I really only had a two day window to go to Prague before I headed off to America, so an old friend from the states and me packed up a bag and took a flight at 6:30 to Prague. We really had to fit a lot in, so of course the first thing we did was have Mexican in the restaurant downstairs in our hotel, called (fittingly I may add) 7 Tacos. Why we decided to have Mexican is beyond me, but it was probably because we were exhausted and really didn’t care where we ate. If you ever do hit up 7 Tacos in Prague, don’t. The food was ok, but the service was terrible, and if you happen to be there, you are out in the middle of nowhere, as our hotel was. However it was a great hotel at a great price, and check out that view. Beautiful right.

View from the hotel

Classic Mexican in Prague

Our first stop after lunch was the Luna Park. We sort of figure this place was a nightspot, because it was eerily deserted and creepy and we assume Luna to mean Moon. It was a very interesting place, but had to be one of the strangest places I have ever been to. It wasn’t just that it was empty; it was the carnival music being played in the background, and the Ferris wheel going around, with no one on it. It is incredibly hard to describe how eerie this place was if you were not there but I could definitely picture a round of Nazi Zombies being played in this very location.

Side of Industrial Palace

Mid afternoon wall climbing

Reflection in the window of the Industrial Palace

Cheeky bit of trespassing

We had to see what was inside (it was nothing by the way)

Back of the Industrial Palace

After this we walked up to Prague castle, which is perched at the top of the hill, a stunning location overlooking the whole of Prague. We were up there for a while and then walked down through back streets back towards the centre of town.

Changing of the guards in the palace

Large building

Travelling buddy Chase

From there we headed to Zamma Zammas for dinner, then back to the hotel.

The next day we got up at the crack of mid afternoon and ventured back into the city to hit the real touristy spots of the city. We started next to the river and walked South West along the river until we hit Charles Bridge, which has 30 statues on it, leading across the river towards the castle. On our way to the bridge we stumbled across a Damien Hirst exhibition which was pretty cool. I went to another one of his exhibitions in Marylebone at the Wallace Collection gallery and it never stops amazing me at how varied and different, but equally bizarre, his work can be. However that is a discussion for another day.

Sights next to the river

Statue on Charles Bridge

From here we headed back into town towards Old Town Square because we felt that we really should see some of what was featured in the guide book.

Old Town square

Photo stitch of the view from the tower in the old town square

That night we returned to Zamma Zamma for dinner, due to the quality of the food and expert service we recieved the first night (no joke). It is really a place I would recommend, but I really could not tell you where it was for the life of me, we found it by just wandering around aimlessly that first night. After that we had a night out that will never be forgotten, I won’t get in to details but it involved absinthe, a group of Australian tourists the biggest club in Europe and a 2 hour walk because (in the frame of mind that we were in) we assumed that all trams must go the same direction. The morale of that story is that although we got there fast, never assume you know where the tram is going.

Keep it UJU people

Master RAS

WARNING: BEFORE YOU GO ANYWHERE, AND IF YOU HAVE SPOTIFY, START HERE: Fat Freddy’s Drop

Right so it’s probably about time to write another long article about one of the bands which has been ever-present in the music I have been listening to for the past year, Fat Freddy’s Drop. They come and go in phases of transition, but still literally get better every time I listen to them. Why? Probably because they’re all very talented musicians, each bringing an interpretation of their respective instrument that is not only as fresh as the dew on your front lawn in the morning, but bordering on pioneering when combined. But it’s more likely that it’s because their interpretation of Jazz, Soul, Rythm & Blues, Dub and Reggae (not to mention Funk, a cheeky bit of Disco and some infectiously cool Charleston-esque breakdowns) makes for one deep ocean of sound to drown yourself in.

The first time I heard the sound that these guys produce when they play was probably a defining moment of my life. No joke. It’s late in the afternoon, maybe 4pm, downtown in Sydney, Australia. There’s a fair amount of rush-hour traffic flowing around the city’s gargantuan network of roads. I’m a few months into being 18 years old, on a road trip from Melbourne to Cairns that I had only agreed to go on less than two weeks before when I was on the other side of the world, in a small peak-district town just outside of Manchester, United Kindom. The sun is shining in through the windscreen, Dom and I are probably wearing our sunglasses, to tone down the warm glare. We’ve just left Andrew Young’s house, after fish and chips and a swim around the rocks at Coogee Beach. We’re casually gravitating towards North Sydney via the the Sydney Harbour Tunnel, the not-as-famous transportation counterpart of the city’s hallmark harbour bridge. Dom is on the iPod, having taken the opportunity to introduce me to the soulfullness of ‘Flashback’, which on analysis, was a successful choice for a first Fat Freddy’s Drop listen.

We’re not in a hurry, having had a brief but pretty hectic 24 hours in the city. Initially intending to park up and sleep in a spot near the Royal Botanic Gardens, we’d contacted Andrew in the early evening, met his brother who directed us towards the family residence in Randwick, picked up Andrew from work at Fitness First before grabbing a kebab at Coogee, picking up Andrew’s buddy Luqman, going for a late night city sightseeing trip which ended with pancakes at The Rocks by the Bridge and a winding down session of 1 on 1 Halo that did not get old til we realised that it was rather outrageously infringing on the daylight hours of ‘tomorrow’.

Though stuttery and edgy at first, the opening verse from Joe Dukie (otherwise known as Dallas Tamaira) reassures me that in fact, this song is going to be a deep and comforting embrace of nonchalant soulful ambiguity. Which rather conveniently, is exactly what is needed as we pull out of the urban jungle. I’m not too bothered about the fact that I’ve left my wallet at Andrew’s, a bit of a schoolboy error, though after calling him to establish this, the man kindly agrees to personally return it at a spot on the other side of the harbour to save us having to head back into the fray, against the general volume of people commuting out of the CBD at the end of the day.

Fast forward a year, I’m at the end of the first year of a law degree, my cousin is staying with me for some last week of term partying, he’s been familiar with the Drop now for a good 6 months, I’d done my bit in passing onto him ‘Based on A True Story’ (their first studio album) before I’d started my degree and tells me that he hasn’t stopped listening to them since. After listening to them for the rest of the road trip, and then throughout the ensuing summer at home, I’m pretty familiar with them too, I’d even made a friend on my dorm corridor through mutual apreciation of them, something which is definitely one of the best things about music.

Their music has got some kind of cynically well thought out, genre-encompassing chemistry that is perfected, as I now know, over constant tour performances, basically live jam sessions out of which songs eventually emerge in their own time (these guys work to ‘Fat Freddy’s time’, an unconventional interpretation of chronological order that I’m not even sure includes years, months, days or even hours)and make it onto their records. In other words, they only release the songs that are good enough to warrant playing again, and don’t get written in one sitting, but over a distillation period which removes impurities and viscosity problems until only the uju remains.

A friend once told me something along the lines of “This is what pop should sound like” when summarising the Drop, while comparison to the popular music movement may in fact attract stigma in these musically turbulent times, let’s not forget that Pop used to be (slash still is on some levels) good. Being good at pop music was a difficult thing, while not difficult to produce on a whim, writing a song that musically and lyrically was both simple enough on the surface for the masses and to an extent deeply complex enough for the opinionated and ‘well-listened’ audience is to walk a fine line. And Fat Freddy’s Drop do this almost effortlessly now, it’s shocking, but at the same time comforting to realise how anonymous they are, but then -again this is a good thing- so are a lot of bands.

Turning back to the music itself, in the words of Joe Dukie in ‘Big BW’, the opening track of Dr Boondigga and the Big BW, the band’s sophomore album, “You’ve gotta know what you’re running from, before you know where you’re runnin’ to; what you leave behind”. I strongly recommend sitting through ‘Based on A True Story’ in it’s entirety at least into the double digits, just to hammer home the sound of the Drop. In order to fully appreciate the how the band and their synergy has evolved over the years, not just between albums, but as the collective has begun to fuse. If you’re feeling really keen, you could even hit up ‘Live at the Matterhorn’, a 2001 live album which documents a performance from which, at the turn of the millennium, the jams that would form Based On A True Story were born. Apart from being a pretty cool album title, which hints at the words ‘concept album’, a phrase which is guaranteed to send me into a deluded and giddy state, the name is actually an accurate description of the process involved in taking the band’s mammoth jams and turning them into digestible tracks, at some point potentially losing a ‘length’ element, but benefiting from the distillation effect of such album-making. There’s still periods of rise and fall, elation and sombre soulfulness, so everybody’s a winner.

Incidentally, after reading the Wikipedia article on them (from which you will find I have obtained may facts on the band but have in fact used them to add to a personal interpretation of them and not just fake one) the album’s second title is apparently interpreted as: Dr. Boondigga (’some evil creature who is trying to sign us to a major label’) and the Big Brain Wash (the Big BW). Zing! Alarm bells literally ring in my head when I read this. If I had a checklist, it would be ticked as follows: this is a concept album (TICK), born out of live jams (TICK), which preaches to the masses about the joys of being a generally soulful and self-content mother fucker(MASSIVE TICK), released on their own label; the Drop (TICK), that basically takes a stab at everything it means nowadays to be popular, mainstream, and backed by a big corporate label (BIG TICK).

See I could basically end this review there, they’ve ticked all the boxes for me, they can do no more wrong, but then I decided that going to a Fat Freddy’s Drop gig on the 1st of December 2009 would probably be the only way I could really ever die happy. Let alone write an article to put on a co-owned, not-for-profit-but-really-ought-to-make-me-some-money-soon-would-be-nice website giving them massive, big-time, props, word-ups, respect and all that jazz.

It’s a Tuesday, and I’m on the early-evening train from Nottingham to Manchester, having completed a whole day at uni in order to justify attending this mid-week gig, I’ve even brought along some reading to casually do for a tutorial I plan to attend back in Nottingham at midday, Wednesday. Because I’m so organised that I can literally seamlessly phase in and out of work/play/work like a liquid big shot cool guy. But actually because I’m optimistic and naive, and never ever turn down the chance to believe that I can make it back to uni and that tutorial all in good time. I get in to Manchester at 7.30 and hook up with Liam and Hannah and head over to Hannah’s house to get a little happy for the gig. Doors supposedly opened at half 7 so I’m in quite a rush to reach a requisite level of happiness, something which with the benefit of hindsight was understandable, but when we turn up just after 8 we realise that there’s a support act playing and the band aren’t on ’til 9. (”Could do with being a little bit more happy”) So we remonstrate by giving the bar and smoking area at Academy 2 our undivided attention for the best part of half an hour, before we made like sardines and got as near as the front as possible for the gig.

The lights are low and I’m pretty keen to be overwhelmed by some huge bass ASAP, enter Dobie Blaze (keyboards), Jetlag Johnson (guitar) and DJ Fitchie (big bad sequencer) who take the stage for what promises to be one seriously pumping intro session. Almost immediately I realise that not only are they going to kick of one serious jam here, but they’re going to jump straight into the deep end with ‘Shiverman’ a 10 and a half minute tune off the new album that is one hell of a genre-coasting big-boy that takes you off-guard in the best way possible. My cousin fucking loves this song and so by the time the rest of the band takes to the stage I’m promptly holding my phone above my head in an attempt to give him an idea of what these guys sound like live. It’s not long before I realise he’s probably getting nothing but a pounding bassline recording which definitely will not be agreeing with the mobile-phone speaker on the other end of the line. An MMS picture of the stage will have to do for now. Shiverman is followed up by Boondigga, the best ear-friendly single you’ve never heard on national radio, except in New Zealand. After this it’s clear when Ho Pepa, the trombonist, removes his blazer so that he’s down to a vest and slacks, that one sweaty skank-sesh is in order. All the rastas in Manchester appear to be in attendance, and it’s obvious that this band attracts a selective audience. From white university-student girls with dreads, to old timer rastamen, everybody’s having a skankingly good time. The brass section is off its own nut, these guys are so crucial to the sound of The Drop and Hopepa, Tony Chang (trombone) and Chopper Reedz (sax) all are given chance to solo as well as dish out the signature Fat Freddy’s riffs together. Trying to keep track in my head, I’m pretty sure that it’s taken them a good half hour to get through 2 and a half songs, there’s never any significant pause between songs, they just jam in and out of every one, it’s great. I couldn’t actually believe it but Joe Dukie is laying down those soulful vocals just like on the albums, he’s looping hooks and verses, harmonising and singing over his already overly soulful self until I’m pretty sure I’ve reached some sort of complete form of satisfaction. We’re taken through ‘Roady’,in which we were treated to a verse or two from MC Slave who’s touring with the band, as well as ‘Pull the Catch’ and ‘Ray Ray’ and were even treated to a track which I’m pretty sure is a ‘work in progress’, introduced over the tour to audiences before it’s final evolution can make it to the next album. I’m ecstatic to be taking part in the Fat Freddy’s process. The final track of the set before the encore turns out to be ‘This Room’ a personal favourite from the first album, I’ve given up trying to count songs now and when the chorus suddenly morphs into a version of Bob Marley’s ‘Waiting in Vain’, there’s probably more logic in counting the number of times I’ve been made progressively happier by the music, the answer is uh, like, alot. In the space of 2 hours, the time it would take for your average band to get through nearly twenty songs, I can hardly count ten tracks here, but these guys made it count, and by the time they leave the stage, I’m quite happy to sit/stand/live through the 8 or so hours it would probably take them to get through the rest of the songs they have on record.

I never made that tutorial.

This Christmas, we were looking through old photos that my dad had scanned in to the computer. I came across some great old photos of my grandpa (the original Mr RAS) that I just had to share. I always knew that he had great style, but it wasn’t until recently that I really appreciated it. Below is the photo that motivated me to write this post.

Pink blazer with tortoise shell glasses, the guy is rocking it.

Tai Chi In China

Suited Up On The Great Wall

Looking suave in front of a junk boat

Wearing a ‘classic’ rugby

At my dads graduation. I now own the belt that he is wearing in this photo.

These photos really portray the great personal style that my grandpa has, and for which I will always remember him for. The only thing I want to know is where the hell that pink blazer went.

Keep it UJU

Master RAS

It begins with one site I like to follow pretty regularly, The Sartorialist.  Scott Schuman (The Photographer) concentrates on the small details in what people are wearing and set up his website to show what he believed “was a disconnect between what I was selling in the showroom and what I was seeing real people (really cool people) wearing in real life“. Visiting this website has made me spend more time really looking at what people are wearing, and try to imagine what Scott would say if he was writing about it.  With that in mind I was pleasantly surprised to look down at my cuff on the way up to London and notice that it was perfectly layered – shirt, jacket then coat.

I shared this immediately with kookysistawiththehair, someone I knew would appreciate what I was talking about.  Since  it also made me think of the Sartorialist (which I’ve wanted to do an entry on for a while) I thought it would be a good way to get it into a post. If you get a chance, have a look on Scotts website, because if you have taken the time to read this article, you will probably appreciate what he has done for fashion in recent times.  It’s also worth reading what he writes about his ‘’subject”, because it gives you an insight into the mind of someone who’s keen eye is always looking out for the smallest of details,  a trait that has made him into inspiration for mood boards in studios all over the world.

Looking out for the small details that make something inspirational is one thing that I am going to try to do more this year. In a way this could be a resolution that for once,  I keep.

Happy New Years to all and as always, keep it UJU

Master RAS

It’s been over fifty years since the publishing of Kerouac’s seminal On The Road, having played as much a part of the Beat Movement as it’s legacy forms a piece of legend for anyone who idolises the past and present of what’s hip and cool today. About three weeks ago I set about myself to undertake a spontaneous and poorly planned road trip to the most foreign regions of the great and often barren nation that is Australia, my peers likening it to the journeys travelled by Kerouac in the post war era across America. The plan was to hitch hike to the Northern city of Darwin, over 3000km by road from my home in Brisbane, I brought with me just over $150, an overnight bag and a satchel filled with journals. Whilst I did not seriously consider myself a modern day Jack Kerouac, the parallels between his adventure and mine were becoming very clear, oh but how the roads had changed in half a century- and they were soon to bare their glaring differences.

It all started upon waking up in the sweltering Summer heat of my inner-city workers cottage after another wasted night of binge drinking on the university down time, the only real souvenir from the night before being a crippling hangover, half a cask of wine and a Swedish backpacker lying next to me. I looked over to her and had a rather powerful thought as she lay there with a pillow covering her face to block out the sun. This girl, in the month or so of travel she’s had, has probably seen more of this island continent than I have. Without wanting to spend another minute in that airless bedroom I collected myself and headed into my lounge dialing the numbers of contacts I thought might want to take a bit of a road trip to the furthest corners of the nation on this beautiful November day. As it turned out, in this day and age nobody had the keen adventurous spirit of myself, so I thought “fuck it” and embarked on the expedition alone, hitching a ride about two hours north to the coastal community of Coolum with an old friend of mine who lived up there. Coolum, being a bit of a bohemian seaside paradise was my home for the night, but not wanting to dwell too long, I scored myself a bag of strong hydroponic marijuana from a group of hipsters and hit the road again. This time, my intentions were to blindly head north with the first person to offer a ride.

Either people are less welcoming to the wandering stranger these days or Mr. Kerouac let on that getting people to trust you enough to ride shotgun in their car was a lot easier than it actually was. I suppose in this age of car jacking and chilling backpacker murders the former probably holds some truth. I ended up sitting on the shoulder of a highway for most of the morning and if it weren’t for the cool coastal breezes I could have easily perished then and there having brought no water with myself and baring another killer hangover. Eventually, a man in a white utility stopped and offered me a ride with him, he was taken aback that I had no idea where I was headed and in response to my wild aspirations of nation wide travel, suggested I ride with him up to Hervey Bay on the glorious Fraser Coast.

“Mate, you’re fucken crazy. I’m not gonna drive you up to bloody Darwin but I live at Hervey Bay, I’ll drop you at Centro.”

Hervey Bay isn’t exactly a holiday destination and I had no idea what ‘Centro’ was but whatever. I was game.

As it turns out, ‘Centro’ is a shrine to the suburban dream. An enormous shopping mall complete with attached tavern and transit centre. Even a days drive out of the city and into the world of coastal fishing towns and surfer communities is not enough to escape the grasp of suburbia and everything that propagates its continuation in this contemporary existence. Devastated, I circled the carpark, realising I’d allocated more money to drugs than I had to food and without a bed to sleep in I prepared myself for the first of many rough nights. After scraping together seven dollars, I hit the local Super IGA and bought myself some bread, tabouleh and ham. This was a bit of a lavish but it provided both dinner and breakfast to the point where I couldn’t eat any more, the ham kept fresh under the cool of night.

(This is just a tip for those of you who don’t know. Home made sandwiches are fucking cheap and filling. Deli meals can be made for under a couple of dollars and it’s usually enough to feed two. Get involved.)

It was about here that I realised there was no turning back for a while. I had committed myself to the road and I was no doubt in it for the long haul. The cost of heading back prematurely would set me back in rent for a week, something I simply could not afford to do. I waited until sunset before moving to find a bed, the shame of being judged by all these middle class suburban people was a new experience for me and a perspective I had never imagined I’d view. For I truly was what the majority of them thought and from that there was no escape; I was lost and with nowhere to go. I rugged up underneath some plastic packaging in a cardboard box that once held a refrigerator behind a TV studio housed in a warehouse, fulfilling every homeless person cliché along the way.

At this point my adventure had already taken a turn for the worst. Where Kerouac had the thriving culture associated with the Beat scene in post-war America, I was stuck in the heartland of the unremarkable. The towns not big enough to have something going on, whilst Capitalism and the spread of mass consumerism meant that they were no longer quaint enough to be interesting. I was just barely surviving in a place that held all the character of a wasteland, however at the same time, the very fact that I had to struggle to survive at all in the middle of suburbia is what made it mentally bearable- you could say it kept me sane.

The next morning at five I was out of that place. In a classic case of being at the right place at the right time I sighted a van with detailing indicating it was from Rockhampton- a small city another full days drive north of where I was. I waited around for the driver and sure enough he was heading home and kindly offered me a lift. If I had learned anything from my previous experience of hitching a ride it would have been that knowing where you are going is important if you don’t want to be berated for being a foolhardy idiot. Thinking that I wasn’t really interested in another lecture, I made up a string of lies claiming that I was a Rocky local and had found myself down the coast after a weekend camping. Pretty weak story and he probably thought I was a weirdo but it was enough to keep him quiet.

I landed on the streets of Rockhampton with all the expectations in the world. Two days driving from home and I was a free man. The truth is that Rockhampton is a cruel and unforgiving place for a man with no car and no money, I may have been free from commitments back home but my dire situation with regards to money and transport left me with little options. With no map easily available I figured I had a fifty percent chance of finding the right road to get me out of this town and keep me going up the north coast- it was either left or right. The trouble was that these days Rockhampton is an urban sprawl of single story factories and arterial roads that seem to go nowhere in particular, the place is unnavigable on foot. Completely disheartened, I decided to check out the town but ended up sleeping on the streets of Rocky for three nights in a row. Taking left overs from bakeries around the city became the norm, I felt like I had been doing this my whole life and with each heist I’d get a little thrill and sense of satisfaction. It’s weird how you change when you’ve seemingly got nothing to lose. After the third night I got the opportunity to shower at a roadhouse which I jumped at and soon found myself in a fresh set of clothes ready to take on whatever the road could throw at me.

Again, a long day waiting for a ride on the shoulder of what I figured was the road north and I was back in the midst of the world of a hitch hiker. Deep and meaningful conversations with people I would never see again. It’s like they become my best friend for the time that we were together and then just as easily as we’d met, we were separated, a polite wave goodbye and they’re gone. I’m gone. I found myself in the quiet seaside town of Mackay. Picturesque, quaint and for the first time in my adventure I felt like the trip was worth my while. There’s something a little more wild about Mackay, it’s this ‘wildness’ that gets preserved because there exists here a certain quality that not even the developers of sprawling shopping malls and chain hotels can capitalise on. It didn’t even bother me that I had no bed, the charm of sleeping on a real beach, under the stars is often unmatched. Money was not an issue either, earlier in my journey I had purchased some salt which I had been saving for a moment like this, for in the wet sand live small shellfish called Pipis. You can dig them up with your foot and cook them on an open fire, they taste like a tough mussel. Add a bit of salt and there’s no fresher taste. The idea of sustainable living outside of the law and society has always excited me and for the next leg of the trip I felt like a true modern day proponent of the themes behind On The Road. Spontaneity, creativity and the blatant rejection of a mainstream lifestyle. To top it off I was seeing a side of the country I had never seen before.

For the next week or so I floated slowly up the coastline of what is known here as the Whitsunday’s with whoever would take me, smoking joints, eating shellfish, sleeping under the stars and avoiding all the tourists leading normal lives. I had never felt more content. I had truly made it. This is what the road is about, I thought to myself. Airlie Beach, Bowen, Home Hill, Ayr and finally Townsville. All of these towns with the same pristine beaches, some more beautiful than others but all possessing their own distinct charm. It was this part of Australia and my adventure, that inspired me to write anything at all and now, here I sit in an internet café in Townsville spending the last of my dollars whilst frantically tapping out a story from a collection of scattered journal entries and drug muddled memories. At this stage, I feel like I needn’t continue anywhere. I’m out of money and I think I’ve seen enough. There’s plenty more of this life of mine and just the beginning of what you could call my life on the road. Extra points for getting the reference.

On the whole you could say that although the road has since been sterilised by all that we find sickeningly comfortable and normal in this modern world, there remain parts of this planet that are untouched- or preserved. The Beats may be long gone but the basic principles visited in their most famous literature still remain relevant. At least to some.

PEACE.

by my good friend and bigtime cool guy from Brisvegas Australia, James Gemmell.

Bright red mohawk, neon or black eyeliner swept across her eyelids, vintage quirky grunge rock and roll en samble sums up Hammersmith born Elizabeth Hepworth in a couple of words. An exemplification of her artistic creativity…picture David Bowie, Ziggy Stardust, Grace Jones…oldern day Maddonna…level of originality.

© Ian Morrison

On meeting her at the Tate Britain in the summer of 2008 for the Tate Forum training, Elizabeth educated me on Francis Bacon, his lifestyle beliefs etc etc blah blah… (prior to this I didn’t even know who he was), his exhibition was on at this time. During the training upon group discussion of the Lament of Icarus painting by  Herbert Draper(1898), Elizabeth’s passion for art was blaitantly evident from her analysis of the painting.

Lament Of Icarus

Herbert Draper 1898.

At only 20 years old, the young artist has a C.V. so large to be the envy of that of a science P.H.D. professor. She has already won the  Enterprise Centre for Creative Arts, Creative Enterprise Award for Successful Freelancer and has been highly recommended by Aesthetica Magazine in the field of ‘Artwork and Photography’ for her painting ‘Toby’

Toby

Elizabeth Hepworth-2009

Elizabeth has always had a passion for art from doodling in her school years and when she runs out of words, finds  herself  “trailling of onto her clothes.” With her love for life drawing, Elizabeth sets to exhibit her paintings as more than just visual objects. Her paintings are set to show emotion,history, soul and indicate unseen tensions in the paintings that bring out their character. In a world of Damien Hirsts and contemporary artists who produce art that distance the viewer from the actual art piece, Elizabeth is a new wave of contemporary artist that sets to bridge this alienation. In her words, Elizabeth would like to “place some of the enjoyment of art back into the hands of the people.”

Her piece ‘You are the company you keep’ is a perfect example of how Elizabeth has achieved this.

You are the company you keep.

Elizabeth Hepworth 2009.

This piece is overall, 6ft in diameter and composes of two discs, the inner one with the heads painted on and the outer one with the subject’s bodies. The inner disc rotates so the heads can be changed over to fit any of the bodies. This piece is a perfect illustration of the saying ‘birds of a feather flock together’ and as well being a beautiful piece of art, manages to engage the viewer. Ultimate creativity if you ask me, I mean would have you thought of that…..yeah neither would I.

Generally her paintings show the objects’ characters and bring them to life for the viewers.

Lottie & bird.

Elizabeth Hepworth 2009

I am the facebook photo stealer.

Elizabeth Hepworth 2009.

Oil Bar Nude

Elizabeth Hepworth 2009.

Oil Bar Nude II

Elizabeth Hepworth 2009.

Elizabeth is intrigued by the human figure and it’s personality hence why she is a literall, living and walking subject of her art. As a live perfomer, she channels the human emotion in high energy, adrenaline fuelled bouts and transforms these into live art. These live pieces trully embody the human emotion and are delivered with a guarantee of no dissapointment. One of my personal favourites is her performance at the Loud Tate 2009 entitled ‘LOUD HATE’ on the Manton Lawn filled with revellers. I can’t even express in words how much I love this piece and how original I believe it is. You can feel the emotion..the tension…the hate. Its the whole feeling or being enraged being brought into life in the form of art….just take a look…

(all pictures for the Loud Hate performance-© Ian Morrison)

(all pictures for the Loud Hate performance-© Ian Morrison)

As part of the ‘We are young We are new’, Elizabeth secured herself a solo exhibition at the Foundry in East London. This solo show was entitled ‘Untwine’ and I believe is one of her best pieces too.

I just can’t help but fall in love with Elizabeth’s art pieces. Her latest piece ‘Fate’ once again just brings the simple word to life in a painting just by the detail and the use of colour.

Fate (Detail)

Elizabeth Hepworth 2009.

Just as I’m about to wrap up this piece, cruising through her pieces I spot her first ever oil painting which, she did at only 18 years old. At a first glance, I thought the painting was actually a real life chair or even just a well decorated photography piece. Just have a look at the painting and you will see what I mean…….

Mum’s Chair

Elizabeth Hepworth 2008

(My younger cousin’s commentary “It looks very nice and 3D. I like it” she then proceeds to ‘preview ‘the draft and “I like really really like her stuff it’s very real.” Mind you her interest in art is like that of a fat kid on brussel sprouts)

At such a young age Elizabeth’s artwork is taking the world of art by storm. Her paintings ‘Toby’, ‘Art Slave’ and ‘You are the company you keep’ are currently in exhibition at the Victoria House in Central London until the 18th of December. Not only is her work being exhibited in England, she seems to also be “messing with the chinese” in her words. Video stills from her recent live/street art pieces are currently in exhibition in  Xin Dan Wei Gallery in Shanghai. Elizabeth has just been accepted by the Berlin University of the Arts, so it’s no doubt she’s off to  fulfil her destiny as an artist in a great artistic town full of history, character and soul. I have to admit, I’m quite looking forward to her pieces from Berlin.

I’ve had the pleausure of meeting Elizabeth and have no criticism about her as a person. She’s very kind, considerate and very easy to get along with has a unique personality and a very strong presence. At such a young age,Elizabeth showcases such immense talent, so raw, so genuine and so fresh. In my opinion, she’s set to be a contemporary artist who sparks less controversy with her pieces but rather, produces art that the viewer can relate to. All ye facebookers join her group Elizabeth Hepworth// Art Slave (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Elizabeth-Hepworth-Art-Slave/351626135640#/pages/Elizabeth-Hepworth-Art-Slave/351626135640). Take a look at herwebsite which is still under construction but coming along nicely http://www.elizabethhepworth.com/ . You can also check out her Myspace page to view more of her work. This young artiste is a force to be reckoned with SO JOIN IN THE REVOLUTION!!!!!

Keep it UJU people.

kookysistawiththehair.

xoxoxoxo ]]> http://www.ujuforthecool.com/elizabethhepworthartslave/feed 3 http://www.ujuforthecool.com/miss-khalaeliah-why-is-she-still-unsigned http://www.ujuforthecool.com/miss-khalaeliah-why-is-she-still-unsigned#comments Fri, 04 Dec 2009 19:52:40 +0000 kookysistawiththehair. http://www.ujuforthecool.com/?p=345 She sat there on the bench opposite the McDonalds in Mitcham, Surrey on a hot August summer afternoon playing her guitar preparing for her perfomance at the Youth Event in Mitcham Green and I just thought, “She’s soo cool”. It wasn’t until I heard Margaret Khalaeliah Bakosi sing for the first time and her voice actually gave me goosebumps. A voice so soulfull, so delicate yet so powerful and extremely well controlled. On giving her a compliment I was suprised at how humble and down to earth she is.She doesn’t need to blow her own trumphet as her wonderful voice pretty much does all of that for her. On Friday the 27th of November, I heard her sing again at an event for unsigned artists and just had to do a feature about her as I’m still wondering WHY IS SHE STILL UNSIGNED???.

An interview on facebook chat and blackberry messenger was therefore only appropriate. Miss Khalaeilah discovered her singing talent at about the age of seven. She just sang around the house you know the usuall hairbrush….. singing along to the nursery rhymes blah blah but it wasn’t until she was about 16/17 that she decided to choose singing as her career. After attending St Francis Xavier Sixth Form College, Khalaeilah proceeded to Central School of Speech and Drama (CCSD) in London. Well it might seem like i’m blabbing on with no evidence, here goes..I’ll let you be the judge..

Musically Miss Khalaeilah is inspired by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, Lucy Pearl, Mariah Carey and compares herself to India Arie and more modern Chrisette Mitchell. On playing her music to some of my friends, she has been compared to Corinne Bailey Rae, India Arie, Amel Larrieux, all wonderful soul artists. Alongside being an excellent singer, Khalaeliah writes her own songs which, as well as being very good songs are wonderful pieces of poetry.

Follow this to hear her version of Amy WInehouse- take the box

http://www.facebook.com/#/video/video.php?v=1053917222453

Music for Khalaeliah in her words is all about “producing honest music and not just for commercial’s sake.” It’s refreshing to see real music talent than the usuall naked, no singing talent and conventionally mainstream artists that the music industry is saturated with at the moment. At a young age of only 19, Khalaeliah is making herself a name, a good one at that considering she only took her singing seriously about two years ago.

I haven’t actively taken myself to a music store to buy an album in a very long while,but if Khaleilah is to drop an album I shall be doing exactly this. Her voice is just sooo soulfull and perfectly controlled. A singing voice that sounds the same regardless of wheather the song is a live or a recorded version which, is something rarely ever achieved by the modern music artist. Miss Khalaeliah has been approached for her music a couple of times. I haven’t a single criticism about Miss Khalaeliah as a person and as a music artist and these exact features destine this young, beautiful lady for ultimate greatness.

Visit her myspace http://www.myspace.com/kaleidoscopesosolo

Join her facebook group http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=80187416508&ref=ts

SPREAD THE MESSAGE AND JOIN TEAM KHALAELIAH!!!

GOOD UJU DAY PEOPLE

kookysistawiththehair.

xoxo

The Joke

A man arrives at the airport and gets into a taxi. The man asks to go to the city centre.

Taxi Driver – “Do not worry, I will get you there nice and fast, no problem, I’m a professional, I’m  a professional “

They keep driving towards the city centre when a red light comes on, instead of stopping the taxi driver goes right through the light, and even speeds up.

Passenger – WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? You just went through a red light”
Taxi Driver – “Don’t worry, I’m a professional, I’m a professional”

They keep on their journey and then they burn right through another light

Passenger – “YOU JUST DID IT AGAIN, why do you keep doing that?
Taxi Driver – Don’t worry about it, I’m a professional”

So they keep driving when they come to a green light. The taxi driver screeches to a halt and almost causes a crash behind him.

Passenger – “NOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING?  You just stopped at a green light, what is wrong with you?
Taxi Drivers – ” There might be other professionals around, and I don’t want to crash”

That joke pretty much sums up the driving in Romania to a T. The lanes are really only there as guidelines and when I was there I experienced road rage, where two drivers literally got out of their cars and started strangling each other right on the side of the road, quite an intriguing scene. I also found out that if you don’t break the rules on the road, you really won’t go anywhere, so all you can really do as a passenger is hold on and pray. Oh and when you are in a taxi, it is rude to put on the seatbelt, no wonder that they have the highest casualties on the road of any other European country.

Enough about the driving. Since this is the first travel article, I am going to write a little about my experiences, throw in some pictures and generally try to explain/review what I did.

I had the added benifit of visiting someone who knew the area, the history and more importantly had a car that they could show me around in, so it might not be what you get if you went backpacking.

The Mountains

The second day I was there, I was taken up into the mountains, which was incredible. We drove for about 2 hours out of Bucharest. We visited Vlad the Impalers (better known as Dracula due to Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula) castles. He was known as the Impaler due to the way he killed his enemies, and the name pretty much sums it up. The reason I say castles is because there are two, and no-one is really sure which one he actually stayed in. One of them happens to be located on a road that is easily accessible  and the other on top of a mountain, so of course they call the more accessible one his authentic castle, purely for tourists. It is definitely worth going to see both, but don’t expect to Rasnov (the non-touristy one) without a fight, because we sure as hell couldn’t figure out how to do it.

Rasnov – Draculas Castle

From there we ventured further in to the mountains. This place really is beautiful. This part of the country was untouched by Nicolae Ceauşescu who, in Bucharest, destroyed most of what used to be called ‘The Paris of the East”, but more about that later. We actually experienced a traditional funeral, in a town of no more than about 100. They still had the coffin in a cart, being pulled by a horse. It is incredible to see how little this part of the country has changed, and was really breathtaking. It felt as if we were intruding on this moment, because didn’t live there and definitely looked like outsiders. This is the reason that I did not take a picture of this moment, but it really was an a moment to behold.

We then kept driving and came across sellers by the edge of road. I can’t imagine it was the best job, but just imagine the views from the office, stunning some would say.

View from the “office”

Cheese and Pretzel seller

Apple Sellers Car

Apple seller jamming

The last stop we made on our trip in the mountains was to Peles Castle. Legend has it that to stop Ceauşescu destroying it, the people who worked there claimed that there was a poison in the wood, that needed to be treated before it could be knocked down. They claimed that the gas would kill any workers who tried to destroy it because it would be released. They stretched out the “treatment” long enough and kept making excuses for enough time that he never got a chance to destroy it. It is fantastic that it still stands because this place, as my friend Steph said “Looks like the palace out of beauty and the beast”. To be fair, I think it is a pretty fair comparison, take a look.

Front of Peles Castle

View from Front

Courtyard

Bucharest

Up until Romania, I had never been further east in Europe then the Czech Republic. Bucharest was a completely different beast to Prague. Prague has most or all of its historical architecture in place, whereas most of the old part of Bucharest was destroyed to make way for the Peoples Palace. I also had a personal tour guide who showed me around Bucharest, with an extensive knowledge. I learnt much more than I did in Prague, purely because of the personal touch.

The People’s Palace is a monstrosity that was built purely to fill Ceauşescu’s ego. It is the most ridiculous building I have ever seen, and really dominates the landscape in downtown Bucharest. It is the second biggest building in the world, smaller only to the Pentagon. I took some photos of it while I was there, but this image does it better justice than the shots that I took ever could.

People’s Palace from the air (http://www.bucharest-life.com/media/pics/palace-of-parliament.jpg)

The buildings that flank it to the top right and left are the headquarters of the Secret Service in Romania. They are now very classy apartments in Bucharest, but still also leave a scar on the landscape.

Looking back at the aerial shot of the People’s Palace you can just make out a small church just behind the Secret Service buildings on the right. This church, called the Biserica Antim, narrowly missed out on demolition when these buildings where made. It was literally given a new foundation, put on rails and then moved 100m down the road to make way for these buildings. This is incredible, given the way that everything else was just destroyed to make way for new buildings.

Biserica Antim

Entrance to Biserica Antim

Courtyard

From here we walked towards the old part of the city. This was fantastic because this part of the city was intact, and as Dan (my guide) put it, the whole city is getting a lick of paint. From this point, I don’t have many specific names of places that we were, so I will let the pictures do the talking.

Building works and a mix between the old architecture and communist buildings

The gates to another one of Dracula’s Castles, this one is in ruins.

Courtyard off of Strada Selari

Staircase to rooftop cafe

This building used to be a cinema. What is interesting about this old cinema is that Dan remembers going here to watch movies on the weekend with his father. This was special because TV under communist regimes were limited to 2 hours a day and they were purely messages supporting communism. They did not have any other choice of what they watched, so visiting the cinema was a particularly exciting experience, that seemed to be a defining point in his childhood.

Interesting doorway in the old part of the city that leads to a “russian club” according to Dan.

This is a well conserved part of the city, with a church in the distance. Even though lots of churches were destroyed, many still stand, which is not surprising becuase more than 80% of Romanians are identified as Eastern Orthodox, according to the 2002 concensus. Recently Bucharest has started investing in new roads for some of these old streets. This is party due to the fact that some of the roads used to be made out of wood. The reason for this is because of all the wooden carts that used to be pulled around the city, and the fact that it was easier to build that a proper stone road. They didn’t really plan ahead with that type of road which is why they are doing it properly this time around.

View down the Bulevardul Unirii towards the People’s Palace

Fountain in the middle of Piata Unirii

Billboards around Piata Unirii

Sunset around the fountain.

Rush Hour around Piata Unirii

This is the CC building. This is where, on December 21st,  Ceauşescu gave his last speech before fleeing the city by helicopter. He fled to Târgovişte where he thought he still had support from his countrymen. He was decidedly wrong, and he was returned to the city centre, where he was formally tried and shot by a court on December 25th 1989.

This building made me think that Romania is heading in the right direction with their rebuilding of the city. You can’t see closely with this image, but the glass portion of the building extends all the way to the ground, where the traditional building is only a shell. A really innovative piece of architecture in my opinion, hopefully something that will be continued more and more around the city.

Should you go?

I can’t really tell you whether you should visit Bucharest or not, because the experience I had would vary a lot to the experience that anyone else would have. I had a tour of the city by some one that had lived there all their lives, who had even experienced some of the communist regime. I also stayed in a ex-patriot “compound”,  so did not actually stay in the city centre.

All in all though it is a very, very interesting place that is undergoing some major developments, and will be changing alot in the next 10 years. So yes, I do think that you should go, but I think 1 or 2 days would be plenty enough to see the whole city, it is not very big and is incredibly walkable. Also if you get the chance to head out of the city into the mountains, it would be very worth the time to do it. Keep an eye out for the reviews of the places I ate, and the clubs that I went to. They will be featured in the Places section soon.

Thanks for reading and keep it UJU

Master RAS

Thunderstorm off of the balcony of our hotel, The Maryland Inn

Capital Building

View down Main Street

Capital Building

Statue of Alex Haley author of the book Roots, which changed America’s understanding of slavery. He is surrounded by children of different races.

Keep it UJU

Master RAS

Anyways, back to Jake. For his final project in his foundation year he covered a table with writing. Let me tell you, this was a labour of love, not only did he cover the outside of the table, he covered the underside of the table, places where no-one will ever get to see, but it mattered to him, so he did it. As you can tell from the shots below, he has covered this thing, and has even done some writing on the wall, and everything else that covered this table.

The table is a great example of his work for university, but he also does a lot of pretty incredible work just for fun. The guitar below is a good example of this, his dad wasn’t to happy with the final outcome, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the work, more that it was his guitar.

You may have realised by now that this guy loves his text, and pretty much draws/incorporates text into anything he wants. Below are a few other pieces of his work that I just find incredible, the level of the detail, and the number of different fonts that he manages to produce to keep the work looking fresh and how every single piece manages to keep its own identity.

To end, I will give you the opportunity to purchase a special edition piece by Java Knees. Last year I “commissioned” Jake to create me a notebook, that basically said notebook on it, and to pretty much go crazy with whatever he wants. What he produced was nothing short of a masterpiece, but he still thinks that I owe him for it (and he’s probably right), and so maybe if I can sell some notebooks, and he can make some money, maybe we can finally put this issue to bed. So if you are interested, leave a comment and I will get back to you. Below is a scan of the front and back of the notebook, pretty incredible eh?

If you want more information about Java Knees have a look at his blog his flickr or email him on javaknees@gmail.com, he’d be happy to hear from you.

Keep it UJU,

Master RAS