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.

I’m doing pretty well for cake this week. The Hummingbird bakery held a re-opening of their re-furbished Kensington store. “Do you want to eat cake, drink champagne and take photos?” they said. “Yes” we said, and so we went to eat cake, drink champagne and take photos. Everyone was very polite whilst we commandeered the cake table and proceeded to be undignified.

The bakery is nice, small and cute. There are three of them in London, and it is genuinely one of those rare places where the cake looks very cute and also tastes nice (more technically described as ‘Light and moist’) which is good because there are a lot of places that sell cute cake that tastes terrible. If I was going to buy cake, which I rarely do (n.b. they do a recipe book), I would buy it from here. The red velvet is a stand-out.

I loved the steamy window with the lights diffused from outside. It made standing inside feel warm (which it was, and so we threw off multiple layers) and cosy, like a secret little party.

So, here are some photos of cake. Bear with it.

Look, here I am holding two cakes at once. “But I want to eat it” I said, as Nicola took the third attempt at a photo. “It is dribbling all over my hand. Here, let me eat it and grab another. That would be most practical.” And so the night continued.

Oh look, it’s me adeptly multitasking holding a cake, two champagne glasses and a pair of glasses that spend their time trying to fall down my face. You can see the re-done kitsch tiling in the background. It is pretty nice as far as tiling goes. I am apparently unable to see a bird these days without going “oh look, the twitter bird, on a wall!” Not cool.

And a goodybox, which had a big cake in it. Om nom nom.
A lovely place, go.

Much like the best writers (as a rule) read lots of books, the blogs I love are often written by people who like to read books*. I spend my time filling a little book with words I do not know. I may not remember them all but one marked result is the word ‘accoutrement‘ occasionally littering my sentences. But this is neither here nor there.

I get excited by words and MichaelJon is an ad planner who puts words in good orders. I suspect he reads books. It’s a good combination. He once gave me some marvelously written advice about ad planning, both helpful and a little joy to read (“I am flanked by planners who drink industrial sized vats of coffee, and I think people respect them more for it.  Like they need it to keep up with their own mind.“).

So when he talked about two Nike & Adidas efforts recently, it made me smile a lot:

“On recent travels around London I couldn’t help but notice a new advertising trend in angry illiterate exclamation by sports brands adidas and Nike. And at first i didn’t think much of it.  Just, you know, it’s that sort of slightly wack attempt at building a “community” by repeatedly hitting people over the head with a message utterly lacking in substance.  “WE ARE LONDON!” it screams, “ARE YOU?”.  Obviously it’s nonsensical, but it’s got slightly “edgy” youngsters staring straight at camera so you’re tempted to mutter, “yes, yes, ok, i’m London, ok, fine, just leave me alone, i don’t want any trouble”.  Then you think, oh, maybe they don’t want you to “be London”, so you whisper “no, obviously i’m not London, no way am i cool enough for that”, by now quite confused and scared, like Dustin Hoffman’s Babe in Marathon Man, repeatedly being asked “Is it safe??”.”

*A love of Paxman is also a common theme.