LAUNCH: LAUREN BAKER ART WILL ‘BLOW YOUR MIND’!

Imagine it…You alight with me at a Dalston Junction, which is giving birth to commuters, running-before-they-can-walk, to get to the already-distorted buses, distended, from overcrowding. We navigate our footsteps to the next available anaconda-queue, in anticipation of another modern-day Routemaster, to whisk us from Kingsland to Stoke Newington High Street and, arrive at contemporary art gallery-come-hang-out, of Hang-Up Pictures. Well, imagine that’s exactly what we did, as I take you on a tour through the mind-altering world of East-London, city-girl-turned-super-artist, Lauren Baker!

Owned by uber-curator, Ben Cotton and run alongside his wonder-woman sidekick, Carla, and their happening Hang-Up team, the gallery is a never-ending space whose walls change, chameleon-like, with the intense turn-around of incredible artists. Only a few winter-weeks had wound their way forward through the calendar, since Radiohead collaborator, Stanley Donwood had graced the walls with scenes from his ‘Apocalypse Boutique’, with ‘Karma Police’ being sonically speaker-piped into our waiting aural canals. Now, it was a decedent, two-tiered boudoir, with animal skulls of all dimensions, proudly-protruding along the vertical, with their human crania on the horizontal. Parallel uprights were replete with starburst relief-work and mirror-lightning bolts, complementing the intermittent thunderclap applause from beneath your feet in, enticing you to follow them below-deck.

What had been a second exhibiting room, had now become a night-sky-muralled, fog-smoke-filled, neon-flashing, lightning installation, which was all-encompassing, in swallowing you whole, whilst itself, spitting out rays of incandescent intensity. An homage to the power of Nature, it was, to me, a welcome riot-to-the-senses, which made my heart beat through my chest, like the bassline of the best dub-plate special!

En route upstairs, your eyes are seized upon by a golden sculpture of DNA, which has been drawn, 3-D printed, re-shaped and re-made into a thought-provoking representation of the precious fragility of the unique, human being. Yet, there was no point in trying to shift gear, since you could do all of that over the days to come (which I have been doing!)…All that was necessary, was to open the pores, accept the nourishment of Lauren Baker’s creations and release the sweat-inducing effect of sweltering multi-media art! Doingso was a lamp unto my neuro-processing-pathways, hitting me with the supreme potencies of Life, Death and the Afterlife, succinctly-presented via the stunningly poignant ‘White Light’. A mirrored infinity-coffin is leant, perpendicular fashion, as if propping up some celestial bar, daring viewers to come face-to-face with their own mortality/ immortality, dependent upon their respective perspective. Baker also points-the-finger at reflecting on existence, through clusters of projectile digits, protruding from a mini-fridge and 3-D wall-art, challenging the observer to ponder disillusionment in life’s journey and yet, not dwell on it. Why? Well, my thought is that one finger pointed in your direction, leaves the remainder pointing back at someone else. I assimilated them as a host of sat-navs, indicating the true-north of my authentic creative direction.

It was pointless to linger, either, as the gallery was soon heaving with well-wishing guests, apt for drowning in hip-hop, whilst making sequential moves around encased, hyper-embellished skull-art, made in collaboration with Sequin Kay, herself a rising-art star. in addition, the crystallised touch was applied to those of rodents, showing an acute attention-to-detail. Antlers were also bedecked in gold-leaf, or high-visibility flourescent pink paint, with my favoured set, adorned in amethyst crystal and the most stunning magpie plumage. Pieces doused in Mexican-styled paint-techniques showed Baker’s innate sensibilty to both, transforming and translating global culture, in an extremely audacious and masterly manner.

For many, the showstopper was a beating ferrofluid heart, blackened through the acrid, magnetic, influence of one lover’s presence upon another. The narrative is fulfilled in the melancholic hope that, still beating, life-after-loss can and does go on. Being the last exhibit I saw, on exiting, it left me with an essence of stoicism. Indeed, compounded by my enthusiastic admiration of such gargantuan and eclectic dynamism from Lauren Baker, the artisan, I have come to realise a deeper wealth of learning, which is that of appreciating the skeleton anew. After all, it offers us all support, in different ways, and whilst it lies beneath, it is no less beautiful because it is unseen.

I thank Lauren for sharing her distinct ability to encapsulate the meaning of the cycle of life with such raw emotional prowess and the Hang-Up curators for, once again, ensuring that a journey around their gallery is, not only utterly mind-blowing, but highly recommendable and totally unforgettable!

‘You Blow My Mind’ is on now until 24th January!

 www.hanguppictures.com  ~ www.laurenbakerart.com

http://www.sequinkay.co.uk/

©AFROW2013-2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

AFROW SAYS: ‘WE ARE TRULY A-MUSE-D!’

A revolution was televised.

Doing what it does best, the BBC delivered an epic of drama, comedy, fear, doubt, exhileration, madness, anger, joy, success, truth. A small-screen offering, so vast in ambition, that, at any other point in the multi-media new-age, it might have remained engulfed within the ether of ideas. However, it seemed that the country was ready to be gripped by the hands of a vivid voyage of emotional discovery and overcome by a tidal-wave of reality and revelation, in the guise of two actors, Dan Poole and Giles Terera, and embark on the ultimate Shakespearian road-trip!

Entitled ‘Muse Of Fire’, the premise revolved around a long-running issue with regard to the assimilation, or not, of, quite possibly, our most exceptional playwright, The Bard of Avon… Investigating exactly why, for some, his entire body of work is so unapproachable… Why, for others, the language is so, utterly fear–inducing, as to inspire pyjama-drenching night-sweats! It was a bold attack upon this trepidation and through raw and honest show-and-tell, on the part of the two actor-protagonists, themselves, and a wealth of  notable thespians of all vintages, we were enticed to, part-ransack, part-coax, memories of relationships with Shakespeare, to our own frontal lobes.

It quite got me to thinking back to my first remembrance of language, let alone, plays…and my earliest recollections start from hearing poetry recited around the house, both to me and during such activities as washing the dishes! Hearing ‘The Boy Stood On The Burning Deck’ or ‘Elegy Written In a Country Churchyard’ delivered with the passion of artists who have graced any world-renowned stage, whilst attempting to scour a pot, served to turn such a quotidien task (often to the detriment of the item being cleaned!), into a surreal foray around the realms of one’s imagination…

Thus, when time came to become better acquainted with William Shakespeare, I was already accustomed to cadences, wordplay and verbal soundscapes…even though I did not formally know of the terminology. I devoured the energy of phrases, which danced along my tongue, at times gliding as a ballroom-dancer in the hallowed halls of Blackpool’s ‘Tower Ballroom’, at others, popping like an old-skool, free-styler, at ‘Ministry of Sound’! I revelled at falling-in-love through Juliet and agonised through the stoic melancholy of Cleopatra, as she regaled Mark Anthony post his demise. How the memory of he who was no more, should have been more vital than those who were still alive, further to the peerless gift of its articulation, led me to an acutely profound plateau of emotive reasoning, which, in turn, facilitated my understanding, before I could process fear. I now realise that, for me, the visceral route of the subtext of ‘feelings’, fleshed-out my cognitive response to the motivation in the text, itself… Of course, back then I was simply caught up in the relentlessly sublime drama of it all!

Thankfully, I was encouraged to run headlong into Shakespeare. Not understanding was never frowned upon, but instead, utilised as a splendid spark for deciphering a message… Hitching oneself to the emotional-wagon, focusing upon the landmarks, absorbing every ounce of scenic suggestion, as to the narrative, and putting the clues together to make a picture, was the ultimate in ‘Sherlocking’! Never were my thoughts decried, and if they were wildly off-track, then that was fine as, with guidance, the dots were joined. Sounds perfect. Well, it was…in that my understanding of perfection is not that everything is correct all of the time, but that there is a sense of completion which can be had, in connection.

Sometimes, I’d connect with Shakespeare on a guttral level and, to experience that, was all there was to be had. The assimilation was complete, no less engaging and, therefore, perfect. At other stages upon my journey, I have experienced a ‘stillness’. No feeling, per sé, but no doubting that I had received content that would emerge, in the fullness of time. That was perfect, too! I have, since, continued to learn that accepting a new definition of perfection was the key to my true enjoyment of the rigours of, not just Shakespeare, but any style of writing or artistic endeavour, and the ‘approach’ has been a dear companion, to this day!

This week, ‘Henry V’ arrives at ‘The Noël Coward Theatre’. I have a distinct feeling that, since ‘Muse of Fire’ so powerfully broke through the glass ceiling of fearlessly embarking upon a Shakesperian exploration, there will be an even quieter ‘hush’ as the curtains go up and a lion’s-roar of applause, at its conclusion. I also believe that, in no small measure, it will be at the crux of an upswell of all-age, theatrical re-engagement and interraction. To me, it was the fulfilment of one, particular viewpoint of The Bard and the beginning of an exponentially, expanding vista, by cleverly incorporating and perpetuating the fact that showing-and-telling-the-emotional-working is wonderful!

So whether you think you get it, feel you get it, aren’t sure whether you get it, at all…rest assured that it’s not about judging the response, rather, connecting, in the way which is, not only bespoke to you, and/or speaks to you..but which truly sets the muse of your heart on fire…

©AFROW2013-2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.museoffirefilm.co.uk/ ~ http://www.delfontmackintosh.co.uk/Tickets/HV/HV.asp

http://www.theblackpooltower.com/ ~ http://www.ministryofsound.com/

***

TWITTER-TESTIMONIAL FROM GILES TERERA!

‘Amazing piece, by the way!’

SPOTLIGHT ON: ‘THE 24 HOUR PLAYS CELEBRITY GALA’… A SENTIMENTAL RETROSPECTIVE!

Dearest Afrow-Family, as I compose this, my newest post, somewhere, there is ensuing, a hive-of-activity, a buzz-of-excitement, a thrill-of-the-theatrical-chase! The location for the epicentre of this explosion-of-anticipation, is one of the cornerstone venues of the UK, if not global, Theatrical Arts arena, namely, our beloved Old Vic!

Yes, this weekend, will see well-known faces of stage and screen, join artistic forces and flex creative muscles with a tantalisingly team of writers and directors, themselves amongst the industry’s finest emerging and established talent, to produce ‘The 24-Hour Plays’, one of the most exhilerating, multi-discplinary rollercoaster-rides upon the Cultural/Creative Arts must–see list!

Past years have seen a plethora of stars, old-guard and new, showcasing the best of edge-of-your-seat collaborations, somewhat metamorphosing into a combined vanguard, for the elemental nature of stagecraft. Such names as Josh Hartnett, he of the melifluously Robeson-esque tones, Sally Phillips, she of the razor-sharp witticims and Mackenzie Crook, he, the rascal of genuis comedy-timing, have deigned to take the bull that is the ’24 Hour Plays’ event, by the horns and subdue it over an evening of live performances, so palpably immediate, as to be ignited by raw flint!

This year’s participants, who will include the indefatigable, Clive Rowe, the understatedly sublime Tom Ellis, the creative powerhouse, who is Catherine Tate and a rising-star, with quite the most captivating screen-presence, Douglas Booth. The list of celebrities does not tail off and, consistent with the unpredictability of the process, will surely serve-up some of the most delightfully unusual casting combinations that the audience in-attendance might ever have the pleasure to see!

To compound the hub-bub, akin to that of a Hollywood premiere of a hotly-tipped, award-winning movie, is the fact that this year also marks the 10th Anniversary of the fundraising gala. No pressure then!

So what if, as an actor, you have to sit in a room with a prop, share it with other new faces, except that they’re not new faces, because you already know who they are, having racked-up, between them, a C.V the likes of which you couldn’t dream-up?! So what if, as a writer, you are to take that prop and reverse–cram a vignette, which will, hopefully, interlock seamlessly with all of the other five scenes?! What of the fact that you have to pull an all-nighter, in order to release said work-of-written-art?! Or even that there’ll barely be enough time for writer’s block?! Who cares, that it is all to be nursed-and-rehearsed, then presented infront of a kindly-donating audience of savvy theatre-going witnesses?! Oh and why should it be in-the-slightest bit bothersome that the Social Media-Readers can ride, side-saddle, with every second of progress?!

Forming, storming, norming and performing in a 24 Hour group-dynamic, for one night only?!

NO. PRESSURE. AT. ALL!!!!!

Well, having attended, myself, I know that it was pressure-filled, but that, evidently, this was the kind of pressure which caused the artists to yield control, dig deeper than ever before and share the journey towards the birth of theatre-like-no-other! I had the privelege of seeing the entire arc-of-vision, from backstage tours which allowed we band-of-happy-guests to see the performers working through scripts on their own, as well as being face-to-face with the very boards upon which so many greats had trodden, and which would soon become the home of skilfully-crafted creativity, with an intensely off-the-cuff edge!

The very year I attended, I remember walking with other guests, extremely gingerly, past an actor, himself, sat staring into the distance, as if in his own incredible world of moment-to-moment brainfreeze, interspersed with absolute recognition of his lines! It was, right then, that the realisation dawned upon me of being an honoured party to the condensed version of this ‘artist’s way’… and although, prior to the day, I had been enthusiastic about what was to burst its way into my psyche, it rapidly stepped onto my mental-plane and took subsequent flight!

My chosen outfit of a floor-length, champagne-coloured, spaghetti-strapped, ballerina dress, with draped bodice and an acreage of tulle skirt, had also flown all the way from New York City, and was accompanied by a matching pair of crystal-embellished high-heels, an iridescent, sheer pashmina, matching oyster-shell satin purse, with gold chain, a selection of pearl jewellery and a shower of Coco Chanel! My hair was gently encouraged into a delicate chignon, with a few wisps and tendrils, teased for texture… My chosen transport? A good old London Cab!

The show, itself, was…well…out-of-this-world! Filled with emotional highs, lows and turning points…and that was just the introduction! Every excited synonym, possible, sat upon the lips of the adrenaline-fuelled audience. We all knew what the rules of the ‘game’ were, but the improvisational quality of the experience meant that all of the rules had been jettisoned out of the fourth-wall window.. We all knew that too! No longer were we ‘audience members’, but, fellow participants.. Co-creative-cathodes, emitting empathetic energy! Thus, when one actress forgot her lines, looked out at us, declared, ‘Oh, I can’t do this’ and proceeded to retrieve the script and read, verbatim, through the scene, she received rapturous applause, not, as one might think, because she had been defeated, in any way, shape or form…but because she had made an absolute triumph of the moment, and enjoyed the freedom of being able to do so! In this context, it all made utter sense and gave rise to a certain bonding, such as I haven’t experienced in quite the same way since. The post-show party was an entirely relaxed, yet, highly elegant affair, with artists and guests mingling and dancing away until way into the wee, small post-24-hours hours!! I have no doubt that 10th anniversary celebration of this uniquely glitzy gala will be even more impressive, especially being held at the luxurious 5* Rosewood Hotel!

 Whilst embraced by glamour, The 24 Hour Plays model, is an ingenius medium, through which we are blessed to see expressed, what I believe to be at the foundation of all great experiences… At the root, is the courage to fly-by-the-seat-of-one’s-pants (be they of the exquisite YSL cigarette-silhouette, or a nonchalantly loose-legged, denim-flared DKNY variety), and to have faith that, not only is there potential for all of those experiences to come together for the good, but also, that these combined episodes, en-route, will contribute to an amazing ‘mosaic-of-moments’, which we, with true feeling, can all call ‘real life’.

I wholeheartedly encourage you to support The Old Vic by snapping up one of the few remaining tickets, getting your best bib ‘n’ tucker on and going… Black Cab, optional, of course!

©AFROW2013-2019  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.oldvictheatre.com/the-24-hour-plays-celebrity-gala/

www.rosewoodhotels.com