The highly allucinogenic film title

My relationship with Rio Cinema is an odd one. Not only do I choose to watch the most eccentric features there – for it is one of the few screening rooms in London to retain an authentic indie character – but along the years it has provided me with a few interesting experiences: a friend who had a fit and passed-out during Lars Von Trier’s ‘Antichrist’; the company of a wicked, hell-raised audience of black metal fans cheering (read guttural roaring) at the creepy Norwegian documentary ‘Until the Light Takes Us’; and a partner who experienced severe drowsiness and sickness in the first 15 minutes of ‘The Bell and the Butterfly’ and left.

It was no different this time with ‘Enter the Void’, the latest film by Gaspar Noe – and yet again I was left on my own within the 10 minute mark (it’s a record break!).

Scenes from Enter the Void

Although not as shocking as the unforgettably disturbing ‘Irreversible’ (2002) – which still makes me have bad dreams, sometimes – it carries his trademark for aesthetic experimentation and elliptical narrative combined with sickening doses of crude reality.

Right from the start the director punches the audience in the very nose with a title sequence that is as schizophrenic and disorienting as it can get: the variety of Barnbrook-esque bold typefaces presented in day-glow colours at light-speed are  accompanied by a loud, pounding beat that made my brain flush so much adrenalin into my bloodstream that I felt my limbs incredibly tense for a good half an hour. After such a promising start you are immediately thrown into a highly hallucinogenic trip, remaining so throughout the film, which for some it might sound like a prolonged session of optical agony. But that is certainly not the case. Quite on the contrary, the film has the merit of accomplishing a remarkably aesthetic result and inventively refreshing the exhausted ‘subjective camera’. Both greatly help the audience to navigate along with Oscar, the main character, in his transcendental journey across Tokyo to stay together with his sister (the übber hot Paz de la Huerta). By doing so, Gaspar Noe also explores the possibility to build a multi-layered story where drugs, transcendence, suggested incest, and Oedipal love all come together to create a highly kinetic yet metaphysical cinematic experience.

Paz de la Huerta as Linda

I would go as far as to say that, with Enter the Void, Gaspar Noe has thwarted the likes of Darren Aronofsky, Danny Boyle and even Uli Edel in their attempt to portrait the experience of a real high on the screen, providing the viewers with a  drug-induced pseudo trip. But the film has more to offer than drugs, violence and sex. It tells a story of Western individuals in a foreign land, living on the fringes of an unfamiliar culture which inscribes them with the otherness stigma. Most of the characters are either American or European expats living off drug-dealing and prostitution.

Certainly not suitable for the faint-hearted, Enter the Void manages, once again, to pull the audience out of the safe zone and without digression it shows us the ugly face of urban life and the misfortunes of its inhabitants. As for me, I might as well go on my own next time.



Intriguing pieces

Last week was marked by another London Design Festival which swept the capital with events and exhibitions (allegedly) dedicated to design, in all its glory. Running since 2003, the event has grown from strength to strength, and established the city of London as one of the main design stages in the world along Milano, Köln and New York. It also points to the long course the design business in the UK has taken since the early eighties when the then Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, recognized the potential for value creation (and more tax revenue, of course) by publicly urging designers, and the concerned organizations, to promote themselves more vigorously.

Poster for The Anti Design Festival

During this period we witnessed the consolidation of fundamental cultural changes in Western societies originated mostly in the aftermath of WWII up until the late 70s. Besides the likes of civil-rights movement and feminism, another social transformation occurring at that time was the emergence of a new category of consumer citizens who fueled the economies in the West through a new, and often extravagant attitude towards material culture, also known as ‘conspicuous consumption’. It was in the same period that groups of intellectuals started interrogating these phenomena mostly affecting the middle-class strata, developing the well-known post-structuralist theories (Deleuze, Guattari, Baudrillard, etc) and influencing artistic movements such as the Situationist International, helping to form the culturally collapsed plasma of post-modernity in all its myriad of expressions.

Works presented at Londonewcastle project, part of LADF

Installation at Londonewcastle project

Wall installation at Londonewcastle project

It became clear however that during the last week the current (or old?) model based on continuous market and economic expansion has reached its point of utmost saturation in all senses. Firstly because the economic boom of the 90s and early 2000, which contributed to a massive surge in consumption, not only created a demand for increasingly distinctive design as a means of keeping abreast of competition but it consequently lured hordes of students into design schools since, creating a big imbalance and steep drop in relevant, meaningful creative output, paradoxically. Secondly, the ‘superficial coating’ strategy that the vast majority of companies tend to adopt, does nothing but lither our lives with dull products, bad solutions and even worse experiences. The result is that the side effects of conspicuous consumption is a beast that needs to be continuously fed and the social, environmental and above all, cultural costs are enormous.

Idea Generation Gallery artworks and installations

That is why, out of all the exhibitions/events I have seen during LDF, the ‘Anti Design Festival’ was perhaps the least obtuse as it tried to pull visitors from their ‘overly commercial spell’ by introducing the works of designers-turned-into-cultural-agitators to the public. Originally curated by Neville Brody (whose book ‘The Graphic Language of’ I am eternally indebted to) the event took several locations around Bethnal Green road, Hoxton and Liverpool St, displaying all sorts of artworks that, in one way or another, tried to raise questions about the critical state of contemporary material culture and cultural intermediation. The manifesto-style published on their website might sound a bit naïve in certain points but the overall message is simple: Western societies’ current system of values have reached breaking point. The meritocratic mentality pushed forward by America and its glorification of yuppie culture has done little to alleviate people’s anxieties where the equation money = consumption = happiness takes a manicheist dimension. Even worse, the impact of the ideal of success has not only contributed to create a constant state of frustration that can be miraculously treated by reification through consumption and status but also created a self-harming, suicidal ecosystem. The result we can attest by visiting design festivals such as the LDF: redundant variations on the same, exhausted themes, lack of critique, apathy and infinite dullness at the service of an over-complacent system whose sole objective is to increase profits.

Piece on display at KK Outlet

However, thanks to a minority of creatives there were a few examples of good, inquisitive thinking translated into products, solutions or just concepts and this is the attitude the organisers should be fostering by being more selective and rigorous in their criteria when choosing exhibitors. Truly lateral thinking and risk taking come at a price, we know, but it is certainly one worth paying.

Design that engages. Tent London and KK Outlet

Subversive rug by French subversive collective Bazooka


Hans Roslin introducing the MDG stats to the audiences

Last Monday I had a rare opportunity to attend a conference organised by TED, one of the most forward thinking organisation of the moment, thanks to my good friend Rebecca Wright, who was part of the London team of organisers.

The topics discussed by speakers revolved around the Millennium Development Goals program which is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year, and were mostly focused on the improvement of people’s life conditions across the globe through insightful aid programmes as well as personal case studies promoting change.

Taking place in the truly inspiring location of London’s Science Museum the first half of the event was comprised of a series of multicasts simultaneously transmitted to 82 countries (our keen Australian antipodes, for example, being on blankets and pyjamas while watching) and an inspiring panel of speakers, among whom were Melinda French Gates from Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation; Graça Machel, Minister of Education of Mozambique and TED’s curator Chris Andersen directly from New York, joined by our London group with Amanda Horton-Mastin, Innovations Director of Comic Relief; Paul Hilder from OpenDemocracy and author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie from Nigeria. Jamie Oliver also made an appearance in the form of delicious snacks, fruits and canapés prepared by its ‘Jamie Oliver’s Fabulous Feasts’ catering service, which were served during the intervals to people’s utter joy.

But we attendees were not there only to eat and do networking, although both did take place with voracious intensity. We went to TED expecting to leave the event a bit changed somehow, trying to understand the global  challenges we are facing and the possibilities to change things; to improve the world we live in and the world that future generations will inherit from us. That’s why the organisers tried to bring a range of different expertises that could offer broader views on human calamities, such as HIV, Polio, famine, over-population and so on. More importantly though, rather than simply exposing the problems the participants were trying to shed light on these issues via alternative solutions that can effectively minimize or even eliminate the misfortunes experienced by a large part of the world’s population who have little or no assistance from their respective governments.

Interesting points were raised by Hans Rosling, for example, on the co-relation between decreasing child mortality rates, female education and sustainable economic growth and use of natural resources. The key was an accurate real-time data gathering process which was also discussed by Melinda Gates. To explain how certain communities who are geographically out-of-reach could benefit from different sorts of humanitarian assistance she turned to the one company with the most efficient system of logistics and distribution in the world. Coca-Cola. She then set off to investigate what made Coca-Cola’s presence possible in the most hidden corners of the world, concluding that the company promoted micro-economies by partnering small entrepreneurs who could distribute the drink where motorized vehicles wouldn’t/couldn’t go. It became clear that the combination of real-time data feedback loops with an engaged local community can work effectively to produce positive outcomes on many levels. An extremely successful engagement program was also put in place in Thailand to reduce HIV contamination through creative executions of informative and meaningful preventive campaigns. From school events through to merchandising Merchai Veradaya demonstrated how behavioural change can be achieved by really understanding what people want and what they need.

The examples and cases are aplenty I don’t intend to discuss one by one, but just as means of conclusion I think that programs which help eradication of hunger and diseases followed by education and individual’s empowerment are key to develop dynamic micro-economic environments through which communities will work their way up into more civilized, healthier and happier societies as many shown by many real-life stories we saw that night. The question now is, what is our own story?

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Chris Andersen and Melinda Gates


Balfron Tower, street level view

The second part of my Open House London runnaround was a visit to Balfron Tower in Poplar, East London. I was originally planning a viewing at Trellick Tower, on the opposite side of town in the affluent W10 postcode but it was obviously booked out the very minute reservations started to take place on the website. The alternative then was to go and check its predecessor in far less glamorous surroundings instead.

It is impossible to ignore the complex of building’s presence in contrast to other estates around it. Despite its derelict look the whole Brownfield Estate pays testimony to the poignancy of some architects who got involved in the rebuilding of East London during the decades following WWII. The complex, containing three buildings: Carradale House, Glenkerry House and Balfron Tower were conceived by Ernö Goldfinger, perhaps mostly known by his Bond’s namesake villain (it’s said that Ernö and Ian Flemming were disaffected neighbours which lead to the later indiscreetly teasing his friend with a such a honourable tribute).

The flat I visited was on the 24th floor with amazing views of, errr, Canary Wharf. Like 20 or so other artists, the flat was allocated to a painter who benefitted from Bow Arts Trust initiative to fill the empty premises with creatives aiming at, (1) helping these individuals continue their art practice by offering living-work spaces at a very low rent, (2) preventing the infiltration of rogue elements and particularly squatters. I must say, the view of Canary Warf was breathtaking, not to mention the amount of light filling the living room. It was a smart move by the local authorities I thought, one that promotes the reinvigoration of areas lacking in productive activities and contribute to positive change in poor, disenfranchised neighbourhoods. However, this can also mean a first step towards gentrification, I sensed. According to Open-City organisers, Tower Hamlets Council is planning a total refurbishment of the building meaning, relocating artists and, pushing the vast majority of residents out. It is clear that the architectural value of the complex along with their proximity to the financial district of Canary Warf make for an extremely profitable opportunity. For better or worse that’s the London way.

The funny thing though was the perplexed gazes we, visitors, received from residents walking in and out of the building. It is a fact that a lot of people in the city don’t actually like (or comprehend) this concept of architecture. Modernism, frequently dubbed ‘brutalist’ in the UK, is a far-fetched ideal for most of the people, be it at an aesthetic or functional levels. Thus the odd look fired at us while we were waiting to enter the premises. Just to prove my point, as I was resuming my visit with a few more shots of the facade a local resident on her mid-forties, along with her sturdy English bulldog, approached me and in a puzzled tone of voice asked: ‘why arh ye lads so fascina-ed by thiz buil-ings? Ta’in pi-tchas en aw. I think they arh pree-ey f***ing ugly, mate!!’

Ah, the joys of East London…


The atrium inside the Lloyds Building in the City of Lonodn

I was eagerly awaiting for the London Open House (now rebranded as Open-City) that took place last weekend to have the chance to look inside some of those outstanding examples of architecture that we sometimes admire in awe when walking around town.

No doubt my first option was a private flat at Lauderdale House, in the magnanimous Barbican state, which, for my disappointment, was unexpectedly cancelled by the organisers… Notwithstanding, I was keen on catching up with something as there were plenty of other interesting places to see such as the world-renowned Lloyds building, which fit the bill very well.

It’s impossible not to draw references to Archigram when looking at the Lloyds’ façade, for example.  In fact, that is precisely the type of construction they would have pursued should any of their freaking crazy concepts have come to fruition. Instead, Richard Rogers took from where Archigram left and created a memorable piece of space-age architecture. What strikes me most is the fact that Lloyds started out in a mere coffee house on Tower Street in 1688, and over its 322 year history it has become the largest insurance market in the world. Originally dedicated to insuring risks for Maritime enterprises of all kinds (and yes, slavery trade too, regretfully) it grew to a structure of £2bn worth in assets. So, the bigger the numbers the bigger the need for accountability, right? The impression the building left on me was that besides its sheer dimensions there’s sense of openness that Rogers tried to create by means of vast open plans, and the use of certain materials such as glass in its interiors. It is almost as if the building’s structure, with its apparent pipes and ducts (80km of it, to be precise), open plans, glassed walls and a massive atrium work as statement about transparency and foresight. It’s like exposing the engine of this complex mammoth that is insurance business.

However unappealing the idea of working side by side with brokers and the like day after day I could not help but think how damn cool it would be to have an office in that place. If only creative industries were capable of generating similar amounts of revenue then maybe we would see something like a Pompidou-esque building being erected by the Thames to house the ‘creative syndicates’ operating in the ‘visual communications market’ or, the economies of the future.

For now though, not much we can do other than make the most of the premises in one of the famously converted warehouses/wharfs pinpointing Shoreditch and Clerkenwell. Right, I shall concede it holds its charm too.

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