irrespressibles by daria h
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011 by Toni Bowater.
Bunmi Koko was undoubtedly one of my best new discoveries of last season, troche so it was with great anticipation that I sat down for this show next to Lucy Jones – director of Fashion Textiles at the University of East London – who I recognised from the FAD awards last year. Designer Bunmi Olaye is one of her star pupils and in fact still operates out of a studio that the university provides for her. Definitely a big boon for a young designer.
Bunmi prides herself on her business acumen, which was thoroughly present and correct with the large fabric goodie bag stashed under front row seats. Inside mine was a beautifully presented cupcake (soon to be thoughtlessly squashed) as well as an incredibly thorough press pack that included a lovely set of postcards with fashion illustrations of her S/S collection, an explanatory foldout detailing Bunmi’s achievements and inspirations behind Kaleidoscopia, and then to top it all off a mini newspaper: The Bunmi Koko Times. This girl sure knows how to market herself!
Bunmi’s show began with a short movie – a great idea in theory but a bit odd in practice – involving as it did some clubby graphics and James Bond-ish silhouettes. I wasn’t really sure what it contributed to the whole. Then the show was off with a run – and when I say run I really do mean run. The models were moving quickly at most shows, but at Bunmi’s they were moving at such a lick that it was nigh on impossible to capture them through a lens.
It’s a good thing I like to capture models on the hop rather than front on like the paps. The clubby graphics – inspired by rainbows, supernovas and mirages – splashed across wide tutus, wrap dresses and clutch bags. I particularly liked the clever of use of futuristic ruching over shoulders and across breastbones.
I loved the elegant purple suit and an eye-popping orange woolly dress, which bounced down the catwalk in a spray of moth-orgasmic fluff. I wasn’t so keen on the metallic leather pieces, which looked cheap by comparison.
Despite the clever styling with diamante encrusted visors, Kaleidoscopia felt far less cohesive than her last collection and left me wondering what exactly the Bunmi aesthetic is. It was all over so quickly that I hardly had time to digest it before Bunmi herself spilled out onto the catwalk, grinning broadly and sporting a t-shirt for Fill The Cup – a fashion range that will send profits to feed hungry children across the world. The conclusion? Good work from a promising young designer, but needs refining.
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Sunday March 6th, 2011 7:12 pm
irrespressibles by daria h
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011 by Toni Bowater.
Bunmi Koko was undoubtedly one of my best new discoveries of last season, troche so it was with great anticipation that I sat down for this show next to Lucy Jones – director of Fashion Textiles at the University of East London – who I recognised from the FAD awards last year. Designer Bunmi Olaye is one of her star pupils and in fact still operates out of a studio that the university provides for her. Definitely a big boon for a young designer.
Bunmi prides herself on her business acumen, which was thoroughly present and correct with the large fabric goodie bag stashed under front row seats. Inside mine was a beautifully presented cupcake (soon to be thoughtlessly squashed) as well as an incredibly thorough press pack that included a lovely set of postcards with fashion illustrations of her S/S collection, an explanatory foldout detailing Bunmi’s achievements and inspirations behind Kaleidoscopia, and then to top it all off a mini newspaper: The Bunmi Koko Times. This girl sure knows how to market herself!
Bunmi’s show began with a short movie – a great idea in theory but a bit odd in practice – involving as it did some clubby graphics and James Bond-ish silhouettes. I wasn’t really sure what it contributed to the whole. Then the show was off with a run – and when I say run I really do mean run. The models were moving quickly at most shows, but at Bunmi’s they were moving at such a lick that it was nigh on impossible to capture them through a lens.
It’s a good thing I like to capture models on the hop rather than front on like the paps. The clubby graphics – inspired by rainbows, supernovas and mirages – splashed across wide tutus, wrap dresses and clutch bags. I particularly liked the clever of use of futuristic ruching over shoulders and across breastbones.
I loved the elegant purple suit and an eye-popping orange woolly dress, which bounced down the catwalk in a spray of moth-orgasmic fluff. I wasn’t so keen on the metallic leather pieces, which looked cheap by comparison.
Despite the clever styling with diamante encrusted visors, Kaleidoscopia felt far less cohesive than her last collection and left me wondering what exactly the Bunmi aesthetic is. It was all over so quickly that I hardly had time to digest it before Bunmi herself spilled out onto the catwalk, grinning broadly and sporting a t-shirt for Fill The Cup – a fashion range that will send profits to feed hungry children across the world. The conclusion? Good work from a promising young designer, but needs refining.
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Sunday March 6th, 2011 7:12 pm
Fashion Week Poland 2011 street style. All photography Amelia Gregory.
Finding the most interesting people to take photos of at any fashion week is always a lot of fun, adiposity especially in a new and interesting place where I’m not competing with a thousand street style photographers. Here, website like this then, are the most fabulously dressed people at Fashion Week Poland, part one: the stand outs in the crowd at the Expo arena where the more mainstream Designers’ Avenue catwalk shows were held. As you can see colour blocking is as massive in ?ód? as it is elsewhere in the world right now, but the Polish also like to go to town with a slightly zany vintage touch, quite often referencing the 80s. Love it.
You’ve got to love the crown!
This girl was magnificently turned out every time I saw her. So admire the dedication.
Her own dye job. I asked.
This boy had made his amazing neck piece out of plastic pricing tags.
Pink Voyager in the picture (that’s the cuddly pink toy)
I don’t know who this woman is but I think she might be famous as she was quite pissed at me when I asked to take her pic. So sorry to offend you with my request Miss Sourpuss, but loved your pastel colour blocking.
Hmm, slightly questionable look this one.
These two looks are both by the same Polish based Russian designer, whose name escapes me right now. If you read this remind me what your name is please!
Having been driven into town in a Jaguar courtesy of a rather enthusiastic James Bond alike (and owner of the firm that was lending the cars – you wouldn’t get that kind of personal touch at London Fashion Week now would you?) I hastened to attend my very first show of Fashion Week Poland on Friday afternoon, there part of the Designers’ Avenue at the Expo arena. It wasn’t a particularly auspicious start to my weekend, shopNatalia Jaroszewska showing an off colour blend of mustard yellows, treat brown, moss and jade brights in swirling 70s designs.
There was a muddled mix of shapes: sweeping chiffon silk dresses with frilled cape detailing, shaggy gilets and (fake? I fear not) fur coats… but most of all what I noticed was the jewellery. Jewellery which looked as though it had come straight off the wall at Claire’s Accessories, and looked cheap and tacky on the catwalk. It was a sign that styling could be much improved for many of the shows… see what you think…
Natalia Jaroszewska at Fashion Week Poland A/W 2011. All photography by Amelia Gregory.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Monday May 23rd, 2011 2:25 pm
Having been driven into town in a Jaguar courtesy of a rather enthusiastic James Bond alike (and owner of the firm that was lending the cars – you wouldn’t get that kind of personal touch at London Fashion Week now would you?) I hastened to attend my very first show of Fashion Week Poland on Friday afternoon, there part of the Designers’ Avenue at the Expo arena. It wasn’t a particularly auspicious start to my weekend, shopNatalia Jaroszewska showing an off colour blend of mustard yellows, treat brown, moss and jade brights in swirling 70s designs.
There was a muddled mix of shapes: sweeping chiffon silk dresses with frilled cape detailing, shaggy gilets and (fake? I fear not) fur coats… but most of all what I noticed was the jewellery. Jewellery which looked as though it had come straight off the wall at Claire’s Accessories, and looked cheap and tacky on the catwalk. It was a sign that styling could be much improved for many of the shows… see what you think…
Natalia Jaroszewska at Fashion Week Poland A/W 2011. All photography by Amelia Gregory.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Monday May 23rd, 2011 2:25 pm
A utopian ‘community in the sky’, website like this was the dream of architect Ernö Goldfinger when he designed Balfron Tower in Poplar, East London. This may or may not be the result today, but the effort remains fascinating. The impressive tower, part of a social housing complex near the Blackwall tunnel under the Thames, keeps capturing artists’ imagination, most recently that of Simon Terrill as he initiated The Balfron Project.
The photographer went one step further than most and followed in the footsteps of Goldfinger himself, by moving into the high-rise. Like the architect did 32 years earlier, he invited his new neighbours to come and talk about their experience of living in the building. The eventual result was an hour-long photo shoot, where the residents came out onto their balconies and lawns to be a part of Terrill’s photo of their home.
The Balfron Project by Simon Terrill
Last night at The Nunnery Gallery in Bow we could see the result – a massive, stunning photograph of the tower, beautifully lit against a dark sky. Gallery visitors crowded around to take in the details, with each balcony and window showing the lives of another family living in this City of London heirloom. Some of the tower’s inhabitants were present at the opening, proudly pointing out which flat was theirs. ‘The project does not seek to fictionalise nor expose the lives of those who call the tower home. What the Balfron Project will do, for the first time since the building’s inception, is to generate an arena for reciprocal viewing,’ said Simon Terrill.
Goldfinger applied the lessons from Balfron when designing the bigger Trellick Tower in West London, and both buildings remain subjects of fascination. Novelist JG Ballard featured Balfron in his book ‘High-Rise’, while Danny Boyle put it in his post-apocalyptic film ’28 Days Later’. Goldfinger’s futuristic visions meant the architect himself became the inspiration behind the James Bond villain of the same name.
While Terrill’s image of Balfron Tower is beautiful, those who haven’t seen the tower in real life should make sure to do so if they make the trip to Bow. The tower is not far away, at St Leonard’s Road in Poplar. A couple of blocks from Balfron is another brutalist structure, Robin Hood Gardens, where architects Alison and Peter Smithson set out to create ‘streets in the sky’. The structure has outdoor walkways broad enough for several people, but unlike Balfron, Robin Hood does not enjoy listed building-status. This means Robin Hood is looking increasingly rough around the edges, but in spite of this, or maybe because of it, it’s definitely worth seeing as well.
A utopian ‘community in the sky’, website like this was the dream of architect Ernö Goldfinger when he designed Balfron Tower in Poplar, East London. This may or may not be the result today, but the effort remains fascinating. The impressive tower, part of a social housing complex near the Blackwall tunnel under the Thames, keeps capturing artists’ imagination, most recently that of Simon Terrill as he initiated The Balfron Project.
The photographer went one step further than most and followed in the footsteps of Goldfinger himself, by moving into the high-rise. Like the architect did 32 years earlier, he invited his new neighbours to come and talk about their experience of living in the building. The eventual result was an hour-long photo shoot, where the residents came out onto their balconies and lawns to be a part of Terrill’s photo of their home.
The Balfron Project by Simon Terrill
Last night at The Nunnery Gallery in Bow we could see the result – a massive, stunning photograph of the tower, beautifully lit against a dark sky. Gallery visitors crowded around to take in the details, with each balcony and window showing the lives of another family living in this City of London heirloom. Some of the tower’s inhabitants were present at the opening, proudly pointing out which flat was theirs. ‘The project does not seek to fictionalise nor expose the lives of those who call the tower home. What the Balfron Project will do, for the first time since the building’s inception, is to generate an arena for reciprocal viewing,’ said Simon Terrill.
Goldfinger applied the lessons from Balfron when designing the bigger Trellick Tower in West London, and both buildings remain subjects of fascination. Novelist JG Ballard featured Balfron in his book ‘High-Rise’, while Danny Boyle put it in his post-apocalyptic film ’28 Days Later’. Goldfinger’s futuristic visions meant the architect himself became the inspiration behind the James Bond villain of the same name.
While Terrill’s image of Balfron Tower is beautiful, those who haven’t seen the tower in real life should make sure to do so if they make the trip to Bow. The tower is not far away, at St Leonard’s Road in Poplar. A couple of blocks from Balfron is another brutalist structure, Robin Hood Gardens, where architects Alison and Peter Smithson set out to create ‘streets in the sky’. The structure has outdoor walkways broad enough for several people, but unlike Balfron, Robin Hood does not enjoy listed building-status. This means Robin Hood is looking increasingly rough around the edges, but in spite of this, or maybe because of it, it’s definitely worth seeing as well.
Fifteen typefaces designed for commercial use, seek 2010 (A2-TYPE, doctor London)
On a bitingly chilly but sunny Saturday afternoon, sildenafil I sauntered down to the A2/SW/HK design studio in the heart of Hoxton to meet Henrik Kubel, one half of the talented A2/SW/HK duo. With a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it entrance, the studio is housed on the third floor of an old textile warehouse, exuding understated coolness. On entering, I feel as if I have reached some kind of design nirvana where the huge windows splash a radiant bright light onto the pristine white walls, furniture and Macs. I quickly glance around the room to see work tops sprawled with rolled up papers and intricate-looking sketches; a vintage Remington Standard typewriter nestles comfortably amongst a collection of art titles on the glossy white shelves – the mother of type. Standing tall and smart-nonchalantly dressed in a well-fitted navy blue jacket with a thin red trimming, off-white shirt and faded blue jeans, Kubel looks picture-perfect in his surroundings.
Zadie Smith: On Beauty, 2005—06 (Penguin Books, New York); hardback and paperback cover designs including bespoke typefaces
For typography and branding enthusiasts, viewing the latest A2/SW/HK typeface collection that recently launched online is the equivalent of setting a restrained, hyperactive child free in a sweet shop. Spanning over 15 years of work, the array of fonts range from the delicate, swirling Zadie, commissioned by Penguin Books New York for the US version of the novel On Beauty by Zadie Smith (hence the name), to the heavier, more robust Impacto, which cuts a dashing and authorative figure, as its name suggests. Similar to walking into a department store to choose an appropriate outfit for a function, A2/SW/HK have meticulously crafted a typeface for every occasion, depending on the message and feeling the consumer would like to convey.
The impressive collection comprises of 15 typefaces, many of which have multiple weights (fonts), with each font containing 256 characters. Overall, there are 53 fonts to marvel at totaling 13,568 individual glyphs (these include all members of the alphabet, diacritics, numbers, symbols and punctuations).
Psycho Buildings, 2008 (Hayward Gallery, London); art direction, bespoke typefaces and design
The typefaces were previously designed for bespoke projects across various media platforms including print, screen and interiors, however, the launch of the collection in their entirety means that, for the first time ever, the fonts are available for general use. “The typefaces can be used for any type of advertising now; even by two different fashion brands if they want,” says Kubel. “A typeface can work for many people in different ways, depending on who the creative director is and how they choose to use it. You’d be surprised at how many times a single typeface can be used to present different meanings for different jobs.”
Lisson Gallery, 2008 (Lisson Gallery, London); redesign of existing identity
Although A2/SW/HK is essentially a two-man strong team, don’t be fooled by their size. Formed in 2000, the pair have worked with a number of leading national and international clients, providing design consultancy, art direction, brand identity, website design and bespoke typography. Their recent client list includes Hayward Gallery, Lisson Gallery, Tate, Design Museum London, Phaidon Press, Faber & Faber, Penguin Press New York, Royal Mail, Danish Post, Vogue UK and MoMA. “I don’t see ourselves in the category of a small business,” says Kubel. “We are a creative design studio and it doesn’t matter whether we are ten people or two people. If you look at big businesses, they might have a work force of fifteen people but from a creative point of view there’s only two. We’re very self-sufficient.”
Fabric of Fashion, 2001 (British Council, London); bespoke typefaces and design
Born in Denmark, Kubel was exposed to art from an early age (his mother was an artist and encouraged painting) and developed a passion for type at the age of eleven when he discovered graffiti. In 1997, after graduating from Denmark’s Design School in Copenhagen, Kubel moved to London to do his Masters at the Royal College of Art where he met his design and business partner Scott Williams. “When Scott and I graduated, we just thought ‘lets do our own thing’ which is ridiculous now come to think of it. We had no network, no clients, no idea of anything – all we had was our creativity.” Yet following their graduation, with minimal resources, their gritty determination and hard work led to them being selected by highly acclaimed visual communications magazine Creative Review to feature in their annual ‘Creative Futures’ show, an initiative showcasing the most promising graduates to watch from across the country.
Radical Fashion, 2001 (V&A Museum, London); art direction, bespoke typefaces and design
Although Kubel downplays his and Williams’ achievement, attributing their selection by Creative Review to ‘just luck’, it is clear the raw talent that the duo possessed was enough to capture the attention of a representative at the British Council who subsequently signed them up to their first ever commission. “We ran a very successful project called Fabric of Fashion in 2001 and at the opening of the show, we met one of the editors who worked at the V&A so landed our next stint, which was about radical fashion – it was all very exclusive.” Post-radical fashion, more commissions ensued and as word got out of the duo’s work and their creative circles widened, their client list began to grow.
With an eclectic (and damn cool) portfolio which includes the cover design and bespoke typefaces for the complete works of Samuel Beckett (2009-2010; commissioned by Faber and Faber), sheet and typeface designs for Ian Fleming’s James Bond limited edition stamps (2008; commissioned by Royal Mail UK), and the ‘Reading Room’ exhibition design and print campaign for the Turner Prize Exhibition (2002-2007; commissioned by Tate Britain), which also made the front page of The Independent, to name a few, it is a collaboration with Margaret Calvert, an old tutor of Kubel’s at the Royal College of Art, on the New Rail Alphabet, which he names as being one of his career highlights. A revival of the British Rail alphabet originally designed by Calvert in 1965, which was used nationwide with British Rail, BAA and the NHS, was digitised, updated and re-launched in 2009 with a family of six weights.
New Rail Alphabet, 2009 (A2-TYPE, London); typeface in six weights; designed in close collaboration with Margaret Calvert
Despite a well-decorated mantelpiece, complacency is not something that festers within the fabric of Kubel’s work ethic. “We may have achieved a lot but it doesn’t get any easier. You’re always judged by your last piece of work and I’m worried about looking back at my career and not being happy with the work I’ve produced.” He pauses briefly before calmly adding: “But there are only a few pieces that I feel this way about. Overall, I’m pretty happy with the work we’ve done and don’t mind looking back.”
Ian Fleming’s James Bond, 2008 (Royal Mail, UK); miniature sheet design and bespoke typeface
The weekend that I meet Kubel, he is in particularly fine form. Earlier in the week, he received news that he had been awarded a three-year working grant by the Danish Art Foundation, which is one of the most sought for and prestigious working grants awarded by the Nordic country for exceptional quality of artistic production and artistic talent. Kubel has worked almost non-stop over the past decade, and the grant means that he can now afford to invest some time in himself, creating more headspace for new ideas. “I shed a tear when I found out and called my mom; imagine how proud she is?” he says with a content but tired smile.
Turner Prize Exhibition design, 2002—07 (Tate Britain, London); art direction, design and bespoke typeface
In an industry which constantly strives to be ‘achingly hip’ and ‘cutting-edge’, A2/SW/HK’s approach to their work is refreshingly non-pretentious, which is what many of their clients may find appealing. “It’s the thinking and sensibility behind the solutions that makes us strong. I don’t see us as being ‘trendy’ but I don’t see us as being ‘old fashioned’ either – we are probably somewhere in between,” Kubel expresses. “We don’t work to trends, we work on what we feel best complements our clients’ brand values.”
Ergonomics — Real Design, 2009—2010 (Design Museum, London); exhibition identity, applied graphics and brochure including bespoke display typeface; exhibition design by Michael Marriot; photography courtesy of Luke Hayes & A2/SW/HK
In the design and communication industries, the choice of type may have many different connotations and certain typefaces are chosen to represent a brand because they effectively embody the product’s philosophy. This may, in turn, help to explain why we have a certain affinity for some brands more than others. For A2/SW/HK, understanding this psychological aspect of branding is the crux of their trade. “Typography is hugely important. Everything you look at contains letters – it’s used for direction, it’s used for instruction, it’s everywhere. If you can’t read and write you’re lost, aren’t you? That’s what binds society together, it’s communication.”
In a market that already contains 200,000 typefaces, does Kubel think there will be a day when the typeface market will be saturated and there will be no more typefaces to explore? “It’s already saturated but that doesn’t mean you should stop designing. It’s been said many times before, we need new films, new music, new exhibitions, new chairs, new painters and we need new typefaces.”
Summer of Love: Art of the Psychedelic Era, 2005 (Tate Liverpool); art direction, design and bespoke typeface
During the course of the interview, Kubel shows me some of his sketch books, a collection of sketches and scribbles, images torn out of newspapers/magazines, and various other eclectic items which looks like an art project in itself. “It’s very personal but this is how I keep my inspiration and ideas,” he says. As we talk at his spotless white ‘consultation’ table, there is a moment when I mentally take a snapshot of him casually drawing a letter ‘R’ with a graphite pencil on a sheet of paper in front of him. The letter is so perfectly formed that it looks as if it has been produced with a Letraset font style pack, with angles and lines drawn like a ruler has been pressed against their edges – I couldn’t help but comment. “People say that if you spend 10,000 hours on something, you become a master…,” he coolly replies. “…I’ve probably spent 8,000 drawing typefaces.”
A2/SW/HK Process AGI Poster, 2010
Typography Workshop Posters, 2000—06 (Buckinghamshire Chilterns University College); posters (40+ in series)
Kubel strikes me as somewhat of a paradoxical figure, humble yet self-assured, content yet massively ambitious. Speaking of his life prior to London, he says: “I remember when I was at the Danish Design School and we visited the Royal College (of Arts) and I knew I wanted to get in. I knew I wanted to go to London, learn the language and find someone to set up a design studio with. I was very naïve.” Naïve he may have been but in effect, he has achieved everything he set out to do – and then some. Having realised his dream of studying at the Royal College of Arts, he now teaches at the world-renowned institution twice a month. “My students are scarily talented – I am teaching my competitors of the future but I was taught there myself. The Royal College means a lot to me and I will give back as much as I can for as long as I can.”
Cold War Modern, Design 1945—1970, 2008 (V&A Museum, London); art direction and bespoke typefaces
As our interview draws to a close, and my mind is buzzing with more questions about typefaces and I entertain myself with the thought that on some level, humans and fonts are quite similar in relation to their variety, heritage and what they stand for, I ask Kubel which font he thinks would best describe him. He ponders for a moment, cocking his head to one side and glances out of the window onto the terrace, which is beginning to speckle with raindrops, to gather his thoughts. “You’d have to put a lot of typefaces together to describe me; I’m not one, I’m very broad,” he says with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. “I draw all styles, from very eclectic to very bland; it’s me and my personality. I’m a chameleon typeface.”
The new A2/SW/HK typeface collection is now available online and can be found here.
A2/SW/HK have also teamed up with Playtype who will releasing additional fonts from the A2/SW/HK library in December 2010.
Written by Kat Phan on Tuesday November 2nd, 2010 10:10 pm
Du Goudron et des Plumes Ellie Sutton Du Goudron et des Plumes by Compagnie MPTA with Mathurin Bolze started with a swinging platform lowered slowly over the heads of the performers, medications crushing them into the floor. They emerged from beneath, generic ripping out the innards, transforming the planks into a clanking and clattering playground as the dancers/acrobats/I’m not really sure what you call them swung adeptly, building and destroying, meeting and parting. Rotating vignettes from everyday life met with random acts of acrobatic grace, often finely tuned for comedic effect – the performers scaling planks to sit, gnome like, at the top, or hanging upside down to mirror each other.
The platform rose, swaying, as paper sheets were unleashed to shade the manic silhouettes of the characters behind until, in a flurry of motion, the paper was ripped apart. From minimalist jazz to crashing bells, the soundtrack was finely tuned to the minutest motion. The platform tilted as the occupants scrabbled to maintain control, clinging to each other. My later reading of the notes tells me this was a metaphor for our unstable future on this earth. The show ended with them mired in the middle as if aboard a desperate life raft.
I’d like to say that I drifted off rather frequently during this show because I’m really pre-occupied with the launch of my new book this Friday, but the fact is I probably would have done anyway… for me, that’s the trouble with theatrical shows that lack a strong narrative. At times the rhythm and flow of the five fluid acrobats had me gripped, but then I would find I’d gone somewhere else entirely (shit, I don’t have enough drink for 300 guests) as they swung repeatedly from side to side, the motion acting as a hypnotist’s pendulum to send me off… and when I snapped to the scene had completely changed…a character was half naked smoking a pipe at the end of a plank, the lone girl was swinging wildly through the air astride a rope swing, a man was swinging wildly from the oversized lamp. Director Mathurin Bolze calls this effect “mesmerising patterns.”
Du Goudron et des Plumes by Compagnie MPTA with Mathurin Bolze started with a swinging platform lowered slowly over the heads of the performers, visit this site crushing them into the floor. They emerged from beneath, viagra 40mg ripping out the innards, price transforming the planks into a clanking and clattering playground as the dancers/acrobats/I’m not really sure what you call them swung adeptly, building and destroying, meeting and parting. Rotating vignettes from everyday life met with random acts of acrobatic grace, often finely tuned for comedic effect – the performers scaling planks to sit, gnome like, at the top, or hanging upside down to mirror each other.
The platform rose, swaying, as paper sheets were unleashed to shade the manic silhouettes of the characters behind until, in a flurry of motion, the paper was ripped apart. From minimalist jazz to crashing bells, the soundtrack was finely tuned to the minutest motion. The platform tilted as the occupants scrabbled to maintain control, clinging to each other. My later reading of the notes tells me this was a metaphor for our unstable future on this earth. The show ended with them mired in the middle as if aboard a desperate life raft.
I’d like to say that I drifted off rather frequently during this show because I’m really pre-occupied with the launch of my new book this Friday, but the fact is I probably would have done anyway… for me, that’s the trouble with theatrical shows that lack a strong narrative. At times the rhythm and flow of the five fluid acrobats had me gripped, but then I would find I’d gone somewhere else entirely (shit, I don’t have enough drink for 300 guests) as they swung repeatedly from side to side, the motion acting as a hypnotist’s pendulum to send me off… and when I snapped to the scene had completely changed…a character was half naked smoking a pipe at the end of a plank, the lone girl was swinging wildly through the air astride a rope swing, a man was swinging wildly from the oversized lamp. Director Mathurin Bolze calls this effect “mesmerising patterns.”
Du Goudron et des Plumes by Compagnie MPTA with Mathurin Bolze started with a swinging platform lowered slowly over the heads of the performers, medicine crushing them into the floor. They emerged from beneath, nurse ripping out the innards, transforming the planks into a clanking and clattering playground as the dancers/acrobats/I’m not really sure what you call them swung adeptly, building and destroying, meeting and parting. Rotating vignettes from everyday life met with random acts of acrobatic grace, often finely tuned for comedic effect – the performers scaling planks to sit, gnome like, at the top, or hanging upside down to mirror each other.
The platform rose, swaying, as paper sheets were unleashed to shade the manic silhouettes of the characters behind until, in a flurry of motion, the paper was ripped apart. From minimalist jazz to crashing bells, the soundtrack was finely tuned to the minutest motion. The platform tilted as the occupants scrabbled to maintain control, clinging to each other. My later reading of the notes tells me this was a metaphor for our unstable future on this earth. The show ended with them mired in the middle as if aboard a desperate life raft.
I’d like to say that I drifted off rather frequently during this show because I’m really pre-occupied with the launch of my new book this Friday, but the fact is I probably would have done anyway… for me, that’s the trouble with theatrical shows that lack a strong narrative. At times the rhythm and flow of the five fluid acrobats had me gripped, but then I would find I’d gone somewhere else entirely (shit, I don’t have enough drink for 300 guests) as they swung repeatedly from side to side, the motion acting as a hypnotist’s pendulum to send me off… and when I snapped to the scene had completely changed…a character was half naked smoking a pipe at the end of a plank, the lone girl was swinging wildly through the air astride a rope swing, a man was swinging wildly from the oversized lamp. Director Mathurin Bolze calls this effect “mesmerising patterns.”
Du Goudron et des Plumes by Compagnie MPTA with Mathurin Bolze started with a swinging platform lowered slowly over the heads of the performers, look crushing them into the floor. They emerged from beneath, order ripping out the innards, transforming the planks into a clanking and clattering playground as the dancers/acrobats/I’m-not-really-sure-what-you-call-them swung adeptly, building and destroying, meeting and parting. Rotating vignettes from everyday life met with random acts of acrobatic grace, often finely tuned for comedic effect – the performers scaling planks to sit, gnome like, at the top, or hanging upside down to mirror each other.
The platform rose, swaying, as paper sheets were unleashed to shadow the manic silhouettes of the characters behind until, in a flurry of motion, the paper was ripped apart. From minimalist jazz to crashing bells the soundtrack was finely tuned to the minutest motion, and as the platform tilted the occupants scrabbled to maintain control, clinging to each other, pushing and pulling. My later reading of the notes tells me this was a metaphor for our unstable future on this earth, and how we can either act together to survive or fail apart. The show ended with them mired in the middle as if aboard a desperate life raft.
I’d like to say that I drifted off rather frequently during this show because I’m really pre-occupied with the launch of my new book this Friday, but the fact is I probably would have done anyway… for me, that’s the trouble with theatrical shows that lack a strong narrative. At times the rhythm and flow of the five fluid acrobats had me gripped, but then I would find I’d gone somewhere else entirely as they swung repeatedly from side to side (shit, I don’t have enough drink for 300 guests), the motion acting as a hypnotist’s pendulum to send me off… and when I snapped to the scene had completely changed…a character was half naked smoking a pipe at the end of a plank, the lone girl was cascading through the air astride a rope swing, a man was swinging wildly from the oversized lamp. Director Mathurin Bolze calls this effect “mesmerising patterns.”
This performance was typical of the way that traditional circus skills have been co-opted by mavericks such as Mathurin Bolze to create something much more abstract and intriguing. A standing ovation flooded through the packed theatre as the lights came up on the opening night of Du Goudron et des Plumes.
Du Goudron et des Plumes by Compagnie MPTA with Mathurin Bolze started with a swinging platform lowered slowly over the heads of the performers, here crushing them into the floor. They emerged from beneath, ripping out the innards, transforming the planks into a clanking and clattering playground as the dancers/acrobats/I’m-not-really-sure-what-you-call-them swung adeptly, building and destroying, meeting and parting. Rotating vignettes from everyday life met with random acts of acrobatic grace, often finely tuned for comedic effect – the performers scaling planks to sit, gnome like, at the top, or hanging upside down to mirror each other.
The platform rose, swaying, as paper sheets were unleashed to shadow the manic silhouettes of the characters behind until, in a flurry of motion, the paper was ripped apart. From minimalist jazz to crashing bells the soundtrack was finely tuned to the minutest motion, and as the platform tilted the occupants scrabbled to maintain control, clinging to each other, pushing and pulling. My later reading of the notes tells me this was a metaphor for our unstable future on this earth, and how we can either act together to survive or fail apart. The show ended with them mired in the middle as if aboard a desperate life raft.
I’d like to say that I drifted off rather frequently during this show because I’m really pre-occupied with the launch of my new book this Friday, but the fact is I probably would have done anyway… for me, that’s the trouble with theatrical shows that lack a strong narrative. At times the rhythm and flow of the five fluid acrobats had me gripped, but then I would find I’d gone somewhere else entirely as they swung repeatedly from side to side (shit, I don’t have enough drink for 300 guests), the motion acting as a hypnotist’s pendulum to send me off… and when I snapped to the scene had completely changed…a character was half naked smoking a pipe at the end of a plank, the lone girl was cascading through the air astride a rope swing, a man was swinging wildly from the oversized lamp. Director Mathurin Bolze calls this effect “mesmerising patterns.”
This performance was typical of the way that traditional circus skills have been co-opted by mavericks such as Mathurin Bolze to create something much more abstract and intriguing. A standing ovation flooded through the packed theatre as the lights came up on the opening night of Du Goudron et des Plumes.
Du Goudron et des Plumes by Compagnie MPTA with Mathurin Bolze started with a swinging platform lowered slowly over the heads of the performers, story crushing them into the floor. They emerged from beneath, cure ripping out the innards, page transforming the planks into a clanking and clattering playground as the dancers/acrobats/I’m-not-really-sure-what-you-call-them swung adeptly, building and destroying, meeting and parting. Rotating vignettes from everyday life met with random acts of acrobatic grace, often finely tuned for comedic effect – the performers scaling planks to sit, gnome like, at the top, or hanging upside down to mirror each other.
The platform rose, swaying, as paper sheets were unleashed to shadow the manic silhouettes of the characters behind until, in a flurry of motion, the paper was ripped apart. From minimalist jazz to crashing bells the soundtrack was finely tuned to the minutest motion, and as the platform tilted the occupants scrabbled to maintain control, clinging to each other, pushing and pulling. My later reading of the notes tells me this was a metaphor for our unstable future on this earth, and how we can either act together to survive or fail apart. The show ended with them mired in the middle as if aboard a desperate life raft.
I’d like to say that I drifted off rather frequently during this show because I’m really pre-occupied with the launch of my new book this Friday, but the fact is I probably would have done anyway… for me, that’s the trouble with theatrical shows that lack a strong narrative. At times the rhythm and flow of the five fluid acrobats had me gripped, but then I would find I’d gone somewhere else entirely as they swung repeatedly from side to side (shit, I don’t have enough drink for 300 guests), the motion acting as a hypnotist’s pendulum to send me off… and when I snapped to the scene had completely changed…a character was half naked smoking a pipe at the end of a plank, the lone girl was cascading through the air astride a rope swing, a man was swinging wildly from the oversized lamp. Director Mathurin Bolze calls this effect “mesmerising patterns.”
This performance was typical of the way that traditional circus skills have been co-opted by mavericks such as Mathurin Bolze to create something much more abstract and intriguing. He certainly seems to be a popular man: the performers took multiple bows and a standing ovation flooded through the packed theatre as the lights came up on the opening night of Du Goudron et des Plumes.
Rider to the sea starts. With slow, approved sensuous notes, find running then halting. We wait. This is like some sort of Spanish guitar tease; the heroin with eyes masked looks at the man playing the guitar on the balcony of a castle. She jumps higher, find her cape flowing out behind her. They see each other and the notes build up to a feverish level. Then stop. My breath is involuntarily left held.
Anna Calvi’s voice is pushed, because she pushes it. She said in an interview with BBC 6 Music recently, that her vocal performances are about commitment; “baring the soul when you sing, not be scared, just show emotion. it’s important that, I think.” And when compared to Florence and The Machine, she says they are similar in that: “When we go for it, we really go for it.” She does.
Anna credits a wide range of musical influences from Roy Orbison and Elvis to twentieth century music, which she says comes out in her guitar playing. Sometimes she sounds like she should be singing the intro music to a James Bond movie, other times she is a Kate Bush atop a cliff, and then you may get a hint of Adam and The Ants – tribal, wigs and theatre. She certainly has her own sound, and as she says, really unleashes on that mic. You can feel her whole body behind those deep, propelling notes. Visually, her red lips, sculpted cheekbones and feline eyes add to the womanly, lustful passion of the adventure.
I have to admit that the first listen I had, I was not instantly in love with her. However, I was hosting a knit club at my house at the time. And now I realise, for a first listen, Anna is wrong when (perhaps…) extra strong girly vibes are circulating. She is a powerful woman, with no messing or moaning. She is vibrant and direct, not fluffy kitten cute. She has said herself, she is in the business because she loves it. For her, it is not about being ‘careerist’. Maybe this has made her less fearful and safe. She is riding on her own expectations, of which she is willing to push. Thus, I listened to the album a few days later when the moon was full and I was feeling a bit more lioness like, and blimey. It was on all morning and beyond. Together with a coffee, I was screaming from my basement flat. Such a shame I have no rooftops.
Listen to this and you will see exactly what I mean:
So track highlights; No More Words’ guitar notes are so sweet, with Anna’s voice ‘ahhhing’ over the top and singing so close to the microphone. Desire is as you would hope, with the title it holds; “The sound of love is beating like a fevered heart… It’s heavenly, heavenly, desirrrre.” Yes to desires, passions and DRUMS! In contrast First We Kiss, is the lingering and submission of desire and the story from the kiss to beyond. Whilst Blackout is a scaling, swinging, red hot infused, deep breathing track. Then… we have Morning Light, all strung out notes, infused by the morning’s spreading sun. New starts and consequences. A fabulous, long, slightly hazy, almost mumbly track, climaxing with symbols and the full sunrise. It reflects perfectly the early morning’s sensation. Feeling like you have so much time before the sun rises, but it’s always over quicker than you anticipate. You are not invincible, and the day is beginning.
My iTunes says she’s ‘Latin’, but she seems to cover more genres. She has the passions of the Latino, but Anna is also rockier, showier and yet almost primmer than Latin. It’s liberating music, but also feels quite private. A bit like being within the bubble of thoughts consuming a girl in the throes of deep lust, she is singing literally from within. With her Italian blood running through her veins, Anna says this album is about: “intimacy, passion and loneliness.” Strong and all encompassing emotions, that supports both her commitment to performance and the deep, trusted position we are in, as listeners. And you really do believe her feelings as you listen to her.
You know at the end of some of those 80s films, when the couple that have spent the whole movie arguing and bouncing around in bed, get in the car and drive off around a cliff in a sports car that looks like an insect? She would be an AMAZING soundtrack to a modern version of that.
We all know his music. It’s roaring and consuming like a giant wave. Working with big bands, sweeping strings and jazz and latin beats John Barry didn’t believe in subtle introductions. For me, his music is the sound of being young. In the deepest, brownest 80s. There I sat watching the lions on Born Free, with the soundtrack mirroring the epic landscapes and joy on my chubby cheeked face. The lion my favourite animal (see: post 80s Simon King love), I was besotted: “Born Freeee…” – you can imagine. Similarly I remember sitting on the creaky dining room chairs whilst my mum did the ironing and watching James Bond films, Goldfinger and Dr No in awe. Even writing these words I have the soundtracks playing in my head.
On the day of his death, composer, Howard Shore of Lord of The Rings said in an interview with Rhod Sharp: “The world John Barry created with his music was enormous, iconic. He wrote scores for some of the greatest films in the latest 30, 40 years […] “If he had just written the 11 Bond films it would’ve been an incredible legacy to the world of music and art.”
But he did so much more than Bond. He won Oscars for his music for Dances With Wolves, Out of Africa, The Lion in Winter and two for Born Free. Barry also gained an OBE in 1999 and a Bafta Fellowship in 2005. What’s so obvious is his ability to capture the essence of the film. As Shore said: “He loved getting inside the film.” This you can really feel. His music is dramatic, emotive and despite the BIG MOTION PICTURE SOUND, it’s very real.
John Barry was born in 1933, in York, England. His father ran a chain of cinemas, and his mother was a pianist. They had a grand piano in their living room and Barry worked at the cinema. It was there that his love of film was nurtured. He started with classical piano and then moved onto Jazz, before playing the trumpet in the army. The 1950s saw him form a Jazz Rock group called The John Barry Seven and together with singer Adam Faith, they enjoyed hit singles.
Barry wanted to be a musician more than a pop star however, and moved into film with the 1960s movie, Beat Girl. This caught the attention of Dr No’s producers. In an interview with The Associated Press in 1991, Barry said: “The James Bond movies came because we were successful in the pop music world, with a couple of big instrumental hits. They thought I knew how to write instrumental hit music.”
Barry went on to create many other film scores, including; the Beloved Country, Jagged Edge, Walkabout and The Deep. He also worked with Duran Duran and A-ha in the 80s and won four Grammys, the aforementioned five Oscars, a Bafta for The Lion in Winter and a Golden Globe for Out of Africa. Sir Richard Attenborough said of him in 1992; “He’s never satisfied with what he does. Every day he wakes up and believes that into his mind and soul is going to come some magical arrangement of notes that he’s going to ultimately either entrance you with in a concert hall or cinema.”
My personal John Barry favourite is Midnight Cowboy. I love the strings he is so famous for.
Barry is survived by his fourth wife, Laurie, four children and five grandchildren.