You've got to watch the Olympics opening ceremony," said my Friend Who Freelances and is therefore lucky enough to be able to spend afternoons at home watching daytime telly. "It's spectacular. Nothing like we've ever seen before."
And so it was, for the sake of aesthetics, that I tuned into one of the sports stations to watch the repeat of what had gone on earlier in Beijing, having sworn that I wouldn't have anything to do with these games. "You have no principles," said Significant Other - who being Catalan is himself full of them. "You even wrote about it in your column. I can't believe you're sitting here watching them now".
I tried to argue that as a creative, it was important that I was up to date with what was going on in the world, and that it was important for me to actually see the opening if I was going to comment about them, but it was all in vain. Principles, in SO's book are rock solid and unchangeable. So I sat there, under a cloud of guilt getting bigger by the nanosecond, and ruining any visual pleasure I was getting out of it. It was, I have to say, quite impressive, but not impressive enough to stop me feeling guilty.
And then I saw Vladimir Putin sitting there, smugly enjoying the spectacle. Only minutes before, on the news, the headlines showed disturbing footage of Russian troops invading Georgia. Some cheek, I thought, realising halfway through the thought, that I was hardly in a position to throw stones. "Principles are principles," said SO, with a look that beat even Putin's for smugness. I had no choice but to pick up the remote and change channel.
That was the beginning of a rather quiet weekend. With SO going off to work in Madrid for three weeks, we had planned a list of things to do together, including a walk up in Hampstead Heath, a trip to the cinema to watch Elegy, the new Isabel Coixet film starring Ben Kingsley and Penélope Cruz. (Note on Isabel Coixet. If you ever feel like watching a weepy, go buy a big box of tissues and watch My Life Without Me. If by the end of the movie you haven't gone through every single tissue bought - and probably some more - you will officially qualify as a Person With No Heart - like Putin) and a visit to the museum. The rain - yes, the rain, in August, forbade us from going anywhere near the Heath. It also put me in too miserable a mood to go and watch a sad movie. It was only on Sunday that we finally made it out of the flat to go down the road to the Barbican where the Viktor and Rolf show is currently on. (The choice was between that and Cy Twombly at Tate Modern. Being in the mood for something light, we opted for Viktor & Rolf. What better way to enjoy a wet Sunday afternoon in August than with some mad fashion? ).
The exhibition was great. Viktor & Rolf are a pair of Dutch designers who in a career spanning 15 years have gone from industry outsiders to fashion aristocracy. Theirs are not clothes that you see everyday on the street - although they do make some pretty wearable clothes. Their philosophy is not to create clothes for clothes' sake, but to make comments on the society and culture in general. Thus they come up with groundbreaking ideas such as layering a whole collection on one model, a concept based on Russian dolls or presenting a completely black collection on models that have been "painted" black following - according to the exhibition notes - a bout of depression. I'm a big fan of their work, so it was superfun. And I love the way the exhibition is designed, with dolls wearing miniature versions of the clothes in a massive doll's house. All quite surreal and fabulous.
I had never been to the Barbican centre before, and was actually quite surprised to find that what from a distance looked like three very grim tower blocks (which having been built in the late 1960s would have accumulated quite a sizable amount of dirt!) had so much to offer, including a pond with herons and ducks, which to be honest I'd never seen myself!
It was as we stood perched looking at the pond in the rain that SO looked up to the sky to find one of the most beautiful rainbows I have ever seen in my life. The colours were vivid, all well defined, and the arch was perfect enough to send you off in search of the crock of gold. Sometimes, you see, spectacle comes when you least expect it. And with no compromise to one's principles.
And so it was, for the sake of aesthetics, that I tuned into one of the sports stations to watch the repeat of what had gone on earlier in Beijing, having sworn that I wouldn't have anything to do with these games. "You have no principles," said Significant Other - who being Catalan is himself full of them. "You even wrote about it in your column. I can't believe you're sitting here watching them now".
I tried to argue that as a creative, it was important that I was up to date with what was going on in the world, and that it was important for me to actually see the opening if I was going to comment about them, but it was all in vain. Principles, in SO's book are rock solid and unchangeable. So I sat there, under a cloud of guilt getting bigger by the nanosecond, and ruining any visual pleasure I was getting out of it. It was, I have to say, quite impressive, but not impressive enough to stop me feeling guilty.
And then I saw Vladimir Putin sitting there, smugly enjoying the spectacle. Only minutes before, on the news, the headlines showed disturbing footage of Russian troops invading Georgia. Some cheek, I thought, realising halfway through the thought, that I was hardly in a position to throw stones. "Principles are principles," said SO, with a look that beat even Putin's for smugness. I had no choice but to pick up the remote and change channel.
That was the beginning of a rather quiet weekend. With SO going off to work in Madrid for three weeks, we had planned a list of things to do together, including a walk up in Hampstead Heath, a trip to the cinema to watch Elegy, the new Isabel Coixet film starring Ben Kingsley and Penélope Cruz. (Note on Isabel Coixet. If you ever feel like watching a weepy, go buy a big box of tissues and watch My Life Without Me. If by the end of the movie you haven't gone through every single tissue bought - and probably some more - you will officially qualify as a Person With No Heart - like Putin) and a visit to the museum. The rain - yes, the rain, in August, forbade us from going anywhere near the Heath. It also put me in too miserable a mood to go and watch a sad movie. It was only on Sunday that we finally made it out of the flat to go down the road to the Barbican where the Viktor and Rolf show is currently on. (The choice was between that and Cy Twombly at Tate Modern. Being in the mood for something light, we opted for Viktor & Rolf. What better way to enjoy a wet Sunday afternoon in August than with some mad fashion? ).
The exhibition was great. Viktor & Rolf are a pair of Dutch designers who in a career spanning 15 years have gone from industry outsiders to fashion aristocracy. Theirs are not clothes that you see everyday on the street - although they do make some pretty wearable clothes. Their philosophy is not to create clothes for clothes' sake, but to make comments on the society and culture in general. Thus they come up with groundbreaking ideas such as layering a whole collection on one model, a concept based on Russian dolls or presenting a completely black collection on models that have been "painted" black following - according to the exhibition notes - a bout of depression. I'm a big fan of their work, so it was superfun. And I love the way the exhibition is designed, with dolls wearing miniature versions of the clothes in a massive doll's house. All quite surreal and fabulous.
I had never been to the Barbican centre before, and was actually quite surprised to find that what from a distance looked like three very grim tower blocks (which having been built in the late 1960s would have accumulated quite a sizable amount of dirt!) had so much to offer, including a pond with herons and ducks, which to be honest I'd never seen myself!
It was as we stood perched looking at the pond in the rain that SO looked up to the sky to find one of the most beautiful rainbows I have ever seen in my life. The colours were vivid, all well defined, and the arch was perfect enough to send you off in search of the crock of gold. Sometimes, you see, spectacle comes when you least expect it. And with no compromise to one's principles.