Finally proud of my little piece of paper.

 

I’m currently still recovering from last Friday, a day of food, clapping, wine, gin, wine, gin and more wine – or graduation as it’s commonly known!

 

It was an odd experience and I sort of felt like we were all taking part in some extravagant charade, pretending that our degrees are pivotal pieces of paper set to change our lives. To most of us, that doesn’t seem the case, and although a lot of us are employed (which the Uni will be chuffed about as it ups their statistics) it’s not really in our chosen field, or full time, or even paid.

 

Still, the enormous event that was graduation actually made me see my degree in a whole new light. I felt more proud than I had at the degree show or even on results day as it made it official, and a man stood up on stage and simply told us that we were great.

Praise is a rarity whilst studying, so it was a very welcome surprise  - one which I’m pretty sure gave us all a warm fuzzy feeling.

 

I’m really proud and impressed with us all for coping even when we were completely freaking out, and felt like dropping out might be the kind and easy option we needed (I’ve no doubt we all considered it at least once), and for sticking together and supporting each other when things got tough. University was a long and insanely stressful stretch, but we had some serious fun and I love my housemates of one, two and three years like sisters: my lovely, mental sisters from other misters.

 

Shout outs to my Fine Art basement buddies, I miss wine Thursdays and awkward gay bars; my textiles ladies who could always be found knitting in front of the tele, red wine and/or takeaway in hand; and our little lady whose still at Uni and happily puts us all up in her house when we turn up in Birmingham in need of non-fine wines and perfume-gin, and who lets us old ladies pretend we’re students again.

 

It’s her fault my face has a yellow liver-disease-like tinge to it STILL.

 

I miss uni, but my God I could not do it again.

Valero Doval: Pigeon planes, Spirograph, swans and portraiture.

 

I’ve just started teaching a couple of little’uns art in Kensington, so for material I took a quick perusal through  my old school sketchbooks and (although it didn’t help much with the old tutoring) rediscovered a whole load of artists I was obsessed with back at the age of 15.

 

This is Valero Doval, graduate of Valencia, Spain, working as a commercial designer for magazines such as Elephant and the NY Times, and also doing a little personal practice too.

Enjoy!

Music stands, tin baths and sofas: How can budding creatives afford to live, work and make in the capital?

During a recent hunt for young artists to advertise, I contacted an old friend who has, like me, just graduated from art college. Looking at a five metre tall wooden sculpture which he’s recently produced, I asked him where his studio space was “my mum’s living room” he said, “mine’s my mum’s conservatory” I replied.

Like many other budding creatives we both work in the capital, spend our evenings trying to climb the art world ladder by schmoozing, sipping complimentary booze and blurrily studying artworks at private views, and our weekends touring London galleries for inspiration; and the rest of the time running for the last train home and despairing over the Sunday service.

No one ever said the life of an artist was easy, but should we really be stuck starving in a garret just like the old days? It’s true that other cities – Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham – have impressive art scenes and are cheaper options, but London is ultimately the Mecca of the British art world and so we artists push on: bedding various sofas, setting up makeshift studios and using a child’s music stand as an easel – or is that just me?

The solution is of course affordable live/work property; however as warehouses have become so trendy that they attract the likes of Jay Joplin (see White Cube, Bermondsey) and, despite freezing floors and draughty windows, are more expensive than your average two-up two-down, the options for these renovations are limited.  Yes, a cheap room is available through Gumtree or Spareroom – but how thrilled will the new housemates be if you start noisily constructing an installation in your box room, or painting in the galley kitchen?

It’s no secret that government cuts have slashed the wages of arty folk, but luckily our creativity breeds solutions which can both accommodate our empty pockets and geographical needs. For friends of mine these include living in affordable artist studios, or taking a property through guardianship schemes; still, the first is slightly illegal and both are short term and uncomfortable – two friends living in properties without running water, one investing in a tin bath to satisfy his personal hygiene needs.

It seems that currently only one side of the problem is resolvable – take a cheap studio space and you can’t afford a bed, get a room in a house and your practice suffers. Schemes such as Container City have tried to combat this, and if you have £750pcm spare you can go for a snazzy live/work space in the East End (marginally cheaper than a separate studio and home), but neither are permanent or prevalent.

Why, when the UK’s art world is one of its biggest breadwinners, are its contributors paralysed?

Even solutions to the housing crisis on a much broader scale have met with contention: the recent change in law allowing easy office-to-residential conversion criticised for threatening developers, and plans to transform Dalston garages into teensy ‘bijou’ homes deemed ‘unethical’.

Surely what is unethical is allowing those who are building creative careers to struggle so desperately; forcing parents to take in their recently graduated kids who aren’t going to take a job in recruitment consultancy; and driving artists to live illegally, unsafely or uncomfortably.

Jay Joplin stuck his new White Cube in a 1970s warehouse because he needed a big cheap space; a need mirrored by the entirety of London’s artistic community. Although Joplin has transformed it into the most successful White Cube yet, I can’t help but think that when he took that gigantic shed, he also took something from the little people.

We don’t need flat-pack homes or a stack of metal boxes to live in; we need to make responsible use of the empty spaces we have, to assess whose need is greater: swanky developers offering loft living to affluent hipsters; or talented workaholics set to support the arts, tourism and our ravaged economy.

The solution is simple: divide it up, create a community and wait and see what that community creates.

Ten of the best antique iPads.

My notebook is my baby – sad but true. Yes, I have an organiser and a calendar on my phone, sticky notepads stuck to my laptop screen and a calendar hanging off my mirror (a failed attempt to make myself look at it daily, then realised I don’t look in the mirror daily), but it’s in my little notebook of scribbles that I’ll actually look. I trust it to give me the right information and to dismiss the need for emailing on the go, phoning people or asking where the nearest tube is.

It is my Bible, but my Bible is on its way out.

So, with three naked little pages to go, it’s time to find a successor (notice I do not say replacement) and as each book lasts me about three months and is the gatekeeper to my entire life, I’m happy to invest a bit. I like to make sure that my little square of paper and card is one that I’ll be proud to hoik out of my bag on trains, in meetings, at press views and, most importantly, that’s nice looking enough to make writing an article whilst half-frozen on the District Line an endurable experience.

It’s also got to be hardy, with narrow lines and no fabric – I’m a writer, not making namby pamby lists of shells I found on the beach.

So, on that nautical note, I’ve trawled through the internet and fished up ten of the best – as varied as Birmingham’s seafood markets but without the stench or slimy catcalling. Enjoy!

LIFE notebook from Cyd, director of The Sweetest Occassion, on her Keep profile – the pinterest for shopaholics. Simple, inoffensive, and if this were my notebook it would certainly do what it says on the tin.

Six Continent notebooks from Christian Lacroix for Libretto; it’s a worldwide fashion show in six parts, unfortunately I’m not sure if I’d be able to pick one (after much deliberation having to post a photo of all of them I couldn’t make my mind up!)

They’re enough arty enough to be interesting, yet demure enough to be sophisticated.

These Personalised Leather Bound Notebooks from Hope House Press mean that even when you’re snowed under with work 1. you won’t forget your name, and 2. even if you forget your notebook, hopefully a friendly colleague will pick it up for you. They’re soft leather and come in three warm shades, perfect for presents or just to treat yourself!

I love this cheery book from Peony and Thistle. It makes me far more optimistic about being a very busy bee, and the tough hardback cover is great for writing on the move – no more balancing on one leg whist leaning awkwardly on a lifted up knee!

When talking about notebooks, you can’t ignore the big fat elephant in the room…or mole. I’m not much of a moleskine fan, usually thinking of them as good quality but overpriced and dull – but alas, that’s all changed thanks to new series from a brilliant artist who’s inspired me repeatedly over the years. Ricardo Cabral’s cover art is simple and bold, and the books come in packs of two, both filled with neat squared paper like an old maths book – and I for one can remember the obsessive satisfaction gained from carefully fitting words into those squares. Hello tidy new life!

This steampunk notebook from IdeaObscura of Zazzle can take you out of that grubby tube carriage and up up up into clear blue skies.

Third of my top three on this page is this upcycled book made with vintage book cover and even interspersed with pages of the original text. Stories and Divinations has all sorts to pick from and each is one of a kind, some for sketching, some for notes but all completely unique.

Number two of my top three is this very simple vintage map covered journal: skilfully made by Heather Dewick for Folksy, it’s thick, well bound, has a little page marker (I’m always writing on random pages in a hurry, then losing my notes) and a tough but pretty pastel cover. Each one is made from a real London map so also may come in handy if your iPhone dies, they are rather old maps but still probably not much more unreliable than Googlemaps.

In first place are these ...I Met And Liked... books from Archie Grand. They’re funny, fresh and super cheap! The eighty styles range from Blondes I Met and Liked to Communists I Met and Liked, but personally the Gallerists, Excuses and Faux Pas pieces are most suited to my topsy turvy life – with Artists I Met and Liked being the clear winner. I do tend to write about artists who seem like genuinely hard working craftsmen, rather than pretentious successes – and I know which of the two I’d rather meet for a drink.

Finally, I had to put this one in. It’s not the illustrative wonder that I’d usually go for - but it could be the motivating factor I need at times. Perhaps not particularly conducive to the the cool, calm, collected persona I try to portray, but truthful at least!

Right, I really have gotta get done so I’m off! Have a nice day everyone, and write things by pen not printer once in a while –  it’s good for the soul.

Art13 Art Fair: A bite-size Frieze bursting with talent.

Happy Mothering Sunday everybody, hope you’re all surviving the home front.

Last weekend I was lucky enough to secure a press pass for Olympia’s answer to Frieze, Art13.

The fair was much more manageable, varied and less commercial or hectic than Frieze – a breeze to wander through and absorb talents both new and old.

Most memorable were works from Ged Quinn, William Kentridge, Polly Morgan and the entirety of London’s Lazarides stand which included pieces by Doug Foster and Conor Harrington.

A short, sharp, sweet experience compared to the lengthy glutton of Frieze; I eagerly await next year’s show.

See the full review here:

http://onestoparts.com/article-art13-london

Enjoy!

Breather, Doug Foster

Conor Harrington & the full Lazarides stand-cum-squat

 

 

Very Inspiring Blog Award

Hello again everyone!

I just got nominated by feminist painter Callie Garp for the Very Inspiring Blog Award, which is lovely as I’d always considered myself critical, disgruntled and excessively conscientious but not necessarily inspiring! 

There’s nothing like a little recognition to put a spring in your step; I write because I love it, well actually I just love seeing amazing things and spreading the word! Especially when those things are made by those who receive little recognition and truly deserve it: all those hard working creatives struggling in the current climate.

But we push on, and push on we must! As, even if in five years’ time I’m not the editor of a cultural publication, I want to know that I tried my goddamn hardest to get where I wanted to be at that specific time.

Also, it’s nice to be busy isn’t it?

I’m a strong believer in making your own future, and unless you’re a royal or betrothed, nothing in life is set out for you in stone. I’m happily throwing pebbles in front of me to make my own path, and I’ve no idea where it’ll take me in the end; at the moment I’m finding lots of dead-ends, but a few surprising and exciting twists and turns too.

…

So on that note, The Very Inspiring Blog Award and it’s rules:

1. Display the award logo on your blog.

2. Link back to the person who nominated you.

3. State seven things about yourself.

4. Nominate fifteen other bloggers for this award and link to them.

5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination and the award’s requirements.

…

Right, first off: Seven things about me. Rather a lot and I’m slightly intimidated as I want to make absolutely sure that they aren’t things you’d already know if you wander into this small corner of the internet on a regular basis…

Number 1: I really like birds.

This is sort of for Scarlet Cummins, a photographer and blogger friend of mine who bought me a book of birds which went on to feature in my degree show. I know it’s not cool, I know it’s a bit weird but I spent most of my childhood with my Dad taking us off on trips to National Trust houses each weekend (weekend Dads feel an excessive need to create bonding activities) and, as a result, I can tell you the difference between a Moorhen and a Coot, what a Ruddy duck is, and far too much about migration.

My New Zealand auntie also had an impressive menagerie of flying creatures, and ducks pootle about on Kiwi beaches, so overall the family members all contributed well to the odd affection I have for our feathered friends.

They watch things from above, the small ones move like robots and they sing beautifully – especially the kiwi ones, check out a Bellbird and maybe after hearing that beast you won’t think me so odd.

No 2. I’m a bit of a secret painter and I love it.

I’m currently working on a bit of a sombre self-portrait in my conservatory; unfortunately this positioning means I can only paint until 3pm in the winter and it’s mighty cold, but I’m lucky to have a space I can work in and it relaxes me almost as much as baking.

No 3. I’m scared of flying – yet I’ve been all over Europe, to the US, Asia and New Zealand about 6 times. I just spend 26 hours of flying sweating profusely and crying, sorry that’s an exaggeration, I only start doing that when we go over the Southern Alps and there’s turbulence. Every time.

No 4. I am obsessed with lingerie.

I’d actually consider working full time in an underwear shop just for the freebies, and I do not enjoy working in retail.

No 5. I have so much hair on my head that when I was little we only combed my ‘under-layers’ once every other week.

No 6. When I’m not writing I teach art to very small children in their lovely Kensington houses.

It’s jammy, but far more difficult than I’d initially expected.

No 7. I have the most incredible group of friends. Whilst we were all at uni, one clever lady set up a group message for the 20 of us girls on Facebook (now entitled The Thread) and it’s now been going for over four years. We may live in London, Surrey, Oxford, Plymouth, Bath, even China at times but pretty much always know how we all are, what we’re up to, and everyone’s opinions on issues from hair removal to deciding on which job to take!

It was also absolutely vital for keeping in touch with our lovely Jen, who we lost lately and who knew she could shout out to The Thread when too sick to come out or speak to us all individually.

Without all these beautiful ladies in my life, I wouldn’t be anywhere near as good or happy a person as I am. That I am certain of.

…

Now, onto my nominees:

Catching The Doodlebug
Shiny Thoughts
Illustration Rally
I Need a Guide
No Culture Icons
Domestic Sluttery
Hop On The Spiral Bitch
Jasmine Hortop
La Tartine Gourmande
Katie Cakes
Junk Culture
The Little Loaf
We Heart
The Black Ribbon Blog
Designer Dan’s Curiosity Blog

Having to compile that list reminded me how much I float around the internet never remembering what I’ve read, who wrote it or where it was – which I think is terrible! Must remember writers and give them the credit they deserve.

So thank you Callie Garp, and I hope I bring a few people the little lift she did me.

Ossie Clark: The King of the King’s Road Reigns Again

For this year’s London Fashion Week, Ossie Clark takes the throne once again: bringing floaty florals, skin-tight crepe and structured snakeskins back to the forefront of British fashion.

Designer, artist, photographer; Clark dominated 60s and 70s style, his iconic pieces embodying the freedom, love and peace associated with this eminent era.

For the release of a new collection from Ossie Clark London, Clark’s legacy turned label, a collection of original photo shoots, candid portraits of the designer himself and a vintage Ossie Clark are premiering at Proud Galleries, Chelsea (kingdom of Clark). The star of the show, a vibrant emerald dress, actually hangs delicately and rather unassumingly at one corner of the room; but as we see in his photographs, it is the wearers who truly bring these garments to life.

Although Clark’s designs are absolutely emblematic of 60s culture, it is his unparalleled understanding of the female form which is most noticeable. His pieces cinch, drop and crease in all the right places, celebrating the dainty curves of his models.

This designer’s photo shoots are not the made-up, doe-eyed images you might expect – his women frolic on rocky beaches, flit around stately homes and roll around luxuriously on marble floors. Rather than stiff studio photographs, these are images of heat, confidence and enjoyment.

Peeping through the glass doors of Proud Galleries, this exhibition appears to be like any other regimented commercial show; but once you step inside, a wave of soft, dreamlike music hits and Clark’s ethereal imagery draws you into a calm and peaceful state.

The designer’s otherworldly style is said to be a mishmash of Pop Art and Surrealism – a bright, brash colour palette coupled with organic shapes and, in his photographs, gentle poses which breathe of Surrealist paintings and performance. Clark may be predominantly a designer, but there is no denying a definite nod to the art of his times: his garments inspired by his girls, like artist and muse.

While Clark’s bizarre shoots display his collections, they celebrate his women further. Working with beauties Ingrid Boultin, Lynn Sutherland and Maria Berenson, the models absolutely wear the clothes – unlike contemporary designers, for whom the clothes often seem to wear the women. In the way that Clark’s gothic silks sever just above the waist; or in the way that his sheer pieces stretch taught across the chest then flutter around the neck as lightly as curled hair, it is patent that this designer really does understand his audience.

Never too overstated or adorned, Clark’s clothes function foremost to portray the feminine form in the most flattering way possible.

His supremely artistic approach to fashion is unsurprising considering the company he kept: David Hockney appearing repeatedly in an array of intimate photographs of Clark with friends and family. Other particular gems include a portrait of Clark with a young boy, the two wearing almost identical fur coats: Ossie standing tall, cigarette in hand, whilst the little boy – less sophisticatedly – licks a dripping ice cream; or another elegant image of the designer, asleep in a lounger and warmly lit by the afternoon sun.

Not only does Proud present the designer’s past and future collections; but gives an honest insight into his life, both professional and personal. Clark’s clothes were wearable and becoming, very much part of a particular lifestyle – and that lifestyle was his.

Although the exhibition is only on for another two weeks, a new collection inspired by this member of fashion royalty is now available online from label Ossie Clark London, and in Debenhams stores very soon. Prepare for a summer of fancy-free frolicking and a wardrobe of strong colours, swirling prints and sensual shapes to match.