A mini-break to Greenwich

It's been a lovely weekend - a perfect see-saw of activities and outings and frocks at one end and fuck all at the other.

This weekend Lovely Boy and I had a mini-break to Greenwich.

Oh Frieze

So I went to Frieze on Friday afternoon.

Last year was the first time I’d ever gone and the experience was timely for a number of non-art related reasons. 

But the truth is, I really grapple with the whole art fair circus. I mean, I understand its place in the wider ecology of the art world and the commercial art world in particular, and am not such a socialist as to say art should only be that which is available and accessible and interesting and rich with transformative potential for the average punter. BUT, well, I kind of don’t really like the commercial art world. And mostly, that’s because I think its values are a bit screwy.

An Istanbul fling

Istanbul has been near to the top of my ‘list’ for I don’t remember how long. It’s been on Lovely Boy’s list really only since I added it for him. And even then, it fell somewhere on the second page. So a plane ticket to Turkey for my birthday back in June felt especially special.

The 5am start to get out to Heathrow was mollified by the exceedingly happy memories of our last trip to Turkey and the chance to watch the sunrise over the runway over my bowl of Pret porridge in shiny terminal 5. And against the odds of a non-reclining chair (tut, tut BA…) I slept like one of those nodding ducks most of the way there. 

Girls gone mild in Cornwall

Such is the life of a jetsetter - we're just back from four days in Istanbul but that blog post will have to wait - because four days before that I went to Cornwall. And first thing's first.

Tor and I had been talking about a girls weekend for months - one that would conveniently coincide with beery weekends away for the other halves. And besides, we figured, all four of us have been to Cornwall before so the guilt about going again was basically negligible. And I mean really, what self-regarding boy wants to spend a weekend in bucolic surrounds by the ocean eating great food with a library of tabloids to read, pink wine to drink, gossip to extol and an idyllic eco spa to exploit?

Watergate Bay, Cornwall

Two Days At Documenta

Two weekends ago I went to Documenta with the ghost of my 27 year old self.

In 2007 I was living in Sydney, terminally, determinedly single, working at the University of New South Wales and in desperate need of inspiration.

And so I went on a pilgrimage to Germany, to Documenta, the five-yearly international contemporary art survey that began in 1952 amid the social, political and historical carnage of WW2 as an attempt to reconnect with the lost ideals of the enlightenment. 

Enlightenment was what I was after. It wasn't what I got. I hated Documenta 12. It was obtuse, smug, difficult, glib and frankly, bloody hard work. My most distilled moment of the three days I spent in Kassel (which is a shit-house city by the way - bombed to bits and rebuilt with zero thought for charm) was sitting at a tram stop, in the sunshine and having a curiously calm, philosophical conversation in my head about WHY it was that I had decided to dedicate my career to contemporary art and WHY was it again that I thought art was important and WHAT the fuck am I doing if this is the measure of contemporary art today. 

That sort of thing. 

A little bit of lately

At the time of writing I’m en route to Kassel, Germany to see Documenta 13 – globetrotting art dilettante that I am – but even with a dedicated couple of hours to give here I’m slightly overwhelmed as to where to start on what is effectively a “Life Lately” catch up. Or really, a life lately, and life not so lately catch up.

The last nearly two months have been frantic. I do remember the last time I was this overwhelmed with exhaustion and adrenaline and it was pretty ugly then but that feels like a warm up compared to this recent marathon of sleep-deprived madness. 

How did that happen?

I cannot believe it's been four years.

I also cannot believe that in that time I've completed a Masters degree, met and married a Lovely Boy, found an incredible job, done some considerable travelling, eaten at El Bulli, seen some brilliant art and written a book. I could hate me with a list like that.

Last night in London

I have so much to catch up on here. I'm slowly ticking things off my list but in the spirit of getting my non-book writing butt back into gear I'm going to start with last night.

Last night was lovely. A quintessential #onlyinlondon occasion. A date. Me and my Lovely Boy. Tickets to the London Philharmonic Orchestra. In the courtyard of the Royal Academy of Arts. The programme was inspired by the current Impressionism exhibition (as yet unseen... bad, bad...) but was just so beautiful.