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Posts Tagged ‘Pictures

GRACE JONES

GRACE KELLY

KELLY JONES

You’re welcome.

Gosh.

Posted on: July 4, 2011

I say.


image by Reena Makwana

This weekend sees the International Alternative Press Festival 2011 at Conway Hall, 25 Red Lion Square, WC1R 4RL, London Town, and Nest Gallery will be selling a number of zines and artworks tomorrow, Sunday 29th May, 10am-4pm.

I am very excited to be taking part with a sequel to my last zine (Wonderful Creatures And How To Kill Them) entitled More Amazing Creatures And Further Ways To Kill Them. The eagle-eyed amongst you will note that I forgot the name of my own zine when making the follow-up. Find out new ways to ensure the permanant annihilation of such critters as the Daddy Long Legs, the Hippopotamus and the Urban Fox. Get them before they get you.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

The Nest table will also feature the beauteous work of some incredibly talented artists such as Anna Lincoln, Emily and Anne, Siobhan O’Brien, Rebecca Strickson, Bella Szyszkowska, Alice Marwick, Emily Howells and Reena Makwana.

Nest is an all-female collective of exciting artists (and the odd munchkin such as myself) and always has something unique and beautiful to share, so be a mensch and get yourselves down to see Nest and all the other exciting artists.

Finally, in the fading days of February, the dust has settled well enough for me to reminisce about 31st October. I love Halloween without rhyme or reason. It tingles with memories of the first proper time off since coming back to school, shops full of black and orange tacky cardboard accessories, and bowls full of monkey nuts, even though nobody ate them. We lived in a house with a big shadowy garden, surrounded by huge evergreen trees, our forest, casting strange shapes, becoming unfamiliar and suitably spooky after 9pm. Racing around the strange perimeter, burning fingertips with a sparkler, dressed as a witch, usually. (How things have changed.)

More recent Halloweens have involved less time off, more alcohol, and equal amount of themed sweets. I also enjoy using the term “ghosties”. On Halloween evening, it’s best to find yourself on the upper deck of a bus through London, watching the mentalists and ghouls in costumes wandering the streets below (though I suspect you’d see it any day of the year, around Shoreditch, most likely). I don’t really like dressing up, and yet I have a compulsion. For an event I love, I need to celebrate with the whole of my heart. However, in past years, my plans have been thwarted by circumstance – work, lack of suitable plans, cold feet… Here are some costumes that might have been:

1. Unicorn

Yes, I’m still bitching about this.

2. Rosie the Riveter

An eternal symbol of female strength and gender equality, not to mention looking pretty natty in the headscarf. But can you cope with an evening of pulling the same gun-flexing pose all evening?

3. Low-era Bowie

It seems that once you hit 16, your costume is supposed to be less traditional and more sexy/scary. A sunken-cheeked, heroin-eyed, beautiful and damned apparition, the Thin White Duke balances androgyne sexuality with an eerie gaze deep into the abyss.

4. Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club

Because there’s nothing more terrifying than a bitchy rich girl with issues. (See also: Winona Ryder in Heathers)

5. The green Beatnik alien from this Pan’s People video

Two things: I have the Monster Mash on my ipod year round, and Pan’s People were fucking mental.

Of course, it’s never too early to start planning this year’s Halloween extravaganza. In the past, I have made the mistake of going too obscure (hence my Louise Brooks costume being transposed into Kelly Osbourne), so this year I’m going mainstream…

Lichtenstein!

Columbo!
Columbo!


This…thing!

On last week’s edition of excellent nonsense 5 Live show/podcast 7 Day Sunday, beautifully coifed manchild and reverse progeria sufferer Chris Addison made reference to the uncanny resemblence between Tory Education Minister and all round Tory prick Michael Gove and beloved children’s character Pob. This is a similarity previously pointed out by my good self here. I can only assume this is infallible proof that beloved children’s character Chris Addison is a regular reader of this blog. So I would like to extend my warmest greetings to him. Hello, Chris. Big fan. You have good hair but you need to eat a sandwich.

And of course, if any other readers, relatively-famous satirists or otherwise, would like me to say hello to them in a future entry, after describing them in excessive and slightly offensive adjectives, do let me know. I am nothing but a tool of the masses.

As I have been single for a little while now, I have become a beacon for well-meaning acquaintances desperate to set me up with someone they know. I have politely resisted thus far, not feeling any particular need to unsingle myself for the sake of it, but I wish to make a public service announcement: I would be happily set up on a date with the model for this book cover:

The hat at a jaunty angle! The pristine, immaculately clean jeans! The tongue stuck out in a way that says, “I’m concentrating on rummaging here”! This is the man of my dreams. I’m assuming he’s not actually homeless, but if so, I’m sure we’d get through it together. Love is never having to say spare change, guv.

Yeah, I flipped that heading round on you. See how you like it.

In fact, I have been busy, with a fine mix of writerly pursuits, drinking with friends and crying myself to sleep (must stop listening to Eleanor Rigby). All in all, it’s been a pretty busy time for the Bronasaurus, thank you very much, though of course I have missed you lovely people who slavishly subscribe to my occasional musings here and who I have also just made up. Hello.

“They Is Us”, the all-conquering Nest Gallery’s feminist/sci-fi art exhibition, hosted at the Sassoon Gallery by the Sisters Burn, was a wonder to behold. I am very proud, mostly to have been involved with such extremely talented artists, to see my story exhibited in such a wonderful space, that people have been so supportive of all our efforts, and that the presentation of my piece didn’t collapse over the course of the exhibition. Here’s hoping everyone who snagged a copy of my story, “Those Girls Called Jackie” enjoyed/tolerated/read it, and if anyone else would like a copy to read with their eyes and their faces can e-mail me. More images from the exhibition and private view reside at the Nest Gallery blog, as well as information about future Nest events.

The Storytails event, hosted as ever by the delightful Gabriella, went splendidly. A really interesting selection of writers, both performing and in the audience. Was extremely nice chatting to all in attendance, and absolutely made the two hour, TFL-thwarting journey to Stoke Newington worth it. Why do I live so far away? I don’t know. I just do. It’s a very nice area, and Storytails remains one of the few lit events in London not populated by absolute wankboxes (more on this later). I had a great time, reading two stories (making me two times as good as the last time I read, statistically at least, unless it actually means I was only half as good, but that’s getting into a hazy mathematical area and I promised myself I wouldn’t go back to that place) which are available for listenage or downloadiness in podcast form at the links below. Please enjoy my Northern Irish accent therein. It is a constant source of amusement to people, and I have been recently informed that I say the word “naughty” particularly well. Naughty. Naughty. (I don’t see it.)

Tick Yes Or No
Arthur Nobody
And I highly recommend any writers looking for a fun evening with a rapt atmosphere submit some stories to Storytails, it’s a really fun event.

In other news, I’ve been listening to this. IT’S SO TRUE.

Camera Obscura – “Honey in the Sun”