Art, art everywhere

You can take the cow out of Wisconsin, but you can't take Wisconsin out of the cow
Originally uploaded by Hello Doodle!.

There are more major art shows in New York this weekend than there will be in the UK all year.

The city has gone art crazy - especially as city bonuses are at an all time high and it's Tax Refund time. So once you have the houses and the cars the only thing that's left to do is invest in some canvas... and people are going crazy.

Of course all of this leads to endless debate about the Disney-fication of art and the show stopping tactics of young artists trying to make a name for themselves (giant beams of light being a biggy this year). PS1 - one of my favorite modern art places has responded to the feeding frenzy with a show called 'Not For Sale' where, you guessed it, nothing on display can be purchased.

Me? Well I'll see how big the bonus is and check out the original Everharts.

Friday

ots
Originally uploaded by stevenjude.

It's Friday and there are all kinds of things going on in the city. The weekend will see us going to some of the armory shows (lots of art this weekend) to some bodice ripper of a movie that Jude fancies, to an Oscar party (I'm going to squeeze myself into a cheap frock and go as Jennifer Hudson) and to '75 inches' a show about a straight man who worked as a drag queen - and all that people assumed as a result.

Throw in a gym session, some dog walking and a few episodes of Battlestar Gallactica on DVD and you have the recipe for content.

Hurrah

Sauce!

Does My Bum Look Big In This? - Shalom Harlow
Originally uploaded by daddyw.

A slow week at work this week has meant that work on the book is now in full flow. What started as random rants gained some structure when I decided (somehow, subconsciously?) that the whole thing should be structured around that time when agencies are their most 'agency like' - the new business pitch. The words are tumbling out and the jokes aren't bad either.

What's left to decide is whether I use langauge as clumsy as this sentence or not. No that's a given I won't, what I do need to decide is whether to make this a straight peek behind the curtains of the agency world or whether it should be a work of 'fiction' populated by a few well chosen characters. It's starting to feel that way to me.

Oh well writing is rewriting (as this un-re-written diary so often proves)

I'm Lovin' It?

I'm Lovin' It?
Originally uploaded by oybay.

Yesterday I had to turn down a job that, in truth, I'd have loved to say yes to. The timing was wrong, the city was wrong, the money was wrong etc. but just as it was starting to hurt I got this e-mail from a guy at work - and was reminded that the people I work with are pretty cool.

I'll admit it. I was in Wisconsoson. And I was crazing a Big Mac. I was cravin’ some Mickey D’s in Wisconsin. Having not eaten at The Clown’s House in a year or so, I wanted it. I craved it. And today I went for it.

The food was fine, just what I expected, exactly what I craved. But here’s the disturbing part: They put the nutritional info on the packs now.

What are they thinking? Is this meant to be a positive PR campaign?

Oh, 4569 grams of fat. Kewl. Make it a double.

McDonalds is being above the board now! Great! I feel better about my weakness and gluttony.

They might as well put a label that says “NOTE: Hey loser. Not that you care, but your ass WILL get bigger after eating this, and I can smell your pancreas smoking” (Ha-ha, bitches. MINE’s already dead! Who’s the smart clown mascot now!)

It’s like a prostitute wearing a t-shirt that says “over 678 served. This month.” Just not what you’re looking for in advertising...

I was one of the 3 people in the US who thought that Supersize Me was - while very entertaining and thought provoking - alarmist bullshit.

And I also studied food science, so I know how much fat is in fried things.

But, for friggin’ out loud, even I don’t want to think about what’s in my McNuggets...

Jude and Dave

thisone
Originally uploaded by stevenjude.

It's quite rare to get Jude and Dave together these days. He lives in London, she lives in New York and ne'er it seems shall the twain meet. Unless of course somebody else is paying for the plane ticket.

There's a very odd thing that happens once your company starts to fly you around the world at great expense - you begin to believe that Business Class is the standard way to fly and that anything else is both 'slumming it' and somehow 'what I used to do before I earned the lounges, fawning and flat beds'.

You justify this in your head by thinking of business as a 'middle class' - not the ridiculous opulence and fake looking wood inlays of First and not the clot inducing tightness of economy.

Of course as soon as you have to put your hand into your own pocket and actually PAY for your own ticket things change. You take out your Gold cards, you start phoning people, you look for the upgrade and you chat too amicably to anyone in a uniform at the airport.

The card means that you can still use the lounge, so the idea of your being extraordinary is maintained and a fantasy of 'temporary slumming' and tales of 'no room in business' fill your head.

But what really happens is that you fly less. Fly less or not at all.

Which is why, I think, that the siblings see so little of each other. Whilst one really can't afford the time or the cash to fly in any class the other can't afford to 'fly right' and so neither do. It's a case of time and cash poverty meeting business induced snobbery. Though everyone involved will deny it.

Anyway I have jobs to turn down and scan payments to sort out (the hospital billed the wrong insurance company) so it's ciao from me

For my consideration

DSC_1331.JPG
Originally uploaded by jjohanne.

Since I changed jobs I've had nothing but interest from other companies who would like for me to work with them.

I have a call sitting on my answering machine that needs returning, a polite refusal in my draft box that needs to hit my outbox and a man wanting to meet me for breakfast later in the week to talk work.

It's all a little beyond fathoming but it's nice to know that the reputatio hasn't been entirely squandered while I've been in the US...

The weird thing is that this is the first time I haven't really wanted to move in as long as I can remember. Perhaps the stench of desperation was too strong to allow people to track the quieter smell of ability in the past. Or maybe I'm just sluttier these days. Who knows. But it is nice to be wanted.

Help!

Britney bald
Originally uploaded by joaqooo.

So it seems that Britney had quite a weekend. First checking herself out of Eric Clapton's Antiga rehab center and then flying back to LA for a night of self mutilation (head shaving, tattooing), mad muttering ('I'm sick of people touching my head, no-one can touch my head') and desperration to make the front pages.

It's sad to see our little pop strumpet so obviously and painfully exposed - but it's also tremendous fun. Britney it seems is falling into the 'tragic' narractive arc that has to lead to either an Elton John style redemption or an Anna Nicole Smith type ending.

Anna Nicole has dominated the headlines here all week - in a way that she always sought but never managed when alive. A dodgy will, a paternity battle for her newly rich (or potentially rich) baby, a fight over her body, Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband, drink, drugs, death and somewhere in all of that something snarky and mistimed from Rosie O'Donnell.

Britney of course should be able to avoid the Nicole Smith trap. Anna needed the headlines in order to pay the bills. Her pathology for attention was of course what paid the rent as the fight over who got her elderly husband's money dragged on and on. She was a peculiar star in that she had absolutely no talent other than being able to generate headlines and sell pictures of her exploits as a result. She didn't sing, dance or act. She didn't model. She didn't write. Instead she showed up, she created a storm and she cashed the cheque as a result.

Brit' isn't in that situation - but her situation is equally out of control. She was manufactured. A perfect pop tart, singing perfect pop songs, wearing perfect pop clothes and making perfect pop videos. But the songs, the clothes and the videos weren't hers. She didn't have the voice to break free of the studio straight-jacket or the talent to break free of her image. The mouseketeer's only job was to stay beautiful, give good photo and keep her nose clean. So when the babies, the booze and the boys wrecked her looks and image there was nothing left. She's failed to uphold her end of the bargain and of course there was no-one there to stage manage her anymore.

People keep asking whether Britney can pull it back together. The answer is no. She's a product and if she's going to make it back then she's going to need to be put together piece by piece, note by note, gym session by gym session. Right now that's still possible - everyone loves a triumphant return from the brink; but if the next album flops expect to see the downward spiral of Britney take on fresh dimension.