E L James’ literary sensation 50 Shades of Grey hasn’t simply boosted sales of paddles and handcuffs in Ann Summers. It has also increased the number of unusual news stories this week, as women (mostly) engross themselves in the romantic potential of Christian Grey to the detriment of daily life.
Damien Hirst, the richest, probably most famous, contemporary living artist, once remarked: “I don’t believe in genius. I believe in freedom. I think anyone can do it. Anyone can be like Rembrandt.” It implies that just as Hirst strove to be the next Rembrandt, so too can we, mere mortals, strive to be the next Damien Hirst. Except that we can’t. The answer to “Who will be the next Damien Hirst?” will be “Nobody”, if the artist has his way. He wants to stay the one and only and has trademarked his name to prove it.
As a result of the recent exposure for Louise Mensch, she has spent rather a long time on Twitter drawing attention to some the misogynistic tweets directed at her in the last 24 hours.
While ego is not normally in short supply among pop singers and rock stars, it is rare for one of them to go so far as to curate an exhibition dedicated to themselves. On Wednesday, an exhibition of pictures of “Prince Charming” singer Adam Ant, curated by Adam Ant (and others), opens at Proud Camden.
The Abandon Normal Devices (AND) festival is a myriad of digital, experiential and submersive art forms defined by these and other questionable buzzwords. During 48 hours at the arty get-together in Liverpool this weekend I touched a pig’s bladder, watched David Shrigley tattooing arms with biro, and, most abnormally, watched apes watching a television sitcom starring humans dressed as apes.
Having started out using Super 8 film, Pipilotti Rist is one of the pioneers of video art. She made her first film in 1984, depicting herself with her breasts out repeatedly singing the line “I’m not a girl who misses much” (a reference to The Beatles’ “Happiness is a Warm Gun”) and became notorious for [...]
How tantalising will the colour-saturated image of a Big Mac with oozing cheese, crispy lettuce, pickles and greasy meat patties appear to you now that its calorie content is stamped in inch high letters beside it?
Continuing my exploration of all things crafty, which began in August (read more here), yesterday I spent the afternoon at the illustrious London department store Liberty learning how to fashion myself the frilliest and girliest apron known to mankind.
For many people the word “crafty” applies only to the occasional cigarette. But since the start of recession, and indeed during historical recessions, Britain’s make-do-and-mend antennae have been twitching and a number of environments for the craftily inclined have sprung up to bridge the gap between “entertainment” and “money making ruse”.
On paper Life in a Day, the new film by Kevin Macdonald, sounds like a recipe for a self-congratulatory banality.
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