Monday, December 06, 2010

Let’s keep it short.

I've neglected the blog for a while, kept busy with other projects - so here's something I wrote earlier -

________

It has slowly come to my attention that I find myself on the cusp of a generation that cannot be bothered; to cook, (order fast food) to read, (skim the net) to wait for a film, (instant access online) to write, (just text) to talk, (just email) - it goes on, and the underlying thread of all this impatience is technology. What has fast paced living done to our language? What of the habits it has induced in an entire generation that no longer even care to articulate a full word, let alone a full sentence?

I certainly have caught a little of this language lapse and put it down to lost hours spent on social networking sites, where this mentality of fast information exchange has transferred in to a very acceptable and widely used social language. I was familiar with the old school abbreviations you know? Where we perhaps missed a letter out or use a number as a substitute, when we had the credit to text a friend on our brick-sized Nokia. If you were really skilled, you could type using ‘predictive text’, barely enunciating the first few letters before its finished for you. Yet this was tame stuff compared to the length in which we cap our words today. When abbreviations become a daily occurrence you begin to learn that ‘brb’ is ‘be right back, ‘rofl’ is ‘roll on floor laughing’ (obviously) and so on until you have a completely different communication system, with only a hint at previously belonging to the English language. Yet if we consider, I taught my Nan to use her phone, this is a woman who back in the day, could type one hundred words a minute and take an entire books-worth of dictation with her eyes shut, but give her a phone and the option of predictive text and she stares at me blankly asking 'why the phone is deciding what her message will be?' As a secretary in the eighties shorthand was a highly essential skilled for her and to this day she can remember how to read and write the strange flicks and curves of her own generations abbreviation system. But ultimately its hardly unusual that through the ages people have developed and experimented with making language quicker and more efficient to communicate and mutations of words in sub-cultures have formed colloquialism that have stuck. So as technology got quicker so did our need for shorter word and faster signifiers.

But what happens when this habit leaks out from instant messengers and text messages and in to our writing and even our physical conversations? I am now hearing people actually say ‘LOL’ instead of laughing! So what, now we are short-circuiting our emotions? But don’t think it’s gone unnoticed, a majority of the time someone actually says ‘LOL’ it is more of an ironic poke at their own subculture than a genuine replacement. Abbreviations are now words in themselves and the sound a word in itself! At what point does an abbreviation cross over from a colloquial shortcut to a feature of modern English language?

It isn’t just abbreviations, even when we do speak English, the ‘tweet-teens generation’ have soaked up a social environment of fast technology, fast living and instant everything, that there is certainly a skewed focus steering their latest colloquialisms. At the moment the fad in my social circle and overheard pub conversations is ‘really?’ Pronounced with a sarcastic intonation, an edge of pseudo disbelief, with an over dramatic inflection that can be thrown at almost any comment. Used to not only enquire validation over a point but as a statement and winning retort on your behalf to cut short the conversation. We have adopted our ‘online’ tone of short, brief answers and abrupt endings in our real conversations and this ‘really’ business is another extension of our supposed disbelief, really indicating non-committal mentality to delve in to a topic.

Writing has developed in tone as well, even noticeably in the highest circles of authors, a conversational tone and direct flow of consciousness in style engages the modern reader’s newly moulded and notoriously hard to focus ‘interest radar’. They connect with it as if it were a more sophisticated and evolved version of the statuses and stories they read all day for leisure and this is surely a notable observational to writers wishing to engage an ever more reluctant audience, who are easily torn away by the flicker of the television or pop up chat.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Destroy Art

check out amazing norweigian photographer Bjørn Venø http://www.bjornveno.com/

Bjørn Venø is a London based photographer who grew up in Norway on a tiny island inhabited by twenty-four others. He spent his childhood exploring the beautiful farms and countryside, building a raft with his friend and playing out adventures as an explorer. Mainly working on self-portraits, he explores topics like male identity. His interest lies in deconstructing the different characters the male identity takes on which he adopts through performance in his photographs. His latest project entitled ‘Destroy Art’ has caused a stir in the contemporary art world and seen him escorted from the Tate Modern. I asked Bjorn about his new project and this was his response: Read my full review for www.artshub.com here --> http://bit.ly/9tPYBz

Friday, November 05, 2010

World Adventure Association

I work as journo/editor for WAA, an awesome website - It's aim is to work as a platform for adventure travelers and expeditions lovers, allowing them to network and share their trips, news and media. Site due to launch early 2011, until then join the Facebook group for previews and news.

These boots are made for loving




I won't lie it was love at first sight. There they were, perched seductively on the shelf edge, leather dark and supple and hook eye's glinting under the fluorescent lighting.
If you want to find your true love - The one.(or rather two)If you want:
Leather.
Vintage.
Italian.
*head to MARSHMALLOW MOUNTAIN -the home of vintage.
Kingly COurt (off Carnaby street) London W1

Saturday, October 23, 2010

There's no where to hide for the i-kids

I was unfortunate enough to find myself on the nightmare train to Victoria recently. It's not usually a nightmare, usually I read, daydream or write. But this train was befitting of a nightmare considering it had fallen victim to collecting all the unruly kids from each dank corner of England. I could laugh along with the hairy-nostrilled businessman opposite, at the toddler next to us yelling "Look mummy a pig!" at a passing herd of cows.

But the school kids - it was like sitting in a cage of chimps that had inhaled half a ton of M&M’s.

Still, I couldn’t help but turn my ears to the little snippets of conversation that were forcing themselves in to my personal space.

Mediocre popular kid/greasy hair: “Well we are gonna egg ‘em on Friday, I think it’s Friday, we’re be on half term?”

Lead girl/bit spotty: “Yeah, but check Facebook though yeah, ‘cos it like right near Emily’s birthday thing, she said to invite youz lot, in half term yeah,? Check the events list.”

Class clown: “We have half term?”

{General squawking laughter.}

These kids have so much room for social manoeuvres. Their diarys fill up over half term; they check dates, plan meetings and negotiate clashes. It might be for drunken birthday parties, shopping or even egging (Seriously?) but social media is giving them the chance to get to grips with juggling their personal life from a young age. Not a bad thing up to a point.

The build up to the event is significantly more important than the event itself. A head count of who is attending and the expectant commentary of the potential ‘carnage’-(apparently this is another new addition to the i-kids vocab. – I had to check at Urban dictionary before I felt suitably informed enough to use it)

These guys should stop and think though. All those you tube videos, Facebook photos and infuriatingly detailed statuses will come back to bite their eventually grown up, highly embarrassed arse.

I appreciate hugely that I am on the cusp of the MTV /Tamagotchi generation. I can still indulge in suagar coating the horrors of being a teenager. I can forget the questionable clothing during my hippy faze (purple flared cords, fish net tops and beaded trainers) and the dippy high school boyfriends who you never really saw ( guy at bus stop/ ‘stud muffin’/one with a yellow fetish). I can erase the bitchy girls that called me names, the uncomfortable feeling when your best friend is off sick and the constant immature banter. I can almost look back fondly. i have a few faded photographs and an agile memory.

But these i-kids. Man. They are going to have the stark, unforgiving video footage and photos, a documentary of all the bits in life you stumble through hard and often before you learn to tie your laces and re-route. Good luck to you. I reckon now might be the time to de-tag and delete accordingly.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

vinyl love

Had a bit of a record raid through my dad's collection, pretty much my childhood in music. There was some true cheese (a bit of peggy sue and hotel california) but some epics you should only listen to on vinyl. Picked a few based on covers. The digital graphic age should take a look back, the Marilion cover in particular - detail is insane, and The Drifters- genius!

*No I'm not a fan of Wings, but the geek in me loves the font.





Tuesday, October 19, 2010

the horrors of polyester

I may have studied fashion promotion, but the meaning of what this actually is completely escapes my family. However, they do seem to grasp the ‘fashion’ element. My grand father in particular seems to have caught on and is even evaluating what his trousers say about him. I would like to think my efforts at explaining lifestyle branding have rubbed off, but after the following episode I can see my attempts are futile.

Now let me paint you a picture. This isn’t an old man with a stick, swimming relentlessly around memories of the war. This is Grandad who is probably fitter and healthier than me, and you for that matter. He cycles sixty miles sometimes three days a week, plays tennis, grows numerous vegetables and ferries the entire family back and forth between various appointments on demand. His only request being that he is allowed a nap after lunch.

Usually we enter in to pointless rounds of stubborn debates over the definition of shepherds pie or the possibility that the meaning of the earth and everything in it is 22, and I am given no slack in consideration of my youth, (he is pretty big on anti-agism too). Yet he will sheepishly enter the dining room, modelling an impulse pair of what he says are ‘practical, I’ve jut got off my boat and going for a glass of port’ trousers . A way of speaking I am sure he as adopted from me, in which an entire garment will summarise your every dream and whim. “Well?” he asks.

I look. He is modelling, what look suspiciously like an unruly spewing of polyester trousers, in a muted duck egg blue that do no favour for his lean frame, and are not only ugly trousers but are the sort of item that would provoke hours of rebuke on the terrors of polyester from my friends and I. There are many, believe me; the static, the noise, the undeniable man made sheen and unsightly way the fabric falls, in that it doesn't fall but merely hangs in a desperate manner.

I am sure, after reading this, he will storm in dramatically demanding I take back this clear line of unprovoked abuse at his beautiful new trousers. I could almost buy in to his daydream of yachts and expensive liquor, if the polyester were cotton or linen and the colour was crisp white, but dirty blue polyester trousers Grandad say only one thing - OLD! And that is one thing your trousers should never say about you.

Saturday, October 09, 2010

..and sew to bed



“Drove from Paris to the Amsterdam Hilton, talking in our beds for a week, the newspapers say,’ what’re you doing in bed? I said ‘we’re only trying to get us some peace.”

(The Ballad of John and Yoko,The Beatles, 1969)

Liverpool City Council is hosting a John Lennon tribute season to celebrate his seventieth birthday. Named 'Bed- In', after John and Yoko’s famous bed-held protests, the exhibition celebrates John Lennon’s seventieth birthday and will be holding different events ‘in bed’ throughout October.

One of these is …and sew to bed. Collaborating with the West Everton Community Council (WCC) and One World Week, Craftivist Collective (a group of craft-expressive activists), are hand- making a quilt to adorn bed and make their protest against inequality.

Craftivists began in 2008, with the manifesto, "To expose the scandal of global poverty, and human rights injustices though the power of craft and public art. This will be done through provocative, non-violent creative actions, with the aim to show people that raising awareness of the injustices and poverty in the world can be fun, fulfilling and can build friendships all over the world. It doesn’t have to be stressful or elitist. Anyone can be a Craftivist whatever their skill or
understanding."

Founded by Sarah Corbett, an activist burnt out on the frustration and sometimes aggressive approach of established activists organisations, she filtered her protests in to a new found love for craft. The accompanying blog took off and has gained a cult following as it works on raising awareness about inequality and injustice on an international scale. This exhibition is a chance for WCC to voice local concerns, whilst the Craftivist team will be voicing global issues through their creations. The patches created for the quilt will be cross-stitched, painted or sewn to expresses relevant quotes and statistics on international inequality.

To help the Craftivists and to have your patch hand sewn and exhibited at the Bluecoat Project, create your message - be it an inspirations quote (please credit the source), a statistic or a personal message on a 7” x 7” patch of fabric and send a photo to Sarah Corbett.

For more information join the Facebook event group for "…and sew to bed."

Bed-In
October 9th – December 9th 2010,
The ‘Hub’ at Blue Coat Gallery,
School Lane,
Liverpool.

For tickets and further information please visit: Bed in at the Blue Coat


Friday, October 08, 2010

The lost art of conversation

(… and yes, I know I’m completely contradicting myself, I continue to be an avid user and lover of social networking sites)

The bright greeting of my Mac book is a sound I have come to associate with getting in from a long day and finally relaxing. I mindlessly watch as I am ‘remembered’ by my various social networks. Bombarded almost immediately with a stream of identical greetings I barely acknowledge whoever is home inquiring about my day. This need to present a simulated image of our idealised self has become an addiction, we constantly asses our represented persona. Surely it is better to live in the moment and enjoy life rather than religiously worrying yourself with recording what are largely posed memories? Our relationship with a large amount of these’ friends’ is virtual and your only understanding of their true self is what they decide to tell you on their status updates or their Mr Men personality quiz results. So occupied are we with maintaining up to the second knowledge of everyone else’s lives, and making sure our thoughts are published, we are even beginning to tell people what, in reality, are very personal thoughts. It is all so idealised, so specific; the information given so considered and compromised. Yes of course its helpful to maintain work contacts and relationships and get instant feedback from targets for research and generally keep ‘connected’, but it has become, for many, an obsession...

(for full article please email christinepettman@hotmail.com)

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

in the dentist's chair

It is funny really that we hand over forty quid or more for the joy of having our mouths wedged open to accommodate various unspecified machinery. I can usually cope with it by blocking out the heavy breathing of my bemused dentist and the metal tray of very questionable tools, by drifting off to chew over some thoughts.

What annoys and bewilders me is my dentist's assumption that I know what he means when he points at various fuzzy shapes on my x-ray and mutters technical words that I'm apparently meant to understand; concluding I must surely need a filling. I retort that I am sure I don't. He injects my gum so I feel like half of my face is at a severe disadvantage should I need to smile and converse intelligently in the next half an hour. As we all wait for it to numb, the dentist and his assistant sit poised with various invasive (and in my opinion somewhat suspicious) looking instruments. I surrender to their hopefully experienced and well trained hands whilst my mouth locks open and my spine shivers from the drill.

I could probably have retained my dignity even after I gesture like a wounded bird at the pain, and attempt a stifled reply from behind the protruding drill whilst I'm cross questioned about my career path, - but as I feel a cold line of dribble running down my chin my former self takes one look at the sorry mess I've become and bolts out the door.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

1am encounter / a spiders tale

I can't sleep.
A spider, that would have frankly been more at home in the Amazon, was loitering by my bookcase just underneath an oversized edition of 'Degas by Himself'. Very suspicious. I tried a humane capture, honestly I did, despite his obviously evil intentions. I ushered him towards a cup sternly, but he was having none of it and promptly bolted across the terrain of carpet.
What else could I do but honorably bash it on the head with last weeks Grazia?
I text K, who informs me that spiders come inside to mate at this time of year. A great comfort- fucking hell I'm probably providing low- level accommodation for the entire extended family. They are probably all in mourning for dear uncle Pete, unceremoniously murdered south of the washing basket. It's typical, I can't help thinking that the prickling feeling on my feet is not just my duvet, but an army of angry relatives, getting in to position to preform a complex 'coup de main'.

Taps dripping too. Will my torment never end?

___

I was waiting for Larry, (earwig/ renowned drunk.) We sometimes take a walk at the weekends, get away from the kids. Landlady never seems to notice. She is usually pissed at the weekends anyway so even when I've almost run over her foot she is oblivious. So she spots me. Starts yelling "look, if you come quietly i'll release you outside by the wheelie bins." Well, sod that, it was raining hard and I was due back for dinner. I made a run for it. She's half blind anyway without her glasses on so I thought what the hell. Then THWACK! I'm squished uncomfortably between the god awful brown rug she brought last tuesday and a flimsy magazine. Luckily her hearts not in it, but she screams shrilly and I play dead whilst she parades me around the house to prove I was a terrifying threat. Soon as she puts me down I'll send the signal. They'll attack at dawn. Shame I'd paid the rent already.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Manhattan murder mystery

The unmistakable dry wit and subtle observations expected of Allen’s writing make for a film full of tantalisingly funny punch lines, one of my favourites being;
“For our twentieth, I got her some very beautiful handkerchiefs ... I didn’t even know her size.”

The plot line is relatively straightforward – a middle-aged Manhattan couple, Larry (Woody Allen) and Carol (Diane Keaton), are intelligent, cultural and comfortable. They begin to suspect their neighbour of killing his wife. Yet the intricacy of how he went about it and the entwined subplots of marital uncertainties and struggles, carry the film past being duly predictable and in to a comic thriller of unfolding discoveries. It may be occasionally over-dubbed by fuzzy jazz records, but there are moments as thrilling as Hitchcock’s Psycho, diffused by Allen’s nervous disposition and turmoil of discourse with the over imaginative and inquisitive Carol.

Their interactions begin with the suspicious husband next door, and his soon-to-be-dead wife. One evening they begin chatting in the hall and soon find themselves dragged away from their cosy plans and sitting through the formalities of polite small talk. Allen complains afterwards, having faked a scrupulous examination of the neighbours stamp collection: “Yes it’s my favourite thing in life - to look at cancelled postage.”
We are quickly integrated in to the scenario by the comfortable banter and squabbles between Larry and his wife. They chat unreservedly with friends, revealing an air of worldliness and self-assurance that come with middle age. The rift between Larry and his wife being that he is reluctant to believe her mad murder theories and rebukes her rash behavior. He jealously notes that his friend Ted indulges her in the mystery with open encouragement and leering ulterior motives. Carol meanwhile, snubs Larry’s glamorous work colleague Marsha, who seems intent on solving the mystery herself and impressing both men in the process.

“We could be living next to a murderer Larry!..”
“WELL NEW YORK IS A MELTING POT, GET USED TO IT.”


One of my favourite Allen films/ witty, engaging, delicious.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

current article taster

Let’s keep it short.

It has slowly come to my attention, more vividly than the usual acknowledgement and complaints from ‘adult’ observers, that I find myself on the cusp of a generation that cannot be bothered; to cook, (order fast food) to read, (skim the net) to wait for a film, (instant access online) to write, (just text) to talk, (just email) - it goes on, and the underlying thread of all this impatience is technology. What has fast paced living done to our language? What of the habits it has induced in an entire generation that no longer even care to articulate a full word, let alone a full sentence?

...

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

fall reviews

check out http://www.phoenixmag.co.uk/ for the latest from LFW - and if you happened to grab a copy of Phoenix magazine this week then eyes peeled for my reviews on the upcoming East London Design Show and 'Future beauty: thirty years of Japanese fashion' __ if you missed it read them here __

The must-see exhibition this winter is certainly the Barbican’s - entitled ‘Future Beauty’. It is the first European exhibition to survey avant-garde Japanese fashion from the 1980’s to now, exploring the work of Japans most renowned fashion designers in relation to Japanese art, culture and costume history.

The eighties saw conceptual fashion emerge in the limelight, with the likes of Rei Kawakubo and Yohji Yamamoto, whose extraordinary work questioned conventional fashion, creating looks that were more than just clothes but works of Art. The exhibition explores the innovation of traditional Japanese garments, contrasting with a unique look at current Japanese street style and its interaction with high fashion.There is a specially commissioned series of photographs by artist and photographer Naoya Hatakeyama, and a chance to see pieces by Issey Miyake, Kenzo and Junya Watanabe, to name a few. A refreshingly angled exhibition and crash course in the fascinating and often overlooked, history, culture and fashion of Japan.

showing from 15th October 2010 -6th February 2011, barbican Art gallery, London


Situated in spacious walls of Shoreditch Town Hall, the East London Design Show is an annual event, gathering the best of fresh UK design talent and laying out their work in a creative frenzy of delightfully original art, craft and jewellery, all just in time for Christmas. A relievingly different shopping experience; you can dip in and out of the stalls (late night shopping on the Friday), stop for a coffee or attend the creative hat-making workshop. To personalise your gifts Fabrications Haberdashery have beautiful eco-friendly solutions and give you the chance to create personal bows and tags from vintage lace, scarves and ribbon.

The VIP reception and design awards take place Thursday 2nd December 2010, public shopping on the 3rd/4th/5th at Shoreditch Town Hall
380 Old Street,
London. For further information visit http://www.eastlondondesignshow.co.uk

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

book reviews

'Sleek. Chic. Notoriously guarded. Welcome to the secret world of Gabrielle Chanel.' We all have Chanel fever this year, and if two film releases and some breath taking collections from the iconic fashion house aren’t enough, then pop out and grab ‘Coco Chanel- The legend and the life; a fresh and engaging look at the personal life of fashion’s most recognisable figure. Justine Picardie writes of ‘Coco’s turbulent relationships and the startling reality of the struggle and perseverance it took to go from orphaned convent girl to smart, savvy business woman and all the loves and adventures in between. Sourced from exclusive interviews with friends, relatives and employees and a lot of rummaging in Chanel archives, Picardie gives a frank and heartfelt revelation of the woman behind the famous interlocking C’s. Released 16th September, just in time for fashion week! Published by HarperCollins, £25, hardback.

Blow by Blow: The story of Isabella Blow Isabella Blow spent thirty years achieving things most of us dream of, she began as Anna Wintour’s assistant, worked as fashion director at Tatler and as Fashion Editor of The Sunday Times magazine. She nurtured talent from Alexander McQueen, whose entire first collection she brought at the drop of a hat and Phillip Treacy, whose hats she wore with unapologetic English eccentricity in the most recognised photographs of her. But beneath this she struggled quietly with depression and her abrupt and death in 2007 sent ripples of shock through her adoring admirers and friends. Journalist Tom Sykes and Detmar Blow, her husband of twenty two years, write an intimate and intriguing story of her life and work, revealing not only her personal unhappiness and unrelenting perseverance despite this, but an exciting look at the fashion world through the eyes of the talented Isabella Blow herself. An inspiring and riveting read for every fashionista. Detman Blow and Tom Sykes, Published HarperCollins, 2nd September 2010, £20 hardback


Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Chasing butterflies

A passing, elusive flutter

Flirting in the edge of your eye.

Delighted, needy, you grab-

It slips away, oblivious.

You wait, persistent.

Creep up slowly, your in control now

Quietly, softly…

Move like your own shadow, hands cupped.

Reach! Clinging, desperate heart,

A brief relief at recognition.

Words hang in the air, unspoken, caressed and in that moment of quiet illusion

Pounce, open up and pour forth your stream of truths.

Fingers achingly extended, a scare connection,

A silky, sting of contact.

Then gone.

Over.

Dejected, Still.

Eyes closed. Still.

A warm breeze scrapes your cheek, once, ignored, twice, skin prickles,

Alert now.

New, hopeful wings beating softly.

Begin again.

Thursday, September 02, 2010

"what attracts me in such a manner of seeing is that, as far as the eye can see, it recreates desire." _ Andre Breton, Mad Love, 1934
'In a sentimental mood' _ acrylic on board.
i'll love you forever/ i'll like you for always.

The Surreal House

The most delightfully crass piece was contemporary artist’s Noble and Webster’s ‘Metal fucking rats’ (2006), in the Panic Space room

I am more than partial to the tantalising fantasies of Salvador Dali and the baffling explanations of Freud so I took myself along to the Barbican’s Surreal House exhibition to savour the delights they had brought together.

The pieces were located in various ‘rooms’ of the house and you explore, stopping to examine various installations, paintings and film footage, constantly feeling excited and on edge. I was studying a remarkable sketch by Dali of a obscure face, propped up by poles and prodding a female breast, whose head looked not dissimilar from a light fixture, when a loud crash of distorted piano notes echoed from deeper inside and tore me away to investigate. A baby grand piano hangs upside, suspended from the ceiling and the keys horribly bent and stretched, emitting off key twangs before returning to its un-tampered form until another two minutes had passed and so it repeats itself. This was Rebecca horn’ Concert for anarchy,(1990).

It was beautifully curated in the way you were swept unexpectedly on to the next room by a flicker of light from a film, or a glimpse of a half finished staircase ahead. It felt rather like that nervous, enchanted tickle of apprehension you get at the start of a rollercoaster ride or at a poignant moment in a horror film. It made itself particularly known in the small dark space showing Jan Svankmajers’ ‘Down to the cellar’ (1982), where a small blue eyed girl explores an underground cellar. There is coal everywhere, one man scrapes it over himself to mimic a duvet, a woman breaks eggs and mixes the sooty concoction in to black cakes, and the little girl watches, entranced. This nightmarish quality where you can’t quite tear your eyes away encompassed the entire exhibit and brought some remarkable pieces to light – a must see this season! It certainly got me thinking about dreams and their distortions and rationalising of the obscure in the subconscious.

C.Pettman

The Surreal House, Barbican art gallery 10th June- 12th September 2010

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Thursday, July 22, 2010

WORKING ON A NEW SERIES OF PAINTINGS -> 'INSIDE THE COFFEE POT' |
AND BOOK ->'AS BLUE EYES START TO FADE'

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Snoopers Paradise


7-8 Kensington Gardens
Brighton, East Sussex BN1 4AL
01273 602 558

At first I disregarded the crowded windows and unorganised chaotic displays as a wasted space filed with unwanted junk and a lingering musty smell. But something lured me in as I saw other onlookers stray from the bustling side streets of Brighton with an intent to satisfy a nagging insistence that a certain object was waiting to catch their eye and speak to them alone from amongst the disorderly stacks of forgotten things. It is literally insane, every gap is filled with piles of jewellery, records, photographs, slides, toys, lamps, clocks, clothing, ornaments, suitcases and guitars, an endless lists of ‘things’ that make up a visual evidence of a persons life. You can wander at ease around the different rooms, carefully organised despite the jumble of objects. It is a maze of space bulging with trinkets and ‘bits and bobs’ that could supply endless inspirations for fashion shoots, paintings and interior styling. Aptly named, you can snoop through another’s past, dipping in to a paradise pool of stories. Recommended for an inquisitive mind seeking inspiration or if you want to replace your old junk with someone else’s!

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

BRITISH POLLUTERS -poem inspired by greenpeace's latest campaign against BP'S lack of responsibility in oil spill crisis

'It's ok'

Don't you worry your pretty little head.

Its not your fault the earth is dead.

FUCK IT!


Stomp your carbon boots about!

blacken the oceans, murder the trout.

iT'S OK!- ... so you don't like green?

you'd rather sit just in between.

Don't you worry, we have loads of trees,

It's not your fault the ice won't freeze.

Push it under your cooperate rug,

lay out excuses. Go on! feel smug!

It's OK!- ...so your empty inside?

Dont let your conscience overrule your pride!

Christine Pettman

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

inspired by long analytical conversations with the girlies, special thanks to K.B! XOX

Relationships. A wireless connection?

After a secret indulgent few hours of sex and the city re runs, I noted that even in the last series the importance of technology in relationships is completely brushed over. Yes that sounds clinical and inhumane almost, but it’s a rather guilty truth that rests beneath our sub-consciousness and supposedly moral superiority as women who ‘have it all’. Yet surely our adamant dismissal only re enforces our obvious avoidance of the fact, that we have more reliance than ever on technology to help us form and sustain relationships?

In life generally the ease of communication is so readily available, so effortless that we barely acknowledge our use of it. My grandparents’ generation waste hours in pre-arrangements to rendezvous at a later date, working themselves in to a bickering turmoil of potential times and places. I agonisingly listen, fully aware that this triviality of pre arrangement can be cut out completely through a simple text. Technology can make spontaneity more than just a thought in our crammed days, but a realistic possibility. An unexpected phone call and free window of time at the right moment can delightfully shift the flow of your day in to a new path. For general practicality then, it keeps things efficient and makes time for sudden opportunities to arise and experiences to be had.

But with relationships it makes things tricky. A generation that never turns off their phones and are constantly reachable through this permanently open portal of communication, leave little space for solitude and uninterrupted time with their own thoughts or even with a real person...

(for full article email christinepettman@hotmail.com)


Tuesday, March 23, 2010

latest antics


Final major for uni; a book on street culture in Barcelona, and my personal experience upon finding it. Blog is a work in progress, watch this space!
http://thecolourofbarcelona.blogspot.com/


Thursday, February 25, 2010

A quick jaunt to Oxford darrrhling..


More bikes than cars,
Earl grey and Lacrosse,
Jack Wills,
serious faces,
food market,
french,a breakup and politics over paninis,
quick sprint to Topshop.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Backstage at Ada Zanditon

What inspired the hair styling for the Ada Zandition show?
"We wanted to achieve was a very young and playful feel, creating quite a bit of texture, and then to keep it fresh we are swapped everything to one side and swept it in to a figure of eight twist. We created a very matted texture, but contrasted this with a beautiful sweeping wave at the front.
We didn’t want to overpower the clothes and swept hair aside a little to show the beautiful detailing on the shoulders of some of the garments."

What are the hair trends for Autumn/Winter 2010?
"The quick fix, ‘bad hair day’ plait is sticking around, it's quick, it's easy and always looks great so it is something the consumers will definitely wear. Also tampering with texture, a chemically over-processed, messy look… and colours definitely, pastel colours are coming in, blues, pinks and silvery tones that certainly reflect some of the forthcoming collections."

Words: Christine Pettman
Image: Eddie Blagbrough

Beekay


Beekay’s Autumn/Winter 2010 collection was inspired by trees, looking at their round circumferences and the shapes made from the branches. “I wanted to challenge myself by using a very simple starting point and seeing what I could do with it, and how I could develop it.” Evidence of how the circular tree trunk has inspired the collection is clear in the structure of the garments, everything is round: the hoods, the panelling and zips. Usually inspired by a story, Beekay used the pressure he felt for a second collection and cycle of his thoughts as a point of inspiration.
The collection is entirely black, broken up by denim trousers coated with latex glue to add a silver sheen, and a frenzy of YKK zips. YKK, the globally recognized zip company, have played a key part in assisting Beekay’s current collection and he is due to sign with them for further involvement in the future. The jackets and t-shirts are made from suede and jersey to create a very comfortable, wearable collection.
After working three seasons for Aminaka Wilmont, there is definite evidence of how this influenced Beekay, not just in the grungy, moody tone of the collection but also the use of print, which you can see in his t-shirts, and leather. Julius Garden, Beekays favourite menswear designer, has helped mould his designs in to a distinctive, experimental and wearable brand.
Beekay explained how the work of Vauxhall Fashion Scout is important platform when it comes to showing menswear as an up and coming designer, “I’m really happy with all the support and exposure and I’m looking forward to showing with them again next season.” His next collection is remaining under wraps although Beekay hinted that “bugs” may be an element of his next concept.

Words: Christine Pettman
Images: Eddie Blagbrough