Cathedral of Shit

has taken a well earned GAP year

Posts Tagged ‘Mark Rappolt’

House of the Rising Sun

Posted by cathedralofshit on November 16, 2010

Cathedral of Shit’s invite to the opening of Studio Voltaire’s Mayfair shop venture seemed to have been mysteriously lost in the post, but luckily, we managed to wangle our way in regardless. So packed was the opening that we didn’t see much other than the booze counter and anything hung over 1.5m high. We couldn’t afford anything on our minimum wage but considered shoplifting a Steven Claydon brick… it was just too heavy.
The party, distinctly harder to get into than the shop but no match for the CoS crack party team (in through a toilet window, a fiver to a doorman, and “create a diversion, Steve!”), was in full swing by the time we got there, with East London journalist and DJ ‘face’ Charlie Porter manning the Ivy’s tape decks. We are sure that at one point we heard DJ Assault’s “There’s Some Hoes in this House”.
In attendance – Rob Tufnell (at one point face down on the floor), a very drunk Darren Flook, the Napoleones, ACE’s Julie Lomax (no doubt taking advantage of the free booze while she can), Matthew Slotover, Emily King, Fiona Banner, Alice Rawsthorn, Sarah McCrory, Mark Rappolt, Oliver Basciano, that actor off the telly that everyone likes, Rupert Sanderson of the shoes, Stuart Shave, Jeremy Deller, and Jennifer Higgie making shapes on the dancefloor, some fashion designer who looked familiar, and that’s all we can remember.
It seemed a remarkably well stocked party for a fundraiser, though we did see Julia Royse of champers sponsorship there. We tried to get a CoS champagne deal but apparently we’ve no ‘discernible merit’. How rude.

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GOOOOooooooaaaaaaal!

Posted by cathedralofshit on July 8, 2010

Art and football, have they ever mixed? Remember Johnnie Shand Kydd’s moving photographs of Jay Jopling leaping up in front of a television showing the football? Or Max Wigram’s barking midfield orders during the late-lamented Zoo Art Fair football matches? Or collector Carl Kostyal in a pair of bikini briefs playing beach football in Miami? No, nor can we. Football brings out brilliant attempts at masculinity from all the gayers and effete wimps that make up the male art world, and we’re hoping for this in oodles with Art Review’s football day on Sunday. Ever wanted to see Charles Avery sweat like a stripper? Or Ash Lange pant like a friendly dog? If you have, head over to the five aside place in Shoreditch this Sunday you loser. But why, CoS wants to know, are neither Mark Rappolt or David Terrien, the hunky beefcakes at the helm of Art Review donning a pair of arse-rippling 70s football shorts and taking part? Surely they’re not just there for a day of eating canapes? And why are no women playing? I personally would have paid a fiver to see Sarah Thornton perform a sliding tackle.

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Bend It Like Peckham

Posted by cathedralofshit on July 2, 2010

Cathedral of Shit favourite Hannah Barry seems to have come up with a solution to some of her previous failed attempts at showing good art – she’s got other people to do it for her.
A ‘committee’ comprised of the likes of Gasworks Anna Colin, Art Review’s Oliver Basciano, Guggenheim curator Katherine Brinson and Anita’s Lizzie Neilson all suggested works for the car park. Teeming with millions of Camberwell College students were a handful of art usuals – we saw Matthew Slotover looking a little bewildered, The Outset gang, artists Anthea Hamilton, Matthew Darbyshire, Nicholas Byrne, and George Henry-Longly (all in the show) Frieze’s Sarah McCrory, Mute’s Dean Kissick, Ash Lange from Herald Street, Martin Creed (who also performed) and AR’s Mark Rappolt.

It was noted that, having four women artists in the exhibition meant a 1000% rise in the number of women in a Hannah Barry project. Well Done Hannah! Let’s keep it up when you move to your new gallery home in the West End shall we? Note – does anyone know any more about this – will it be a second gallery or will she be leaving Peckham behind? Despite her gender-blindness, it was a fun evening.

CoS didn’t make the party which we heard was a sweaty and fun affair, but we did make local bar, Bar Story, where we sat and regaled students with made-up tales about that time we were sick in an umbrella stand at Marc Quinn’s house.

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