HOLLYWOOD LONDON

Some parts of London are just so pretty they look like you've just stumbled onto some Hollywood backlot. These East End snaps below (round Shoreditch way innit) were taken after a day's wandering around Brick Lane, scoffing noodles and visiting hipster gallery spaces. The cool thing about the east is it is quite conceivable that you'll spot Gilbert & George in full suit regalia, poncing down towards home on Fournier Street, maybe stopping off at Tracey Emin's gaff for an Earl Grey on the way. (Emin would have 'a proper drink', of course). I was discussing G&G once after a Brick Lane curry with a friend visiting from the Antipodes as we walked down Fournier St and who should we see but the very same in person. Their early stuff was tres bien but the recent output is a bit too obsessed with bum holes for my delicate sensibilities. Of course it just wouldn't be cricket to say so, old boy. Stiff upper lip and all that.

G&G on Fournier Street (Google)

The notoriously over-exposed bum holes (Google)

WHERE DO I START WITH THIS ALBUM COVER!!!

I think my therapist may have something to say about this.

DAYS OF YORE IN KENSINGTON

Back in The Land Of Hope And Glory where I now reside (as opposed to The Land That Style Forgot where I was born), the sun is shining and we have a long, hot Diamond Jubilee summer on the horizon. I've been known to doze away many a pleasant hour lazing on a sunny afternoon in Kensington Gardens. Kensington is such a beautiful part of London and its narrow back alleys still remind me of a more innocent era, sadly now confined to the nostalgic mists of history books. On one of my many charity shoppe pilgrimages (a big shout out to the ladies at the Hammersmith Amnesty Bookshoppe, purveyors of the finest second-hand books at very reasonable prices) I came across a delightful old book illustrating some lovely parts of west London. A couple of Kensington back streets (below) were included and I wanted to find out how much had actually changed since the original photographs were taken. I reshot the following images in 2010, and as you can see the basic architecture remains unchanged, only the vintage signage, clothing and the notorious London grime have been 'disappeared' by money and progress's inevitable, odious onslaught. Its interesting to note too how the Dukes Lane top windows have been reconstructed and the exterior minimalised with the removal of the shutters and the posh white paint job. My guess is the original shots were taken sometime around the 1940s. How brilliant it would be to step back in time for a day, pause for a natter in the street about hats with the local ladies and poke around this long forgotten world...

Kensington Church Walk original photograph below :

My modern reshoot :

Dukes Lane original photograph below :

My modern reshoot :

PETE'S PIPE PICKLE...PETER DOHERTY, ARTIST, COB GALLERY LONDON

I know...I couldn't believe it either, is there no end to this bohemian oaf's talent? A difficult one to defend I won't deny but I maintain my respect for Doherty's determination to live life entirely on his own terms - two fingers to the red tops and dreary suburbanite haters, (styled by Primark, engaged to university sweetheart, holidays in Mallorca) lurking around office water coolers across this green and pleasant land accusing him of leading the kids astray with his blatantly drug-addled buffoonery or worse - obvious lack of talent. Lets face it, the guy is hilarious with his antics and if he was good enough for Cocaine Kate then hes good enough for me. Its called rock'n'roll people!! Nobody gave a shit when Keef spent half the '70s on the nod.

Peter, being a Rimbaud-reading boho now lives in Paris where his brand of louche decadence is perfectly acceptable, positively encouraged in some arrondissements. Everything about Peter from his nonchalant sartorial elegance to his pretty-boy-lost-in-a-dream-world-of-fey-literary-heroes-adrift-in-Arcadia countenance seems to fit like a glove with the je ne sais quoi, that indefinable charm of the City of Light. His reported recent friendship with a certain Madame Sarkozy seems the perfect Parisian fusion of his charisma and her inherent rebellion. Underneath the artifice...they are two sides to the same coin, the post modern Birkin and Gainsbourg.

LL Cool P....Parisienne mademoiselles know the score...

So Mr. Doherty has now evolved his notorious blood fetish into a new career as an emerging visual artist - his idiosyncratic canvases recently exhibited at the Cob Gallery in London's Camden Town. A few of Doherty's mono and neutral toned multimedia pieces were mildly interesting (below)...combining elements of collage, his own putrid blood, tabloid newspaper imagery plus the detritus of a chaotic life with his largely illegible 'word vomit' pencil scribblings.

Far more striking were the installations in the gallery's basement. Featuring all manner of symbolic, Dohertyesque objects (Babycham anyone?), the subterranean opium eater's cave was draped with threadbare flags, sweat-stained backstage passes, ancient typewriters, vintage guitars and beautiful antique crucifixes. The only things missing were burnt foils, dirty spoons and a crack pipe stained with Amy Winehouse's lipstick. Vinyl punk albums littered the floor and a decrepit Beatles poster from the (sadly) now defunct News Of The World gave the installation a real sense of authenticity, as though you were poking through this genuine music fan's own personal wreckage of the Albion Rooms circa 2001. Which I probably was. I love Doherty's celebration of his Englishness and pride in the ancient motifs of a once great country now consigned to the imagination of poets and dreamers. As a songwriter, Doherty's talent lies in evoking this lyrical imagery of a lost utopia. As a visual artist he offers up the tangible, literal interpretation.

TOLSTOY'S TABLE

Totally a weird moment standing in the dining room of Tolstoy's Moscow gaff as seen in the picture above...if only I'd looked half as stylish as Mrs Tolstoy rocking the high-necked, puffed-sleeved confection!! Well and truly over my crazy old Land of Babushka Cronks now so I'm going to end on a few great pieces of Russian art we managed to see before its back to dear old Blighty toot sweet....прощание великого восточного земли царя и олигархи!!!

THE MOSCOW METRO...A CRONK'S DREAM

No words....just pictures....