Graffiti and Cupcakes in London

I love big contrasts. The things that smack pattern and conformity in the face. On a recent mooch in London I saw some lovely contrasts. A big city has a veritable plethora of visual loveliness I find.

Firstly I saw this graffiti near-by Brick Lane, the Indian corner of London. I quite like graffiti sometimes, because (i) it makes use of an other blank canvas, (ii) it's often subtly clever (iii) it's not money-making so it's really honest, (iv) it often represents a current social thought or feeling and (v) you never know when you might find it.

Then I went to the Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy, which incidentally is really good. It's a selection of Van Gogh's work across his working lifetime, alongside letters to and from his brother Theo up until a few days before he died. Anyway, really near to the Royal Academy in Piccadilly, is Fortnum and Mason. The epitome of all that is over-indulgent luxury. It's been going strong since 1707. I saw some cupcakes. I wanted to eat them. Instead I looked on longingly like a child in a toy-shop.

Finally, I'll share with you Leon. More culinary deliciousness. I stumbled across the one in Spitalfield's market. Disppointed the market wasn't on, I soon recovered on spotting Leon. It's great seasonal food at shiny lovely prices. It's light-shades are made of recycled oil cans, and the food is served in brown cardboard boxes. The food is simple, I took the chilli with a chunk of lemon and some pea and carrot coleslaw. Very wholesome and very easy to recommend. I bought the bookwritten by founder and resident foodie god Allegra McEvedy. I really like Allegra's style, in herself and her food. As a bonus, the packaging is recyclable, they use produce from local farms, and give left over food to charity. This is a great, pretty ethical whilst oozingly cool restaurant.

Frida Kahlo and La Casa Azul

Self-Portrait with Monkey

Frida Kahlo is so cool it hurts.  I was aware of Frida Kahlo and her symbolic monobrow. On a recent trip to Mexico, my first trip off the continent no less, I went to her house. Not in a I-was-invited-round-for-tea way obviously, her house is called the Blue House and it’s now a museum/homage to Kahlo and Diego Riviera. La Casa Azul is in Coyoacan, a suburb of Mexico City. It displays some mind-blowing work alongside some possesions and annotations. It’s actually such a good idea for a museum. It remnoves that stuffy pretension that comes with so many formal art spaces. Its really accessible and appeals to anyone who likes people and their story as well as cool works of art.

Her paintings are really striking with vibrant colours and realism. Many pieces are self-portraits or relate to the difficulties she faced in her life. She really rose up and smacked adversity in the face if you ask me.

She was born just before the Mexican revolution began in 1910. Apparently she later said she was born in 1910 in order to be directly associated with the revolution. She got polio which rendered one of her legs pretty much useless. In 1925 she had a near-fatal road accident which affected her reproductive abilites and nearly destroyed her leg.

After her accident she gave up the idea of studying medicine to become a painter. I found her paintings of her fertility issues and disabilities really interesting and she very much faced dark subject matters head on. She was married to murualist Diego Rivera, a notorious womaniser to say the least, even having an affair with Frida’s sister. Frida’s love for Diego comes across from la casa azul and in literature, as incredibly strong. So strong it makes a revolutionary stubborn woman like Frida, weak. Love is an unfathomable power.

The couple befriended Leon Trotsky, Stalin-opposer in exile from Russia. Good grief.

I think I could go on and on. But I won’t. Just, if you happen to be in Mexico City, and have a spare hour or three, head over to the museo frida, and give her a salute from me.

Exuberance is beauty

 

On Friday, I went to the Manchester Art Gallery. I saw some Goya, Hockney, Freud, Valette, Lowry, Hodgkin, Giacometti and Bacon. There was an interesting exhibiton of Eastern modern art, which reminded me in parts of Banksy. I managed to go to see the Banksy exhibition at Bristol Art Gallery, which was surreal and pretty special. The Times have a good article on Banksy at the moment. 

The second exhibiton was by Ron Mueck, an australian sculptor. Made of resin and hard laborious work, his large sculptors are an intimate portrayal of man at his most exposed.

I also met Modigliani for the first time. There is something of a mask-like quality in the face of this painting, Portrait of an unkown model. It held me there, lingering over the painting for short time. It was a funny feeling.