Category: Photography
Saturday..
Oh! How this made me chuckle. I think The Husband was laughing with me…but I’m not entirely sure they were tears of mirth: The Employment by Opusbou, as seen at Dismaland.
We’ve come back to our very own grotland..the builders have moved in…
There’s nothing left but to embrace the chaos…Mwha-ha-ha…
Laters, Kate x
Dismaland
Dismaland: The temporary art project set up by the street artist Banksy in an abandoned lido in the quietly rotting seaside town of Weston Super Mare. Banksy writes in his opening welcome: ‘Bertolt Brecht once said ‘Art is not a mirror held up to reality but a hammer with which to shape it’. Which is fine, but what if you’re in a hall of mirrors and the giant hammer is made of foam? This is the question raised by Dismaland Bemusement Park’.
And so it begins…
Birthed from the detritus of Disney, with bored attendants, patches of weeds and artistic despair, this decaying edifice to humanity is set on a 2.5 acre site with works from more than 50 artists from 17 different countries. It’s an instagramer’s delight, a visual sensation and a walk on the whacky, dark, black side.
A play on double standards starts immediately, from the genuine bag search on the street (anarchy has it’s place, no spray cans allowed here) to the fabricated threat of Bill Barminksi’s cardboard screening room. What’s real and what isn’t?
Inside it’s hard to know where to look first..the children slide riot van?
The sadistic carousel? Tesco would be so pleased..
Or the Big Rig jig, defying explanation or gravity.
There are traditional stalls – each with their own unique twist.
Knock the anvil over – with a ping pong ball and yay! you win the anvil! Hit the anvil and you win a red bracelet that reads ‘this is a meaningless bracelet’. Didn’t stop me wanting one. And then you ask yourself why even attempt the futile? Except we did. And failed.
Or maybe hooking a duck from the muck has a greater chance of success – except the punters have run off with all the ducks – and it’s all for a paper fishfinger in a bag..
Dominating the park is the dilapidated fairytale castle of broken dreams. ‘Step inside’, say the downcast attendants, ‘See how it really feels to be a princess’..
Through the darkness is the car-crash of Cinderella’s coach, her dying body illuminated by the flashes of pap’s cameras. We’re looking at them, looking at us..feeding us, feeding them..
Sometimes it’s the smaller, allegedly quieter stuff that catches the eye..
Sometimes the message is so strong to the extent you feel sleazy and ambushed with dirty fluids. This isn’t a place that brands itself on palatable.
The art wants you to look, not just spectate. to take part and not just consume..which is a line that is all too easily crossed. How many people are there walking around with the balloons stating ‘I am an imbecile’? Or actually taking selfies in the selfie hole?
Did these people really understand what they were doing? Did they nod sagely knowing they were doing this ironically? But then their ignorance becomes part of the point.
This isn’t a place for children despite there being works designed with them in mind..like the depressed, drunk Mr Rainbow puffing fumes over his tired playground..
Or The Husband’s favourite: Pocket Money Loans
Where the devil was in the detail.
Take a seat in a stripey deckchair and watch Punch and Judy landing a punch with a Jimmy Savile themed show..
Put up your feet at the Jeffrey Archer memorial pit fire. He’s still alive but a book of his dies every day.
Come into one of three galleries to wander round at your leisure. Meet the baby in the vending machine, covered in logos by Dietrich Wegner, guaranteed to make you ponder life.
Meet Jessica Harrison’s distortion of suburban tranquility.
Wonder if Severija Incirauskaite-Kriauneviciene is her real name or is just another trick of the mind. The art – tapestries made with power tools, certainly had a kick.
Banksy has pulled it off: It’s hard to be underground when you’re hailed as a national treasure by the very people you want to vilify, but that’s part of the conundrum that makes Banksy’s Dismaland so very special – it’s a spoof on the British holiday by the sea – take it seriously and you miss the point, and yet it quietly smiles through blackened teeth and grittily mocks: don’t understand this at your peril…
Impeccably crafted and precision cut, deeply unsettling yet strangely entertaining it’s so good, it can’t be legal..and probably isn’t.
Laters, Kate x
Today…
The Final Hurrah!
Seems a shame to let them languish in the photo library, so – ‘ello sailor! here they are…the last chapter of Greece 2015 starting with standing on the beach, ouzo in hand, looking back to Leonidio..
Walking back to my parent’s house.
We’d timed our return well..the figs were now ripe!
We travelled to different beaches..I was the one running behind. Not.
Spetses is renown for it’s clear waters..I have yet to find a place to compare.
Charlie got obsessed with fishing!
Success! (There is the world’s smallest fish inside his pot..)
Tiger shark!
For our last evening we were joined by my sister and her daughter, Bea – a much-loved cousin, who were just starting their holiday as we were ending ours.
Sitting on the wall, saying goodbye and waiting for the bus to take us to town – the first stage of the long journey home.
It was a fabulous holiday – and all those concerns we went out with based on the reports in the UK media were totally unfounded – Greece is staggeringly beautiful country with so much to offer in terms of beach, food, hospitality, history and more besides. Now they need all the tourists they can get – if you get the chance, go! – it really is the garden of the Gods.
Laters, Kate x
Charlie Retrospective x
This photo was taken almost exactly a year ago in Scotland, when Charlie warmed the cockles of my ageing heart by choosing a girls fluffy cardigan to buy and wear (post here). I wondered when society and conventions would catch up with him and overshadow his individuality with the urge to fit in. So has a year made a difference?
He’s certainly grown taller…and likes to flaunt rules..
And he still wants to wear his red chinese silk pajamas to do the shopping!
Go Charlie!
Laters, Kate x
Greece Part 4
It’s pouring with rain here..time to return to summer memories of the sun.
This was the evening of our fifteenth wedding anniversary with an obligatory, if rare selfie.
My parent’s had decided to stay an extra day and had moved to this beautiful hotel in the middle of Leonidio town.
Full of antiques and curiosities, beautifully done…a real gem.
We sat around their pool for an aperitif and watched as 20 or more bats from the red mountains dipped into the pool for a cooling evening drink.
Bella was none to pleased at being ‘forced’ to wear a dress for the occasion.
Not even a cuddle from Daddy helped. It was a lovely evening though..we went into the town..
And found this incredible shop run by a mother and daughter who, in amongst the washing up liquid and Ajax sold all their own homemade produce including jams, honey, capers..and a spirit made from Aubergine! They’d just bake a whole tray of almond biscuits which they proceeded to hypnotise us with..honestly some of the best biscuits I’ve ever eaten. We stocked up on all sorts. Our meal was equally memorable..in a little square, with one long table full of local friends who were musicians, happily playing, singing and dancing. Pure magic.
The next day we waved good bye to my parents who were off to meet their Greek son-in-law for a trip to the theatre at Epidauvros, and returned to our favourite beach/taverna. On the way there Bella said she didn’t want to go as she wanted a sandy beach..the Gods heard her for when we got there, it was! Large waves had rolled in and taken all the round pebbles away..
Then the waves rose up again..which the children loved.
During this time, we’d spend the mornings at the pool whilst the husband was on the phone/internet, going through a nightmare with work. And then we’d head out for somewhere for lunch, dragging him with us. The problem was there were no facilities at the villa complex – nowhere to get an ice cream or drink and no taverna within walking distance. We were reliant on the apartment, the internet, the car and on him.
Having lunch at Plaka..Charlie decided he was going to jump off the pier..
Which he did!
But then he got really upset that Bella didn’t jump in with him and started throwing a paddy, screaming and hitting the water – all the locals thought he was drowning..and were wondering why his parents weren’t jumping in after him..we stayed a safe distance away.
The screams got even louder when we saw there were ducks in the water with him!
And then we lost the internet. The husband really thought he’d have to return home..he needed the car to back to Athens..but we couldn’t manage without a car.
So we re-packed the cases, in case he had to fly back..
Rang my parents who were now back at Spetses and explained we needed refuge..we could return to Athens under our own steam from there..and it had internet.
And made our way back to Spetses!
It wasn’t exactly a hardship.
Laters, Kate x
Greece Part 3
Our first stop after Spetses was less discovery, more nostalgia – a little taverna for lunch situated on the edge of the ancient city of Asini that we used to visit with my Grandmother. I remember as a child being told a story about ancient jewellery discovered in the bay by snorkelers…as a consequence, we were obsessed with finding more treasure, despite it having the largest sea-slug population we’d ever seen. Of course we never found any..but it meant the adults always managed a very quiet, happy lunch..hmmmmmmmmm.
And then, with a twist and a wink of the fickle finger of fate the sleepy atmosphere suddenly changed. People moving, fingers pointing to the sky, telephone calls and noticeable agitation. We looked behind us and saw an ever growing column of smoke, the cloying smell of burning layering the air.
We jumped in the car and thought our route would take us quickly away in the other direction..but instead we seemed to be heading straight into the thick of it.
And then we were clear..having experienced forest fires before, it was good to see the professionals were onto it. I hope no-one suffered.
Our destination, the very beautiful Apelon Triton villas on the outskirts of Leonidion on the Peloponnese.
We went down for our very first swim in the pool..and met a family…from Clapham South! Oh what a small, small world..
Down at Plaka at sunset, the main harbour/beach of Leonidion.
We were all blown away by the quality of the food. Little did was know Leonidion is the European centre for aubergines! There’s a Festival every year and chefs come from all around to prove their aubergine recipe is the best!
The kids were just happy to play on the beach. This was a lovely spot where an ice cold mountain stream met the sea.
This was a new area for all of us – I hadn’t come here in my backpacking days as it’s pretty inaccessible without a car, the mountains are high and the beaches are on little winding roads all the way down. But it’s so very beautiful and unspoilt.
All the beaches had different coloured stones, here at Poulithra they were shades of grey and perfectly round.
The view from our favourite taverna..a foodies delight: grilled sardines, goat with aubergine and saganiki mussels. All utterly delicious.
The husband trying to have his photo taken without a double chin!
SOOO good. If you’re ever here, these are the details!
Sadly, this was quite a common occurrence..
Oh no he’s on the phone AGAIN!
Another little bay – Sampatico – this time the stones were green..
As the sun went down we could look back to Spetses..it was very strange being on the other side.
Laters, Kate x
Greece Part 2
My parent’s house sits on a hill on the right hand curve of a bay that acts as a natural amphitheatre with an unnerving ability to amplify recognisable conversations all the way from the beach. A fact we used to appreciate in the old days when the only telephone belonged to the taverna down below, over the quiet hum of cicada’s we’d hear a frantic ‘Mackenzie!, Mac-ken-zie!’ – and we knew we had 10 minutes to drop whatever we were doing and run down as quickly as possible to be there for when the caller was told to call again.
It’s that knowledge of history and familiarity that adds to the magic of the place..the fact that really, very little has changed..there’s still the scent of pines, the noise of crickets, the enveloping heat, all heavily layering the air, gently luring you in to eternal enchantment.
Some of the older characters of my youth have moved or passed on now – I remember Christo Louris, locally known as the ‘ex-millionaire’ who’d allegedly been taken to the cleaners by his wife..who then spent the rest of his ‘fortune’ trying to keep his demanding mistress happy in an exclusive flat in Piraeus. He’d sit at the taverna and nurse a beer all day long…and leap on any leftover plates of food, claiming them as his own.
Another great favourite was Captain Alecko – a man almost as round as he was tall. He would happily tell us long, involved stories about his life at sea that generally ended in some disaster or other. I know my cousins were staying in the house by themselves one summer and, in the seclusion and shade of the verandah, they discussed which side they thought Captain Alecko batted for (he always had a rather young, attractive, male ‘helper’ with him) when over the wind came the sing-song words ‘Captain Alecko…he has very big ears!..” They ran inside and didn’t come out for two days. The natural amphitheatre has a lot to answer for..Captain Alecko’s two great concerns were that the authorities would discover he had Laskarina Bouboulina’s telescope, that had come into his possession via some dubious route, which never happened..and that his mother would die whilst he was on holiday, and no-one would tell him – which did!
Drawing everything together is the taverna on the beach which represents both the social centre and a touch of mafia.
At one point there were two tavernas..Thanasi was the first and main one, owning a lot of the land around, but he gave his friend Tasos the baker, a plot of land behind his taverna as a present to build a retirement villa on. Tasos promptly built his own taverna that proved to be a roaring success – all his food was slow-cooked with local herbs in a bakers oven…and the two never spoke again..instead, whenever the wind was blowing in the right direction Thanasi would throw out his fish guts in the style of a proper greek feud. Tasos taverna ran for many, many years before age did finally catch up with the wily old fox..it is still missed today.
Not that the feuds have stopped. The bus driver and the taverna had a falling out, so now every day, three times a day, the bus reverses all the way down the road to avoid turning in front of the taverna. I had to video it..only in Greece..a bus travelling backwards..
(My father introducing his Grandson to the delights of cipero at sunset..we now know where Charlie gets his sartorial gene from..)
And slowly the time came when we would leave the island and head to the next part of the holiday – for years we’d looked from the bay to these mountains on the Peloponnese and wondered what was there..and now we were going to find out. A mere 18 miles across the sea..a lot more by car, it was going to be an adventure…
But although it was good bye to Spetses…
It wasn’t to my parents – we were taking them with us!
Laters, Kate x
Life..
The profit and loss columns of my house-slash-life are not looking great…the last few days have been the tornado before the storm – clearing out the cellar, sitting room and kitchen in preparation for our building works. The affect has been dramatic: The holiday washing is now ingeniously mixed in with boxes of electrical cables, stuff for charity and remnants of bubble wrap. After working all day alongside the movers, I sat on the kitchen step with my head in my hands hardly able to look at the horror..everything we need to live with for the next few months has been artfully arranged shoved into our back sitting room so that it now contains 3 sofas, 2 coffee tables, 10 chairs of various descriptions, 2 tables, 2 bookcases, a fridge and a freezer. Every spare surface has been filled with coats, school bags, shoes, boxes of papers, iceskating stuff, hoovers, brooms, footballs, picnic blankets and anything else I thought in my lunacy we might need this summer..and if it’s not there, it’s been thrown into another room of the house.
The garden’s not looking too hot either – I had grand plans of emptying the shed and turning it into a creative art room-hashtag-place of sanctuary for me the kids..everything is now out of the shed, exposing a gaping hole in the roof..a trip to the DIY shop for some cut-to-size marine ply has been unhappily added to the weekends list, whilst the sheds rotting innards lie in attractive piles (about as attractive as piles) around the garden, all needing re-homing or throwing..this building lark’s turned into a gigantic game of musical stuff..and I’m losing.
It will get sorted – it’s that inevitable drive through a foggy night on an unknown road..and then the sun comes out again. But it does make you think about the amount of crud we accumulate and lug around. For this clear out, I’ve really tried hard to be ruthless, inspired by the epiphany I had on holiday; At one point, when we were on a remote part of the Peloponnese, we really thought Mr B, due to work pressures, would have to fly home early. We gave notice on our hotel, re-packed all the bags so that he had 90% of our luggage to drive back to Athens in the hire car, leaving us with only had the bare necessities that I knew could manage travelling by myself with two children. As it was, we drove half way back, to the bit of mainland opposite the island of Spetses, left the car there for a quick gettaway if it was needed, and returned to the sanctuary of my parent’s house/working internet with the husband still with us in body, if not in mind and an exit route ready if required…he stayed, but remained on the phone throughout the holiday, poor luv. But we totally managed with what we had and it focused the mind on how much easier it is to live with less..decisions are halved, space is freed up..life is simpler.
I now dream of a simpler life: Call it builders blues, mid-life crisis, a feeling of rebellion caused by the husband’s work-overload against both the expectations and pace of modern life, but I just have the niggling sense I want to get off the middle class merry-go-round…instead, I fear, I’ve just pressed the button to make it all go faster.
Damn.
Laters, Kate x
Greece Part 1
We’re back! And straight into the thick of it..amongst the detritus of unpacking, I have the movers arriving tomorrow to clear out our cellar, kitchen and sitting room ready for the builders to move in, hashtag chaos. The perfect time to reminisce over quieter times..these are from our first week in beautiful Greece on the stunning island of Spetses.
Looking back from the end of the pier..you can just make out the terracotta roof of my parent’s house.
The house with the arches at Charlie’s elbow belongs to my sister’s inlaws and is where the kids go swimming in their pool.
My mother, enjoying some sun..a clearer picture of the arched house, the next door house belongs to a lovely lady who will be ninety this year…she was evacuated in the War with my Grandmother.
Charlie in heaven.
And he’s lost his first tooth!
Beware..Tiger Shark..
Looking down on the beach.
swimming till the sun goes down..
And when it does, the new moon appears..along with Venus and Jupiter.
Laters, Kate x
Maison Bentley Style 