I've moved!

It's spring. I decided I wanted a change and new surroundings. So I've moved house to WordPress. Take a look. It's at the usual address www.poptartlondon.com.

Although you can't follow through Google friend connector any more (well I don't think you can), you can subscribe via email to be alerted when I post a new blog.

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Thank you for your support. Hope to see you on the other side.

A Positive View

Just a quick one to wish my (two!) readers a Happy Easter. I'm heading back oop North but if you're in London over the bank holiday I would point you towards Somerset House. As well as being warm and dry, it's home to A Positive View until Monday, a free exhibition featuring some of the greats of photography and some celeb pictures (like an early Kate Moss taken by Corinne Day, Sienna Miller by Mario Testino and a couple of beautiful pictures of Audrey Hepburn).

Pictures by Irving Penn (whose portraits of the famous are still on show at the National Portrait Gallery), Helmut Newton, Horst P Horst, Rankin and Don McCullin are just some of the well known names on display. With most genres covered, there's something for everyone. Look out for the ethereally magical Queen Charlotte's Ball taken by none other than photography's founding father Henri Cartier Bresson in 1959.

One of my favourites though is German film director Wim Wenders' Lounge Painting, Gila Bend, Arizona, 1983.

 I don't profess to know much about Wenders' own meaning behind it (must look it up) but his films often concern someone on a journey without a destination. I like his use of side-lighting with bright colours to create atmosphere. To me,  it's about the viewer's longing for the open road while surrounded by the trappings of the modern day. Which is how I feel today.


A Positive View runs until Monday 5th April.

Free Energy at Windmill Brixton

“They remind me of Hanson!” shouted my friend and if we were just going on the slight frame of the lead singer then she had a point. Musically though Free Energy, who headlined at a hot and sweaty Windmill in Brixton last night, are worlds away from teen bop.

They properly rock, head banging their long hair in unison, tight vests and jeans almost constricting their exuberant jumps and kicks. They certainly live up to their name. I almost yelled “Turn it up to eleven” when they kicked off with their eponymous song, but was so close (about a foot away) they would have heard me.

After watching the excellent support, the Singing Adams (only their second gig but already definitely worth catching – the lead singer is the former frontman of Broken Family Band) in the middle of the crowd, we found ourselves at the front for Free Energy who arrived with white balloons to party.

The Philadelphia five piece, who are signed to DFA records, play catchy pop rock (three guitars=loud) and they really give it their all. I loved watching them play my favourite track Something in Common especially when the lead singer did that thing where he locked eyes and then smiled a really big smile. They were really having fun on stage and it was genuine.

Free Energy are going places. Until the frontman said:

“Big hello to the babes on the back wall....nice, very nice”.

Er, hello? What about the babes up front?

“He must be longsighted,” said my mate. I concurred. How could he have dissed us honeys at the front?

To be fair, the barnet was looking big. Just how big (and frizzy) I didn’t realise until I clocked myself when I got home. But still, there was no need for such a blatant oversight. The rubbish British weather just doesn’t agree with my mop.  And if anything, it looked quite 70s-ish which fits right in with their 70s rocker look and sound. Harrumph.

Still, the lead guitarist is a man of impeccable taste. As well as sporting a long brown mottled feather on his guitar, he was wearing my trainers (martial arts shoes Feiyue, beloved by Shaolin monks).

After an encore and much appreciation from the rammed crowd (“sweet” was the frontman’s catchphrase of the evening) we emerged from the Windmill sweatbox into the drizzly Brixton night.

We were in a party mood and wanted to carry on for a nightcap. But Brixton is as bad as the rest of London when it comes to after-hours drinking during the week. Mango Landin, The Prince, Hive all shut. The White Horse was open but dead so we finally settled on an Amaretto in The Rest is Noise, open but equally dead.

It goes to show that Brixton needs more Free Energy on Monday nights to keep the party spirit alive.

Late night games at the V&A

I heart the V&A. Every last Friday of the month they throw open their doors until 10pm for fun free stuff.

Friday night's "Playgrounds" theme included a game called An Expedition with Mr Mirrors. It promised riddles and puzzles in a treasure hunt through the galleries.

Unfortunately I didn't participate. By the time we'd reached the place to sign up, all 300 spots had gone. Boo. I'd spent a crucial half hour queuing at the bar on arrival (I'm northern, it's ingrained) when I should have been queuing there. Oh well. The Silent Relay game looked fun too (people in comedy moustaches sleuthing round the place for clues) but we didn't have the patience to line up for another 45 minutes.

We did get to pass the giant parcel in the entrance hall though. It looked like a huge egg.

I didn't see what the parcel contained as it was unwrapped in stages during the evening. By complete coincidence I met someone  who works at the V&A (the lovely Celine) at a party on Saturday night who revealed that there were hundreds of origami shapes inside. How sweet.

There's something very special about galleries and museums at night. So even though we didn't manage to play many games (just as well for my friend who admitted "I'm not a joiner" half way through the evening), we enjoyed wandering through rooms like the new Medieval & Renaissance galleries.

Digital design exhibition Decode is also on at the moment (until 11 April). Some wicked interactive design was scattered round the V&A such as the movement sensitive mirrors (pictured second from above) and these:

Up close they look like mini tower blocks of light, about 40cm high, floating on the water in the garden. The beauty of them is that they each have a movement sensitive camera which briefly displays a pixelated black and white image of you on its front, like this one of my friend:

 

Way cool. Yes the V&A Lates are a thing of joy and well worth queuing for.

Stitched Up is the V&A's next late Friday on 30th April which will explore British craft traditions to celebrate the Quilts exhibition.

Other highly recommended monthly (free) lates I like are:

Late at Tate Britain - first Friday of every month. Next one is Shards of Utopia on 9th April.
Science Museum Lates - last Wednesday of every month. Next one is Experiment Earth on 31st March.

There must be more I don't know about, so do let me know.

How to cure Blogitis

I visited the Blog Doctor with a troubling affliction yesterday.

"Doctor, I think I have blogitis. I haven't blogged in three weeks. And, ahem, what's worse....I haven't felt the need to."

The Blog Doctor looked shocked. "Well, Miss Tart, you know as well as I do that if you don't blog consistently, your readers will forget about you and go somewhere else for their cultural signposts and opinions."

"But that's the problem Doctor. I don't think I have any readers. There's no one to blog for."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, my stat counters for one, my lack of regular comments for another."

"Hmm. Are you tweeting regularly?"

"Yes."

"And interacting with other bloggers regularly?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes? Let me put it another way Miss Tart. Are you taking an interest in other people's blogs and commenting on them?"

"Not exactly. I read them (and really enjoy reading them) but I rarely comment on them."

"Hmm." Long pause. Chapel of fingers raised in front of face. "And I don't suppose you're posting any photos you've taken to Flickr? Or have joined any similar interest groups? Or created a Facebook group?"

"I've created an FB group. But...no sign of the others."

"It's very clear to me what the problem is Miss Tart. A lack of interactivity. You should aim for at least five portions a day."

"Ok. Also Doctor....there's something else."

Sigh....."Yes? Go on."

"I, well, erm, I, ah...I'm embarrassed by my basic Blogger template. And I think that's the real reason why I haven't been promoting it."

"But didn't you say during your last visit that your blog was somewhere for you to write about your interests - art, photography, music, events, film, TV etc. So the design is secondary?"

"Well, yes that's partly true. I'm a journalist so it's important the writing works. But I don't want an old-fashioned looking, constrictive blog. My HTML isn't up to designing it myself and I'm worried I'll lose my archive if I move to WordPress."

"Ah, I see." Lots of scribbling. "Take this to the pharmacist Miss Tart, and make a follow up appointment to see me in a month's time."

"Thank you Doctor."

Diagnosis: Chronic blogging constipation.

Prescription: to blog at least twice a week; to find a better Blogger template or work out how to move (seamlessly) to WordPress; to read how-to-promote-your-blog articles like this one from Green Buzz Agency; to connect with, and comment on, other arts and culture blogs.

www.twitter.com/poptartlondon
www.facebook.com/poptartLDN

Has the Doctor forgotten a vital medicine?  Let me know!

Ronzo does a Banksy

On the day of the official release of Banksy's new film Exit Through the Gift Shop, a London street artist has posted a short film about his new exploits in the city, called Pity of London.


Ronzo's Pity of London - Part 1

The artist Ronzo's vimeo site says: "The 'City of London' statue is a dragon sculpture marking the boundaries of London's financial district since centuries. The 'Pity of London' statue is a sculpture of 'Crunchy - The Credit Crunch Monster' munching on a pound coin. It marks the home of the credit crunch." Really neat idea. See more pictures of the Credit Crunch Monster here.  Seems Ronzo made them to celebrate the end of the recession here. Let's hope so. I've never even noticed the City of London dragons before either.

Maybe this little film will start a new craze for street artists to document their work before the councils and whoever else get rid (I've just been on a filming course if anyone needs a hand...).

As for Exit Through the Gift Shop. See it as soon as you can. It's the hilarious true tale of how Banksy and other established street artists unwittingly helped create a Frankenstein/ Dr Evil type street artist with very little talent or imagination. Or filming skills for that matter.

I was lucky enough to go to a preview screening off Leake Street (where the Cans festivals were) under Waterloo this week. Best cinema ever with crumbling walls, old fashioned red velvet seats on tiers so everyone had a perfect view, the tube rumbling underneath, booze and popcorn sold from an icecream van and original Banksy artwork all round. Plus the opportunity to graffitti the walls on your way out. Very cool.

*thanks to LDN and Londonist who tweeted about Ronzo's film.

First Aid Kit

Dreamy and beautiful is how I'd describe last night's gig at Union Chapel in Islington, partly because of the venue, a drafty Victorian gothic church, but mostly because of the gifted act, acoustic folk duo First Aid Kit.

When I first heard about these young Swedish sisters a couple of weeks ago, I muttered "First Aid Band? That's an odd name" in a granny fashion and suddenly felt my age.  Like LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy opined so well in Losing My Edge, I was feeling out of touch with new music even though I'm not THAT old (well mid-thirties so old enough).  That's what comes from freelancing at home and not having regular conversations with fellow music lovers. Not to mention severely cutting back on frivolous gig going, in an attempt to save money.

Which is how I found myself enthralled with the intensely beautiful harmonies of Klara and Johanna Söderberg, aged just 16 and 19, from Stockholm. One plays acoustic guitar, the other keyboard. Think melancholy folk and more playful country. They sing and speak with American accents too.

Their cover of Fleet Foxes' Tiger Mountain Peasant Song in which the two perform in the middle of a Scandinavian wood, was a YouTube hit and is how many people discovered them.

Wise lyrics beyond their years in songs such as Tangerine and You're Not Coming Home "He speaks with his eyes closed and even though you're not alone, he's never there to be with you" combined with an ethereal quality to their voices created a mesmerising, sometimes haunting, performance. Their MySpace strapline is "We aim for the hearts, not the charts!". Sweet.

At times the church was so quiet that when they went off-mic for more intimate songs such as Ghost Town and In The Morning, you could hear the slight rustle of their floaty bright blue and orange dresses, such was the love and respect of the crowd. Given their age, I was also really impressed with their chattiness. Not too much, but enough for us to realise that they seem like really nice, likeable girls.

And the venue! It's a crime that I've never been there before. Union Chapel is a working church which turns into a dramatic, magically lit spiritual cavern of music at night.  With the most amazing acoustics ever. Plus sitting in church pews means you're virtually guaranteed a great view of the altar (complete bonus if you're short like me). You can nip out for a drink at the bar too. What a lovely, unforgettable gig.

Right, off to listen to the Tiny, another Swedish group, who were the support last night...

Photography and the changing city

At the risk of sounding like a photography geek, hasn't the light in London been magical over the past two days? Crisp, clear blue skies and low winter -almost spring (hooray) - sun casting long, lean dramatic shadows. Perfect photography weather. I keep mumbling "the light, look at the light" at friends who agree, slightly bemused. I'm turning into a poncey twit. Although the very realisation that I sound like a poncey twit means I'm not one, surely. 

So I've been bombing round on my bike which I resurrected from the cellar yesterday (after accidentally deflating the tyres when I meant to inflate them at the local garage-doh). I biked over to Battersea Power Station which I'd never photographed before. Quite unbelievable when I live fifteen minutes away.

And of course the key to photographing anything, cities in particular, is to get to know your subject. Get out there with your camera and have an adventure. I've found that people often want to talk to you when you're taking pictures with an SLR. They're nearly always friendly, interesting and interested (apart from an angry shopkeeper in Brixton market the other month but she was an exception). So it's also a great way to interact with fellow London dwellers and we all know how tricky that can be in this city. I met Duncan from the Association of Photographers near the power station. He gave me tips on the best views and nearby bridges to shoot (cheers Duncan!).

Which brings me to the point of this blog. Four brilliant photographers talked through some of their London projects last night at the British Library. These guys have photographed the establishment (Mark Power had exclusive access to the building of the Millennium Dome and rebuilding of the treasury), the historical (Mike Seaborne captures an ever-changing London as senior curator of photos at the Museum of London), the overlooked  (Rut Blees Luxemburg's tower blocks and motorways have graced album covers - Hackney high rise "Towering Inferno" above was the cover of the Streets' debut Original Pirate Material), and the personal (Paul Halliday, leader of a photography MA in Goldsmiths, spent twenty years capturing memories of a poetic London, like this one below).

It was Halliday who advocated walking round London, quoting photographer Christopher Tilley "Walking is a process of appropriation of the topographical system, just as speaking is an appropriation of language." In other words, it's natural. But rather than wander round randomly taking pictures - like me - Halliday advises focusing on a particular aspect eg urban life, architecture, found objects to keep you engaged. Devising your own projects is key.

I absolutely love German photographer Rut Blees Luxemburg's work. Photographing mainly at night, she uses a large format camera on very long exposures (ten to fifteen minutes) which she says results in unpredictable colouring. She's inspired by literature and poetry which shows in her raw yet brutally beautiful pictures.

About the above shot of the Westway which graced Bloc Party album A Weekend in the City she said "The motorway is an emblem of modernity which we find difficult to come to terms with. So there's a tension between leisure and transport here."

Magnum photographer Mark Power is often very conceptual in his architectural work which I like. Again, he uses similar techniques to Rut which he said, sometimes made it difficult to photograph people because of long exposures (Rut never photographs people).

While Mike Seaborne made a good point when he said to teach yourself to think laterally. Everybody carries a camera today so it's about ideas. "Ideas present themselves all the time," he said. "It's just recognising them." You can view Mike's pictures taken from the top of a double-decker bus here.

And finally...'well I never' fact of the evening goes to Paul Halliday who told us that while it's not illegal to take pictures in public spaces, you do have to be mindful of bylaws. A tripod is thought of as a tent in the Royal Parks and can't be used. 

Last week to see new exhibition by influential photographer

You know that famous scene in American Beauty when the camera follows a white plastic bag dancing on the breeze? When mainstream film goers saw something extraordinary in the very ordinary, perhaps for the first time? Well that scene owes a great debt to the American photographer William Eggleston.

For it was Eggleston who pioneered an informal photography style in the seventies where he transformed everyday scenes and objects, from old coke bottles to car parks in his hometown of Memphis, into things of beauty, simply by looking at them in a different way.

This time last year I didn’t know my Eggleston from my Einstein.  But now I’m getting into taking my own pictures, I feel the need to discover the great photographers (blog to follow soon on new Irving Penn exhibition at the National Portrait once I’ve been) if only for inspiration. And Eggleston certainly delivers on inspiration. He can find beauty in the simplest of things.  He showed you don’t have to shoot amazing architecture or lush landscapes to take emotional, thought-provoking pictures.

His current exhibition, 21^st Century, at the Victoria Miro gallery near Old St/Angel (shown simultaneously at Chelm & Read gallery in New York) includes many such pictures shot over the past decade. Who would think of photographing layers and layers of ice, coloured with age, in a store freezer and making it interesting? Or the pink hue of old curtains which blanket a Cuban bathroom with an enchanting, barely-there glow?

Many professional and amateur photographers have tried to emulate Eggleston but few have succeeded in capturing moments in (everyday) life as magically as he does. Now in his seventies, he’s still able to use light and vivid colour (he’s also known as a father of colour photography) to create dreamlike, otherworldly pictures.  Humour also features in his work – look out for the flying santa.

If you are in any way interested in photography, this exhibition is not to be missed. It runs at Victoria Miro until Saturday 27th February (open Tuesday to Saturday).

Salon Appointment

I love the idea of a salon. Not the hair type where the conversation is of holidays and X Factor. No, I mean the brainy sort where intellectuals and creatives gather to share ideas and increase their knowledge of the world, lubricated by copious amounts of drinking. I like to put the world to rights on a Saturday night so why not validly do it in like-minded company on a Wednesday as well? And talk about concepts other than X Factor.

So off I went to the first Future Human "salon" at The Book Club in Old Street where the theme was "Advertising at the Frontiers of Consciousness".  I knew it was going to be an unusual evening when I saw what the projector was propped up on. A game of Kerplunk and another of Scrabble.

Things got off to an interesting start when science fiction writer Matt D'Abaitua shared his thoughts on a rather scary future for advertising and marketing. From what he intimated, Google is taking over the world. It only bought U.S. phone directory service 411 so it could build up a database of phonemes (small units of sound to you and me) from people's phone calls. It's creating an unrivalled voice recognition service on the web which it intends to sell advertising against (totally cornering the market) like it's done with its AdWords.

Using neuro-marketing, advertisers are already able to target our often hidden desires and wishes more accurately by scanning people's brains as they watch ads. MRI scans have been used commercially since the 1990s apparently. According to another speaker, Professor Gemma Calvert, focus groups aren't accurate because people rarely tell the truth. But soon, says D'Abaitua, advertisers will know how to personalise ads to cater exactly to each individual's interests and life, because they'll have read our minds.

The most fascinating part of the evening for me (apart from the hilarious twitterfall where someone was asked out while another touted himself about for work) was the psychological analysis of a few TV ads by the panel and audience. Apparently says Professor Calvert, the 118 118 ads became such a phenomenon because the two 70s anti-heroes were a "meme".This means an idea that propagates such as a song melody or a fashion statement i.e. something that sticks in our collective consciousness.

It all got a bit too intellectual for some people who left before the end, which is a shame. I thought Future Human threw up some interesting ideas and insights into the dark arts of advertising and marketing. While Jedi Mind Tricks aren't being played on us just yet, they're a strong possibility in future. May the force be with you.

Himalaya Film & Cultural Festival

Sometimes you just want to see a film that takes you away. To somewhere hot if it's cold, somewhere fascinating if you're bored, somewhere unfamiliar if your world feels too small.

Himalaya, Where the Wind Dwells is one such film. Evocative and beautifully shot, it follows a depressed Korean businessman (played by Choi Min-sik) who travels to Nepal on a whim to visit the family of an illegal immigrant killed in an accident in Korea. What follows is a rare insight into a family's routines and rituals in a remote part of Nepal.

It may be fiction but it's one of those films that makes you feel that you're almost there. The fluttering of colourful prayer flags, the tinkling of horse bells, the low grunts of farm animals and the jaw-dropping Himalayan backdrop. In fact, heading out of Rich Mix on a Friday night into a Shoreditch in full party mode was a bit of shock. I wanted to turn round and be back in Nepal.

Himalaya, Where the Wind Dwells was the opening film of the Himalaya Film & Cultural Festival. Thankfully we can escape from a rainy London to the Himalayas for the next few days, courtesy of this festival, the first of its kind in the UK. Films (and accompanying talks) from Afghanistan, Bhutan, Burma, China, India, Nepal, Pakistan and Tibet will be shown at Rich Mix throughout the week.

“People in the UK have heard of the Himalaya but a lot of the region’s coverage is based on a few well-worn stories like Mount Everest and the Gurkhas. While these are important, the Himalaya are much more diverse than that, " says Taran Wilkhu, Director of Projects, who helped set up the festival.

"With large communities from Afghanistan, Kashmir, Nepal and other parts of the Himalaya living in the UK, we wanted to raise awareness of life and culture in the region beyond the usual stereotypes. This includes the exposure of film and other art and media, and the direct, grassroots educational initiatives we are also involved in.”

Some films will be UK premieres while others like the Kite Runner are well known. Live music from traditional and modern musicians can be heard at the Nehru Centre,  Mayfair and Passing Clouds, Dalston while art and photography exhibitions from international artists will be shown at The Sweet Tea House, Bethnal Green and the Nehru Centre.

The Himalaya film and cultural festival runs until Friday 12th February. See the website for the full programme of events.

Dangerous Liaisons at the V&A

Last night was very Dangerous Liaisons at the V&A. Never have I seen it so busy as they staged a sumptuous renaissance ball to celebrate their new Medieval and Renaissance galleries. Sadly the queues for the cloakroom, bar and workshops were horrendous. Still, it was fabulous watching people (and costumes) from the balcony. Here are some photos:

 

  

  

  

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Just seen the trailer for The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo film adaptation on Film 2010. It looks brilliant. Thank god the Swedes have filmed it before Hollywood does. The U.S. version is in pre-production apparently. What's the betting it'll be Nikita all over again? ie. take an amazing European psychological thriller (Luc Besson's Nikita) and remake it into an insubstantial action flick (like Point of No Return starring Bridget Fonda).

But I digress. Here's a longer version of the one just shown.

-

I've got a feeling it might not be the official trailer because "definitely" is spelt "definately" (pet hate...grrr).

If you haven't yet read Stieg Larsson's Millenium trilogy of books which begins with The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo then, as well as being in for a treat, you have until 12th March when the film opens in the UK.

No way José!

 

 

Which one of these pictures is the odd one out? The middle one and I'll tell you why in a minute.

Every year, for the past few years, I've marvelled at the skill, patience and imagination of the photographers chosen (out of 43,000 entries this year) for the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition.

So I stood open-mouthed half-way round the exhibition at the Natural History Museum yesterday. Not because a shot had floored me with its brilliance. But because there was a blank space where the overall winning photo should have been (the middle of the three above called The Storybook Wolf). With words saying the winning photographer José Luis Rodriguez has been disqualified because he was found to have used a model wolf. No way José!

After announcing The Storybook Wolf as the winner of the 2009 Wildlife photographer competition, it has had pride of place since the exhibition opened in October. Three months later, the judges decided this week that it is "very likely the wolf is a model". By that, they mean a trained wolf from a zoo as the BBC explain here.

Suspicion fell on the Spanish photographer late last year when wolf experts concluded that a wild wolf wouldn't jump a fence. It would squeeze through the gate's bars instead.

Rodriguez has been banned from the competition for life and presumably has had to hand his £10,000 prize money back. This is certainly the most dramatic event in the competition's 46 year history.

The question is, why on earth has this only come to light half way through the exhibition's run? Calendars, mugs, postcards have all been printed. It's so odd. Something very strange has gone on methinks.

Mugabe and the White African

Admiration, indignation, shocked, sad, upset. Just some of the feelings I  experienced on the bus on the way home from the ICA this evening. Mugabe and the White African is a feature length documentary about the ousting of white farmers from Zimabwe by President Robert Mugabe, shot over nine months. Yet it's so much more than that. It's an emotional and gripping story of a courageous man's fight to defend his farm, his family and the livelihood of 500 black workers and their families.

For eight years, elderly white farmer Mike Campbell, helped by his son-in-law Ben Freeth, has been battling  Mugabe's Land Reform programme. Mugabe has said this programme will give the land back to the "black peasants" but as the film shows, the farms are being reclaimed by corrupt officials, asset-stripped and left to go to waste. Mike Campbell doesn't want this to happen to his farm. In an unprecedented move he takes the President to an international court hearing in Namibia on charges of racism and violation of human rights. It's David versus a corrupt Goliath.

Much of the filming was done covertly with the crew sneaking equipment into a country in which they weren't allowed. We get a sense of the brutal violence and intimidation tactics wrought by the farm invaders in the name of Mugabe's government. It isn't pretty viewing.

Although filming was risky, it is beautifully shot and very cleverly edited to create suspense and tension. The dramatic original score emphasises the emotional impact on the family. You never feel that Mike and Ben are in any way pandering to the camera either. They just seem amazingly determined, passionate and genuine. It's no surprise that the film has received rave reviews in Empire and Time Out.

"It seems extraordinary in this day and age that as a global community we still have no means to stand up to a dictator who brutalizes and subjugates his people, both black and white, " say the film's directors Lucy Bailey and Andrew Thompson. "Concerning ourselves with such a situation, and informing ourselves about it, is the first crucial step towards ultimately seeing it addressed."

I really hope Mugabe and the White African gets a wider distribution. It's a heavyweight film concerning a serious issue but is never dry or boring. It is accessible, enthralling and hopeful of change. Of course the ones who would benefit most from seeing this remarkable documentary, can't. If only ordinary Zimbabwean people were able to feel empowered enough by this film to overthrow Mugabe, the world would be a less scary place.

-----------------------------------

The run has completely sold out at the ICA but is screening at the Empire Leicester Square, Odeon Panton Street and The Tricycle Kilburn until Thursday 28th January. Followed by various venues around the UK and Ireland until it returns to London for one night only at Riverside Studios on 3rd March. Check the website for the screening schedule.

Blind men and black cats

If you want quirky and thoughtful modern art, the ICA always delivers. A huddle of teddy bears in a corner, thirty four small photographs of different types of strawberries, and a large structure built out of so many materials - from wood to wool - that it looks like it could be an entry in one of those mad-cap flying day competitions. Somehow all these random pieces are related too. By the longest exhibition title in the world.

"For the blind man in the dark room looking for the black cat which isn't there" is the show's name. It's from a quote attributed to Charles Darwin. He was mocking the mathematician's inability to describe the physical world in anything but abstract terms. Taking that as its basis, the exhibition is dedicated to the playfulness of being in the dark. The not knowing. Anything goes basically, which sounds like fun.

As Alan, the smiley Scottish gallery assistant pointed out, the exhibition is what you think it is. How very ICA. Everyone sees something different depending on how curious and playful your approach, he told me. I, for instance, didn't notice the google map image embedded in the flying structure (unnamed by Dave Hullfish Bailey) until Alan drew my attention to it. While the heap of teddy bears shows how animals relate to each other.

Perhaps I wasn't feeling very playful as I'd just been drenched in ice cold rain. A visit to the ICA rarely disappoints though. Slightly baffled and bemused, I headed to the cool cafe (one of my favourites) for a cuppa. It may not be very abstract, but you know where you are with a cup of tea.

For the blind man in the dark room looking for the black cat which isn't there is free and runs until Sunday 31 January at the Institute of Contemporary Arts.

My, What a Lovely Cervix!

A sequel to the Vagina Monologues? An off-beat adult musical staged in a disused church in Stoke Newington? What surreal arty happening am I banging on about now? Well, sometimes life is more important than art.

Men of a squeamish disposition, turn away now. Unless you know a female friend/partner/mother/sister who would like to know what to expect after you've had three abnormal smears. Yes, this is my first non-culture blog but even if only one woman's worries are eased, it's worth it.

I'm a worrier by nature (get it from my dad) so I immediately thought "cervical cancer" when I received my third consecutive abnormal smear result. Of course it doesn't mean any such thing but now we all know Jade Goody's story you can't help but think the worst. After all she was only 28 when she died.

So, a not-particularly-cheery-me was to be found in the waiting room of Chelsea and Westminster's gynaecology outpatient department on Tuesday afternoon. Well actually, that's not strictly true. Because the form I'd had to sign on arrival made me laugh. As a journalist I've signed some consent forms in my time but this one topped the lot. Would I agree to the capture of digital pictures of my cervix which would be reproduced elsewhere? Seems even cervixes have copyright issues these days. They'll have their own agents next. Cervix available for interview and photo shoot!

By the time I'd told my lovely friend (with me for moral support, bless) about this, my name was called. Lovely friend took out her tome of a book, preparing to bed in for what she thought would be a couple of hours. The leaflets give no indication of how long a colposcopy examination lasts. It was all over in twenty minutes and that included a biopsy.

It's funny how praise can make you relax. Gorgeous smile, amazing eyes, great bum....lovely cervix. Yes, the nice lady doctor actually uttered the words of the title (not the other compliments I hasten to add) once I was under the bright light and in focus on camera. And I was flattered. Clearly I don't get enough compliments.

I'd already been asked by the lively Brummie nurse if I wanted to see my cervix on the big screen (WTF? Why not give me some 3D glasses, Avatar-style, while you're at it!). But the flattery encouraged me to turn my head towards the monitor and bloody hell, there it was. Magnified a thousand times.  It was a massive pink plate with a tiny hole in the middle. Eurgh.

I've never been one for perving at inner organs. When a medical procedure is on the telly I switch over. During a childbirth video in biology class at school I fainted. But once I'd got over the shock it was rather fascinating. The cervix is a strong muscle and essentially stops the womb from falling out and other things (infections, sperm) getting in, so it was weird seeing a functional part of me.

I watched as the doctor stained it with iodine and lo....there was a white patch of abnormal cells. Tissue the size of a freckle was then snipped to be sent off to the lab. I'm not lying when I say it felt like nothing more than a small pinch. Being a complete wimp I'd already mentioned that I might need local anaesthetic if they took a biopsy, especially as it was the week before my period when you're most sensitive to pain. But I hardly noticed it. Perhaps helped by the two painkillers I'd taken an hour earlier (top tip).

I should know the result in two to six weeks. I'm hoping I only have CIN1 which is mildly abnormal cell change and often cures itself eventually. The worst result would be CIN3=cervical cancer. I'm putting it to the back of my head for now. Worry gets you nowhere.

So if you're dreading a colposcopy appointment, don't. Or if you need to make one but haven't yet, just book it. Now! I walked out grinning, happy that it was all over so quickly and practically pain-free. Try and plan a treat to look forward to afterwards. Lovely friend and I took ourselves off for coffee and cake on the King's Road. Yum.

Oh and please ask if you have any questions or worries and I'll try to answer them. It really isn't that bad.

Arty whores at the National Gallery

I've known there were whores at the National Gallery for ages but only got round to visiting them today. Seems plenty of eligible men also had the same idea and even better it didn't cost a penny.

Girls, if you want to spend a Sunday afternoon observing groups of gorgeous men in twos and threes (you know the sort - tall, well turned-out, bearded/stubble, probably designers) observing eleven mannequins dressed as prostitutes in a faux red-light district, then head to Trafalgar Square. I can only think that they're reliving a stag do. I'd like to think they're curious about the Amsterdam red-light district on which the installation is based, having never visited. In reality it could be a mixture of the two. And who am I to point a finger as I myself have wandered through said district out of curiosity many moons ago on a weekend trip to Amsterdam with friends.

The Hoerengracht (Whore's Canal in Dutch) took American husband and wife artists Ed and Nancy Kienholz five years to complete in the eighties.The National Gallery's curator has compared the installation with the Old Masters which surround it.

There's something surreal about ambling down the narrow, dimly lit brick alleys suffused with red and neon lights from dusty doorways and cracked windows, knowing priceless Caravaggios and Titians are only a room away. The abundant attention to detail from tatty red wallpaper with small white hearts to a discarded condom in a bin, creates a seedy, realistic atmosphere. As my friend noted, the scantily clad mannequins (cast from real women) look like they're just about to turn round or look up to catch your eye.

I think this installation is a brave move for a traditional gallery. Especially if it encourages people to visit who might otherwise have headed to Tate Modern or somewhere else they consider less stuffy.

The Hoerengracht runs at the National Gallery until Sunday 21st February.

Wun Wossy Wun

Happy New Year!

Two weeks since my last blog and my fingers are jittery with blogging cold turkey. I've done nowt cultural since the festive period (I don't think munching on pork scratchings down the pub on New Year's Day counts - you can take the girl out of the north etc). And I don't want this blog to be banal bletherings about what I ate for breakfast. I'd like it to be entertaining and informative and focused on all things poppy, arty and music-y (I could write about my dating disasters for instance but they're so numerous that I would end up blogging only about dating).


So, back to the entertainment news of the day. Jonathan Ross is now touting himself about for business (join the club) having left/lost his £16.9m BBC contract. Poor Graham Norton has taken a £1m pay cut to stay on (times are tough). And über-film critic Mark Kermode (if you've never heard his ace film reviews on 5 Live then download his podcasts here) is rumoured to be taking over Film 2010/11. Hooray!

As an ex-Beeb journo I came across both Wossy and our Graham due to the nature of my job. Graham Norton is as delightful and funny off-screen as he is on. But then the magazine I worked for were paying him an absolute fortune (five figures) to host their posh annual celebrity event so he was hardly going to tell us to F-off backstage. Funnily enough Ross had hosted the very same event a couple of years earlier but was deemed to be too expensive and not enough value for money. Funny that.

And when Ross threw his toys out of the pram a few years ago (well, sent a narky email to the editor of said well known national magazine) because Terry Wogan was on the esteemed cover for a radio feature in which they both took part, well that was it. No one was bigger than The Togmeister on radio. Wossy's reputation was going downhill in media publishing circles. And that was before the Andrew Sachs/Russell Brand debacle.

There was the feeling in the BBC and the wider industry that he was getting too big for his boots (fuelled by his "I'm worth more than 1,000 BBC journalists" comment). Sachsgate was seen as his comeuppance. And we all know how the British media like to bring those in the public eye down. The higher the climb, the greater the fall.

It appears his final comeuppance is losing his £17m contract. Having been to recordings of his chat show I've seen what a professional, funny and talented broadcaster he is. Ross rarely needs to retake interviews unlike many other chat shows where you leave with red-raw hands from so much over-clapping. While his banter and wit were consistently excellent on Saturday mornings on Radio 2 (his show was so much funnier than Russell Brand's ever was).

It's a shame Ross occasionally lets his ego get the better of him. Let's hope he's now humbled and bounces back - à la the excellent Chris Evans - perhaps on a more suitably risk-taking channel like C4, where his career began. And the man's an entertaining tweeter too.