nofear.org

PC Blakelock Chop Chop Chop

By

Udaiyan

To celebrate the opening of a new Cambridge Stuckist show at the Jesus
Lane Gallery on March 17 (Enemies of Art Show) - D. Udaiyan (the
artist) has created a new work entitled: PC Blakelock Chop Chop Chop.
See here for the link to the painting, and see below for details:

http://udaiyan.nofear.org/blog/Archives/2010/01/pc-blakelock-chop-chop-chop.html


This painting is examination of the structural, emotional, spiritual and political foundations which underlie the state of the nation - as I (the artist) perceive it to be in the year 2010. It is an act of visual poetry that harkens back 30 years to reformulate a new agenda for the coming decade. We look into the past and catch a glimpse of the future. Whether it be 30 years or 3000 years - the underlying fault lines remain the same: the dispossessed reclaiming the spittle filled chalice. Or did they?



Ancient scriptures in Sanskrit, Greek and Hebrew show the way, whilst other hieroglyphics and inverted crucifixes point to a different path. Remember, the truth points to itself, but your internal mindset and preconceived 'ideals' will forever be a barrier. Unless, of course, you metaphysically and spiritually throw yourself from 'the tower' and re-emerge free!



This freedom cannot be easily gained. It must be won through, by a vigorous and sustained defence of your own soul!  It can be won by prayer, meditation and the visualisation of pain, hope and redemption. I, the artist, am presenting a nonconformist image of this redemption in the form a painting. Now you must retake my image and reformulate and repopulate your own images and concepts. You basically need to mould your own thoughts and dreams into something that will offer humanity a key. A visual key to the gates of heaven? Or something less tangible and less visual? Maybe something that you can feel, touch, emphasise with, spiritually link to and finally observe playing out in the physical world. Or maybe nothing at all.

What did you see? I saw this:

The demonised Winston Silcott brandishing a mythical blade in his right hand - shielding himself from the his own imagined past, while his left hand holds the severed head of PC Blakelock - a testament to the futility of lies!

Don't behold the Bad Santa.

The latest legal wheeze to oppress cyclists (and motorists too) appears to be the use of laws against anti-social behaviour to impose fines.  See this amusing article in the local rag.

What is also of note is the article leads with news about a cyclist and motorist in some sort of altercation and stating that the cyclist was suffering from cycle-rage and damaged the car.  As a city cyclist I often am witness to quite appalling driving, in the last week I have seen 3 Stagecoach operated buses go through red lights at pedestrian crossings at speed.  I am sure we are all aware of the usual moan about cyclists not waiting at red lights, and I certainly don't condone aggressive cycling through "red" when there are pedestrians quietly trying to get across the road.  However, a bus going through red?  That's much more likely to result in death of a pedestrian.

So in this week where cyclists, and motorists, but especially cyclists, are being targeted.  Let us just remember that in actual fact the police are using anti-social behaviour laws to fine cyclists because it's much easier than using traffic violation laws.  I would also like to point out that motorists are always quick to point the finger at those naughty red-light-jumping cyclists because they are fundamentally jealous of the plucky cyclist using their wit to get ahead of those fuming dinosaur-fuel burning cars.

I will end by pointing my "finger of doom" at Jeremy Clarkson (whose output I normally enjoy) who recently stated in a review for the Posh Panama in The Times that, in comparison to walkers and other Ramblists, "No motorist has ever had to be rescued by a helicopter.".  How can he be so utterly thick!?!  Or is Clarkson just an in-print version of an Internet Troll?  I'm pretty sure that the man I saw being airlifted having driven his car head-on into another vehicle on the road to the Kyle of Lochalsh was, in a very real sense, being rescued by a helicopter.  I also suspect that the East Anglian Air Ambulance would have more time for other emergencies if it wasn't busy ferrying mobile organ donors around the East of England.

I did something recently that I haven't done in quite a while. I answered the doorbell when I wasn't expecting anyone to visit. I instantly regretted it.

Many years ago, when I was young and naive I would answer the door excited by the expectation that an impromptu human bonding experience would occur. Now I am older and wiser I realise that this was foolish. If you are not expecting anyone to visit then the chances are that your visitor is a cold caller of some description. It may be a charity collector (bogus or real, take your pick), a politician, a neighbour with some boundary issue, or the worst kind the fake door-to-door sales person who is actually just casing the neighbourhood prior to their next stint of breaking and entering.

It will never be a friend or relative. The reason for this is simple. Friends and relatives don't want to waste a trip if they are "popping over" so they (and this is important) arrange to visit in advance. What's more with mobile phone technology the doorbell or knocker is more or less redundant.

So going back to the other night. What had happened? I'd forgotten to switch my doorbell off hadn't I? Stupid boy! So at 9.30pm (who visits then without prior arrangement?) the bell went off. I dutifully thought that, on this occasion, I would chance the meeting. But then I elected to use the spy-hole and talk instead rather than open the door. I beheld the chavver for an instant and allowed him to start his spiel. I don't know where they get their script from but the fake door-to-door seller nowadays has the following attributes:

1. An opening line designed to illicit fear of some sort by creating the impression of a confrontation. This last one was "Before you chase me down the street."
2. A claim that they are "not a criminal", or sometimes that they are "just out of prison" if they can't face the full lie.
3. Some sort of bogus connection to an organisation. Nowadays they have a card that they wave in front of you quickly, utterly pointless - their ID has been created by a corner shop lamination service, or by their "controller".
4. Finally if you refuse to engage with them or pay your dues then they often get shirty.

The other amusing thing is, despite what they may say, they look like criminal idiots too. They may have dressed themselves up and scraped off the bum-fluff they call stubble from their chin but they still look like a mug-shot from the local rag.

So I shooed the eyes of the burglar away, and made a note to watch the crime stats while they rise as we go into the darker part of the year. I also switched off my doorbell again. If they choose to knock then you can tell a lot more by the action of the door knocker than by the sound of the bell.

In future there won't be a knocker on the door either and they can use their knuckles if they want. Friends/relatives can phone when they are outside. The modern front door will also have a camera there too - like the one at the back of the house, but smaller. After all we live in a surveillance society, when in Rome etc.

I sometimes want to explain that if I wanted dusters, pegs, lucky heather, or rotting fish, that we have these things in towns called "shops". Admittedly shops have higher overheads, but when was the last time a shop walked off with your iPod and jewellery having defecated on your bed first?

PS Maybe there are some real door-to-door charity collectors out there doing their good work. Sadly you need to move with the times too, but don't try phoning either, that door is closed too.

I finally have a few spare moments to fix the backend that powers this website, after having both hamgray and the artist prod me about it in recent months.

As a self-confessed fan of gangster flicks I made a point of going to the big screen for this new Michael Mann film. The film is a semi-factual account of the exploits of John Dillinger and associates who robbed American Midwestern banks during the 1930s depression years.

Michael Mann often directs much of his creative talent towards the crime genre, he has written not only episodes of 'Miami Vice' but also of 'Starsky and Hutch'. The list of films Mann has directed also includes 'Manhunter' and 'Heat' both of which I rate very highly. So revisiting this much-told story it was surprising to see that 'Public Enemies' did not quite hit the spot.

Overall the film is very accomplished and the acting talent should have guaranteed absolute success at the box office. Johnny Depp tackles the lead role of Dillinger, a swashbuckling character of a different kind and in many ways a man who was the American answer to Robin Hood. Christian Bale (who I often confuse with Eric Bana for some reason!) plays Melvin Purvis tasked with tracking down the "public enemies" by J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudrup) the head of the newly formed F.B.I. . This is a straightforward plot but Mann chooses to skew some of the historical details in order to add more drama - a strange choice if you ask me. To counter the factual issues there appears to be some very true to life scenes where the footage appears to mimic (and possibly incorporate) real archival footage of Dillinger. This is most evident when Dillinger is flown to Illinois and later when Purvis and his men finally hunt him down. I also enjoyed some of the detailing of the scenes especially the primitive phone tapping using 78 "dub plates". Also of note are the occasional scenes reminiscent of Edward Hopper paintings. Hopper's work so often evokes a sense of mystery and even menace that fits a depressed and crime-ridden era. This visual element was interesting in contrast to the uplifting score, which drew upon popular 30s jazz pieces as the main source.

The film flits between the bank heists, Dillinger's seemingly empty personal life, and the attempts of the F.B.I. to apprehend the gangs under the scrutiny of the public and Hoover himself. This is where the film is weakest, in attempting to cover as much ground as possible in two and a third hours it does not fully explore any particular facet of the story, and there isn't quite enough energy to make it an out and out action film. I have read some reviews criticising the film for being over long. For me I felt the film was not quite long enough but it is possible that it had been cut down as extra development of all the secondary characters ruined the pacing even more.

I found the best surprise of the film to be the portrayal of Baby Face Nelson by Stephen Graham, an English actor who has appeared in 'Snatch' and 'This is England'. Not only did he steal a couple of scenes he undoubtedly gets to play a more evil character than Dillinger and has the most spectacular death sequence of the film.

On balance this is a good but not outstanding film *** (out of 5)

Nofear presents (via the artist) the new Mauritian DJ site

http://mauritiandj.ning.com/

Mauritian DJ. For all your Mauritian dj needs :)

The artist Udaiyan (of the Cambridge Stuckists) has created a new social site for all you art lovers in Cambridge:

http://cambridgeartists.ning.com/

We're looking for Cambridge artists to join our network!

This film was not what I expected, but nonetheless enjoyable and thought-provoking. A brief glance at the cinema brochure, which revealed that Eric Cantona was playing himself, gave the impression that this was a very light, whimsical piece, perhaps not altogether in Ken Loach's usual mode of gritty realism. This was not the case: the audience was treated to a very hard-edged portrayal of life on the mean streets of Manchester. It would be an interesting exercise to count the number of times the 'F' word was used in the film: it must have been at least two hundred, I'd say. In some scenes, every single sentence contained a variant of the 'F' word. Apart from the strong language and the emotive situations, however, there was hardly any actual violence. There were also many scenes of tenderness to counterbalance the harshness.

The basic scenario is that Eric, an aging postman with charge of two difficult stepsons (and with no woman in his life), finds himself going through a particularly rough patch. Fortunately, he is blessed with a supportive group of friends (mostly from work, and all fellow Man United supporters) who persevere at trying to jolt him out of his rut. One of these friends suggests a visualisation exercise, in which participants are asked to imagine someone they really respect and admire, and imagine being that person. Of course, Eric imagines his namesake, the French footballer Cantona. From that point on, the footballer enters his life rather like a guardian angel. Imaginary conversations with the sporting superstar help Eric work out how he should deal with the various challenging situations he faces. This device (the magical mentor) has a bit of a pedigree in cinema history, gong back to Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life (1946), and with many modern incarnations including Luc Besson's Angel A, released in 2005. Cantona's penchant for off-the-wall proverbs annoys Eric at first but quickly becomes part of their friendship. Their conversations are humorful and full of warmth. Cantona cannot really be said to be acting as he is, after all, just being himself, but there is an understated lightness of touch (and self-irony) about his self-portrayal which is very effective.

There is a fairly large cast of characters, including Eric's ex-wife Lily, and various minor parts like Eric's football-loving friends, but it remains an intimate and personal film. The big crisis comes when one of Eric's stepsons is threatened by a local gangster, and faces a terrifying dilemma that has repercussions for the whole family. Eric eventually finds a solution by following Cantona's advice to 'trust his team' (i.e. his mates), and together the friends find an ingenious and hilarious way to teach the gangster a lesson he won't forget. The way this is done owes much to Cantona's style of football, which blended surprise and wit with grace and teamwork. The climax of the film is masterfully handled by Loach, and releases a feeling of euphoria in the audience that in some ways mimics the feel-good sensations a football crowd experiences. It is all the more effective for the relatively slow and careful build-up throughout the film. My main quibble with the film is that it presents a bit of a rosy-eyed view of working-class life, relying rather heavily on the stereotype of working-class communities (men down the pub) helping each other out in a spot of trouble and triumphing over the bad guys of their world. In reality, I suspect that it is much less easy to combat the power of the underworld figures stalking modern society, though there is always hope I suppose. I also wondered whether, in reality, a self-absorbed and morose character (which Eric is at the beginning of the film) would be able to sustain a circle of supportive and caring friends as he does in this film. Cynically, one suspects that most of his friends would have given up with him a long time ago. To some extent, Eric rediscovers the charming and loveable side of himself (the prize-winning dancer and passionate husband he had been in his youth) who has been buried under layers of self-loathing and despair, but the transformation is rather sudden. The film's title alludes to the process of self-discovery just mentioned as well as to the establishment of a psychic connection with the footballer. It is an optimistic film, and leaves the audience cautiously hopeful.

**** (out of 5)

Max Mosley and Bernie Ecclestone have just announced that the Common Engine for F1 2010 will be a Wankel rotary engine.

This will be coupled with the KERS system. The common engine system will therefore be known as WAN-KERS . (I thank you. I thank you.)