Despite having mumps, which I really didn’t think was supposed to be that much of a big deal, I attempted Brighton Pride this year, as always. The plan was to go down a few days before as I had a fashion editorial shoot on the Friday (photos coming), then hit Brighton for the party on the Saturday. I did make it to the afternoon parade, but by the evening I was exhausted and couldn’t face any more so travelled back to London alone. I’m pretty glad I did as I still felt so tired for a few days after..
Here’s some photos of us and our rainbow tiger/zebra outfits (or bodypaint!)
All tigered up for Rookinella’s birthday party.
… somehow ended up at a twelve year old girl’s Lady Gaga themed birthday party. Usual weekend then…
Glastonbury was… hot. Scorching. Roasting. A burning hot magma of field time frolics. We should have known that this would have been the way for the next five days as we stood in line for hours and hours in the blistering heat, queuing to get in. Had a damn good time, got totally burnt (for the first time ever?), did silly things with friends. Lay in fields looking at the night sky, watched the sunset, painted spoons with hippies, went to the tranni club. The usual. Highlights for me were Lissie, Snoop Dogg (!), Laura Marling, Candi Staton (again) and Corinne Bailey Rae, to name a few. On to the photos… there’s a lot of them!
After seeing Whip It a few months ago I’d been itching to see a real London all-girl roller derby. Standing outside a pub one night in Bethnal Green I somehow got talking to a girl that played in one of the London teams who recommended coming to the next event. So last Saturday, dressed in my finest lesbian dungarees and Doc Marten boots, I made my way down to York Hall in Bethnal Green with other roller fans to check out the match: The London Rockin’ Rollers vs. Manchester’s Rainy City Roller Girls. Now, given that I didn’t exactly understand the rules, I wasn’t sure what to expect. All I knew is that I’d be seeing a lot of tumbling, a lot of bashing, and a lot of girl-on-girl action. What more could you want from a Saturday afternoon?
Now I’ve never been one for sport. In fact, at school I used to just sit down on the field if the ball ever came near me at football practice. I opted to play netball with the girls once and would regularly feign injury to avoid the terrifying experience that is rugby. The mere thought of male brutality in sport instantly raises a red flag, yet the idea of tattooed ladies on wheels was all green lights and go signs. Beer in hand, I even started to screech when my favourite players (Jack Attack and Whip It) scored points. I blame the (one) beer, naturally. It really is a kick ass sport, combining a mixture of competition, comedy aggression and confusion (for a first timer). I will most definitely be attending the next match!
Checked out an interesting exhibition, Fallis In Wonderland, at Pangolin in the Kings Place Gallery. Straight from their website:
Inspired by Lewis Carroll’s classic fantasy, “Alice in Wonderland,” Fallis uses humour and absurd distortion to draw our attention to the issues that trouble her – mass consumerism, scientific distortion and environmental destruction: “When we consider our planet and its entire species we really are living in a wonderland,” she says. “In these works I am concerned about the growing divide between human kind and nature.”
After a year long residency at Kings Place, Abigail’s new found technical bravado, along with access to the skilled metal workers at Pangolin Foundry, has resulted in an exhilarating body of work, founded on surrealism and craftsmanship. This exhibition includes sculptures and works on paper made form a variety of materials including bronze, silver, plaster and papier mache.
I had totally forgotten about my visit to the new Grace Jones exhibition – Stillness at the Speed of Light – by Chris Levine at The Vinyl Factory. A friend of mine, Rose, had attended the launch night and after hearing about Jones’ usual outbursts I was intrigued to actually see what the bewildering woman had churned out this time around. The woman fascinates me. Her music and personality, her history, has always captivated me, and it was a real dream come true when I had the fortunate luck of seeing her last year. I hadn’t read up much about the exhibition, so was a bit taken aback when I headed downstairs into this eerie enigma of faces staring back at me.
The Vinyl Factory is such a lovely space. Clean, white, yet retaining some character, it’s been transformed into this space like world with scrawling violet lights and stars projected across the room. Jones’ face is instantly recognisable, but then again, when isn’t it? There’s something unnerving as you move past each image and soon realise that the images are actually holograms; her face, her eyes, they move with you as you take the next step, following you around the room. There are small and larger prints (all moderately priced), huge holographic works and smaller video pieces that see her dancing under striking lighting, her eyes turning green as they pass through a laser. It’s terribly haunting.
Of course the pièce de résistance, the grand finale, is the confusing strobe that stares straight back at you – a single light tube that sits vertically. At first it’s hard to work out what the meaning of it is. But there it is, as soon as you avert your eyes, the image of Jones’ face flashes into your mind. Look again and it disappears. Look away, she’s watching. Mesmerising, confusing, entrancing… Sheer trickery. These are some long exposures, shaking the camera from side to side. Not what the eye sees, naturally…
It’s only on until the 14th of May, so get your skates on. It’s free, and it’s most definitely worth the confusion nestled deep amongst the beauty.
