Candid Arts Life Drawing Classes Exhibition

It was a brief affair (matter of hours) we were asked to submit a couple of drawings and the tutors made an exhibition for us to see each others work and ask our family and friends to visit (very reminiscent of college in the early days). There were cellists and it gradually got dark, cheap wine and people from other classes to chat to who you never see and have never met. And I bumped into a friend from the past who was attending because his friend had work in the show - funny coincidence and a good opportunity to catch up.










And an interesting coincidence occured with Monday's drawing class - three of us chose drawings (totally independently of one another) to submit and we all chose one of our drawings from the same class, same day, same pose - man sitting back to us - and two of us then also chose our other drawings from another class, same pose - man leaning against the wall, heavy shadow. So either the poses made for the most interesting drawings or we were all just having a really good drawing day on those particular occasions. Remarkable all the same.




Candid Arts Trust: open access sessions and more formal taught courses in both life drawing and painting. Behind Angel tube, Islington - first left down City Road. Contact: The Candid Arts Trust, 3 Torrens Street, London EC1V 1NQ, Tel: 020 7837 4237.

Everything Changes All of the Time

Everything Changes All of the Time was one of my favourite books when I was a kid.

A bus ride down any high street visited sporadically suprises you with the changes that happen suddenly and without notice showing you how true a statement it is. It shocks you that staples in your repertoire of places to go are no longer there or have changed hands. A pub shuts, is redeveloped, Ruby in the Dust is now an Arab restaurant of some kind, Islington Green Bookshop is a travel agents, the fish and chip shop is gone, there's an All Bar One next to the Mitre and can't even remember what was there before and on and on. Constantly upgrading or downgrading, up scaling or knocking down or building up. Chains, independents, exclusives, cheapies. How's the neighbourhood doing? Going up or coming down. I remember Covent Garden when it had all these sunken gardens developed in vacant lots, when Upper Street was all pound shops and ladies underwear outfitters. And yet despite the gentrification or the fall of the neighbourhood there are some things that are constants in the all changing world - Fatty Lloyds on the corner of River Street and Amwell Road, the butchers we used to go to when I was a kid, Jimmy's Shoes on Essex Road, the deli on Amwell Street corner with White Lion Street, The Kings Head Theatre Pub, Tratoria Verdi Southhampton Row, the £100 umbrella shop on New Oxford Street (can't remember the name).

Waiting

Highbury roundabout is at a stand still. Traffic queues to get onto Holloway Road tailing back so traffic has to queue to get off Upper Street which blocks the traffic coming round from Balls Pond Road and Cannonbury Road. People are streaming past the windows of Starbucks in both directions. And, as happens suprising often in this massive city, a colleague strolls by wth his boyfriend (even though I'm no longer in the neighbourhood of work). Familiar people out of context - how come we so often see people we know out of the 10 million or so that live here? Waiting for people is often like this.

Things to do at the Supermarket

So Bails needed a new photocard so she could buy a weekly travelcard from the window. Flouting ALL the tips in my post about how to get the best from a photobooth picture we went to use the supermarket photobooth at 10.00pm (end of the day, tired, crumpled, etc etc) so she could get a photo. However considering all that they came out very well - must be a good machine. We recommend it.

Decorators Were Here

The indelible mark of a pot of lost paint.

Monday's Life Class

Sometimes it is hard to draw on demand. When your mind isn't right or you're tired or whatever. So for the second week in a row it was a hard slog. Finally at the end in the last drawing I felt that it went a bit better.
They are having a small exhibition next week and the tutor asked me to bring a drawing and when I looked back at some that were possibles I think the drawings have improved but there are aspects of the older drawings that I like and need to recapture in the current ones. Like the subtlety of line and the precise nature of the drawing. I think I have become lazy but this could also be that I have reached the end of the useful life of the drawing class and probably need to do my own thing now. Dunno.

Candid Arts Trust: open access sessions and more formal taught courses in both life drawing and painting. Behind Angel tube, Islington - first left down City Road. Contact: The Candid Arts Trust, 3 Torrens Street, London EC1V 1NQ, Tel: 020 7837 4237.

First Words on a Mobile

While we were watching David Blane in his glass box and watching those watching David Blane I was interested that most of the first words of those on their mobiles were (excitedly), "Guess where I am!", as opposed to the more regular (demanded), "where are you?"

Slow Saturday South Bank Stroll

It was busy, really busy. There was much to see: some kind of fisheries festival in Hays Galleria with oysters and champagne bars, demonstrations on how to fillet fish, octopus balloons, ice-sculpting; David Blane suspended over the Thames; and all sorts of other money making scams up and down the Thames pathway.



I don't know why I thought it would be at all possible but I expected Mr Blane to be hanging upside down by his ankles. As ludicrous as I thought the idea was that he could possibly last for longer than half an hour without the blood pressure in his head exploding, I started thinking that perhaps he could reverse the flow of blood in his body (I know I know severe blond moment...) but like the child passing asked her dad, "is it magic?" I thought perhaps he really was as amazing as his street tricks seem. So when I realised he was not hanging upside down by his ankles but was suspended in a glass box from a crane I thought maybe he could last quite a bit longer than half and hour. It isn't going to be much of a spectacle if today was anything to go by, however. He slept, admittedly naked top half. He woke and feebly waved at the crowd to a roar and applause. He sat up. He tried to screen himself from the sun. He put the quilt up against the sunshine. He drank some water. He slept. He had trousers on. He had a huge tattoo on his back. His hair was longer than we had previously thought (but considering he had been asleep, has no mirror and no gel - it was likely to be kind of messed up).



We saw some people practising for some kind of performance on the next building along from the Greater London Assembly building. It reminded me of De La Guarda because they were doing their signature running along a vertical surface thing. Dangling on ropes and leaping off the side of the glass building - made amazing reflections. Couldn't find a reference to it at all in Time Out however.



The ice sculpture slowly melted away until the whole fishy thing was over. Outside the Tate Modern there were people selling cheap crap batteries, playing bad music, drawing portraits and the budgie man with his trained birds (it all seemed like very old fashioned entertainment - more suited to Chapel Street market in the 1970s - like the man with the monkey dressed in wool clothing that we used to have our picture taken with). And a crowd of people watched the man climb his trick ladder and take the photocopied £20 note from its perch at the top. £1 a go. How hard can it be? Youths dared each other and all of them went away red faced. Like the man with the wobbly bicycle - you can't ever win at these games however hard you think about how to compensate for its deformity.

The Reed Interview

Adam from Anthroblog and I met in Starbucks for a chat about blogging. Its the first time I have met a blogger that I didn't know BB (before blogging) [I know Ian who is responsible for Fetish Fun (we used to work together)]. It was interesting to discuss why I decided to blog, what sparked it off, why I write about what I write about, and thinking about why this has become such an important part of my day (very self obsessed, naturally).

I was supposed to be going out with Bails but I'd forgotten about going to the theatre with Pops (he had told me a month and a half ago) so I had said she could pop by for a quick beer between meeting Adam and leaving to go to the National. Anyway she came stomping down the stairs bursting unexpectedly in on what had been an interesting hour for me (its quite intellectually challenging - like being back at college trying to make sense of the creative drive - like I said self obsessed). So she burst in and popped the bubble. In a last passing gesture Adam asked her if she read my blog and she dismissively said she didn't have time. My best friend didn't have time. I felt hurt. She was the second 'didn't have timer' of the week.

She was hot so we decamped to the Slug and Lettuce for a beer which we drank standing at the bar because I had 15 minutes before I had to leave for the theatre. The boyfiend rang but I hurried him off the phone so I could talk to her. Her only comment was that she couldn't be bothered with all that blogging stuff because it was so nerdy. And then we had to talk about her. I had a quick dash to the loo before leaving and when I returned she was on the phone to somebody and couldn't even say goodbye.

Earlier in the week I had been on the phone to SH (an ex-art tutor who I have had a role reversal with and now go round and give feedback on her work) and she said she didn't have time to look at it either.

And last Friday ML and I were talking about blogging and he couldn't understand why strangers would want to read about other stranger's lives.

And on the bus on the way to the theatre I had a Carrie Bradshaw moment, "If none of your friends can be bothered to read your work why would anyone else be interetsted?"

So I retreat to the virtual world and those who return despite not knowing the physical me at all. And my biggest fans amongst the people I know in the physical world seem to be my Dad & my sister (and what a shock that is!).

Phlogging a Dead Horse

I declare the phlog open. Its a sort of project. One photo a day or thereabouts and a prose/poem txt sent from the mobile to phlog.net. Pics are a little pixelated but what the heck. Long live the phlog and all who sail in her.

My Mobile Phone History

Phlogging I have discovered is using your mobile phone to blog. Finally there is a good use for those cameras on the mobile phone. I hate my current mobile but have loved most of the others I have owned for a variety of reasons.

When I think back over them I have had a varied life as a mobile owner. I was the first one of my friends to get one, much to their derision. I was the first in my family to have one, much to their derision also. 90% of them have now eaten their hats and fallen into the trap of getting one. Only after you get one (and usually in a matter of weeks) do you realise that it is indespensible and can't understand how you managed before.

I worked with a girl at Kingsway College in 1995 who had a mobile phone - relatively few people had one in those days but she was German and moved house a lot so it suited her lifestyle. At that time I was probably out more than I was in. So when I read an article about how we must embrace modern technology or be left behind (technologically)... I decided it validated me wanting to own one. I justified it to all and sundry (because that was necessary at that time) by the nature of my lifestyle - the terrestrial telephone locates a place, therefore they are useful to communicate with people who are fairly static (work or home), the mobile phone locates a person whever they may be. Suddenly I could be at work, or on my way to meet someone out, or at the pub, or going to the cinema, or on the way home or in any number of other places and people could call me to tell me the plans - great for a person like me who needs to be in a state of constant motion. So it facilitated my hectic social whirlwind life.

I wanted to share with you a history of the phone handsets I have had and went in search of a museum of the mobile phone. Sadly I couldn't find one - the design museum may have a physical one but it doesn't have a virtual one, I forgot to look at the V&A but they may have some. So I looked for old handsets, old designs, etc etc. And gradually all the models came back to me, slowly slowly. So I present to you:

Harriet's Mobile Phone History (to date)



So from left to right:

• Motorola Flare Plus: My first phone and the smallest one on the market at the time (circa 1995). It felt compact and lighter than the others but was a heavyweight by today's standards. BIG battery. We mostly used them for making phone calls in those days - I can't even remember if there was texting then. The handset came free with my brand new number and tarif (didn't have much cash so didn't even think about buying a more expensive one) - the tarif was something called One 2 One Bronze (I only remember this cos I looked back into my phone paperwork folder and discovered my first service agreement). I had that phone for a good year and a half before it started to wear out and I had to carry the charger with me everywhere because it ran out of batteries within a few hours - they were phones then and didn't seem so disposable. Towards the end of its life I met the boyfiend in July 1997.



• Ericcson T10: For the second phone I chose the smallest on the market. The boyfiend had a nokia banana phone and nothing was quite so space age as that at the time but this phone had a little flip that protected the keypad and was actually tiny(ish). The first time I saw someone talking on a hands free headset was when I was coming back from the toilet at Kingsway and a man was at the end of the corridor walking around in circles talking to himself gesticulating wildly (he looked hilarious but I was fascinated). Sometime during this period texting really began to get a grip in earnest and the T10 was useless for this purpose - the screen could hold one row of digits only - a full telephone number wouldn't even show on the screen unless it was short. And I think this is when they stopped being phones and became mobiles - with accessories and desirability.



• Motorola Timeport: I got this phone because I was travelling to the USA and needed a triband phone. After I got it out of the shop I never liked it - it was a boring boring phone.



• NEC db2000: I loved this phone, it had a beautiful shiny chrome-like fascia. It had a large screen and could recognise if you were typing a phone number or a word. I also started always using a hands free set with this phone. I have never stopped using them since - so much more convenient to not have to hold it up to your ear, even if you do look like a crazy person. I took it with me to South Africa when I went to visit Bails (she was living in Cape Town with a South African man who she thought was the love of her life - shortlived though it was). On the beach on Christmas day a wave crashed down on us suddenly and soaked us through. The connectors got wet and eventually turned green. So I had to get them to replace it, I kept the replacement one until I was offered a free upgrade.



• Nokia 8210: This little red number truly was small and light and like a metallic red car. They offered it to me on a plate - have it for free... So I did and I loved it. It may still be my most favourite phone to date. And the trauma of when it started to wear out was unbearable - but the screen started to wear out - I had to press the LSD to get it to show the numbers and finally, finally it was too much and I had to get another phone. But what to get? The design was unsurpassable. New ones were all flippant and colourful without taste, childish or as if the design was paying homage to the brick phones of old. But eventually I had no choice I had to get something.



• Nokia 8310: It lit up nicely when it rang, it was small enough. But, but... it didn't have it. What the it was I couldn't tell you - the colour? I bought a new red fascia and that went some way to solving the problem but not the whole way. It was bland, common as muck.



• Nokia 7210: So Bails was upgraded to this 7210. It had a colour screen. What a leap forward, and a detachable camera! And I wanted one. In a MUST HAVE moment I bought one and a camera. But I hate this phone. Its colours are pretty and it owes it design to the 8210 but its turquoise (although it does match my PDA) and has WHITE on it. Phones at the time were rubbish and this was good. But then the Seimens SL55 came, and those fashion phones by sony and I realised I had made a mistake. But it was too late. I was tied for year to this not-all-that phone. And as a consequence I am abusing it by not looking after it properly (I don't mean to but I can't help it).

So the point of this whole story (and well done if you read it all) is that I am trying to get my phone camera pictures onto the phlog I have set up. Do you think this is easy? NO F****** WAY! I've been on the phone to the service provider. We've resaved the settings. We've done a hard reboot. We've sent it three different ways. And now customer services is shut. So I'm waiting patiently until tomorrow to have words with them. But once its WORKING I'll link to it.

Peace



In times of boredom the mind wanders and I've been giving my office plants a lot of attention - watering, cutting off dying leaves and stems and feeding. And I have been rewarded. The cactus has grown 10 centimetres in height over the last week (visibly every day). And the peace lilly has flowered for the first time in a year and a half. Having spent the last year and a half tripling in size it has finally decided to put some effort into the floral thing. I'm so proud...

The Elk in the Woods

After class the boyfiend came down to have a drink with me so I left the lifedrawing gang to it. Since the Dome in Upper Street shut down I have been looking for a relaxed eaty/drinky/coffee type place where you would feel comfortable to sit and read a book for hours eating slowly and drinking cappuccinos on your own (the Dome was excellent for this). And today we were strolling through Camden Passage looking at the antiques - chandeliers, cut glass, mirrors, ming vases - and came across a new version of the Chocolate Bar (in Soho) called The Elk in the Woods.



It had wooden tables and chairs like your granny had, funny pottery with adverts and wooden floors. Nice and cosy. And perhaps a replacement for the Dome, finally.

Monday's Life Class


Having missed a week of drawing due to bank holidays I was keen to get back to it. However I was very rusty and had a terrible time with the drawing thing - not able to express what I wanted to, couldn't draw in the manner I am used to, felt stiff and lacking in confidence. But I did some drawings and although not my best or favourites these are them. We were supposed to be concentrating on foreshortening (this is hard, but also if you are in the wrong place for a pose it is jut long and rather dull).

Candid Arts Trust: open access sessions and more formal taught courses in both life drawing and painting. Behind Angel tube, Islington - first left down City Road. Contact: The Candid Arts Trust, 3 Torrens Street, London EC1V 1NQ, Tel: 020 7837 4237.