Monthly Archives: May 2014
An unexpected delight of Florence was the surprise party held for the return of its prodigal son… Day Eighteen: May 29, 2014. 8.15am. Back in London, this is the view that a certain puppet sees most mornings. Temperature: Bloody sultry! Greyscale: Very! In E L James’s words: Clammy, perhaps wet. Advertisements
The flavour of a city comes from the depths of its streets. In this case, very deep streets. For this reason, Florence is the archetypal Italian city, the one everyone thinks of. Darting left, you can escape the throng, hide in another tunnel of darkness, finding your own peace. Puppetman Senior and Mother are in […]
Day Seventeen: May 21, 2014. 8.05am. In science fiction terms it would be called The Dawn of a New Era. Temperature: Just right to be honest. A bit of humidity but nothing to complain about. Except, of course, in The Dawn of a New Era, it speaks of doom and destruction. Greyscale: A grey shard. If […]
Brick Lane. Nothing says London better. Take a wonderful sunny day and then you’ve nailed it. Dive in because tomorrow is another day, as they say, and then it could all be so very different cos I remember the days of burnt-out buildings and tatty collectables laid out on blankets asking for best price. Spitalfields […]
Day Sixteen: May 14, 2014. 8.00am. What a day! Temperature: Yesterday was all fire and brimstone. Today, it’s all very heavenly. Greyscale: Now we’re getting into that reflective phase sometimes known as the Shard’s blue period. In E L James’s words: To be honest, I don’t think there were sunny days in Fifty Shades‘s pages so sordid and corrupt of soul are they.
Day Fifteen: May 7, 2014. 8.00am. Now mid-spring is upon us, the morning is glowing, radiant, alive. Temperature: Still not t-shirt weather – and the forecast ain’t that good either. Greyscale: Like Ying and Yang, one side of the shard is bathed in light, the other a dark and moody grey. A little bit like this blog… In […]
It feels like an Oral B ad, all shiny whites and glistening surfaces. Even the receptionist obscured behind a block of a desk is clad in white. And, of course, it’s serious business this art stuff, a business that White Cube knows only too well. Of course you come here for the art but a part of me […]