I do love a good cardboard animation but alongside being very cute, the script is ace. Promoting The International Exchange, it treads the perfect line between perfect piss take and promotional video. Watch it, rather than have me quote parts out of context. Quickly now, while I struggle to keep my poor impersonations away.

It’s directed by Joseph Mann whose other animations are well worth a look. I’ve fallen a bit in love with the look and feel of this little story about a Chimney Sweep on an Edinburgh roof top who has a love of sandwiches and planes.

Look here, this is glorious – and not just because there is a guitar-playing Yeti. This beautiful animation’s a story about a trip through time and whilst there’s so much going on it it, it keeps a lovely simplicity. The graphics and texture are perfect. And it sounds gorgeous too.

Animated by Rodney Selby and directed by Ned Wenlock. Read about the making of it here.

In my last house I was the lightbulb buyer, by a default that everyone else forgot. Or perhaps I was the only person inclined to have more than one way of lighting a room. But finally, lots of 75pences later and I’ve finally invested in a decent energy efficient bulb I’ve finally bought this.

There’s something wonderful about the pooling curves on the Plumen Blub, and I really like how simple it is. It’s lovely, and I’m surprised it’s taken me a year to get round to buying one. (There’s also some brilliant shots of the bulbs hanging in a cafe on the site, and they look pretty good with the ongoing trend of exposed hanging cables.)

Then, the day after the Plumen came in the post, these popped up on Twitter: the next stage in over the top, wonderful gloopy lighting bulbs, all by a good chap called Pieke Bergman. They are delightfully silly, and I adore the one on the right. I like the soft glow they give off.

In summary, a thrilling week of lightbulbs has been had.

The words ‘Affordable Art under £4000′ do not strike me as shouting “this will be a fun night out. Gather your chums, drink wine, eat some cheese and look, here’s a big polar bear made out of mirrors.”

Clearly it turns out I’m completely wrong and that’s exactly what it means. I won some tickets from The Future Tense, and I’m very glad because I wouldn’t have gone otherwise.

Here are some things that made me smile from the second we found the building. I knew I’d like it when I saw moving nonsense and said mirrored polar bear lurking by the entrance. A bit Kinetica-Art-y, if you’ve ever been. Not only did they make me very very happy, but unless I provide you with moving imagery and shiny objects, theorists say you will switch off. Quick! Pow! Wham! A quick video of the moving stuff:

It was a brilliant mix, some more traditional art mixed with sillyness. Pieces that would look great in the next ad man’s studio, and others at home where people who look nothing like Ad Men live. Mostly made up of a big mix of paintings, there were some good spinning things to look at outside, bigger installations, and hanging artsier paraphernalia. And there were lots of little Stig men, standing about.

Here is some more nonsense that made me smile. Or perhaps just the above, in big picture form.

Good old historical video uploaded on to youtube, rehashed into drawing-historical-video-on-youtube! Woo, art discourse.

Clearly there were many intellectual, wise and deep pieces. I have just chosen lots of cartoons and silly things to show you. None of which will be going on my living room wall but are pleasant nonetheless.

So, many good things. And there was wonderful cheese tasting. For which we set an alarm and arrived very promptly. It was very good and sat happily in our tummies with the copious amounts of free wine. A night I didn’t expect to be half as good.

Next time I’d happily buy a ticket immediately.
Thanks, @TheFutureTense

I love lecool and things like it. When you’re in a big city for the first time they’re a lifesaver, and when you’re old and jaded they help you find new things. In my spare time I edit what is essentially a Brighton version, but it seems a much easier task because in what’s still a madly busy little city there’s still less of an obscene choice of things going on. In London, I almost don’t know where to start. (Probably because I’ve lived in one for four years, and one for one month.) It’s nice to feel that someone’s doing the research for me. So yesterday we picked three things of the lecool list and went out on an adventure. At the moment I feel like there’s so much to take it, see and digest and like it all needs eating quickly and immediately. I may become at risk of indigestion. If you’ve got anything you’d recommend seeing or doing let me know.

1. Carousel Art & Craft
2. Angelheaded Hipsters Exhibition at the National Theatre (best Snowball cocktails)
3. Hunter S Thompson at the Friends Films. (We scrapped this exciting sounding venture for a poke around the tiny Curve Exhibition at the Barbican)

Mason and Taylor has reaffirmed my mostly jaded view of East London pubs in one easy go. I’m on a mission to find comfortable, wonderful, homely places that redefine my associations of London (I’ve spent too much time in wetherspoons filled with jostling men in suits, or places that are just a bit run of the mill). This is one of the places that make me realise London has so many ordinary but brilliant spots.

We popped down to the art and craft event downstairs – they hung fabric bunting across the stairs and I was a bit smitten. I may have squeaked in excitement (the craft could have been crap, and I’d still have been happy). It was lovely to poke around. It’s a small but nice space with a mix of knitted bits, feathery things and art, and was lovely to poke around. There were tables of people knitting and chatting whilst people look around their tables. The wrapping paper prints hanging from the ceiling on coat hangers decorated with small people, mixing bowls, and forests made me want to go home and find out how to make my own.

We scrapped the Hunter S Thompson ‘One for the Doctor’ event run by the People’s Picturehouse: a ‘secretive squatty cinema type event’ celebrating Hunter S Thompson, which promised themed cocktails, friendly faces, and a back-to-back projection of a Gonzo Journalist documentary and Fear and Loathing because it went past our bedtime and we’re old like that.

Instead we went to the Barbican which was holding Beat the Champ by Cory Archangel at The Curve Exhibition, a tiny commission which takes you on a journey through different gaming consoles. Essentially it’s loops of bowling games in which the player fails to score, displayed down a giant wall. Surrounded by Nintendo and Atari beeps, it’s nice but feels as though it should be part of a bigger exhibition.

And finally we headed to the official #2 on the list. I can count the number of times I’ve walked along the Southbank on one hand, and the same with the number of people I’ve done it with. I always remember Elika saying it’s one of her favourite spots and I wonder if the blue and white fairy light-lit trees and old Victorian-esque lights will feel any less special when I have walked there more than my hands and feet can count. I hope not.

The Angelheaded Hipsters exhibition has been taking place at the National Gallery. I’ve never been to the National Gallery before. There’s a lot of places I’ve never been, but it’s a lovely building – not so much in the design but in the mood inside. It’s tranquil and kind, and we discovered some of the nicest Snowball cocktails – and after leaving we dashed to a supermarket to buy Avokaat, so I’ll be making those tonight).

Allen Ginsberg’s photos of his friends, ranging from William Burroughs Patti Smith to Andy Warhol (described as ‘hipster Andy Warhol’ it took a second to remember that Warhol wasn’t always a modern art chap) is a step into stories of the past. There’s lots to look at but the younger photos resonate more, and involve you in their stories more. Perhaps because I’m the same age now, but the detail in the descriptions of each person seemed more loving, and the poses of people leaning back from tall buildings or bundled onto a sofa for a quick group shot seemed more natural and somehow, I couldn’t put my finger on, more affectionate. Perhaps because I’m the same age, or perhaps because they were the first photos we came across, but something was lovely about them. Something carefree and young and with so much to happen. And that’s a bit how I feel at the moment.