The Foamist

I am super excited about an exhibition of New Zealand artist, Peter Robinson’s work, to be held at the Institute of Modern Art, Brisbane, Australia in July.

Robinson's work originally explored issues of identity and ethnicity: personal and racial issues discussed in terms of his part-Maori heritage, but “his more recent work has shifted from this rhetoric and the weight of interpretation, to explore and celebrate the materiality of the mediums he works with” (Sutton Gallery website).

This latest work will hardly please the conservationists amongst us as it immerses itself in the infinite possibilities of polystyrene: pedestrian material and major pollutant. It’s an ingenious idea as the Artspace spiel explains “lightweight, negligible in mass yet physically substantial, able to pack out large spaces or articulate delicate forms, shaped in detail with sharp white lines”.

Robinson is an art schizophrenic. One minute we are party to the exquisite, delicate nature of his geisha-esque “waterfall” like drapings, the next we bear witness to the brutalist forms of a large rectangular solid, seemingly carved out by some anonymous anally retentive masculine entity and left in-situ.

It's his moment. In 2008 he won New Zealand’s prestigious Walters Prize and more recently he completed a residency at Sydney’s Artspace which produced the work “Polymer Monolith I” (pictured), not to mention various projects and shows overseas.

I wonder what he could do with my bean bag fill?

Artful Excess

Talk about stealing someone’s thunder, or alternatively, adding to the art-gorge going on right now in Venice, the new art monolith to money and creativity, the Punta della Dogana opened the day before this year’s Venice Biennale. Cruel or smart?

Housing major, major works by major, major artists (McCarthy, Catellan, Schutte, Kelley, the Chapmans, Gober and Gonzales Torres to name but a few) it is a sister/brother to Pinault’s first monolith, Palazzo Grassi.

The Punta della Dogana is a promontory at the entrance to St Mark’s Basin, where the Grand Canal meets the Giudecca Canal. The buildings of the Dogana di Mare were built in the late 17th century by architect Giuseppe Benoni. Where Benoni left off, Japanese architect Tadao Ando has taken off, completely transforming the builder’s interior with his signature cement blocking. It’s all Venetian glamour on the outside, and grey minimalism on the inside.

There are detractors already (the Boston Globe):

“Pinault’s two displays of his splashy collection, at the Punta della Dogana and the Palazzo Grassi, are a case in point: They smack of an arriviste’s susceptibility to bloated works by fashionable names.”

Criticism of the rich, beautiful, stylish or creative is not my arena, so Punta della Dogana, here I come.

I feel the heel

The Crystal Plumage loves this selection from the latest Topshop offerings. Are you feeling the love for the Union Jack platform wedges as I am?

Virginal Bombing

It was love at first sight for Christopher Kane’s debut “pre-collection” show.

It is just the right dose of death and pretty that demands we pay attention. The images of nuclear explosions were sourced by Kane from “free public-access photos on the U.K. Ministry of Defense Web site”.

Isn’t this mix of raging experimentation, cheeky subversive humour and craft exactly why we continue to look to London for inspiration?

However, there is another nasty edge to the entire proceedings – those amazing shoes are not for sale. The designer and his creative crew “cobbled” them together with gaffer tape and bits and bobs, as they simply could not find the right match.

Cruel.

Prince of Shingles

I opened my latest copy of Wallpaper* Magazine (which has returned to form thank god) and was beyond taken by the article on the home American architect Bart Prince has designed for Joe and Etsuko Price in Southern California.

With its cathedral-like use of wood and penchant for shingles and shag covered walls, at first glance, it reads like a den for playboys and porn kings, but it is its hefty dose of intellect that truly saves its soul.

He works out of Albuquerque, New Mexico and he has a concise way of discussing his work:

“When I say that the design ‘responds’ to the site, client, climate, materials etc. and that the design ‘grows’ from this situation, it doesn’t mean these things ‘happen’ by themselves. It’s the mind of the architect that brings these ideas together and synthesizes everything into a final scheme. It’s a very complex process and far from ‘winging it’! In fact it is a much more difficult process that the standard so-called design process used by many. You are dealing with materials, structure, ideas, space while solving complex design programs presented by the client. It takes years of experience to make this process look easy!”

He has also described his houses as “butterflies alighting in the landscape — as much a part of nature as trees and rocks, but soaring free of conventional restraints and familiar forms”. In his hands wood, glass and stone are no longer inanimate building materials, but take on a life of their own.

What I love about his work is it completely nails that nexus between good and bad taste that we all crave. Anyone who is constantly searching to be jolted by a new style, will absolutely ‘get’ these homes. In some ways it is no major surprise Prince is hot right now, because as the earth’s environmental safety slips conceptually out of our grip, we are turning to all things “natural” as some kind of comforting symbol of the need to redeem or hopefully, save, ourselves.

I want to live in an Armadillo.

"The passion burns deep"

Continuing my journey back through time to some of the defining films of my teenage years, I watched St Elmo’s Fire recently.

Made in 1985 and directed by Joel Schumacher ("Lost Boys", "Flatliners"), it involved virtually every hot brat packer of the time: Demi Moore, Andrew McCarthy, Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, Ally Sheedy and Judd Nelson.

The film tells the story of a group of friends that have just graduated from Georgetown University and their adjustment to their post-university lives and the responsibilities of encroaching adulthood. Some of them do not handle their new life well: Lowe is a drunk constantly in trouble and milking his wealthy best friend (Mare Winningham) for all she is worth and Moore is a credit card/drug abuser living an ‘apparently’ glamorous life. It’s all typical of the American yuppie generation of the mid-80’s with their cheesy politics, outfits, belief in advertising as art and cocaine addictions.

The soundtrack is too tacky for words, featuring such 80’s masters as Airplay, Fee Waybill, Elefante (who?) and the irritatingly unforgettable theme song "St. Elmo's Fire (Man in Motion)" performed by David Foster.

It is incredible to watch again for a few reasons: Demi Moore, pre plastic surgery and still with her puppy fat, Rob Lowe destroying his life (not sure any man should be born that beautiful, but that is beside the point) and the apartments these kids live in - particularly the one Judd Nelson and Ally Sheedy own with its giant Nike add covering an entire wall of their loft – yes, this was what was covetable in 1985. Didn’t we also want to look like Demi in her homage to Madonna (all corsets and fur and teased hair) and the pearls … god these girls wore them and they wore them well, usually teamed with a Holly Hobbie lace collared long dress – remember those? It seems frump fashion really rocked hard in 1985.

See it now if you consider yourself a true 80’s fan, but be a purist and only rent out an old boxy ‘video’ if you can get your hot little hands on one.

The Artist

Time for another style icon alert and what has taken me so long to discuss Tilda? It's craziness.

Not only is Tilda Swinton an amazing actor, she is transformed into a living artwork when she dons various designer pieces and she has a husband and a younger live-in lover. If that's not a winning combination, then what is?

In terms of her art, there is really nothing she cannot achieve in film – it really seems to be her moment. She is one actor who authentically manages to straddle both the alto and more pedestrian worlds of film with mesmerizing turns in earlier offbeat films such as "Love is the Devil" and "Caravaggio" to more popularist fare such as "Michael Clayton", "Burn After Reading" and "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button". She has come a long way since working with Derek Jarman and Sally Potter (think "Orlando" where she plays the title character in both male and female guises).

Right now in film she's back to the risky arena where she stars as “Blonde” in the new film written and directed by Jim Jarmusch, "Limits of Control", the story of a mysterious loner, a stranger, whose activities remain meticulously outside the law. His journey, paradoxically both intently focused and dreamlike, takes him not only across Spain but also through his own consciousness.

Right now in fashion, she's taking risks too, appearing swathed in liquid cranberry Haider Ackerman at Cannes, immediately after every fashion editor worth his/her salt raved about his recent collection. Personally, I think it an absolute crime that she is often placed on worst dressed lists as since when has Prada or Lanvin been deemed distasteful?

All fashion brutality aside, this amazing creature is 100% deserved of our complete admiration as she embodies a kind of utopian ideal of true life, fashion and craft 'original'.

Yearning for more? Grab yourself a copy of the latest "AnOther" magazine, where she graces the cover ... and speaks.