I'm Kristen and I'm living in Crawley, Sussex (hoping to return to my beloved Brighton 'n' Hove when my ME/CFS allows). I drink a lot of tea, ride a lot of buses, go in a lot of charity shops, draw, sew and knit (and attempt to crochet), take a lot of photos, spend a lot of time sleeping, read a lot of history books and follow Jesus Christ. <3
Email: busstopgirl (at) googlemail (dot) com
Depp 'offered Willy Wonka role':'Depp has been offered the part by director Tim Burton, US film magazine Variety said.'
I saw Pirates of the Caribbean at the weekend - I haven't enjoyed a film so much in ages. It was fantastic! And it's had so many poor reviews...why? OK, it's not Dogme 95, but that's the whole point. It's fast and funny and cheeky and over-the-top, and Johnny Depp steals the show. And what could be more perfect for a Willy Wonka remake than a Burton / Depp collaboration? Edward Scissorhands? Ed Wood? Sleepy Hollow? Loving their work...
When looking for Freddie Robins stuff yesterday I spotted this papier mache sculpture by Julie Arkell, Drink More Milk. It really reminded me of Peter Blake's Self-Portrait With Badges, so here they are side by side:
Looking at a photo of David Mach's 8ft high Spaceman will always make me smile - remembering going to GoMA in Glasgow, watching my little Mum being further dwarfed by him, grinning up at him, exclaiming about how amazing he was... and then the next day asking if she could go back and have another look. He's made entirely out of coathangers, you know!
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...
My dreams are getting curiouser and curiouser. Lately they are incarnations of my mental 'to do' list, with added miscellaneous extras. Last night in my dream I called Scripture Union to get my bible reading notes directed to my new address (which I needed to do), bought a bottle of floor cleaner for the lady who cleans our office (which I still need to do), and shared a tender moment with an old flame (which was rather nice and has left me with daft smile on my face this morning, but where the hell did he spring from?!!).
The Full Moon has closed. I only found out the day before. I'm upset, more than I thought I'd be about a pub. Will eulogise some other time - for now, I'll hand the mike to Uncle Meat:
'Ah, the worlds of corporate finance and property monopoly destroy yet another corner of the sanity that was the very spirit of EpiCentre, indeed the epicentre of our spirits, never more shall there be Zubrovka, Grapefruit and Tonic while DJ Malcy Malc and Carlos "Skaface" spin it up and out on the ones and twos, cutting it up in a renegade stylee, cross-fading our lives to the hum of a stormy, sultry September evening crammed with the people who mean so much more to you than they did that morning, because all is love and booze and jolly frivolity, and, just for once, Ewen is buying a round while Oli goes on and on about - what was it? - and Nhung and Helen are laughing their heads off with Inga, even Jennifer and her sista are there with Morose, and Labradour is getting his records ready...'
She's on her way!
'Ok, man-with-van booked? Check.
Post redirected? Check.
Crap cleared? Check.
This time next week, I will be buried in a pile of boxes in our new flat. Get the chocolate martinis lined up people.'
Bill Viola's work fascinates me. I'm not really into video art, but his work just seems to resonate with me. It has spiritual connotations - he uses a lot of water and I'm a Baptist!
I'll never forget seeing The Messenger at Fabrica in Brighton a few years ago. After its debut in Durham Cathedral, The Messenger had toured around the country for years (and so had I) but we'd never been in the same place at the same time. Then there it was, in a gallery two minutes away from my office.
Fabrica is a converted chapel, and the video screen (which was about 20ft high) was hung behind the altar. The room was pitch black but for the light from the screen, and filled with the booming breathing of the man on the screen, descending into and rising from deep water.
I used to go every day and watch for 10 or 15 minutes, watching him descend, getting smaller and more blurry, then slowly ascend, getting larger and sharper until he broke the surface of the water with a desperate, roaring gasp for air which ricocheted round the room.
I was baptised when I was 21 - by total immersion - and watching The Messenger was very moving - as I thought about how it felt to have the water close over my face - as I 'died' to my old life - and the silence as the water went in my ears, then feeling my pastor's arm round my back, lifting me towards the surface - being 'born' to my new life - and the first gulp of air.
And the noise - water sloshing about, people singing - and trying to get water and sopping wet hair out of my eyes. And laughing out of joy, and from seeing my atheist schoolfriends in the front row crying, and from the look on my parents' faces - Dad scooping me up in a big hug as he helped me out of the pool, Mum wielding a towel - trying in vain to stop me dripping on the chapel carpet...