London-based web editor, blogger and geographer.
I love history, geography, tours, flags, etymology, and learning about new things.
Also Eurovision, pop music, and foreign pop culture.
Satellites is about states that do not actually exist, particularly those in the former Soviet region. When the USSR broke up in the 1990s, 15 'new' countries emerged. However, political and ethnic tensions also led to a number of less well-known and unrecognised states, such as Abkhazia and Transdniester.
Bendiksen spent seven years journeying in these places, culminating in an amazing set of photographs.
I especially liked the photos which showed solitary individual figures set in huge, vast landscapes, like these below. The first shows a little girl (you can barely see her) amongst large Soviet-style buildings. The second shows Tanya, a babooshka, outside large Soviet blocks of flats.
The impression was of these small, unrecognised nations trying to find their way amongst big super-powers and massive international and global structures.
Equally fascinating, and on the same theme, were his images of local people in the area where rockets and spacecraft are crashed in the Kazakh steppe. Locals here pillage the craft for scrap. Again, they seem like solitary people getting by in vast structures.
Last night I went to see Grace Jones in concert at Somerset House - it was amazing. There was a costume change for every song, or rather I should say a hat change. She was wearing a fabulous set of hats. They included:
a fascinator feather with alien bug-eye lights
full-moon centurion style circle
Hat in the shape of Angor Wat
Space age Virgin Mary get-up in a washing machine extraction tube
Giant copper bowl with matching cymbals
Bug-eyed alien mask
Gold alopecia feathered Cleopatra
Cabaret circus ring master
A diamond-encrusted cocoon
Big leaf, with Zaha Hadid style swoop
Bug tentacles & antelope horns
Flashing blue sunglasses
Disco ball bowler hat with lasers
And finally she emerged wearing a Christmas decoration on her head.
Highlights of the night were when Grace exclaimed "Jesus! What's with the yellow light?" and "No fan's gonna fuck up my hula hoop" before hula-hooping while singing Slave to the Rhythm.
And as the city grew in the 1920s and 1930s, German Jewish architects introduced Bauhaus architecture to Tel Aviv. Now, Tel Aviv's White City, contains more than 5,000 Modernist-style buildings inspired by the Bauhaus school and Le Corbusier. Apparently, Tel Aviv has the world's largest concentration of Modernist-style buildings.
So, yesterday, in Hoxton Square, clad in pink hard-hats, around 20 people made blocks from cardboard boxes, some cardboard balconies and flowers from crepe paper, and our very own Bauhaus building, 17 Emile Zola Street
I took part in Amy Sharrocks' artwork Walbrook on Friday, a walk which recreated the course of London's underground and lost Walbrook river. About 30 people, all wearing blue, were tied together and walked the course of the river from Islington to Cannon Street Bridge.
Amy spoke before the walk about us being water: we were tied in formation resembling the molecular structure of water, and we, as humans, are 90% water. In this walk, we were water in the form of a river. Her artworks deal with how Londoners interact with water.
As we set off, I found that, rather than learning a lot about where we went through, the geography of the city was slipping past. I was talking and learning about other people in 'the river' - almost oblivious to what was going on around us.
Maybe all rivers do that. They flow silently, unseeingly through landscapes, especially cities. People are busy building over and around them, on their banks, but the rivers unknowingly continue flowing, doing what they do.
I noticed placenames with watery connotations, but they slid past. I was able to photograph some, some I missed.
The experience really resembled being a river - our sense of onward momentum was very strong, the movement like a river current.
The blue elastic ribbons holding us together were sinuous - at one point I was wrapped and surrounded, later I only had two ribbons tied behind me. It moved around silently, unbeknownst to me, like water when you swim.
We set off with a great pace, slowed at some points and sped up again. Having sluiced slowly through the city, we reached the Thames in silence.
It's summer! Yesterday, I had a 99 cone - lovely ice-cream and flaky chocolate. Lovely.
I started to wonder, though, why is it called a 99? But, sadly, it seems, nobody really knows. The term was used as early as 1936 in a Cadbury's ad which said "Try a 99 ice cream with Cadbury's Dairy Milk Flake chocolate"
There are some wild theories, such as:
There's an idea that the flake chocolate bar is exactly 99mm long, but everything back then was measured in imperial measures.
Askeys, a cone-making company, made a cone stamped with "99"
An Edinburgh ice cream maker called Arcari claim to have invented the treat in the 1920s and named it after the address of their shop at 99 Portobello High St.
The initials of ice cream - IC - is one way to write 99 in Roman numerals... but the usual way is to write it as XCIX
Lots more interesting suggestions on Wikipedia and BBC
I recently submitted some images to the Photographers Gallery in London - not in any professional sense, but for a fun online gallery called Beautiful Disasters, which encourages anyone to upload images they have taken which went wrong, but have something beautiful about them.
I uploaded these two. The first is a building somewhere in the City seen, I think, from Bethnal Green road (or somewhere Hackney / Shoreditch) on a bright February afternoon. The photo came out blurry, but I really like the feeling of this being a balmy high-summer day, and the light reflecting on the building in the foreground.
The second shows blurred street lights in Cork city, around dusk. It wasn't as dark as the photo implies, but I love the effect of the sky and the light trails.
The gallery is now closed for uploads, but there are many interesting photos to look through.
I also noticed on their site a project called the The World in One City. It aims to take portraits of citizens living in London from all 205 world nations, to be displayed in time for the 2012 Olympics. Fantastic.
I've long wondered exactly what is in San Marino. Just what keeps such a small state afloat and what goes on there?
In my recent trip around Italy, I decided to stop overnight in San Marino. Perched high on a mountain, San Marino city overlooks the rest of the tiny republic. The San Marino flag features three towers on three peaks, the symbol of San Marino.
There are also a variety of tacky-sounding museums (the Museum of Torture, and the like). Mainly, it seems tourism is the prime industry here with souvenir shop after souvenir shop.
Sadly, when the final bus leaves at half past six, San Marino empties. I walked around the town, seeing closed shops, empty bars, empty cafés and empty restaurants. It was all rather disheartening.
Happily next morning, everything was busy again and San Marino seemed a happy place. So happy, indeed, that the police wear delightful mustard yellow shirts. Lovely San Marino.
Last night, I watched the Ireland -v- Bulgaria football match with Bulgarian fans, and pretended not to be Irish (bit like Lorraine from The Apprentice).
I went to two venues. Starting in Arda2, a restaurant in Finsbury Park, I joined 5 Bulgarian football fans to watch the match.
Two screens showed the match - one with Irish TV, and the other with Bulgarian TV. Oddly, the sound came from the Irish channel.
I began to question whether these guys actually were Bulgarian. Some of them seemed quite happy to see Ireland take the lead. Then, they were equally happy to see Bulgaria equalise. Add to that, they were speaking to each other in a mixture of English and another language (I can only assume it was Bulgarian).
It was, it's fair to say, a sedate affair - mainly as they sat drinking Coke & J2O and staring out the window.
At half time, I decided to leave the maybe-Bulgarians, and hot-footed it to Green Lanes to Juliana99. If Arda2 was sedate, Juliana99 was comatose. Two men sat inside watching the match in dead silence. The Bulgarian tv commentary was deadpan with a ridiculously low volume.
An old woman sat in the corner clucking and sucking her teeth.
Eventually a few more men arrived. I noted they were all snappy dressers with trendy jeans, designer jackets and t-shirts. The bar owner - in a loud Hawaiian shirt - rather let the side down.
The (boring) match ended in a draw, with the Bulgarians on TV barely cracking a smile. I hung around afterwards, hoping to hear some Bulgari-pop. But there was none. The bar just emptied out, leaving me to wonder where all London's Bulgarians are. Maybe they've been credit crunched?
I'm DJing tonight, at London Media Gays in barcode. Should be an ace evening of retro and nu-pop! My last foray at DJing was playing foreign pop at the long-gone Club Contact, and I'm hoping to revive the foreign pop tradition tonight by playing lots of - now v trendy - ace Swedish pop, such as:
One of my favourite things about Eurovision parties is the potential to meet others from different countries, especially if that country has an ace song. When Greece won in 2005, I celebrated with a Greek guy at my party and ended up talking to his elderly father (on the phone from Greece) about how brilliant Elena Paparizou.
This year, at Eurovision parties, I met people from Ukraine, Hungary and Switzerland, and asked them to draw maps of their countries for my EuroGlobe project.
Yuliya, from Ukraine, drew her country.
Lorenza, from Switzerland, was in Eurovision spirits and wearing fabulous gloves. She drew this map.
Finally, Felecian & Lisa drew this map of Hungary. Both had been in the UK for three years, initially moving her to find work.
While on holidays, I like to read something of the place I'm visiting. In Italy, I read Peter Moore's diverting Vroom with a View, his account of travelling from Milan to Rome on a 1960s vespa.
Some facts I gleaned were:
Vespas, named from the Italian for wasp, were designed as transport for ordinary Italians still reeling from the second World War. The cost of a Vespa was, however, just a bit less than that of an average Italian salary. So, Piaggeo (the manufacturers) came up with the idea of allowing their customers pay in installments, which was a radical concept for the 1950s. Piaggeo was the first European company to try this, and it paid off with more than half a million Vespas sold by 1953.
The Italian phrase cugi - which means tacky or cheesy - comes from the phrase cugini di campagna 'your country cousins'
Eurovision week has arrived, and all the joy it brings. This year, I've decided to skip watching the semi-finals, and just watch the final live (I'll watch them afterwards, obviously). By doing this, all the acts are a surprise, just like when I first starting getting into Eurovision (the 1990s).
So, to achieve this, I'm on holidays in a Eurovision-free zone: Italy. Anyway, without further ado, here's my Eurovision ru-down for 2009.
Semi-Final 1
Montenegro Utterly silly, camp nonsense, and a magical way to open to the show. In a word: fun
Belgium Elvis look-a-like claiming Elvis is stealing his act. In a word: genius.
Belarus Dull rock ballad. In a word: boring.
Sweden The first of this year's opera-pop entries, with added camp. Malena is brilliant, but this is like asking Judi Dench to do an Iceland advert. In a word: kitsch.
Armenia Novelty tune, novelty dance routine, fabulous novelty costumes & hats. In a word: routine.
Andorra Catchy guitar pop tune that bounces merrily along. In a word: Nice.
Switzerland Pet Shop Boys, with guitars. In a word: unsung.
Turkey Likeable ethnopop dancing fluff, and hurrah for it. In a word: pulsey
Israel With singers from both sides of Israel, this could be corny. But it will be alive on stage. In a word: heartfelt.
Bulgaria The second of the opera-pops, with added ethno-warbling. In a word: desperate
Iceland Is it true? A moving ballad about loss and ending? How very Iceland in 2008/2009 financial year. In a word: moving
FYRO Macedonia Not memorable in the least. In a word: forgettable.
Finland A happy poppy dance song. About failure. Brilliantly Finnish. In a word: misanthropic
Romania Pop poppy about Bucharest's banging babes. In a word: tonic&lime.
Portugal Sweet, lovely, Portuguese ditty. In a word: obrigado.
Malta Third time lucky for Chiara with this ballad? In a word: handjabs
Bosnia-Herzegovina Delightfully rousing Balkan ethno-rock ballad. In a word: revolutionary
Semi-Final 2
Croatia An Aegean-esque folk song supplanted to Dalmatia. Nice, but nothing new. In a word: lully
Ireland I say it's Ireland's best entry in years. Girlband rockpop with nice line in shimmying. In a word: etc
Latvia Russia kraut-rock. Big in the hall, undoubtedly. In a word: null
Serbia Big-haired bloke and his old mate singing a daft song about shoes. In a word: overdone
Poland Nice ballad, delivered well. I'd like to like it more than I actually do. In a word: true
Norway Sweet love song hidden within some muscular Vikings-in-the-Urals fiddling. Great. In a word: winner?
Cyprus Sweet, swooshing story song. Maybe too big for its performer, sadly. In a word: fleeting
Slovakia A dull, plodding duet. In a word: snoozy
Denmark It is Ronan Keating, in disguise. Good, if you like that kind of thing. (And plenty do). In a word: commercial
Slovenia Violins ahoy, and a singer trilling behind a screen. Did you expect her to be blonde? I didn't! In a word: crescendo
Hungary It's called Dance With Me, but should be Camp Like Me. In a word: gay
Azerbaijan A catchy dirge. In a word: infectious
Greece Gym-toned Sakis leads an aerobics class, while singing a song. Olivia Newton-John for the naughties. In a word: flex
Lithuania It's sweeping, impressive, and he wears a nice hat. The hat is the thing I like best. In a word: sweet
Moldova Great red boots for Nelly, the singer of this Slavic-ethno-pop dancing riot. Nelly! In a word: bonkers
Albania A pseudo-thumping dance tune with nobody dancing. In a word: hopeful. Sadly, it may be forgotten because here comes...
Ukraine Riotious, surreal, almost nasty. And all the more amazing for it. BOM! This will have a huge performance. In a word: bumpy
Estonia Delightfully ethereal song, good contrast to what comes before. All it needs is some Kate Bush-esque hand waving. In a word: mystical
Netherlands Three camp old dears in shiny suits belt out a shiny song called Shine. In a word: shiny
The Final
France Wonderfully dramatic, brooding chanson ballad. Classy. In a word: superb
Russia Some lady warbling about her mother, or is it Russia? Who knows, who cares? In a word: orphan
Germany Novely song, sounding like Mambo No 5, with Dita Von Teese in the background. In a word: Inexplicable.
United Kingdom She's been down, down so long. And now the song's in your heard for the rest of the day. Strong performance expected. In a word: classy.
Spain The super sound of a fun night in Fuengirola! In a word: fiesta
And that's it. Who will win? My money's on Norway, and I'd love to see UK, Spain, Estonia, Ukraine, Belgium and Ireland do well.
Pretty, isn't it? And it has a pretty name too - Fabstraction.
Wandering around Mayfair last week, Ian Davenport's paintings like this caught my eye.
The pic above isn't one of those I saw at the Alan Cristea gallery, but it is similar. Vertical lines of bright, vibrant colours skirt down the canvas and descend into an abstract messiness at the base of the picture. Lovely.
Last night's Eurovision Preview Party was a great success. There was a real fun, friendly, positive and enjoyable atmosphere. Here's a run-down:
Great vintage performances from previous entrants Nicki French, Friðrik Ómar, Jessica Garlick and Imaani.
Imaani is 8 months' pregnant, well done to her for coming along to perform! Jessica Garlick still sounds stunning, and Friðrik is a great fun performer giving us an acapella This is My Life which happily became disco-dance-tastic in the final chorus. (Jade Ewan - take note).
Nicki French is a national treasure, and should be preserved in aspic.
Polish singer Lidia sung well with two nice songs. Bulgarian Krassimir seemed like a nice, sweet guy, but a little uncomfortable on stage.
Romanian Elena really sells her song well and she spins around a lot. Awesome hair extensions from her. A troupe of dancing Balkan girls strutting around stage on Moscow will be a treat from her.
Icelandic Johanna was great - very strong singer and she delivers her song well.
Cypriot Christina proved she can sing - and sing well. Her Eurovision song is a little too big for her, as she seems quite timid and nervous. Hopefully the supportive and excellent reaction she received will help boost her confidence.
Ireland were great - they performed their song with great energy and enthusiasm. They just played one song, which I felt was a shame as the crowd were really loving them. Watch:
And then: Ukraine
Svetlana Loboda came on stage aloft on the shoulders of one of her 4 very hunky, very fit dancers. They all then proceeded to give a performance which beggared belief - muscular, powerful, dynamic, energetic and frenetic.
The dancers - chests and arms bared - were a surreal mix of rabid thuggish soldiers and gay boy harlequin marionettes. They performed Be My Valentine with such gusto, it will surely figure high in the placings in Moscow. They then performed another song with Soviet-style marching and flags depicted the mascot of the 1980 Moscow Olympics.
And then the dancers donned t-shirts and then took them off again. And then I got one (a t-shirt, that is). And then they proceeded to climb about the stage. And then writhed about. And then flexed their muscles. And then started to take bits of clothing off. And then we all fainted...
Watch for yourself - this is Svetlana's encore performance of Be My Valentine