Tuesday, 16 December 2008

fixing my hair in the river thames

The men and women who walk across the major bridges of London; Hammersmith, Waterloo, the ugly looking thing between the Southbank and Charing Cross; these men and women seem to rush frantically to their nothing nothing jobs, soggy worm rolls and their toilet water lunches. I on the other hand, today, being Monday the 15th december, am in no rush at all. I glide across Hammersmith's solid, emerald beast, skip across the southbank's glittering half pipe in all its 8 year old birthday party splendour and find myself along the river at Vauxhall.
The air is cold and spiky, it attacks my nostrils and i manage to spit firmly off the bridge into a passing steelworks chugger. Francis Bacon's greatest hits are over there on Millbank so i decide to have one last look before they bugger orf in January.
The people who go and see his paintings these days, the fans, i suddenly realise on entering the first room, are, on the whole, sweating large industrial size buckets of vanity. This is not an assumption built on the fact that they have rabbits tied around their necks and foxes keeping their sour, jumped up little spindlies from being as cold as their hearts, but the very fact that Francis framed all his paintings in the most spotless, gleaming, polished glass, thus creating the narcissists perfect mirror. They stand there decorating their egos, ruffling their sloane squares with complete disregard for Peter Lacy's distorted face lost in a foggy jungle of thick blue mist.
I read somewhere that Bacon used this glass on purpose to usher the viewer into some kind of of prison of self assessment, to make them quake in their boots of vulnerable meat. Im sure that it has had the desired effect on many fans and punters, but to be honest, in the last 4 months of this show, the majority of these shmucks would be better off in the stinking changing rooms of Brent Cross' Primark.
Anyway, its interesting to see and im back on the bridge freezing, searching for some kind of bunny or graveyard dwelling fox i can stuff my hand up and get warm.
Looking forward to recording over christmas and new year. And performing live too.

Wednesday, 3 December 2008

CLICK HEREfor photos from the 'timeless, mild, beguiling island of a town' that is Laugharne, home to the 'Laugharne weekend' which i visited last march, to drink,walk,do a reading,present camusflage krokodial,eat, drink,visit the graves,laugh etc, and will try to visit again this march.