Baghdad in Brighton
The cheque was in the post, which was nice.
Lorraine and I randomly walked into two exhibitions of photography called Why Mister, Why? and Baghdad Calling by Geert Van Kesteren at the Lighthouse in Brighton. Why Mister, Why? was a series of photographs, often stark and frightening of things like religious events that were attacked, or body bags and other traumas of war. Baghdad Calling however was a collection of amateur and professional photographs of life inside Baghdad taken by people who are in exile.
The quality of these were very variable some being taken on mobile phones, or inexpertly framed. Because of this, however, they conveyed the reality of Baghdad life in a moving and unfiltered way. They were presented digitally on a big screen with snatches of recorded interviews being played at the same time and we both found ourselves transfixed by it.
Then, slightly gloomed out, off to the library where we bumped into Dawn writing an essay about women's dance between the wars. And then a general mooch about town. Lorraine popping into Long Tall Sally, a shop which is catnip to her.
First Matie phoned and solved a mystery. When I left the agency a year ago, The French Bloke was given an envelope for me, which he handed to Katie - who found it yesterday. Turns out it was binnable rubbish. Kate however on excellent form, and also surviving a cigarette filled challenge this afternoon without resorting to smoking herself.
Watched a Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall programme, and got gripped by a strange longing to live in the country where I would make my own jams from things pulled out of hedges, and choke my own chickens for the pot. Then we walked up to Anton and Anna's house amid explosions of fireworks, and the clatter of a spent rocket falling on the road.
Nobody makes better pizzas than Anton, with his immaculately prepared authentic ingredients prepared neatly, and a great lump of live pizza base dough stretching the cling film over the top of the bowl. A lovely chatty evening, interspersed with exotic pizza munching and playing with their three cats, and reading articles which Anna had written about coaching and listening to various tunes.
Below two photos by Geert van Kesteren and a shot from Baghdad Calling.
The cheque was in the post, which was nice.
Lorraine and I randomly walked into two exhibitions of photography called Why Mister, Why? and Baghdad Calling by Geert Van Kesteren at the Lighthouse in Brighton. Why Mister, Why? was a series of photographs, often stark and frightening of things like religious events that were attacked, or body bags and other traumas of war. Baghdad Calling however was a collection of amateur and professional photographs of life inside Baghdad taken by people who are in exile.
The quality of these were very variable some being taken on mobile phones, or inexpertly framed. Because of this, however, they conveyed the reality of Baghdad life in a moving and unfiltered way. They were presented digitally on a big screen with snatches of recorded interviews being played at the same time and we both found ourselves transfixed by it.
Then, slightly gloomed out, off to the library where we bumped into Dawn writing an essay about women's dance between the wars. And then a general mooch about town. Lorraine popping into Long Tall Sally, a shop which is catnip to her.
First Matie phoned and solved a mystery. When I left the agency a year ago, The French Bloke was given an envelope for me, which he handed to Katie - who found it yesterday. Turns out it was binnable rubbish. Kate however on excellent form, and also surviving a cigarette filled challenge this afternoon without resorting to smoking herself.
Watched a Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall programme, and got gripped by a strange longing to live in the country where I would make my own jams from things pulled out of hedges, and choke my own chickens for the pot. Then we walked up to Anton and Anna's house amid explosions of fireworks, and the clatter of a spent rocket falling on the road.
Nobody makes better pizzas than Anton, with his immaculately prepared authentic ingredients prepared neatly, and a great lump of live pizza base dough stretching the cling film over the top of the bowl. A lovely chatty evening, interspersed with exotic pizza munching and playing with their three cats, and reading articles which Anna had written about coaching and listening to various tunes.
Below two photos by Geert van Kesteren and a shot from Baghdad Calling.
Comments