At Halcyon Gallery [no 'The'] in Mayfair, you can see 'Mood Swings' - an exhibition of Bob Dylan's artwork. 'Exhibition' makes it sound friendlier and less like a very posh shop than it is. There are two heavies on the door [wired up like FBI goons] and there are roped-off areas where, if you take a peek, you can see offices manned by sharp-suited art-future managers doing deals over the phone. Never mind all that, we're here for the ART.
The 'Zim does roughly four kinds of ART.
1) Pictures.
For his 'Self Portrait' LP, Bob Dylan put a self-portrait on the cover. It doesn't look like him but I still like it because it looks like he didn't try TOO hard and enjoyed doing it. It's loose. At Halcyon we see 4-foot-tall sketches, paintings and prints all in this loose style. Some of them work as decoration because they're colourful and look like things [houses, trees etc.] but most look like Van Gogh homages. They're loose up to a point but when he gets to a face they tighten up & overwork. You want to take an eraser to them and tidy them up although they are supposed to be untidy. You could do better.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self_Portrait_(Bob_Dylan_album)
2) 'Sculptures'.
Specifically: gates and wall hangings made from old bits of iron, spanners, toothed wheels and the like. I have no problem with novelty gates. In Norfolk you often get a garden gate with bullrushes woven into the railings, perhaps climbed by a little mouse or perched-on by a heron. I bet they don't cost £100.000 each. There's a picture of Bob on Halcyon's website, standing astride one of his circular wall iron 'images'. This proves that he did them I suppose; I'm not doubting he has, but I'd rather see a short film of him speaking to camera saying: "I have a team of 200 students doing all the work, I just visit the scrapyard and choose the bits." It would be more like ART that way. Instead, he seems to be saying: "Concentrate, Bob - you're gonna be chargin' huuuge bucks for these...."
http://www.halcyongallery.com/
3) 'Genuine Car Doors Used By The Most Famous Gangsters Still With The Bullet Holes From When They Were Finally Tracked Down By The Cops'*
*Old car doors, with bullet holes and dents, from the gangster era indicated, with a black & white poster about a different gangster with each door. The sort of poster you might get to advertise a village féte or whist drive.
[look close enough and there are no actual claims that these doors belong to those gangsters SO WHY HAVE THE BRASS NECK TO CALL THEM ART & CHARGE TONS OF MONEY FOR THEM?]
4) Enormous Blow-Ups Of Magazine Covers
In which Bob takes a cover of 'LIFE' Magazine, blows it up to 6 feet and changes the headlines. There's a really nice one with Woody Allen, Groucho Marx's son features on another, Gadhafi as Superman... they look impressive. Buuuut they'd look impressive if they were just 'LIFE' magazine covers blown up - because the 'LIFE' logo looks great. But Bob Dylan didn't design the 'LIFE' logo so what is his input? He's found a good printer? The satirical headlines are thought-provoking but printed so sharply as to ruin the illusion that they're original. Again, you could do it yourself. Better. And cheaper.
The best piece is a black & white photo of Bob in his studio, guitar resting on a wall, oil paintings in various stages dotted about the shelves. It's not for sale. I might not know a lot about art, but I know what I like; I might not know a lot about Bob Dylan, but I know he's not ART*.
*apart from the music
By day a mild-mannered janitor, by night an off-duty mild-mannered janitor.
................by day a mild-mannered janitor, by night an off-duty mild-mannered janitor...............
Sunday, 17 November 2013
Friday, 15 November 2013
Double-Jeopody Plus One
I was short of cash.
The advert said: "Meet Steve Coogan and win £100 in CASH!"
It said stuff about who to ring and the rest, but I won't bore you with that now. I rang the number, spoke to the brother of the bloke in The Mock Turtles and arranged to meet.
In a disused warehouse, somewhere off the North Circular was a portakabin like the one Michael Caine is brainwashed in during 'The I.P.C.R.E.S.S. File'. Cosy like. Outside, dressed as Tony Ferrino, I was met by Steve Coogan [dressed as Steve Coogan].
Inside we were not alone. Reading left to right [or if you're chinese, left to right], Coogan, Bricktop [the cockney thug], Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67] and Hunstanton P. "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli [light-heavyweight boxing champion of Dulwich]. I was introduced of course, there was no way of guessing all that other information.
"Edward", started Coogan, "congratulations on making it this far in the quest for one hundred pounds. You have been chosen for three reasons over and above the other entrants; 1) You can drive 2) Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67] liked your picture and 3) You look like you could fight a bit but not too much. Now here's the deal: We'll give you one hundred pounds in, we're speculating here, used fivers if you can a) Accompany Bricktop to the Dulwich branch of HSBC and *cockney accent* turn it over. You'll be driving. Or b) Make a short, instructive video that may or may not contain scenes of a sexual nature with Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67]..."
*wink* from Mrs L [aged 67]
"...or c) Go toe-to-toe, man-on-man, mano-on-mano, glove-to-glove, for richer for poorer over three three-minute rounds against Hunstanton P. "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli [he's a boxer]."
I stroked my chin, which didn't respond.
The bank job was tempting but the chance of being banged up for armed robbery didn't inspire [I was guessing about the tools, but it was daylight and within normal business hours so a good guess]. Mrs Elsie Lanyard [I'm guessing between 65 & 70] seemed a nice enough sort but, really. As for Hunstanton P. [I later found out it stood for 'Philadelphia', not because he was from there but it's his favourite cheese] "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli, I reckoned I could take him easy.
Steve, 'Top & Els seemed disappointed with my choice. Reassuringly, so did 'Phil.
The ring was shabby, the ropes were not strong enough to actually keep you in the ring if you so much as leaned on them, there was no bell [someone had brought a triangle along] and all four corners were red, which confused the announcer.
I've seen the "Thriller In Manila", but poor old Hunstanton Doo-Dah couldn't fight his way into a manila envelope, let alone out of a paper bag. I caught him with a south or north paw, I can't remember, and next thing I know his mum is in the ring attacking me with her shoe. Three stitches.
After the blood was mopped up...
"Edward, congratulations. To be honest we weren't expecting this result - I for one was sure you'd go for the bank job - which is why we don't have the hundred pounds, which would probably have been in used fivers, to give you. Luckily, Mrs Elsie Lanyard [still young enough to hold a driver's license] has agreed to escort Bricktop to HSBC.
In the meantime, the posh bloke out of #Gogglebox is here to give you your trophy.
Enter, the worse for two bottles of red, Dom Parker, holding one of those tiny cups, a proportionally accurate F.A. Trophy just big enough for an egg.
"Whatto", piped Dom, "well done and all that, top fisticuffs, I say, couldn't do me a favour old chap? I'm not sure I'm safe to drive, what with them having a television next door and an open bar. Deliver this box of chockies to my Auntie Glenda in Barstead Avenue on your way home and there's an extra quid in it for you..."
Related videos:
The advert said: "Meet Steve Coogan and win £100 in CASH!"
It said stuff about who to ring and the rest, but I won't bore you with that now. I rang the number, spoke to the brother of the bloke in The Mock Turtles and arranged to meet.
In a disused warehouse, somewhere off the North Circular was a portakabin like the one Michael Caine is brainwashed in during 'The I.P.C.R.E.S.S. File'. Cosy like. Outside, dressed as Tony Ferrino, I was met by Steve Coogan [dressed as Steve Coogan].
Inside we were not alone. Reading left to right [or if you're chinese, left to right], Coogan, Bricktop [the cockney thug], Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67] and Hunstanton P. "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli [light-heavyweight boxing champion of Dulwich]. I was introduced of course, there was no way of guessing all that other information.
"Edward", started Coogan, "congratulations on making it this far in the quest for one hundred pounds. You have been chosen for three reasons over and above the other entrants; 1) You can drive 2) Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67] liked your picture and 3) You look like you could fight a bit but not too much. Now here's the deal: We'll give you one hundred pounds in, we're speculating here, used fivers if you can a) Accompany Bricktop to the Dulwich branch of HSBC and *cockney accent* turn it over. You'll be driving. Or b) Make a short, instructive video that may or may not contain scenes of a sexual nature with Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67]..."
*wink* from Mrs L [aged 67]
"...or c) Go toe-to-toe, man-on-man, mano-on-mano, glove-to-glove, for richer for poorer over three three-minute rounds against Hunstanton P. "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli [he's a boxer]."
I stroked my chin, which didn't respond.
The bank job was tempting but the chance of being banged up for armed robbery didn't inspire [I was guessing about the tools, but it was daylight and within normal business hours so a good guess]. Mrs Elsie Lanyard [I'm guessing between 65 & 70] seemed a nice enough sort but, really. As for Hunstanton P. [I later found out it stood for 'Philadelphia', not because he was from there but it's his favourite cheese] "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli, I reckoned I could take him easy.
Steve, 'Top & Els seemed disappointed with my choice. Reassuringly, so did 'Phil.
The ring was shabby, the ropes were not strong enough to actually keep you in the ring if you so much as leaned on them, there was no bell [someone had brought a triangle along] and all four corners were red, which confused the announcer.
I've seen the "Thriller In Manila", but poor old Hunstanton Doo-Dah couldn't fight his way into a manila envelope, let alone out of a paper bag. I caught him with a south or north paw, I can't remember, and next thing I know his mum is in the ring attacking me with her shoe. Three stitches.
After the blood was mopped up...
"Edward, congratulations. To be honest we weren't expecting this result - I for one was sure you'd go for the bank job - which is why we don't have the hundred pounds, which would probably have been in used fivers, to give you. Luckily, Mrs Elsie Lanyard [still young enough to hold a driver's license] has agreed to escort Bricktop to HSBC.
In the meantime, the posh bloke out of #Gogglebox is here to give you your trophy.
Enter, the worse for two bottles of red, Dom Parker, holding one of those tiny cups, a proportionally accurate F.A. Trophy just big enough for an egg.
"Whatto", piped Dom, "well done and all that, top fisticuffs, I say, couldn't do me a favour old chap? I'm not sure I'm safe to drive, what with them having a television next door and an open bar. Deliver this box of chockies to my Auntie Glenda in Barstead Avenue on your way home and there's an extra quid in it for you..."
Related videos:
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