REPORTING ON ART AND FOOD from Troubled Places

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

Fragment of a Persian miniature depicting paradise from The History of Mohammed, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris. (Wiki)

In memory of Saskia Johns and Jack Merritt

With love and tears for Saskia Johns and Jack Merritt, I would like to share some thoughts:

New personal data sharing concent form has kicked in. People in certain circumstances should now on agree (roughly quoted) that their personal data might be shared with third parties, including third parties outside the EU, including third parties in the US of America, including US Defence and based on US Commercial regulations. 

This fact together with the heartbreaking events last Friday, make picture the following scenario:  

A year ago, upon his release from prison, the murderers's (I won't mention his name in the same piece of writing as the names of his victims) life has looked different to him. Efficient and successful, the deradicalisation programs have given him notion of sense and direction. The positive efforts of professionals and volunteers have inspired into him a little, tiny sparkle of hope that a future is possible for him after all.

He gets out. He looks forward. He participates in fuether activities, responds to invitations for various reformative  initiatives (As said above, I speculate, trying to picture what I don't know). Then, two weeks ago, within yet another initiative, he is asked to sign yet another personal data sharing consent form. He has signed so many of those through the years that he notices the amended last paragraph immediately. "What is this?", he asks the professional/volunteer working with him pointing at the innocent paragraph mentioning US Defence and US Commercial Code/Regulation. She/he professional/volunteer cannot answer. She/he has downloaded and printed the form as usual, unaware of the amendment made to the consent. None has informed her/him about the amendment. Non has explained what does it imply. "Oh", she/he says, "I have no idea. I have to go back and ask my manager/coordinator. You don't have to sign it now. You can sign it later, when we know more".But the (so far future) murderer is disturbed. He things "Is she/he kidding me? Not aware of the amendment?". Then he looks in the honest eyes facing him and the fear kicks in:  "Oh, It's even worse,  she/he is not lying; it means she/he is so insignificant that nobody cared to update her/him on the amendment. It's even worse, what we are doing here is absolutely insignificant and inconsequential. What we are doing here won't take me nowhere".

For the (so far future) murderer doesn't know what the amended last paragraph might imply for him. Innocent as it might be, the amendment looks menacing to him  - it is one thing his personal data to be shared within the structures of a socially positive conglomeration of countries like the EU, within a regulation and legislation system that he is already familiar with; but he fears it would be something entirely different for  his personal data to be shared with the intelligence and defense structures of a country known to him with its Crackdown on Terrorism, Guantanamo and the wars on Muslim countries around the glob with or without good reason. The less he knows the more he fears.

I don't want to be devil's advocate by soliciting empathy with the murderer, but I can imagine the fear : today he is a terrorist under UK and EU legislation and regulations. Tomorrow he is terrorist under unknown UK and US legislation and regulations. He is afraid that all his efforts and the efforts of those around him will go in vain. Now THEY got him. With THEY being also uncertainty, fears and desperation. Those kick in stronger than ever before.  

The murderer's solicitor might have been right. Probably the murderer has been fine upon his release of prison; it is only that so much has changed in the meantime.

Now forgive me if I missed something, but nobody mentioned the murderer shouting  "Allahu Akbar" during the attack.  I am thinking what if it has been a "secular" non "religious" suicide? A suicide like in "No, future for me" rather than "Tonight I will lie down eight of my thirty three houris".

And as in this dark pre-election season pointing the finger at a presumed responsibles is fashionable, I won't make acception and say:

If it weren't for Brexit and Dominic Cummings to make the Leave vote successful; and if it weren't for all those who voted for change, oblivious of the fact that every revolution - including administrative or ink revolutions as in the Brexit case - is blood thirsty; and if it weren't for everybody else who was taking the luxury and glory of living in a stable ordinate country for granted; so if it wasn't for all those aka if it wasn't for all of us; then small administrative, institutional and technical changes - invisible for most, but scarring the hell out of the marginal and those in particular circumstances -  wouldn't have happened and this innocent blood wouldn't have been spelt.

There, the children's blood staines the hands of us all.

What will happen next?

I will speculate that the terrorist detained in British prisons might be sent to offshore prisons (why only banks? We might stock all sorts of things ofshore) as we don't have successful decriminalisation programs here... We are already ofshoring some terrorists, their wives and their children in Syria and Turkey for example.

Or we could contract a private American company with expertise detaining terrorists. Probably the one that ran Guantanamo could register in the UK under the same or different name. Actually as things stand at present, the company might  even successfully register as "Guantanamo Ltd" and be welcomed.

When in obscure times we investigate the darkness within and around ourselves, may the memory of Saskia Johns and Jack Merritt be a guiding light.

************** ****************

This writing is based on the following personal experience: last Tuesday, 26 November, I upgraded my Samsung. Two days later, I saw the mentioned above amended personal data sharing consent form for a first time. The amendment made such an impression on me and messed with my brain in a way  that for seven days I couldn't download Arabic language on my phone. What initially, on Wednesday 27 and Thursday 28, I was perceiving as a mare technical clumsine of my behalf; gradually turned itno slight paranoia on Thursday which increasrd after the Truely Black Friday. Thus, on Friday, I was thinking that Samsung has made Arabic less easy to install than other languages. While on Sunday, 1 Dec I was already convinced that under the alien US Commercial Code/Regulator Samsung UK has taken Arabic off its software completely. On Monday I called my father "Dad, new American commercial regulations have taken Arabic of their handsets in UK". "Don't be silly milly", my good old father replied "Arabic is one of UN's five official languages". "I am not saying Arabic has been taken off UN's official languages, I am saying US Commercial Regulator  has taken it off Samsung. And they will take it off the UN next". No power on earth was able to convince me otherwise. Not even my English manfriend's rational attempts to reason me. (Mind you, an English manfriend empowers you by talking sense to you while leaving you to deal with your technical problems on your own).

Only this morning, a week later, the impression of the alien amendment had worn out sufficiently so that I may think of the simple thing called a google search. Type "Download Arabic for Galaxy text messages" and watch about five seconds of the video before remembering how easy it is to download Arabic on an Android.

Fear kills rationality. Thus much I learned during this difficult week and as a reslut of the Truely Black Friday. 

And yes, obviously, the murderer might have been simply a deranged jihadist with or without Allahu Akbar on mouth. In which case folded tousand times upon himself in his tiny as a particle of dust place in جـهنــم he will be watching the two beloved, innocent souls assending into جنـة carried by feather winged رضـوان.

4 December 

Fragment of Self Portrait, 2019 © uruspia, Taking Patriarchy ApART

New on LAAF

Arabic Galore under Little East here 

Taking Patriarchy ApART, a review by Elizabeth Thallauer under Berlin ruft here 

Forget Politics. Go Art Shopping for Christmas. For where are the presents here 

A Foodie’sParadise under A Teacup in Tehran here 

The Psychedelic Society 'Vote' banner. I call it 'Menstrual Blood Vote Banner'.

The Stolen Vote

In France, men vote since 1848, while women had to wait unit 1944 to get the right to vote and until 1945 to exercise it. Why not earlier? Well, because no party really wanted women to vote. Why? Well, because it was completely unclear how would French women vote. None knew.

Mind you, French Communist Party was particularly reluctant of French women voting, fearing a reactionary vote in accordance with the preachings of the priests in their parish churchs. ("I don't want the women in my family to vote. They all go to church..." that sort of thing).

As nobody at the time knew how would French women vote, all political parties found it more reassuring, more reasonable, more comforting, more safe to just not have women voting.

Well, now in the UK is absolutely the same: as no political party knows how longterm residents and UK tax-payers from EU provenance would vote, no UK political party was keen to ensure that locals of EU origin with proof of five, ten fifteen and twenty years of residency based on tax-return would be enabled to vote.

I mean I understand the Tories, when they decide to sell me, via UK Home Office, UK permanent l residency document twice (and any status document intermediate to British citizenship, including the citizenship itself twice); while selling my biometrics, voice included,  to "international company" contractor - this is somewhat understandable. They are capitalists, right?

But when simultaneously the Shadow Government and party in opposition, despite all evidence and timely signals, does nothing, strictly nothing, to ensure my right to vote.....

(I am only writing this because it turned out that what happened to me and the institutional monetary and moral robbery I was exposed to; has happened to an Italian friend with 10 consecutive years of tax return proof, a Greek friend with 25 consecutive years of tax return proof and a Bulgarian friend with 30 consecutive years of tax return proof).

There we are:

UK political parties don't know for whom longterm UK tax payers of EU provenance would vote.

What longterm UK tax payers of EU provenance know from the other hand is:

Tories are cannibals.

Labours are bon à rien and should self-dissolve, just like the communists turned socialist parties in Eastern Europe.

What longterm UK tax payers of EU provenance ask themselves is: Do English like populating their own country with voteless slaves? Do they still dream being superior? Or are they simply deeply asleep?

29 November

Wonderful Richard Cork in a passionate talk about Bombetg's 'Mud Bath' and 'In the Hold', 26 November about 1100, National Gallery, Room 1

All About Love

Before Christmas it is all about love. 

Or at least this is what I saw in today at the National Gallery and yesterday at the Fronline Club (which is my last discovery).

'Young Bomberg and the Old Masters' exhibition condenses London's East End history from the period between the two wars in five paintings. Here is the Jewish immigration from Poland, the boxing and the hard life, the fun and the labour.

Composing the exhibition is a work of art on its own merit.  Visible in the exhibition are curator Richard Cork's big love and understanding of Bomberg. "I saw Bomberg's work for the first time at the age of 12 when Tate  acquired 'Sappers at Work' in 1959. Then in 1962 at the acquisition of  'In the Hold', and 'Mud Bath' in 1963. Oh, this", he points, "This was acquired much later, in the 70s". Richard remembers the years of his encounters with Bomberg as important dates in his life.

Similar product - a work of art full of love depicting the life and work of another artist full of love - is Kim Longinotto's film Shooting the Mafia'. The film is about Letizia Battaglia, photografer of Sicilian daily newspaper L'Ora and her lifelong work opposing the Scicilian Mafia. After a long and painful attempt to be an ordinary Scilian housewife, Letizia leaves home and familly and starts photographing at the age of 40. After spending 20 years documenting the devastating effect of the organized crime on the local population "I remember one year there were 1000 murders in Palermo", she decides to "do something more practical about it" and gets into politics standing for the Green Party. For her mandate as MP in the Italian Parliament, Letizia says "As an MP I earned plenty of money and did zero work. Decisions were made elsewhere". It is a film simultaneously beautiful and monsterous; different and informative; brave and very feminin.

Both shows are an absolute must.

26 November

Kim Longinotto's Shooting the Mafia at tue Borderline Club, 25 November about 2000

Oleg Sentsov at the Frontline Club 

Oleg Sentsov at the Frontline Club, 15 November 2019 about 1730

Ukrainian director and writer Oleg Sentsov was arrested when Russia annexed Crimea. Sentenced to 20 years in a gulag-style prison in Siberia Sentsov was set free as part of a prisoner exchange on 7th September 2019. He can't return to Crimea.

These are my impressions of Oleg as I saw him yesterday, Friday, 15 November at Frontline Club.

Oleg Sentsov turned to be one of the most impressive human beings I've seen lately. It certainly has to do with his 'Bogatir' or 'Nefilim' physical appearance - tall by nature, after five years spent in Siberian prison, he is now also built up. Not what you would expect from somebody grown up as a gamer - what Sentsov actually was (his film Gamer/ Гамер 2011, written and directed by him wan him good critics and wide popularity). Hence, the gamer's agility and nervousness is still there, but buried under layers of mussel and self-control. Sunk deep in the sockets, his eyes give the impression of overseeing more than one multidimensional reality. Absolutely spectacular Sentsov's demeanor is somewhere between a Slavonic prophet and a common Moscow thug. A sort of Rasputin reversed.

Released of his Siberian confinement only two months ago Sentsov looks both as: a man who will always be free - no matter where you might find or confine him; and a man who will always cary his cell around no matter in what circumstances you might find or confine him. A dramatic figure of high intensity.

Unsurprisingly, Sentsov and I share an opinion on Putin's Russia - Mega dangerous. Omniinterfering in all other countries' lives on all level. HUNGRY FOR WAR. War Loving Russia. (Russia loves to be surrounded by a war circle an arm distance away. This is my observation)

"They don't simply want to control the way peoplr live. Now they want to control what people think too", said Oleg.

The most remarkable point of the talk was when Oleg  was asked whether really Putin is the trouble or is he a simple personification of the bigger evil of the Russian state. Here Mr Sentsov's insider's opinion was very curious. He said: "In Russia parliament doesn't function. Institutions don't function. Nothing functions. The only things that functions is Vladimir Pitin's system. If he is taken out the system will crumble. Nobody could inherit Vladimir Putin's system".

Which from one side sounds as a good news, but kind of in the best Stalinian traditions - No, man no problem. No Putin....

Other than that, Askold Kurov:'s documentary The Trialal: The State of Russia vs Oleg Sentsov, was a very strong material to watch. It is one thing to read the words "The State of Russia vs Oleg Sentsov" and it is a whole other thing to see the footage of the man locked in a cage to whom a judge says "This is The State of Russia vs Oleg Sentsov case". The man against Putin's State. It makes me wonder with which hero Oleg Sentsov is comparable ... Prometheus? Sisyphus? Or simply Malala Yousafzai?

For don't they look the same? - Two humans engaged in a mortal combat with a multyheaded monster, with all the odds against them but still go out triumphant at the other end: Oleg Sentsov, the man, against the monsterous state of Russia. Malala Yousafzay's head against the Taliban gun.

Which is, in a way, my response to Oleg: Remember Afghanistan? No, man. Eliminating Putin won't solve the problem, but might ease the symptomatics. It might bring a temporarily relive. And you are right Oleg, miracles can be done in the blink of the monsters eye.

But for now:


16 November 2019

Hacienda crowd at Toby Latham's exhibition 'Journeys in Myanmar', Old Brompton Gallery, SW5 0DE

Forget politics. What is the Hacienda crowd doing?

Art. Obviously. And a good one in addition.

To be seen at Old Brompton Gallery. No, not through out all your remaining general election reflection time but until this Sunday, 17 November only. Alas.

Overcoming my favourite haiku-telegraphic style I will force myself to add: for those who have ever been into music, the two must see exhibitions in town at the moment are Toby Latham at the Old Brompton Gallery and Trevor Paglen at Barbican's Curve. Both not dealing with music directly but expressing it on another level.

12 November





I am not sure whether the Labour party may be called back to life; but I spotted a resplendent Emily Thornberry at Angel tube station. It was funny - I was just reading some insignificant account about her tv-appearances in the Evening Standard while on the tube. Then I emerged overground and et la voilà.

It turned out Emily is not only efficient but also beautiful. And cordial. I talked to her to tell her thank you for her help unveiling the mystery about my passport application.

Now I am thinking: it's a good job that the Home Office didn't give me a British passport this year, thus sparing me the obligation to vote on 12 December elections. (No, you can't vote on UK General Election when on the Settlement-scheme. Not even with the permanent status). For what would I have voted? My heart would have shouted 'Emily', my brain would have shouted 'Labour No'. Trouble trouble.

Maybe I would only get a British passport when I know what to vote in this country?

Oh, and keep watching for Tutankhamun.

11 November 2019

Emily SuchAHeart Thornberry with her gang at Angel Tube Station, Monday 11 November about 1850

All things Bridget Riley - dansing waves, bent seas, pulsating stripes, runny dots

After Bridget Riley's exhibitions I see her paterns everywhere. Here is a la Bridget Riely fence at Bowers Park, North London.

In the bleak, rainy autumn when all galleries compete to allure with sublime shows, Hayward Gallery shines with a mighty and vibrant exhibition of Bridget Riley.

Bridget Riley, well known to you, brand new to me - the curves of reality having thrown me, a pebble, on the sands of this perfect beach - the major retrospective exhibition of a celebrated British artist. And what a full on pleasure it is to discover an artist when all rounded and accomplished!

“200 works tracing her creativity from the 60s onwards, including 50 key paintings and the iconic black-and-white works of the 1960s” says the gallery’s press release. To me they all the paintings look iconic with ingenious simplicity, boldness and verve.

Unsurprisingly Bridget Riley is also a mighty thinker, as I had the privilege to realise at her question time. The reflections on her works are pieces of art in their own merit. I would love to have recordings of her voice talking about the process of creation:  thinking, perception and work. Hearing her voice and her thoughts amidst the exhibition this morning added … well, at least as many dimensions as those unfolding from the works on the walls. 

At first I thought that her narrative has a strong impact because it comes from another time. I thought that Bridget Riley is from “the old times” much closer to the times of coloses like the wise Pissaro and the generous Renoir. Until I realise that it is not a different time that she is talking to us from, but a different space - the special, untouchable space of the masters. 

From another perspective, purely visually Hayward Gallery suits  Bridget Riley’s work perfectly. As if the gallery was made especially to host her works. Which I guess is the great contribution of the curators. Or is it that Riley bends not only seas but also concrete? 

Bridget Riley is at the Hayward Gallery for a third time (in a praiseworthy continuation from 1971 and 1992) until 26 January 2020. The program accompagnying the exhibition includes music, which I imagine will be awsome (in the original sense of the word and not as merely 'terrific'). Check events here : hayward-gallery

Bridget Riely at Hayward Gallery, 22 October about 1100

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.

Into the Night. Cabarets and Clubs in Modern Art, Barbican Art Gallery. Photo @Caroline Fakhri

Into the Night. Cabarets and Clubs in Modern Art, Barbican Art Gallery by Caroline Fakhri

This review is slightly late coming off the press due to the birth of my first grandson on the same day as the media viewing 3rd Oct.

The inclusion of Tehran in this exhibition was of particular interest to me as I lived in Tehran for six years post Revolution and have known the city for the last forty years travelling back and fourth at intervals, the most recent visit being this September. Despite my knowledge of the City and the places which existed pre 1979 Revolution, I had never heard of Rasht 29 until I went to Into the Night Exhibition. I was pulled in immediately, excited to see what the nightlife of Tehran had once had to offer.

So not to only focus on Tehran but to use it as an introduction to the exhibition as a whole which explores the ‘social and artistic roles of cabarets, cafes and clubs around the world’ The exhibition is arranged by city making navigation very easy. I was of course tempted to skip straight to Tehran but was patient and gave each city a fair share of my attention.

The exhibition focuses on global locations from New York to London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, Tehran, Mexico City and Ibadan, bringing together over 300 works, including paintings, drawings, prints,films and archival material. These places, which were somehow free from the social and political norms of the day, no longer connected to ordinary everyday life, gave artists and the audiences that frequented them an opportunity to escape from the mundane and explore ideas that might otherwise have been frowned upon.

Into the Night begins its journey in Paris, a fitting start, on the ‘eve of the 20th century, in the Chat Noir (ground floor) and Cabaret Fledermaus in Vienna, where experimental cabaret productions were staged. Upstairs meanwhile, I ventured into Berlin’s nightlife probably immortalised in most peoples minds of my generation by the film Cabaret starring Liza Minelli. Germany was left scarred by the horrors of WW1 and the Weimar Republic was marked by unemployment and disillusionment alongside rapid social change.’ Night clubs, cabarets and variety theatre took advantage of the relaxed censorship nurturing a thriving entertainment industry.’ Critiques of militarism and patriotism manifested in satirical cabaret songs and alternative identities thrived as depicted in female artists’ work such as Jeanne Mammen and Elfride Lohse-Wachtler who documented the flamboyance and diversity ‘with a focus on marginalised communities.’ It was a time of experiment and change.

The full scale recreation of some of the spaces such as Cabaret Fledermaus in Vienna 1907, give a real feel of what this venue was like. Cabaret Feldermaus is impressive with its multi coloured ceramic tiled bar. The colours and the business of the place made me dizzy, contrast this with the black and white chequered flooring guaranteed to induce a feeling of nausea for even the most seasoned of drinkers after a couple of alcoholic beverages.

Much later on in the century, 1966, the night club Rasht 29 emerged in Tehran as a creative space for painters poets musicians and film makers. The works of artists such as Parviz Tanavoli and Faramaz Pilaram hung in the lounge of Rasht 29. Amid rapid economic development and social change Iranian traditions as well as the aesthetics of modernism and pop art created new visual languages. Other venues such as ‘Mari Artists and Writers Club’ are also celebrated, founded in the early 1960s in Nigeria. ‘The exhibition looks at how these places were founded as laboratories for post colonial artistic practices providing a platform for a range of dance, operas and jazz as well as poetry and literature readings’.

Until 19th January 2020

Trevor Paglen: From “Apple” to “Anomaly”, opens TODAY in The Curve, Barbican, 26 September 2019

Not sure about sober in October, but this show is an absolute must!

Trevor Paglen: From “Apple” to “Anomaly”, The Curve, Barbican

تريفور باغلن -" من التفاح إلى الانحراف" في "ذي كرف"، باربيكان

يفتتح اليوم عرض عظيم للفنان تريفور باغلن تحت عنوان " من التفاح إلى الانحراف"  وقبل التطرق الى العرض اود ان اضعه في إطار مكان العرض.

وهو ممر "ذي كرف" في حي باربيكان السكني العجيب الغريب والذي لا مثيل له. فهو حي سكني وثقافي شبه مغلق - فيه مساحات عامة كممرات وساحات وحدائق ومساحات اخرى خاصة - مفتوحة للعين لكن ممنوعة للدخول. تم بناء باربيكان في هذه المنطقة التي تعرضت لقصف شديد من قبل القوات الجوية الألمانية خلال الحرب العالمية الثانية، مما سمح ببناء حي جديد بأكمله

الخاص بالباربيكان هو ان الحي كله مرفوع فوق مستوى الشوارع المحيطة به ومداخله مخفية من عين وبصفاته هذه يشبه قلعة عامرة - وهو كذلك مغلق للسيارات والأعلانات والنشاطات التجارية ولهذه "النظافة" آثر مريح على نفس الأنسان الخدمات المتوفرة فيه متعلقة بالضيافة كالمقاهي والمطاعم المرتبطة بمركز باربيكان الثقافي الواقع في قلب المجموعة السكنية وقدامه بحيرة اصطناعية مستطيلة طويلة يكثر فيها النيلوفر و تحيط بها النخيل وفي احد اطرافها شلالة وفي طرفها الثاني حديقة. والمجموعة كلها مصنوعة من أجود أنواع الأسمنت المشغول يدويا، أما إطارات النوافذ والشرفات فهي مصنوعة من خشب الأبنوس

هناك قاعتين عرض في قلب مركز باربيكان الثقافي، ونشاطهن المتزامن مكرس هذه السنة لإعادة النظرة إلى الحياة من وجهة نظر العلاقة بين الإنسان والذكاء الأصطناعي

سمي عرض "تريفور باغلن" "من التفاح إلى الانحراف " ويمثل عمل فني - قطعة عمل عملاقة مكونة من 30.000 صورة فوتوغرافية - فريد، من خلاله يأخذ الفنان الزائر، حسب رأي ، في رحلة إنسانية من الجنة إلى الجحيم . ينطلق الفنان في عمله من طريقة "تعليم" أو " تطعيم " الذكاء الاصطناعي بمعرفة ومعلومات عن طريق تمويله بأعداد لا تعاد من نماذج شيء معين - وها يفتتح المعرض بصورة تفاحة وثم تليها صورة تفاحة ثانية، وبعدها صور اشكال وانواع والوان من التفاحات ، وبعدها تفاحات في حالات لاتحصى وهكذا تتكون "غيمة التفاح" وتليها غيمة أشجار التفاح وبعدها غيمة النباتات بصورة عامة والتي تتصل من جانبها بغيمتي السماء من جهة والأرض من جهة ثانية وهي على دورها تتصل بغيوم أخرى مثل غيوم الإنسان بنشاطاته الغير معدودة من طرف والحيوانات والكواكب والأشياء المادية من طرف آخر

وهكذا الى ما نصل اصناف ك: متخلف، محرض، أيديولوجي ، عنصري ، شاذ الخ وهذا العمل الفني عريض كالحياة نفسها ومضحك ومرعب وساخر وغامض مثلها

وهو عرض يجب ان لا يفوتكم للباربيكان مطعمان ومقهى وتتمتع كلا القاعتان الفنية بمخزن فني

٢٦ ايلول

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

For Brexit Free gigs, spaces and events visit B-Free subpage