Today’s photos, taken on a freezing January afternoon in 2014, are from the Palace of Versailles – the country home of the French monarchy from the 1682 until the French Revolution forced them back to central Paris. It seems they were quite into gold stuff. Enjoy!
While uploading the photographs from my latest weekend away, I’ve realised that I have thousands of photographs on various memory cards that have never seen the light of day – they’re frankly too pretentious for Facebook, and I need to admit to myself that I’m never going to get around to getting any of them printed. So as a new feature, I’m going to share some of them here every Sunday. Expect everything from the plastic horses of Brighton Pier to the tower blocks of sunny Croydon, with a few European cities thrown in for good measure.
Here’s the first installment – a few choice snaps from Munich’s Spielzeugmuseum, or toy museum, which I visited last week. It’s based in the top four floors of a clock tower in the city’s main square, Marienplatz, and houses everything from the original Steiff teddy bears from the early 1900s, to 1940s toy soldiers, to kitsch 1980s robots (which I think you’ll see I was quite taken with). Enjoy!
As you may gather from the date of my last post, I’ve been off the blogging boil for quite some time. Excuses include abandoning the life of a nomadic freelancer for that of a sulky one-hour-plus commuter who could no longer work from 7.30am until 12, go to a gallery when there’s no-one but a few trendy pensioners hanging around and be back at your desk for the 3pm until whenever-you’ve-done-enough-work-to-silence-the-voice-in -your-head-that-says-working-from-home-isn’t-a-proper-job shift (if it’s in time for the news at 10, you’re having a good day).
I’ve been to so many great art shows in recent months and not found the time to write them up (highlights: Museum of Water at Somerset House, Post Pop: East Meets West at the Saatchi, and Grayson Perry’s Who Are You? at the National Gallery) but I promised myself that this year I would force myself to stop being boring at the weekends and get back into doing creative things, so here we go. If you can’t post opinions no-one asked for on the internet in 2015, when can you? And frankly, I’ve run out of things to watch on Netflix.
Anyway, I went to an exhibition called Beard at Somerset House. There were a lot of guys walking around it in various levels of hirsutism, each expressing a corresponding degree of woeful inadequacy. Because the beards on display – photographed by Brock Elbank – were, frankly, magnificent. (If you don’t like that adjective, there are a whole host of others on allaboutbeards.org’s gallery of featured beards, which for reasons I won’t go into is something of which I am aware. My personal favourite is “Patrick’s picture-perfect beard”. No, wait. “Andy’s awe-inspiring beard”). I can only assume that the other attendees were dedicated pogonophiles. Full disclosure: my boyfriend has a beard.
I had a chat with Marcela Ferri, up-and-coming photographer and self-confessed voyeur who likes nothing more than taking a sneaky snap on the tube.
Hi Marcela. Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?
I was born at 3:30am on March 3rd 1981 in Sao Paulo, Brazil. As a kid, all I wanted was to be a witch, and everyone always laughed at me because I’m not ugly and don’t have a big nose. I was raised by my dogs, because my parents were too busy doing other things: I learnt about the most basic feelings from them.
Today, I went down to Somerset House to see the new installation by Fernando Casasempere.
I felt kind of let down at first because the image on the poster looks a lot like a doctor’s hand holding a human heart, when the exhibition is actually just a bunch of clay flowers. But despite my initial disappointment, it was a pretty nice way to wile away half an hour of a sunny afternoon.