This year’s boy’s book club trip was the last of the sunshine for 2011 I think. Every year we swan off somewhere warm and sunny to talk literature and nonsense and this year’s was a classic.

If the only time you’ve been to Malaga is to zip straight through the airport heading to somewhere else, I can highly recommend this often overlooked Andalucian city.

The Pleasure Principle

On our recent visit to Liverpool I was really quite taken with the Magritte exhibition.

I’m not a huge fan of the surrealists – they’ve never really spoken to me in the way other artists have – but I have to say that this exhibition took me by surprise. It’s an exhaustive trawl through Magritte’s back catalogue that fills an entire floor of the Tate Liverpool and it draws the visitor in from the outset.

Many of the paintings are the equivalent of household names and it is an absolute joy to see them in the flesh. The vibrancy of the images and technical skill used is dazzling – something that always strikes me when seeing art in a gallery. The book does them no justice at all.

Not surprisingly for me, Magritte was also a commercial artist (which he hated) but these skills clearly informed his ‘serious’ art and vice versa. His work manages to be simultaneously surreal and real. Incredible.

I loved the fact that he was party of the Belgian surrealists, who had a chip on their shoulder about the French surreallists, who didn’t take them seriously enough, he felt. An entire section of the show was devoted to some shoddily painted canvases that were intended to cock a snook at the Parisian snobs and their notion of what art should be.

This is a very complex show, jam-packed with ideas that have been subsequently nicked by countless artists since. Around every corner there are arresting images, with the final room containing the big guns – saving the best til last in true showbiz fashion. It’s a well paced and sensitively curated exhibition, taking the visitor on the same journey Magritte went on as his work developed.

The show finished on the 16th and is definitely worth a diversion to Albert Dock in Liverpool if you’re in the vicinity.






Abandoned Projectors


I grew up in Bramley, West Leeds. In the late seventies and early eighties, there weren’t many local cinemas, in fact it was the era of closing cinemas. And as each local picture house closed, the only option was a bus into Leeds to the ABC or the Odeon.

Except in Armley, where there was The Lyric.

On Tong Road, half-way between Bramley and Leeds, the Lyric was typical of the hundreds of cinemas in Leeds that grew out of the heydey of cinema going. Built in 1922, it was built as a silent picture house and it told a story of another time.

This classic old cinema held a mythical status in our minds. Resolutely open when video was beginning to rule the roost, this grand dame of moving pictures stayed in business and we would walk or bus from our estate and enjoy films on a big screen, as they were intended. We had cocoa when it was cold, snogged on the back row and it was affectionately known as the fleapit.

And then it closed. We paid it no heed, and moved on.

For years I drove past its shell, sitting proudly on Tong Road.  I would pass this cinematic real estate it in my car, reminiscing each time in some small way.

And  then thirty years later there was an invite. An arts project, breathing life into an emblematic West Leeds building that had been drafted into the work of God (the Lyric housed a couple of churches in recent times).

Artist Lucy Skaer discovered that the two original theatre projectors had sat locked in the projection room for all these years. Her ambition was to get the locally made projectors running again – the last film they projected was Good Morning Vietnam in 1988. The projectors have been lovingly restored by Alan Foster, head projectionist at Hyde Park Picture House (and, it turned out, projectionist at The Lyric from 1979-1988 – we were punters there too at this time).

Wow, interesting. The Lyric, sat there, patiently waiting for its projectors to spark into life again, after thirty years.

It was very, very cool to revisit this old friend of a place.

The Lyric has had a time of it recently and although her day job is something else now, she’s a proud old building. It was a genuine joy to see the red neon Lyric sign from Tong Road lovingly restored with original neon beaming down.

The production is ‘Film for an Abandoned Projector’ and I’m thankful that this project made this all happen. Spending time in the hot, noisy projection room was a treat. Talking to the projectionists, seeing the old school skills and techniques and looking over the back of the neon Lyric sign was the biggest treat of all. A sight I thought didn’t even exist.

Skaer describes her film as ‘the imagined subconscious of the projectors’ and that’s a very engaging thought. All the films these machines have projected over the years, onto our imaginations. And over the coming weeks, the film will degrade (as the cinema and projectors have degraded ), becoming ‘marked and flecked in time’.

It strikes me as a very human thought, in touch with our own mortality and humanity.

Robust bits of kit gamely deliver art house flicks, whilst urbanites with toddlers drink Brooklyn lager, in an oasis of culture and respect. This could be perceived as pretentious bollocks.

In this instance, Pavilion’s work may seem niche and contrived to some, but I think it’s vital to the continued life and narrative of our city.



 Big thanks to my old Bramley buddy Carl Milner for use of his beautifully evocative images. He’s no slouch on the blog front either, have a read of his far mored detailed post on The Lyric here.