Yesterday I attended a Flash developer day, it was quite interesting but not interesting enough to forego the promise of high film art and free whisky and dry ginger. To be fair if I’d stayed I’d of had free beer courtesy of the flashing people and the possibility of winning a tee-shirt and other goodies or two but the thought of a talk on development for set top boxes didn’t set the pulse racing.
Plus the sun was out so…
For the next couple of days at Zellig in the Custard Factory they have got and installation made to look like a pill box blasting out slightly odd and ever so slightly changed COI (Central Office of Information if you didn’t know) public information films with a completely messed up soundtrack. We saw glue sniffers, magpie burglers, people losing their clothes and running off to be cavepeople and a plethora of other subjects on film.
There’s no free whisky now but it’s still worth checking out.
A busy week so far for Big Rich. A free pie and mash dinner from the Mash House in Brindley Place courtesy of the Evening Mail, very nice it was too. This was followed up by a pint or two in the sunshine.
After this I made my way to Vivid for a playing of the History of Sound Art by J Milo Taylor, I enjoyed this collage of interviews, music and sounds from the last hundred years. Unfortunately there was a problem soon after the Aphex Twin had released Didgeridoo and no more sound exists.
After this I moved onto the Birmingham Hippodrome for a performance of Shadow Shows by Pram. I really liked this (even if it was slightly short), pretty scary, lots of horrible unexpected faces emerging from the mist.
Luckily I didn’t have nightmares because I was introduced to the lovely bundle of energy and joy that is Abie Budgen’s Miracle Tonic.
Two pound pints of lager, the a meeting of an old school mate and house music that seemed to get louder and quicker and louder. My brother seems to get drunk very quickly, he’s obviously been drinking before we meet. People sodding off outside for a cigarette every five minutes is a bloody annoying. My brother becomes very argumentative, it’s like having a sodding girlfriend in tow.
We are supposed to be setting up a business as event promoters, he is going on about how he wants to be an agent, I don’t, I have no interest in this, I don’t feel I have the aptitude not the skills for that type of work, negotiation of contracts on behalf of somebody else is not something I want to be involved in. Fun and games.
So it’s pancake day, I’m really not a fan of those plain tasting things. Yuk. Bill Drummond is launching a book by Claude Casseus written in Haitian Creole translated into New York Urban English. He says that westerners (artists at least) shouldn’t ever go and infect the culture of the Haitian peoples, he says that we shouldn’t even look at books about Haitian Kanaval culture lest we ruin it all. Seems a little extreme to me.
He talks about his work in Haiti and the earthquake and an enterprising young man who he gets to create artworks for him. His website describes this much better than I.
Mr Drummond seems very headmasterly, he orders people to sit down, be quiet at the back and stand in line. He bakes pancakes. I don’t eat one. I have a beer and head off.
Last night I dragged my figured that instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself in all sorts of horrible ear and face pain that I would head off and watch some films (and ladies) at the 7 inch film night in the Hare and Hounds.
I can’t say that I’ve ever been a fan of the blues, I think its because the people who seem to be into it are snooty muso types who think that music can have something called “authenticity”. Any last night the showed a short documentary called The Blues According to Lightnin’ Hopkins (Les Bank, 1967) and the music admitted does seem to have an energy about it, voodoo I guess.