Thursday, 3 May 2012

The Voice

My Dearest Darlings I will spare you platitudes or excuses for my prolonged absence, all you really need to know is that I am back; at least for now, you may despair of my intermittent presence on your social media news feeds or perhaps you could not possibly care any less, though as you will see if you have been bothered to cast you dead eyes over my blog my manifesto is almost complete, so to spare you repetition I feel that I need to bore you less. So I shall as a consequence only comment when for some inexplicable reason I feel the need to evacuate the contents of my brain into the vastly over populated internet. If only to exercise my ability to write a sentence that may for some short time entertain or distract you from the never ending doom that is your ineffective and paltry lives.

Today I was struck by the visual juxtaposition of cultural news stories regarding the historic sale of Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’ for 120 million dollars and the fact that Adele has outstripped ‘Thriller’ from the highest selling album record set by Michael Jackson. The Scream is a depiction of the existential angst of humanity, the silent scream at the universe, an ineffectual protest, a flaccid decry at what humanity represents. It has become an iconic image sullied by commercial representation on mugs to tea towels to pencil cases and museum carry alls. The desperation and terror of this iconic image has been diluted beyond all recognition into a pleasant and quirky eccentric perpetuation of art and artists.
Only the occasional trail blazer has embraced this horrifying painting and presented it to a wider audience, the iconic antipodean beauty Dame Edna Everage once used the iconography of this famous painting in a fabulously breath-taking outfit. No one since and I suspect no one ever shall again attempt or even bother to communicate the true undeniable terror of this painting to you the na├»ve and undeserving public,. Though now it has sold for an astonishing amount of money the media has unsurprisingly presented it to you; as financial approval is the only approval that really matters to your society. At least there will be an echo of the raw visual power of ‘The Scream’ presented to you via the gutter press. Once again there is an opportunity that the undiluted depiction of a visceral spiritual hell may filter through to you in order for you to stop and embrace the utter ineffectualness of your futile existence.
The voluptuous beauty and sultry voice of Adele dressed perpetually in black with sixties style bouffant and well blended eye shadow has in her earthy way expressed to you some of the superficial emotional traumas of your existence to a non-offensive and relatively pleasing pop beat accompanied with a sultry vocal. The epic success of this young woman has in part been down to her apparently authentic performance at the Brits a couple of years ago. You have drawn her once damaged now healing vocal chords to your cold faintly beating hearts, her unpretentious elegance combined with her estuarine accent does not challenge your rank, she does not cause you to ask questions regarding your cultural position as dullard or plebeian, she communicates that you are fine being the almost adequate non-thinking humanoids that you are, the absolute opposite of ‘The Scream’ which silently and hauntingly challenges you to question the very essence of your short existence on this pain filled and moribund planet.

A singer with an audible singing voice versus the silent visual depiction of human pain expressed with a gaping mouth, both cathartic, both financially endorsed by your society, both iconic, neither wins, as both are valid but each reflect the idiosyncratic specificities of the era that they were created.

With Love Ms Coco LaVerne

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Faked in Chelsea

My Dearest Darlings a television phenomenon has reached your screens; the deplorable “The Only Way is Essex” format is unsurprisingly plundered from your American cousins. This is yet another incarnation of reality TV which plays to the lowest common denominator. Painfully crass and transparent ‘dramatic’ set pieces are constructed under the guise of so called ‘reality’ allowing the protagonists to squirm and wriggle with embarrassing ineptitude for your prurient entertainment.

I hoped that this unbearable spectacle would fade due to its excruciating and unpleasant exploitation of the main players but alas the craze has captured the television audiences’ imagination. Not satisfied by making the working class Essex types appear to be inane uneducated plebeians the format has moved on to exploit the inane yet apparently (though you’d barely know it) educated: “Made in Chelsea” invites the ridiculously named and unimaginably privileged ‘stars’ the opportunity to make total and complete fools of themselves.

I can only imagine what it is that draws you to spend your valuable time gazing at the screen whilst this hideous portrayal of humanity is broadcast. Is it that you see yourselves as “them”? Is it that you vicariously live your lives through the endless superficial banality of their so called problems? I can’t imagine that you console your selves by assuming that this is reality TV. It surely cannot fool even you into believing that these people are experiencing ‘real life’.

The obvious and main reason why this format has been fashioned is I assume because it is cheap and requires next to no creativity, and it is this that is my point. Such is the current cultural life you engage with that your so called ‘reality’ entertainment is completely fabricated. For some inexplicable reason you have lost the ability to engage with fictional characters meticulously created by true artists. The skill and dexterity of your film makers or novelists has been jettisoned. You apparently prefer to engage with ‘real’ figures placed in ‘faked’ situations with the aptitude of a five year old tabloid journalist. Sad My Darlings as you deserve so much more…

With Despair Ms Coco LaVerne x

Thursday, 20 October 2011

The Closet

My Dearest Darlings, over the last few months there has been a terrible torrent of stories regarding your inexplicably young committing suicide, due; it is reported to the impossible experience of being perceived as gay in your schools. Why is it that teenagers see that the only escape from persistent and relentless bullying is suicide?

Could it be that despite various campaigns and celebrities championing gay people that in the ‘real’ world it is still not acceptable to be gay? Gayness is still seen as a life choice, as something to be kept private; to be ashamed of. In the UK recently amid spurious rumours of politician Liam Fox’s sexuality he felt his only option was to resign from government, perhaps it is the secrecy and therefore the dishonesty of his demeanour that created an atmosphere of distrust which led to his resignation. The fact that Mr Fox whatever his sexuality was subject to such prurient speculation suggests that to be gay is still seen as something controversial. Or is it that disguising ones sexuality is the real problem? Whatever the case the young perceive speculation surrounding ones sexual preference as a scandal and as a result it is still seen as apparently unrespectable to be gay.

Outrageous (and popularly perceived as slightly bonkers) superstar Lady Gaga has made it her mission to combat bullying and apparently met President Obama recently to discuss the issue, this was in part due to Jamey Rodemeyer’s mention and gratitude to Lady Gaga on-line for her support of gay issues shortly before his suicide due to homophobic bullying.

Well meaning actor and portrayer of the eccentric Zachary Quinto ‘came-out’ this week suggesting that the tragic story of Jamey Rodemeyer had acted as a catalyst for his own public acknowledgment of his sexuality,  he announced that his ‘coming out’ was as an act of gay solidarity. As worthy and admirable as this is, the fact remains that the gay people that actually have political power, the gay people that are in a position to change laws and opinions remain relatively invisible, these mysterious men in suits continue to refuse (perhaps understandably) to be defined by their sexuality, though as long as they continue to do so the only visible gay people and example to the young remain as quirky actors, cuckoo pop-stars, and salacious celebrities, the powers that be expect the famous flibbertigibbet to be gay or gay friendly so alas the support from the ‘weird’ does not particularly challenge the perception and position of the gay person in society hence the continuing chastisement and marginalisation of gay people in your complex and peculiar society by the average or ‘normal’ who it is worth noting remain a constant source of bewilderment and discombobulation to your humble servant Ms Coco Laverne X.

Saturday, 16 April 2011

The Royal Wedding

Dearest Darlings it is at last the month of April when bleary eyed translucent faced layabouts finally emerge into the blinding silvery light of spring. Magnolia trees sprinkle their milky petals of peachy pinkness onto your suburban streets, like over sized confetti trimming your romantic perambulations with sickly sweet floral scents, your streets become ceremonial wedding aisles that temporarily promise optimism and hope after a long dark and lonesome winter. Spring of course with its connotations of love and copulation is a traditional time for weddings though it is of the talk of one in particular that drifts across the parlours and terraces of London this year; the Royal Wedding of Prince William and Katherine Middleton.

The celebration of heterosexual love within ones community is on the surface a pleasing and optimistic carnival of support for a usually young couple embarking on their heterosexual life together, whichever the coupling the wedding party tittle-tattle will disparage or encourage the holy union depending on their allegiance though when it comes to the marriage of royalty a whole new level of debate ensues. In this case the population of the world becomes the wedding party all with their own idiosyncratic ill-informed opinions and objections.

The notion of the royal family is an understandable one, one that lies at the heart of humanities societal structure from small tribal societies where one ‘elder’ was esteemed into a position of authority and whose forefathers where respected for being related to that esteemed individual. The idea of the Royal Family has the potential to operate as a positive ideal to your cretinous masses, and symbolically lead your society’s values internationally.

Though historically this Royal Family is symbolic of the violent pillaging and brutal reallocation of wealth and resources from continents across the globe from Africa to the Americas the United Kingdom has unceremoniously been responsible for depleting the peaceful of their natural treasures from diamonds to wildlife. The creation of the Commonwealth in the name of Queen Victoria is truly the shame of Britain, from the quite insensitive renaming of Lake Ukerewe to Lake Victoria by the Victorian explorer John Hanning Speke symbolising perfectly the disregard for the native population and its history.

A subject expertly explored in the forthcoming exhibition of Dallas Seitz at Carter Presents, London (preview Friday 8th April)

This legacy reluctantly forgotten by the world has enabled the current Royal Family to be transformed into sweet doddering old ladies and sweet doddering old men, who go on to create a new generation of sweet doddering young ladies and sweet doddering young men. Gluttonous from their pillaged wealth the royal family not only use the inherited riches of their looting to recline in their palaces they have consistently charged you for the privilege of their existence.
They seldom have the capacity to represent themselves as anything other than a dysfunctional family. They rarely embody any notion or ideal of glamour. Where once they were able to maintain a sense of mystique, they are now as much paparazzi fodder as your dullard celebrities.

Inevitably armies of tea towel touters, commemorative cup creators and perfunctory plate procurers produce endless quantities of tat. You blindly and obediently march to purchase the palace’s merchandise, paying over the odds for whichever tickles your fancy goods eye. And so you quite literally buy into the notion of this celebration which is already costing you much. Your Englishmen’s Castles are then filled to the turrets with Royal Memorabilia; residuals of reigns, past current and future.  

Though My Darlings I do not wish this young couple ill; Prince William has had his troubles and of course I would be a cold heartless harridan if my cockles were not warmed by this ‘jolly hockey sticks’ young couple, Prince William after all had the misfortune of being born into this dysfunctional dynasty, and Katherine must be truly in love with this royal simpleton if she is willing to sacrifice her anonymity for riches beyond her wildest dreams. If you in your ignorance choose to celebrate with a street or tea party I sincerely hope it goes swimmingly, and I wholeheartedly wish them well.

Much Love Ms Coco LaVerne X