December 2009 - Travel Stripe

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Travel Stripe - December 2009

Showstudio Fashion Revolution at Somerset House

December 17th 2009 07:38

On November 27, 2000, Nick Knight launched his fashion website Showstudio.com. Harnessing photography, film, performance and art to the infinite possibilities of the internet, while creating hitherto unheard of opportunities for dialogue and participation from its audience, Showstudio is a window to a whole new fashion world. Showstudio Fashion Revolution, brings the best of Nick Knight’s website out of cyberspace and into the amazing exhibition space of Somerset House.

An exhibit at Showstudio Fashion Revolution

The exhibition starts with a step through the looking glass; the magical mirror room shows all those who pass through it as infinite images. Then follows a visual, tactile and aural extravaganza where visitors can step into the fashion scene, see and hear how the great masters create, add their thoughts and live out their own designer dreams.

They can post their reactions on a digital sculpture of Naomi Campbell and see them projected across her colossal surface while a microphone picks up and plays back their spoken reactions. They can see the latest catwalk clips or dress model Liberty Ross in a live interactive photo shoot. They can step inside a live studio space while world famous fashion photographers work. Daniel Brown and Nick Ryan’s "The Sound of Clothes; Synaethesia" allows them to experience the music of a jacket by dragging a mouse across a photograph! "Casting" invites every visitor to the exhibition to participate in a virtual casting session by recording their own particular look.

What’s more there are 16 fabulous fashion films showing "clothing as it behaves on the body" by masters like Nick Knight, Ruth Hogben, Gareth Pugh and by the legendary Kate Moss. Then there are 9 computer screens showing more.

This is much more than an exhibition, it's an experience and an adventure.

Yes and it even includes clothes!

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The Lion King at London's Lyceum

December 14th 2009 05:03

On a visit to London there are certain tourist imperatives. A night at the theater is one of them.

The Lion King at the Lyceum

As a story, the Lion King is one of the all-time greats. It has all the elements of a truly satisfying plot – a bright beginning, an unjust reversal, exile, vindication and happily ever after. It has unforgettable characters – the wise old Mufasa, the reckless young Simba, the sadder and wiser older Simba, the feisty Nala, the evil Scar and his retinue of sly hyenas, the flapping loudmouth Zazu and the wisecracking comics Timon and Pumbaa. It has a spectacular African jungle setting. Then, there are the unforgettable Elton John/Tim Rice music and lyrics.

Before I saw Peter Schneider and Thomas Schumacher’s stage version of the Lion King, at the Lyceum, I couldn't quite clear my mind of dominating Disney images of cuddly lion cubs, rocky bluffs and wild stampedes through deep, dusty canyons. I couldn't quite imagine how African sunrises, hordes of buffalo and gamboling jungle creatures would translate convincingly to the stage.

However, the lLion King is carried off and brilliantly, on stage by ingenious sets, props, costumes, masks and puppets and by a cast of wonderful actors, singers and dancers.

The opening scene is a parade of colour, sound and movement that is almost overwhelming. From the back of the theatre comes a train of giant elephants worked from within by actors. There are giraffes, formed from stilt walkers. Hyenas are half actor-half puppet. The lions are robed in rich, African cloth in kingly reds and gold. Their leonine character is portrayed through masks and head-dresses. A huge feathered head and beak represents Zazu. Dancers dance out fleet footed gazelles, others in coolie hats whirl a background of birds, butterflies and insects across the stage on poles. Wildebeasts are formed from bicycles. Stampedes play out as shadows on a dramatic jungle backdrop. The music, live, is amazing.

The great story works, without all the technical wizardry of film, just with that subtle magic of suggestion and imagination that is the theatre. The proof? - the group of primary school kids across the aisle, hardened and critical veterans of TV and DVD. They were on the edge of their seats, spellbound, open-mouthed and shiny-eyed from beginning to end.

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The peaceful haven of Harpenden

December 10th 2009 08:29

Just 40 minutes from frenetic St Pancras Station, lies Harpenden. Although Harpenden is a town of 60,000 people, when the train dropped us at its little wooden station, at mid-morning on a drizzly late autumn day, it seemed completely deserted.

A corner of Harpenden

We set off down a sloping, curved and empty street towards the town, pausing in the first lit and populated shop – the Oxfam Store. Racks of damp-smelling tweed and stout shoes, glass cases crammed with one-short sets of sherry glasses and shelves stacked with travel books suggested that the good folk of Harpenden are fond of winter walks and arm chair journeys with a fortified wine. A pile of gloomy oils and faded pastels hinted that Harpenden harbours painters, or at least collectors of paintings and it was here that I came across my first Harpenden character. Carelessly groomed and shabbily chic in shades of peat and moss, with a voice like the Queen, she was commanding a bemused lass to authenticate a dark, foreboding landscape. When the girl shook her head helplessly, she left the shop with an exasperated snort and slammed the door behind her.

We followed her on down the street, past the solid and disproportianately large post office, past rows of small, almost old world shops, where modern village businesses had taken a tenuous hold - Thai, Indian and Italian restaurants, dress shops full of shiny stuff, a gelati parlour and a boulangerie/pattisserie - and from which idle personal stared vacantly at the street.

The pub

On the corner of the high street stands the elegant Harpenden Arms. Further along, the church café , offering morning teas Monday to Thursday and lunch as well on Friday, a matron in a floral apron served us piping hot tea and buttery scones. At table near the counter, a tiny old lady, with a booming voice that belied her frail, stooped frame, shared a postcard from Canada with the vicar. A few doors down from church is a survivor of old Harpenden, the tobacconist. Dark, small and with a deliciously exotic pot pourri of smells, its corners were crammed with stands of canes, shelves of cigarettes, cases of cigars and packets of sweets.

The tobacconist

Further down the High Street, Sainsbury’s holds half the block. Here, we came across the Oxfam art connoisseur again. She was shouting at a shelf-stacker. Across the road a Café Nero had the corner and a crowd of city suits had Cafe Nero. We headed into the back streets where not a soul stirred among the quiet cottages, greens, graceful manors.

Harpenden

Harpenden, as we had already half guessed from the racks in the Oxfam shop, is the departure point for some wonderful walks. One follows the Ver River, another skirts the Moors and another crosses the Common. They all follow routes marked with fascinating names, like Sopwell Nunnery, Smug Oak Lane, Frogmore Pits and Jack Williams’ Wood. Unfortunately we were unable to tramp out these paths. We discovered them at the Harpenden Library, under the sharp gaze of a stern-faced Librarian in brown tweed and brogues, just before our 5.30 train left.

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Le Vieux Port, Marseille

December 6th 2009 23:19

Marseille is a city shaped by the Mediterranean. It sits on the edge of the south of France, in a landscape where stunted trees and scrub cling tenaciously to the rocky windswept hillsides. Its old buildings are fashioned from the solid pink-tinged stone of much of the south of France. Its modern buildings are shiny glass and steel, reflecting the sea and the sky, recalling the shape of waves and the colours of water. Its people are Mediterranean - Africans, North Africans and French coloured, moulded and tempered by the sea. The sea informs its culture - art, fashion and cuisine.

Le vieux port

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All Blacks defy the omens at Marseille

December 4th 2009 00:41

There is an ancient Maori proverb which says “If you bow down, let it be to a lofty mountain” Most Kiwis would grudgingly concede that the French team, with their famous “flair”, is a kind of Rugby lofty mountain. On the other hand most French people would happily concede that the All Blacks are “le meilleur équipe du monde” or the best team in the world. So, when these Rugby Titans clash, there’s always the expectation of a great spectacle with a thrillingly unpredictable outcome. As the French philosophically say, “Que le meilleur gagne” Let the best win!

The warm up at Marseille

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When the day is about everything but the game

December 3rd 2009 03:41

The time before and after a Rugby match are as important a part of the event as the game itself. Anticipation and closure are, after all, a crucial part of any contest. But often too, that time before and after, really makes the day.