REPORTING ON ART AND FOOD from Troubled Places

Warning : This is a modern-primitive writing website, of impressionist rather than informative character.

4 July, Putin's Constituion Amendment or Think Twice

" Valentina Tereshkova for the cosmic flight got rewarded by Voroshilov with an automatic c*ck" Soviet pop'folk song.
More on the subject under BG 2020 /LAAF ON TOUR

30 June - The Triumph of the Good News (Part Two) or the National Gallery's Multipal Act

Oyez, oyez, oyez.

The National Gallery opens doors next Wednesday, 8 July.

As all good phenomena have the magical quality to fractalize and multiply - so does this one - NG's new opening implies a new ordonate way of gallery visit to replace the old Brownian motion of the tired, overwhelmed tourist crowed - for the pleasure of the serene artadict.

Lucky - all who live at a non-flying distance to NG -  visitors  will have a choice of three classical routes:

Via rustica* - "See some of the earliest works in the collection including Botticelli, van Eyck, Leonardo, Memling, Michelangelo, Raphael, Piero and Uccello"**.  

Via Venetias - Travel from Venice to the English countryside and see artists including Bronzino, Canaletto, Gainsborough, Hogarth, Holbein, Monet, Seurat, Turner and Van Gogh**. 

Via mysteryca - Witness dramatic candlelit moments and contemplate serene interior scenes and see artists including Caravaggio, Rubens, Velázquez, Vermeer, Rembrandt, Monet, Seurat, Turner and Van Gogh**.

(Otherwise known as Route A, B and C. One wonders what sort of boring breakfast did the inventor of this imaginative index have had. Visualise the alphabet hungry artadict who at the sight of the new NG map rubs hands impatiently and says "Wow Route B! This sounds exciting! I am taking it immediatelly")

If you thought by now that it's as good as it can get, you are wrong! It gets even better:  what was supposed to be Titian: Love, Desire, Death exhibition continues  but  will now be known as  'With Titian Tête-à-Tête'; a  rendez-vous a deux in wich you will be the mysterious, mask-wearing element! Ha!Ha! (triumphantly).

Have a magnificent visit. You deserve it!

*Latin is mine

** (NG's press release)

NG's new roads map

New on 3 July ' Misterious Myth & Memory Exhibition ' under June July here

'In Memoriam (Part Two) Sans changement' under LAAFON TOUR under BG 2020 here 

'The Triumph of the Good News (Part One) or Ambitious as Usual at Eames Fine Art ' under June/July here

حلال النفط under Little East here 

11 June - The War of the Monuments

Having mentioned Bulgaria, Russia, and the BlackReinvention Motion, see bellow, I like to remind the following: Russia always experiments its new hybrid war techniques in Bulgaria first - thus Yellow Vests appeared in Bulgaria days before their appearance in France, accompanied by vehicles ornate with Moscow matriculation numbers in Sofia and other cities - similarly, Russia leads the War of the Monuments* in Bulgaria since several years. Now we can see the monuments' exercise brought over to the UK. Thus, Russia attempts to hijack the BlackReinvention Motion in a fashion similar to how the Ayatollahs hijacked the revolution in Iran. Therefore, it is always extremely useful to watch the events in Bulgaria very closely, where since my visit last year many a new monument, pro and anti-Russian, have been errectrd in Sofia and other Bulgarian cities - and predict the next phase of the hybrid war in the UK.

While Bulgaria becomes poorer and poorer thanks to Lukoil, it also becomes richer and richer of monuments of national discord thanks to the Russian War of the Monuments hybrid war technique, financed by Lukoil too - poor people at war don't invent ecofriendly fuil and new just systems.

Russia is trying to recreate the same scenario in the UK.

Hence, it is vital : whatever happens to have national accordance on each monument - erected or destroyed.

Basquiat, untitled

Basquiat , ‘The Death of Michael Stewart’ (1983)

The Death of Michael Stewart 1983

"Critical information such as Stewart's eyes were removed and held by Gross and were not allowed to be studied by the doctors hired by Stewart's family. His eyes were crucial because they would have shown evidence of hemorrhaging due to lack of oxygen from being strangled.

Michael Jerome Stewart (May 9, 1958, Brooklyn, New York – September 15, 1983, Manhattan, New York) was an African-American man who received recognition after his death following an arrest by New York City Transit Police for writing graffiti in soft tip marker/or using aerosol can on a New York City Subway wall at the First Avenue station.

His treatment while in police custody and the ensuing trials of the arresting officers (all of whom were acquitted) sparked debate concerning police brutality and the responsibilities of arresting officials in handling suspects. This was a widely publicized episode in New York City's history of police brutality cases.

At 2:50 a.m. on September 15, 1983, artist Michael Stewart was arrested for spraying graffiti

....As Stewart was still living with his parents, he asked the police not to call his home to wake them up.

...The officer held Stewart to the ground until the van arrived, where several officers put him inside.

....He was hogtied, bound at the ankles and tethered hands-to-feet by an elastic strap. During the struggle, Stewart's wails could be heard by 27 Parsons School of Design students from their dorm windows. A Parsons student, Rebecca Reiss, heard Stewart say "Oh my God, someone help me", and "What did I do? What did I do?"

.... The transit police supervisors deemed Stewart emotionally disturbed. Stewart was placed back into the van and transported to Bellevue Hospital to undergo psychiatric observation.[3] Stewart arrived at Bellevue at 3:22 a.m. He was handcuffed, his legs were bound, and he was comatose.

....According to their account, he had bruises and cuts on his body. The doctors confirmed he was brain dead and had hemorrhaged in a way that suggested he had either been choked or strangled....

more on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Reminder: The initiation of this blog, end September 2017, was inspired by the Barbican's Basquiat: Boom for Real exhibition and the question "Why is the ratio white/black people in art galleries not the same as in the tube? ". At the time the official position was that this was a fake question and whosoever discusses it is a Russian agent aiming to seed disaccord in the bosom of the nation.

Had the conversation been opened then and there, now we would have been dealing with the issue of the day - the occupation of Honk Kong by China. Now we are not protesting were we should be protesting - at the Chinese Embassy. Allowing a new Crimea to fall at red hands while we are dealling with old rotten matters.

Now we can't ask Erdogan if he had thought how the conversion of Aghia Sofia into mosque will effect the refugees - or the Muslims as the Greeks call them - in neighbouring Greece, or in neighbouring Bulgaria for the matter. We can't even tell him that lately Muslims are mainly hurt by other Muslims, as it will eventually happen in this case.

But above all we can't tell second generation Brits, born and raised in the UK; proud with their suburban English and ignorance of their parents' tongues, not to bully newer arrivals. As they are simply fitting in by immitating the attitudes of the natives towards their parents. Attitudes witnessed in their childhood. Attitudes still going on on a daily basis.

Now, the slayer, slaughterer and robber of nations, Russia, that forced X-number of concurred peoples into speaking Russian; invented names and imposed invented history on N-number of minority groups - think for example ofThe Bessarabian Bulgarians renamed Tatars! - may play its favourite Defender of the Weak role once more and runs on RT - which still broadcasts in Arabic! As not under shortsighted orders with false pretexts about lacking funds - 24/7 Black themed films with imaginative names like Black Art, Black Music, Black Education, Black Guns blacketc bletc betc. 

Unless the issues are dealt with timely and volunterily, our order of the fay will always be the wrong one.


5 June, Ivo Dimchev live at Bulgarian National Gallery, daily for the whole week 1-7 June; 1 to 5 pm local time.

May you wrap the Good God's Own Throne ❣

God's Throne Project on 1st of June

Where will God sit while Christo is wrapping his Throne?

While Christo is wrapping his Throne, God will be sitting on a gigantic Mastaba, obviously, made of titanium, platinum and metals-unknown barrels. The celestial project is a fair compensation for Christo's unachieved dream to built a Mastaba, much bigger than the one in London's Serpentine, in the Emirati desert. 

Well informed angelic sources hinted that in the meantime and en lieux of a starter we might expect some spectacular colourfully wrapped clouds. 

More about Christo at   

The New Versailles at Rosemary Gardens, £2 only! not the slice, the loaf. The entire Corpus Cakey

20 May - The New Versailles

In the absence of nearly everything - except for perfectly blue skies with the occasional thin cottony veil of a cloud, immaculate summer weather, soft-grass loans, emerald gardens shining in all nuances of green, with colours bright and fresh untainted by pollution; ornate with blossoming roses of all size and colour, violet and lilac pansies, light blue lilacs and all other English-garden marvels named with secret names unknown to me, topped with jasmine perfumes. Like a glimpse from another, parallel world, English gardens and nature, just like love, take no heed of that which is not, (human social routine as it was by the same time last year ) and of that which is ( COVID 19 crisis, again for homans) - from exhausting work, impossible situations, busy-smelly morning-evening tub/bus journeys, boring-routine commuting, crowded shops, drunken nights in loud pubs, tiring fun trips, holiday plans, opening invitations, exhibition vernissages, expensive opera tickets, private view cocktails, and other decadent signs and marks of civilization, one has one and only advice left for the public : Eat cake!

Raab's the Baker has the Mother of all summer cakes, the Lemon Drizzle freshly baked cakes - Cherry Cake is for cooler seasons - Cathedral-shaped, with high soft yellow-lit body, ornamented with amber droplets of lemon zest, crowned with dark sienna crunchy crust, bejeweled with white-sugar sparks.

Blue sky, green grass, yellow cake - it's fort possible for this to be, if not heaven, then at least the New Versailles.

Question: why does nobody read a newspaper, a magazine or a book while queuing at Raab's the Baker? as can be seen from the photo-document. Obviously, reading a mobile phone is unrecomendable in the times of COVID…. Touching it with or without gloves then sticking it on your face… nah. While printed word on paper support one can first read, then sit on it on a bench.

3 May - Dream Study. The Case of Fake News

With "real" life stepping back and weakening, dream life gets strengthened and steps forwards. The brain emptied of new images and impressions, starts creating its own.

Slowly but surely dreamlife becomes as important as the awaken one. And I cannot complain from my dreamlife lately. Throughout lockdown dreams have been clement to me so far. No night or scaremares, only people and lovabilities.

Strangely, or not, enough the less I think of sex when awake the more eroticism kicks in when asleep. The strangest of characters there abide. In a way the less I am inclind to think about somebody when conscious the more this somebody has the chance to appear in my world when I am unconscious. Which simply means that practically anybody gets in my dreams, mostly people that I don't know, and preciously rarely people that I would like to dream about. Say my deceased uncle, cousin and all the army of dead friends. It would have been lovely if we could meet more often in the dream realm.

The other strangeness of my erotic dreams, which is very similar to this of my nightmares, is that the eroticism is not in the plot. No titillating (ballelating?) actions take place, some rather normal activity is there, but it is smeared with a thick layer of sensuality. Just like my nightmares. Nothing scary happens, just some quite normal deeds and events, but on top of them spreads a profound feeling of horror and awe. God knows why.

In the absence of "real" life interactions and exchange dreamlife becomes an essential source of news and gossip. While before lockdown it was de mauvais ton boring others with thick albums of family photos or detailed recites of rothkoesque dreams; nowadays I can't wait until we, my Free Range Satanist and I, reach point three in our dialy phone check up schedule and ask him : What did you dream?

Just like everybody else's dreams lately, those of Kaddifeto the Corduroy aka My Free Range Satanis are full of parties, exciting events, familiar faces and detail. Two days ago, for example, he was on a party with his brother. In a tall building with vertical and horizontal lifts. They had to change two lifts. While the vertical lift was stopping at every floor, the horizontal was stopping at every door down the corridor and at every stop the doors would open and different lot of people would be selling different sort of drugs (obviously, what else?) "But very gently, with no preassire". Half of Sofia was there too. All doing dream-strange things obviously. Say Toni the Switch - who neither of us has met in the last twenty years in awaken life - was trying to convince Kaddifeto the Corduroy to bribe a policemen to give him, Toni the Switch, a spotless new driving license. But then Kadiffeto was having only BGN 5 banknote in his right pocket and one Leva metal coin in his left pocket, while Toni the Switch heating up with anger and inpatients at Kadiffeto's unexpected insolvency and so on and so on sleeping madness stories in details involving half Sofia's population, else to speak all our acquaintances in common.

Or P, my English manfriend, who last night went fishing and the captain of the boat was "this black city girl ^^ (my eyebrows lifted twice), who was driving the boat alright right? But once she started fishing it appeared that she has no clue of fishing. So I had to take out this massive fish she hooked and then stab it with a knife".^^

Obviously these fake news and gossip, are hundreds of times more interesting than the real news about people. When we have them, real news, those usually are: overwatch, oversleep, overeat. Haven't heard of anybody oversport lately. See, what exciting peace of gossip P has created! Fishing with black city bird!

This is how lockdown's dream-realm fake-news are more useful than the real stuff. They remind us why we did chose these now fat, boring people for friends once.

Note : Watching Michael Petroni's tv series Messiah increases chances of dreaming of Tomer Sisley. The dreams with Tomer Sisley are my No1 dreams. Far ahead of dreams with David Beckham that may occur during daytime nap with BBC World Service Sport's Program on. #dreamswithtomersisley

From William Boyd's 'Armad!llo' - an excellent quarantine-slowtime read. It has plenty of scientific details about the various types of sleep and their importance for human's wellbeing.


Weapon of Vice, by Bambi, Pipckerying Street or how the symbolism of a piece of art might change from one day to another during a pandemic, mid March

Shamsia the Clairvoyant, Women By Women exhibition, see bellow. 8 March or couple of weeks before the quaranteen.

In the Times of COVID19

I wonder what France does with its ban on face covering...?

"The bill prohibits the wearing of face-coverings in public places and also applies to foreign tourists visiting France. The law imposes a fine of up to €150, and/or participation in citizenship education, for those who violate the law." Wiki

Other contemporary practice that in the Times of COVID19 strikes a particularly rotten pose is the one of the Admin*-Abattoirs as I call them.

Think of the new Camden Municipality building, the one next to Google at the otherwise so luring new Pancras Square, with the exciting postcode N1C. Or also think of the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital NHS Foundation HR, the one at Chelsea Harbour (this shamelessly boggling expression of greed that hadn't allowed the growth of a single tree amongst the sardinesquashed buildings...posh? mon queue). I am saying these admin-abbatoirs where up to hundred people are jammed desk to desk with not as much as a cubicle, like the ones in American films, to separate them; and where staff 'meets clients' in massive equally unpersonalized lobbies (overheated or hipper cold respectively), I mean these monstrosities are as a pure health hazard as a chemical attack.

And before my Lady of Elevation, the Starry Badger ** nags me for sueshoutingattea***, which is the contemporary English for unconstructive criticism, I will say : Nay, I am not sueshoutingattea and here is my sconeandclottedcream which is the contemporary English for "having a positive idea nearly solution":

Whenever you've created a workplace for humans - step back, squint your eyes and examine the creation. If it looks like admin-abattoir, start again thinking aesthetics and respect. If aesthetic and respect are incorporated health conditions would be bettered too.

Admin Life Matters.

*By Admin I mean all working for public institutions.

**Caitlin Moran aka CW

*** For contemporary English entry 'sueshoutingattea' follow the link and read N1 ' Yorkshire Tea' here


Shield! by Shamsia and Shamsia by Tahmina, at Women By Women exhibition, by ActionAid at OXO Tower, until 8 March

Women By Women and Niqab for Men

An example of strongly talented clairvoyance : Shamsia wears a mask before everybody else. Unfortunately the photos on this exhibition are not dated, so we don't know how much before everybody else exactly.

Shamsia was born as Afghan refugee in Tehran, where the Women-Fearing regime did not allow her to study art (as in addition to Women-Fearing the regime in Tehran is also a Muslim-slaying one - not only it slays Syrians but it also deprives from all rights and dignity the Afghan refugees seeking shelter on its lands).

Today, Shamsia is a street artist, fine arts lecturer and professor in sculpture at the University of Kabul. And hopefully for many a year to come despite all manmade wars and batmade viruses. Else to speak despite all Batmen.


By the way, suddenly, in the eternal match Iran vs Saudi Arabia, SA scores yet another goal - Saudi women's gear more en vogue with the last virus fighting trends. Lately, I am thinking shouldn't we all, women and men, start wearing full niqab?... for couple of months at least. 

Women By Women exhibition, by ActionAid is at OXO Tower, until 8 March

My Parents with Trolley and Mirror, David Hockney 1974, and the Woman Who Was there

Hockney's ' Drawing from Life' Pocket Exhibition and the Iconoclast Tea

Is at the National Portrait Gallery until 28 June

Yet the perfect time to see this exhibition is now-

The rooms were half-empty even on Sunday afternoon.

The perfect time to see any exhibition is the Time of COVID19.

And even though I liked much the portraits of Gregory (with Gym Socks) and Maurice (with Flowers), if I die tomorrow, I would have rather seen 'The Splash'

Don't be quick to say that the Splash is not a portrait, therefore it can't be a part of a Hockney exhibition at a Portrait Gallery,

It is a portrait, an Antigonish* portrait, a perfect Time of COVID19 portrait, as in:

"Yesterday, upon the  stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!

When I came home last night at three, The man was waiting there for me But when I looked around the hall, I couldn't see him there at all!

Go away, go away, don't you come back any more! Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn't there, He wasn't there again today Oh, how I wish he'd go away...  "

Just like the lobby at Apex Temple Hotel... where the man wasn't there ... all men weren't there... which, obviously, is the perfect time to be in any hotel and any lobby. 

02 March 2020

* William Hughes Mearns

Tea at Apex Temple with the CW that Wasn't there, also known as the Iconoclast Tea.

' Voyeurism', by LAAF depicting a random male visitor observed through a handy hole in the gallery's wall between between two works by Sunil Gupta from the series '"Pretended" Family, 24 February 2020 about 1500

Masculinities: Liberation through Photography


Last Monday, I visited this exhibition on the gallery's kind invitation. There was plenty to see.

Men - loved, fetishized, objectified, adored, empathized with, hated - all the spectrum.Yet, when I went out through the exit end, I was thinking "More, more. It could have been much more" and indeed, I needed much more loving, fetishization, objectification , adoration , empathization, hatred. As everything that comes late, when needed, this exhibition is a good, yet insufficient beginning of the big, long rethinking and reconsideration of ... Masculinities, with plenty of beautiful work exhibited.

My favorite series are:

'Taliban portraits' by Thomas Dwarzak to which I laughed at the top of my voice. I absolutely adored those.

A very beautiful and tender series of family portraits taken upon twenty years, by a Japanese photographer whose name I have forgotten to note.

And the two narrative series : 'Exiles' 1987/2015 by Sunil Gupta telling of the photographer's many and lengthy strolls through his hometown New Delhi; and 'Fully Automated Nikon' 1973 by Laurie Anderson telling of the photographer's strolls through New York.

And many many more.

Later that evening, Facebook, the one that "cares about you and the memories that you share" reminded me that nine years ago, I have shared a picture of four naked rugby players. As a proof that, after all, nothing in this world changes.

We the least. 

26 February

Random picture, from (most probably) anold Rugby players calendar, posted on "my Facebook wall" nine years ago. Otherwise called 'Who cares about author's rights, when there are naked men?'

I am just further realizing that I have made "my profile photo" of this picture....Well, well, well.... I am thinking whilst posting this "profile photo" and arranging an all female outing next Friday to a lesbian club on the occasion of 8 March...Among all the things that I have heard about being pre-menopausal, sexual confusion wasn't one.  Yet, I am more confused about it now, than at any previous period in my life. Note this: pre-menopausal gender and sexual confusion! Now you have not only heard about it, you have even seen it written. 

Standing ovations Acosta Danza Up Close, 22. 02. 2020 Linbury Theatre

Linbury Theatre is the Address

Today, if you are not in LInbury Theatre at 1945, and if you haven't been by the same time at the same address in the last few days, you are about to miss the most existing thing that London has seen this February - Acosta Danza Experience Up Close.

I have never seen such an exciting accumulation of male dancers.

Saturday evening, the female spectators of my age was literary going nuts at the sight of the bodies - histerical laughters, sighs, o-my-goddings, goshings and others were to be heard from the first to the last minute of the show; for big offence of the male and younger female part of the audience.

The dancer that created the biggest frenzy was Carlos Louis Blanco - with his spectacular body.

My favourite though was Alejandro Silva - what an extraordinary dancer!

Raul Reinoso was also perfect.

All the male dancers were absolute stars.

Of the women most interesting was Zeleidi Crespo.

My favourte choreography was 'Mundo Interpretado' by Juliano Nunes, but if you have asked me, I would have said "It is the Wave by Camille Claudel".

Carlos Acosta himself does Malephant's Two in a rather spectacular way.

As tonight is the last show and the tickets are sold out, just go there at about 1900 and start begging for a ticket waving a thik bundle of banknotes around hoping that somebody might be stupid enough as to sell their tickets at double its price.

Extinction Rebelion visiting Antony Gormley

Fly now Pay Later - Extinction Rebellion at Antony Gormley

An endearing, lonely extinction rebellionist was a live female sculpture amidst Gormley's Iron Men.

Sea of Tranquility Sea of Plastic by Polite Extinction, @politeextinction

Sea of Tranquility Sea of Plastic

Mare Tranquilitatis is a lunar mare that sits within the Tranquilitatis Basin on the Moon.

Polite Extinction, went to Goldsmiths BA, MA, Museology in Ed, PGCE university of Brighton and is currently in artistic residence at Budapest.

Here We Go Again or Screaming Brexit

Credit @art_decoded. Follow @art_decoded on Instagram

Screaming Johnson, an ahead of its time image of Boris as captured in September 2020 by Francis Bacon

"Oh, Theresa tried so hard but in the end you couldn't make Brexit happen. We just hope that you are not taking it as badly as this painting is making you out to be." @art_decoded

"If this seems familiar, it is because it is based on Francis Bacon's 'Study of Velasquez's Portrait of Pop Innocent X' or The Screaming Pope as it is otherwise known.", @art_decoded continues its strict analysis.

Yet, Laaf just discovered an apocryphal edition of Nostradamus' Chronicles in which it is revealed that Bacon's inspiration for The Screaming Pope wasn't his tumultuous relationship with Peter Lacy as largely thought, but a vision of Britain's Prime Minister in September 2020.

The apocryphal chronicles reveal that the vision came to Bacon at about 0710 at the junction of Greek Street and Old Compton Street, Soho on 25th of May 1967, after a drinking night with Lucien Freud, Frank Auerbach, Henrietta Moraes and Lady Caroline Blackwood.

"You will paint a Prime Minister caught in a scary stuff called Brexit, ne cherche pas a comprendre, and you will call it Screaming Pope" a mighty voice whispered in Bacon's ear the chronicles further unveil.

Inspiration courtesy @art_decoded.

Follow @art_decoded on Instagram

It's one of Laaf's favourites

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