Today I added another item to the ever growing list or strange and marvellous things I have had the opportunity to do since I moved to London. Things that I would probably never have done or could expect to ever do, had I stayed in France. This list includes: appearing in Court... as the prosecution, meeting or see a number of c'lebs, appearing in 2 films (no, not porn, thanks very much!), singing in prestigious international concert venues as well as on national and local radios, be elected Rear Of The Year 2003, and a few other things I can't think of at the moment...
Today started quite normally with a bus trip for the Weekly-Cultural-Outing-To-Tesco as I call it. I then got home, ate me lunch and got ready for this month's meeting of my reading group. One of people attended the meeting, SH, who does not come very often, is a vague aquaintance of mine (he is always jetting around the world for his work and spends little time in London). One of the first people I met in London. This guys' boyfriend, Peter Faulkner, whom I have met once some months back, is a painter and sculptor and he is having an exhibition of his work next week in a gallery near Goodge Street tube station. His first solo exhibition. SH had already told me about this a while back sending me an invite to the vernissage which takes place on Tuesday.
Today however was hanging day and SH invited me to tag along for a "pre-preview" as he called it. When we arrived at the gallery after the reading group's meeting, the gallery was still empty and the artist on his way with his work. Somehow, I ended up volunteering to help putting things together: onloading the van, finding a place for the painting, preparing hooks and cables for the hanging of the paintings and the hanging itself. About 4 hours laters, the empty gallery had taken life in a splash of colours and I had hung my first exhibition. Not of my own work though. Unfortunately.
You can see part of the results of our work below.
To be honest, I am not sure what to think of the artworks I handled today. Peter is a very nice guy and he is obviously technically talented but I can't help but thinking that the figures he has used in those pieces are somewhat clicheed and not very original. It doesn't seem that the pieces are saying much either: the nazi ballerina (middle of the trid pic above) for example is a bit of a puzzle to me.
At the same time, I rather like the painting of the fountain in Piccadilly Circus (although I am not sure why Eros had to be changed into a dancer) and the small one next to it of the abstract sunset (third picture too). The triptic (middle picture) is quite a beautiful view of Canary Wharf; the reflection of the light on the building is indeed lovely. Why there is this big thinker-like figure sitting on one of its tower, is, again, not clear to me. I think having Canary Wharf (the business district of London) as the subject of a tripic (traditionaly used for religious subject) without the figure would have turned the piece into an interesting social comment on the power and fascination of money in our culture.
He is the artist, however... who am I to critice?
This afternoon's activities were quite good fun though and I wish Peter the very best of luck... Feel free to come and see his work yourself if you can.
You can view the flyer for the exhibition here.
Today started quite normally with a bus trip for the Weekly-Cultural-Outing-To-Tesco as I call it. I then got home, ate me lunch and got ready for this month's meeting of my reading group. One of people attended the meeting, SH, who does not come very often, is a vague aquaintance of mine (he is always jetting around the world for his work and spends little time in London). One of the first people I met in London. This guys' boyfriend, Peter Faulkner, whom I have met once some months back, is a painter and sculptor and he is having an exhibition of his work next week in a gallery near Goodge Street tube station. His first solo exhibition. SH had already told me about this a while back sending me an invite to the vernissage which takes place on Tuesday.
Today however was hanging day and SH invited me to tag along for a "pre-preview" as he called it. When we arrived at the gallery after the reading group's meeting, the gallery was still empty and the artist on his way with his work. Somehow, I ended up volunteering to help putting things together: onloading the van, finding a place for the painting, preparing hooks and cables for the hanging of the paintings and the hanging itself. About 4 hours laters, the empty gallery had taken life in a splash of colours and I had hung my first exhibition. Not of my own work though. Unfortunately.
You can see part of the results of our work below.
To be honest, I am not sure what to think of the artworks I handled today. Peter is a very nice guy and he is obviously technically talented but I can't help but thinking that the figures he has used in those pieces are somewhat clicheed and not very original. It doesn't seem that the pieces are saying much either: the nazi ballerina (middle of the trid pic above) for example is a bit of a puzzle to me.
At the same time, I rather like the painting of the fountain in Piccadilly Circus (although I am not sure why Eros had to be changed into a dancer) and the small one next to it of the abstract sunset (third picture too). The triptic (middle picture) is quite a beautiful view of Canary Wharf; the reflection of the light on the building is indeed lovely. Why there is this big thinker-like figure sitting on one of its tower, is, again, not clear to me. I think having Canary Wharf (the business district of London) as the subject of a tripic (traditionaly used for religious subject) without the figure would have turned the piece into an interesting social comment on the power and fascination of money in our culture.
He is the artist, however... who am I to critice?
This afternoon's activities were quite good fun though and I wish Peter the very best of luck... Feel free to come and see his work yourself if you can.
You can view the flyer for the exhibition here.
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