Run Riot is a listing of cultural happenings in and around london.
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I've been painting word canvases recently, I dub them slogans of the self. It's a way of taking ownership of one's conscious and subconscious thought processes. Anyone can do it, and I highly recommend it as a very liberating activity. To identify and articulate your fundamental positions is to both step in and step outside of them.
[Now Showing at the GRV, 37 Guthrie Street, Edinburgh, EH1 1JG]
A poem about us with photography by Wayne Levin. What makes 'us'? And what exactly are we doing together?
Us (Tuesday morning, 12pm, 29 June 2010)
Alpha-ville, inaugurated in 2009 by Carmen Salas and Estela Oliva, is a new digital arts organisation in London. Alpha-ville operates as a platform for online and live digital arts and culture. The aim is to increase the exposure of high calibre digital arts within an interdisciplinary context. The mission is to promote public participation and engagement while unveiling new and emerging talent. They want to be known as the curators of a cutting edge cross section of the digital arts and design world.
The Tasting Sessions are monthly themed events involving Michelin star chefs, newly commissioned contemporary art, theatrical performance, fashion, music and really, really good drinks. Self titled, experience curators, Angella Newell and Hayley Sudbury have spent the last two years building the Tasting Sessions brand.
What can we do to reach a higher state of being? How can we learn to relax with more dedication? Getting in touch with the spaces between everything and every action, paying homage to the nuances of day to day life, revelation gained through repetitive tasks, meditation, nothingness and lack of meaning.
Sounds pretty exciting huh? I know, it’s my latest party trick.
Rave like the 89-90's with Tiesto...
Opera isn't dying out, but the audience is. In the first of a series of articles, Deborah Grayson explores the future prospects of the genre.
Above image: The burning of the wicker chicken
On Sunday night, in a pleasant cider-haze, I stood in an industrial yard in the depths of East London surrounded by people dressed in inventive and outlandish attire. Everyone around me was singing raucously and banging makeshift drums in anticipation. A giant wicker chicken was about to be burned. I could not think of a more fitting end to the weekend.
