Sex and The City 2 in the main, and there were some genuine laughing, gasping and shock moments, it left me feeling a bit depressed, it has to be said. Of course it was always going to be fun to watch, but it feels a bit desperate. everything that was originally sparky and cool about each of the characters has been transmuted into caricature - played out with zero subtlety

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-76482959368767900982010-05-27T14:22:00.004+01:002010-05-27T14:53:52.453+01:00

There are some lovely dresses in the V&A's Grace Kelly exhibition, there's no doubt, but I'm not sure anything (apart from some extraordinary headpieces she wore for the lavish costume balls she revived as a fixture on Monaco's social calendar) really wows. The collection on show takes key items from her wardrobe as an actress, both on screen and off, and charts her sartorial evolution into a

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-31235976288208403742010-05-24T17:35:00.004+01:002010-05-24T18:16:01.046+01:00

I waited exactly in the queue for exactly 2 hours and three minutes to see Céleste Boursier-Mougenot's exhibition featuring Zebra Finches at The Barbican. and spent approx 15 minutes in the exhibition, which wasn't exactly ideal. Still, i absolutely loved it. I had a feeling i would - hence my desperation see it before it came off yesterday. .You enter the gallery via a darkened space; film reels

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-63728839997505222352010-05-19T16:52:00.007+01:002010-05-19T18:00:28.046+01:00

It is quite impossible to say HOW MUCH I LOVE BEYONCE'S LATEST VIDEO, Why Don't You Love Me? How could you not, indeed, love her in that get up, which pretty much epitomises how I'd like to dress if i a) had a hairdresser and stylist to hand to primp, preen and curl me every morning b) had the legs. in the unfortunate absence of either, i make a not inconsiderable nod to the 1940s and 1950s (

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-86528953985068269542010-05-11T17:53:00.005+01:002010-05-11T22:09:02.433+01:00

I find portraits funny things, really. They can present perspectives of people that telescope into private emotion, personal drama or specific context - but they can also reflect back the universal; a macrocosm of emotions, social comment, human tragedy or wonder. It's hard to say what makes me connect with one, and why others leave me cold. i always think buying portraits of people I don't know

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-49194576616927200192010-05-05T17:38:00.005+01:002010-05-06T18:24:42.905+01:00

Apparently not quite satisfied with cramming as much theatre as i can afford/make time for in my working week, I went up to Halesworth, Suffolk for the annual High Tide theatre festival this Bank Holiday weekend, a festival that trailblazingly provides a platform for emerging theatrical talent, especially for dramatists. .This year saw three plays being performed, alongside associated talks, free

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-79596393763278718802010-04-30T17:48:00.003+01:002010-04-30T18:31:29.020+01:00

With love, how do you know when it's 'the real thing'? when it's not an affectation, a performance? When the people involved aren't acting a part, or secretly doing something to undermine the intimacy, or wanting to feel something so badly they almost make it true, or being willfully blind so they don't see a reality they might not like. Tom Stoppard's 1982 play skips around these issues, of

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-68442557657142755452010-04-29T17:59:00.004+01:002010-04-29T19:03:57.928+01:00

I love love love The Revenger's Tragedy, a Jacobean melodrama cum twisted morality play by Thomas Middleton. at one point there are 8 deaths in 7 lines and in a climactic scene the lascivious duke is made to kiss a rotten corpse, via which act he is fatally poisoned. fun. what more can you ask for on the histrionic drama front? nothing, it literally defines over the top. and the pseudo moralising

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-38650456313126849792010-04-26T17:42:00.005+01:002010-04-27T10:43:29.753+01:00

I first came across the work of Rob Ryan about 5 or six years ago. I was at the V&A Village fete, an 'alternative' village fete held in the John Madejski gardens of the V&A every summer, run by artists and art collectives. as you'd expect, you pay to play games and then you can win things - but here the games are skewed as artists re-interpret the rules, and the winnings are more often than not

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-70468999045537327412010-04-23T16:30:00.004+01:002010-04-23T17:06:22.306+01:00

European Art House cheer leading: is such a thing imaginable? Possible, even? If it is, this was it: Cheer leading without the cheer, so to speak, a more sombre affair minus the smiles and chants, with less synchronised routines and more abstract dashing hither and thither; instead of Colgate brilliant smiles, blonde ponytails, rippling pecs, pop-tastic tunes and letter-emblazoned tight tees,

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-36495976413150881782010-04-20T17:53:00.004+01:002010-04-20T18:41:42.304+01:00

Enchanted Palace is a sweet, magical adventure of an exhibition. Housed in the sumptuous State Apartments of Kensington Palace, where royal personages have lived for centuries, it takes up the stories of 7 princesses (whose names you discover as you weave through the labyrinth of rooms) and explores key elements of their history in imaginative displays (a ferocious fall out with a friend, a

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-85754127313081692832010-04-16T11:14:00.006+01:002010-04-16T12:05:55.727+01:00

Fucking Volcanoes. Not a phrase i though I'd be saying unless it was some fabulous new expletive affectation or other. that was until the Icelandic volcanic eruption stopped me from flying to New York for a weekend of hedonism. sob. I've been saying it a lot since about 8am on Thursday. Anyway, after a super fun trip to Heathrow terminal 3 and back again with a bag so heavy it almost snapped my

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-48913002634200650272010-04-14T14:33:00.007+01:002010-04-16T12:21:24.928+01:00

The reviews of this play about a woman with extreme bipolar disorder, by Mark Haddon, were mixed, leaning towards the not great, and although i can see why (possibly it's quite gimmicky, and a little overwrought), I have to say that I for one really enjoyed it.Funnily enough i'm not sure it really is about a woman with bipolar disorder - although she's the lead character (Kay). For me, what the

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-26687703068226106682010-04-13T17:40:00.006+01:002010-04-14T14:14:46.801+01:00

I'm really pleased i went to see Rufus Wainwright's opera Prima Donna last night - although much pleasure was arguably derived from several things rather unconnected to the actual opera itself, it has to be said - Wainwright, clad in a Tartan suit was there with mustachioed boyfriend, plus the sort of famous people you might want to be friends with... Bella Freud for eg, which created a grand

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-19257969362927068742010-04-09T15:25:00.007+01:002010-04-09T16:35:28.625+01:00

I think my favourite moment of Trash City, the aerial acrobatics-meets-rock concert-meets-freak-burlesque show that punched its way into public consciousness at Glastonbury in 2007 and whose current show is part of The Roundhouse's Circusfest, wasn't quite when the silver Lycra-clad tranny flew through the air singing Alice Cooper's Poison, nor even when a giant robotised bull charged into the

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-36949917917533000202010-04-07T18:06:00.002+01:002010-04-07T18:57:44.570+01:00

I love Will Keen. i first really noticed him in a production of The Changeling here at the Barbican about four years ago, which was also a Cheek by Jowl production. I've pretty much been stalking him around the London stages ever since. and I love Macbeth, in the way you especially love a play you've been in (ok, it was at school, but still). As part of the Shakespeare-fest which i indulge in

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-83736219569534900302010-04-06T18:19:00.004+01:002010-04-06T18:50:31.809+01:00

Hannah reminded me this morning quite how fabulous the Quilts exhibition is at the V&A. I went to it a few weeks ago, strangely enough, dressed as her, for a feature we are doing on swapping wardrobes. the usual skyscraper heels, 1950s dress/1940s pencil skirt and red lipstick and nails for that night was swapped for tweed plus fours, a stripey jumper (I'm allergic to stripes usually) woolly

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-22603687821098371862010-03-17T18:10:00.004Z2010-03-18T11:59:20.092Z

French art house film meets fashion shoot meets storyboard meets slide show meets silent film. A French Picture Show, by Thoman Zanon-Larcher and Jules Wright, showing at the The Wapping Project (11. Feb - 10. Apr 10), is an odd meeting of half realised artistic concepts, concepts which together test the limits of various forms of narration - fashion, photography, film, music and theatre - in a

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-73811438128767283522010-03-14T10:39:00.003Z2010-03-14T10:59:08.261Z

This clearly isn't a review of anything cultural, but i wanted to share a momentary event of yesterday which involved me knocking over a free-standing column of about 200 of these gilded beauties, Lindt rabbits, in my local supermarket. The slow-motion vision of the cascading river of gold made the experience akin to watching a short film / nightmare hybrid of which i was the central character,

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-18520819668029606232010-03-12T17:57:00.005Z2010-03-14T10:28:58.111Z

I can't remember when i guffawed with such uncontrolled fervour (well, during a play, film, book or at anything on the TV, certainly) as when i was watching Tom Basden's Party, a play about 5 students gathered in a potting shed to set up a political party - albeit one with no name, no policies, no beliefs or manifesto, but a great deal of personal ambition and faith in the grand objectives:

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-22843254488106259612010-03-11T18:10:00.002Z2010-03-11T18:43:41.916Z

The executioner's almost mockingly nonchalant stance, the theatrically histrionic ladies-in-waiting throwing up their hands in despair, the tender arm round the shoulders of England's fleeting queen, the 17-year old Lady Jane Grey, while she, luminously lit and delicately beautiful glows with the tragedy of a martyr. I solely thank the supreme curation of this National Gallery exhibition for my

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-28685144866631774362010-03-08T14:17:00.012Z2010-03-09T18:00:10.247Z

I enjoyed Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, don't get me wrong, but I can't help feeling that the furore surrounding it has somewhat eclipsed the film itself. Fashion's gone Alice bonkers, Robbie Williams' new video has a white rabbit theme going on, Mad Hatter Tea Parties are being thrown left right and centre, shops from Claire's Accessories to Selfridges have wondeland pop up shops Below are

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-22637450385845006832010-03-07T12:46:00.011Z2010-03-08T10:34:14.715Z

Sweet nothings: not far off what i took away from this play at the young vic, really. Adultery, naive love, hopeless yearning, promiscuity, teasing, decadence, flirting, betrayal, claustrophobic social expectation and decorum - such things are sweet whisperings, sure, but for me they amounted to nothing and i came away hollow, disappointed, unengaged. It's turn of the century Vienna (though

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-20030258325104857862010-03-04T16:59:00.006Z2010-03-04T18:05:42.622Z

You know that feeling when you meet someone and they are sweet and pretty and friendly but you take an immediate, inexplicable dislike to them? they just sort of irritate? especially when they smile at you? and you want to force a cigarette into their mouth or something - something to make then a bit less, well, sweet? that's just about how i felt watching Jonathan Miller's ENO production of The

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-39115232464863306682010-03-04T16:07:00.006Z2010-03-04T17:11:03.157Z

It's rare that i'm so deeply affected by something that i'm virtually incapable of actually reacting to it for a while. stunned, in other words, is not something i'm familiar with. still, i was reminded of how this feels in a supremely visceral way yesterday afternoon when i watched The Killer Inside Me, a Michael Winterbottom film that's an adaptation of a Jim Thompson crime novel. It really

Beatricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02554657483337146086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180981596480376518.post-6865984943093228182010-03-01T16:04:00.004Z2010-03-01T16:36:14.513Z

And so, it seems as if my prejudice against video installation is being attacked from all sides: i went to the PV of Mat Collishaw's Retrospectre at the BFI and it turned out to be a video installation. and, again rather shockingly, I loved it - or at least i thought it was pretty affecting and i didn't want to kill myself while i stood to watch it, despite the fact that i'd just walked through

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