Archive for September, 2007

And then . . .

. . . he had not moved for a long, long time. The television flickered in the periphery of his vision. What sounds there were came from passing taxis, their wheels spoiling the stillness of the swelling puddles.

He lay still a while longer and let his thoughts drift across his mind. Everything he was feeling was new. And that was just fine, he realised. What had been, need be that way no longer.

There was no epiphany, no jerking realisation. Just love, tenderness, and laughter.

Nothing would ever be the same. It would only just be . . .

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Copenhagen quickly

Zeleste in the clouds – When English goes horribly, horribly wrong

Sweet Talk – Come and see Spoiled Milk talk. They’ll be the ones in panda suits.

Copenhagen fashion on the rise – Monocle magazine reports on how August’s Copenhagen Fashion week was the most successful yet.

Pink Moustache on the decks – Come and see my good friend Frederik Cordes play some records at Apparatet this Saturday. 

Weapons of war

Here’s the answer to the conflict in Iraq . . . a liberal dose of LSD sprinkled in the drinking water.

Who watches over me?

Today I went to Louisiana and saw the Richard Avedon exhibition. I thought his portraits were amazing.

There, I saw a brief snippet of a documentary where Avedon talks about the extraordinary intimacy of the photographer-subject relationship. . . how every nuance is revealing, how every action has subtle consequences.

I don’t take portraits, and most of my shots are, like the one above (today in Louisiana’s amazing grounds), shot without the subject’s knowledge.

But Avedon’s portraiture is so powerful, so candid, and so much more revealing of the subject’s humanity.

In the documentary he reveals that he rarely stood behind his camera, preferring instead to stand to the side to better enable him to interact with the subject.

I think it is the quality of this interaction that takes the photographer from technician to artist.

Copenhagen quickly

Copenhagen to get its first floating hotel.

Can you spot the error in this report? Looks like it’s going to be the world’s biggest hotel.

Wonderland Magazine release party this Saturday. 

I like this magazine and I like Snake and Jet’s Amazing Bullit Band who are playing at the party.

Turboweekend release party at Stengade on Monday.  

My favourite Danish band at the moment. . . they sound a bit like Steely Dan. Only with synthesisers and silly costumes. I’m definitely going to this.

Dog judo

This is the funniest thing I have seen in months.

Dog judo.

Why do I live here?

That was the question a lot of people asked me when I was back in England over the weekend.

‘What’s the difference between here and Denmark?’

‘Why do you like it so much?’

Having been back in Copenhagen for a day and allowed my observations to coalesce a little, I think what I will do is let one little snapshot of my visit home be my answer.

It was Sunday morning, and I was visiting my grandfather. I’d just had a tasty bacon sandwich and a cup of tea and I noticed that a car boot sale (a kind of loppemarked) was going on at the school opposite his house.

I told my grandad that I was going to take a quick stroll round the sale and off I went.

Once there, I made my way quickly down each aisle of cars, not wanting to lose too much of the time I had left to be with my grandfather. But at one stall, I saw a few books that looked interesting and so I stopped.

I stooped down to examine them and saw that beside me a mother was telling off her child. At first it was nothing too serious, but her scolding gradually increased in vehemence until finally she had the boy – who could not have been more than four – by the wrist and was yelling that she ‘was really going to hurt him’ in a minute.

I felt sick. In more than 20 months of living in Denmark I have never encountered anything like that and I was shocked at my sensitivity to it. It’s pretty routine in England to threaten children in that way, and sadly amost as common to carry out the threat.

I don’t go in for stereotypes, or mass generalisations. But i’m afraid that one incident illustrates in a nutshell why I’m here, and not there.