Cathedral of Shit

has taken a well earned GAP year

Posts Tagged ‘ACE’

Venice-isms

Posted by cathedralofshit on June 7, 2011

Venice is over, once more. We’ve suffered more than most – our feet hurt, our wallets are empty, we’ve realised we don’t actually like Aperol fucking Spritz, and we were asked to leave Anita’s boat after unsuccessfully fashioning one of those fetching access wristbands out of chewing gum and Copydex. Harrumph! Rumbled!

Here’s a mini round-up peppered with inaccuracies and information from unreliable sources.

The Cathedral of Shit Golden Lion Donkey goes to… Germany! Though we hated the Polish Pavilion the most, Germany was responsible for providing the subject matter for it. So it’s their fault and so they win the prize.

The Cathedral of Shit Silver Donkey goes to Haroon Mirza.

Spain and NL are disqualified for not really showing any art. Belgium gets a slapped wrist for showing a student of the curator. The Swedes get a slapped wrist for still not realising their pavilion would look better without any art, Britain gets a slapped wrist and bum for not installing a queuing/ticketing system so we could actually see the Mike Nelson, but Mike gets, erm, ‘unslapped’ for slightly injuring the Tory Minister for Culture Ed Vaizey who walloped his head inside. Tim Davies’ Welsh pavilion was curated by his dealer and a former director of V22, so the whole of Wales can have a slap. Finally, France gets a slapped bum, arse and face for the turgid nonsense from Christian Boltanski. Life! Death! So profound! What does it MEAN?!

There were A LOT of Swiss artists weren’t there? Even the ‘born in Iran, Morocco, Georgia’ artists seem to have Swiss nationalities.

The ACE were out in force showing ‘support’ at the New Forest Pavilion despite slashing their funding to absolutely nowt.

Busier than ever, CoS has an idea as to how to trim down on visitors for the next Biennale. In addition to the millions of art people to talk to, can we PLEASE trim down on the eighty thousand PRs at every event, hanging round grinning inanely and saying “isn’t it just suuuper?”. Just an idea.
This Biennale, Roman Abramovich’s Superyacht seemed to be the most talked about artwork, parked on the curb of the Giardini. (Wonder how many 20p’s he had to put in the meter?) Oligarch’s parties were ten a penny this year, though despite the prevalence of these caviar and champers parties, CoS weren’t actually invited to any, so we hot-footed it to the Gavin Brown/Balice Hertling/Herald St/Gio Marconi party where allegedly they’d let anyone in. Naturally, it was held in Venice’s smallest (and shittest) club, Piccolo Mondo. We made it into the sweatbox after queueing behind a group of suited Christie’s staff who were trying their damnedest to get in by shouting “but we know Nicky/Gavin/Daniele!!”. We stayed a little to watch Tate’s Martin Clark throw some shapes, but had to leave as the lasers were setting off our epilepsy.

On Friday night CoS had terrible post-lazer migaraines, and stayed in, so we sent a scout to check out the Frieze 20th birthday party on an island a short jaunt away. With a guest list including most of London, guests included Matthew Higgs, Peter Saville, Alice Rawsthorn, Polly Staple, Mark Sladen, Massimiliano Gioni, Iwona Blazwick, Cornelia Grassi and Tommaso Corvi-Mora, Adrian Searle, Chiara Repetto, Nick Relph, Roselee Goldberg, and of course Frieze en masse. Being trapped on the island meant everyone was soon suitably plastered. Some grumbles about the wedding DJ soon faded once everyone had drunk a lot more champagne the spirit of the 20th Anniversary was embraced.
Though our scout left about 2am, we heard tales of the last boat including arguments, an irate (yes, apparently it does happen) but valiant Matthew Slotover shouting at the boat captain for trying to leave early without the last guests, and some minor ruckus’ on board…

Other bits of gossip…

Which female American dealer fell into the canal whilst taking a leak, and has also broken her nose?
Which Frieze writer was seen kissing which Berlin dealer at the Gavin Brown/Herald St/Balice Hertling/Gio Marconi party?
Which supposedly sober ‘rock’ musician was seen screaming at two different people at different times, about seemingly very little?

Ah, hell with it – we’re not Popbitch… and there are no super-injuctions being banded about round these parts! The answers are; Michelle Maccarone, Paul Teasdale, Tanya Leighton and Courtney Love! Hurrah!

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Port in a Storm…

Posted by cathedralofshit on March 30, 2011

Gorn, but not forgortten… as the ACE cuts info floods in (believe us, the CoS office today is like a 1980s telethon, complete with Angela Rippon and Michael Aspel on the phones), news has reached the delicate ears of CoS regarding Ekow Eshun’s new job.
Despite being responsible for today’s 42% cut in the ICAs portfolio funding, he’s landed a new position;

“PORT
British Writer and Journalist Ekow Eshun has been appointed Culture Editor at PORT magazine. He was previously Artistic Director at the Institute of Contempory Arts. Book reviews or any culture-related information can be sent to Ekow, who can be reached at ekow@port-magazine.com”

So readers, please, do send Ekow culture-related information at your leisure.

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defectated upon lemmings

Posted by cathedralofshit on March 30, 2011

As ACE announces its cuts, historians out there might note that we’ve been here before – William Rees-Mogg slashed half of the organisations the Council funded in 1987, and 1993 there were more proposed reducations. The latter lead to the resignation of Lord Rix as Chairman of the Council’s drama panel with a letter of resignation that contained the following gem which is worth bearing in mind in light of tomorrow’s impending carnage:

“We rush like lemmings to the water’s edge, devising fatuous so-called policies and strategies and visions and corporate plans, which are merely feeble attempts to cover up the fact that we have been defecated on from a great height”

Lord Rix was famous as an actor for appearing in various farces including “Don’t Just Lie There, Say Something!”, perhaps an appropriate instruction to some of today’s recipients of ACE’s tidings.

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ICA ACE UH OH

Posted by cathedralofshit on January 8, 2010

Support the New, Now!
Or erm, not. As previously reported in the art world’s second-favourite blog, ‘Cathedral of Shit’ (we bow in front of you Anita!), the ICA’s membership is draining away despite their groovy marketing slogans. Your Support Makes A Difference!
Indeed, it does – for it might help stop the 30% job cuts which are rumoured at the venerable institution. Now this is a strange story of funding which goes straight over CoS’s bald and wrinkly head – the cash-strapped institute was bailed-out by £1.2 million from the Arts Council Sustain fund (in addition to the regular funding of just over £1.4 million it will receive this year from ACE). However, sources (i.e the disgruntled ex-staffer sitting opposite me here in Mare Street’s KFC chowing down like a grateful tramp into the “boneless special box” that CoS’s expenses extend to) hint that the Sustain Grant came with the condition of greater accessibility – in particular scrapping the day membership fee of a couple of quid to get into the bar. With this fee scrapped, membership plummeted – as the major draw of membership was paying your 30 quid for a year-long pass to late night drinking before getting on the night-bus home and sobbing continuously on the shoulder of an intense and suddenly attractive freelance curator. Brilliant! So if the grease-smeared ex-staffer in front of me is to be believed (and she looks credible to me in her bobbly hat and goatee-disguise), ACE give the ICA a load of cash whilst simultaneously blowing the back doors down of their membership scheme. Genius! Well done, ACE! Top strategy again. What next? Getting rid of all your experts so you can process funding applications from a call centre in Manchester, finding out that it doesn’t work and trying to hire a bunch of out of work art lecturers on the cheap to add expertise? Oops, already done that!
Happy New Year everyone, I’m off for pudding at Metropolis, Hackney’s finest real-ale pub – can anyone lend me 20 quid for a ‘dance’?

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