Tag Archives: Art
Today’s Life I Love blog is pictorial. It’s my walk to work, which I think is a perfect example of this mad-ass city; its politics, its endless graffiti, its irreverence and its prettiness. It’s a vile day today so it all looks a bit dark and grey, which is misleading. It’s probably the most colourful city I’ve ever seen. In particular I draw your attention to the golden leg sticking out of the front of the Bohemia shop and the poster for the morning rave, which I will most certainly be attending.
Today I am loving – along with the SUNSHINE and my bobbly cardigan and an unexpected lunchtime reggae rave-up – the brilliant work of Philly Rutt, a very talented artist I met during the course of … I can’t remember. Something to do with blogging I think. Anyway, Philly invited me to the opening thingy of her exhibition in Queen’s Park last year and I fell madly in love with her work. I have an uneasy relationship with art. I like the idea of it, and I like galleries but the truth is, I often feel bemused and bored when … Continue reading
One of the nicest things about having a blog is having readers. (As any blogger will know, readers are by no means a given.) And an even nicer thing is getting to know some of them. In the early days of my blog, when I was internet dating furiously and generally behaving like a twat, I developed a faithful core of readers who were there with me, week in, week out, sharing my (small percentage of) highs and (considerable percentage of) lows. I have a date with one of them in a cheese shop in Cardiff soon. (A girl date, … Continue reading
It’s indescribably strange being in New York at the moment. In Midtown and Uptown Manhattan, you’d never know that anything had happened. Capitalism roars on; the lights flash, the taxis honk and the tourists continue to pour in. We got stuck tonight and couldn’t find a hotel anywhere in the city. It’s rammed. But that’s not the real picture. The taxis aren’t going to be here much longer, for starters, because unless petrol is shipped in in vast quantities, they’re all going to run out. From 25th Street downwards New York is still a strange, pitch-black, post-apocalyptic nightmare. Anyone living … Continue reading