Ah… November. Post-Frieze excess, pre-xmas excess. A few years into chronicling the London art world we must say that change is afoot. First of all, everyone is getting sober. Some may say the scene is growing up and taking things seriously… we prefer ‘developed a psychosomatic response to free Peroni’. Liquid Death is sweeping London like it’s 1346 but this time it’s canned water with an attitude problem, not The Great Plague (we can’t believe we wrote that sentence either). Despite sobriety’s best efforts, we are pleased to report that art parties, chaos and mistakes are still rife; read on for the inside scoop on this month’s highlights xo
Torrential rain didn’t stop the South London art scene gathering to witness Hector Campbell cast aside his role as [emerging] art world godfather for one night and take on the role of… The Godfather (yep) for a cute Halloween party at his gallery, Soup. Amidst Jack Evans’ medievalcore Fear of the Dark aka spooky szn’s creepiest show (not counting Richard Prince at Gagosian), guests – including curator Georgia Stephenson as the People’s Princess as well as artist Natalia Gonzales Martin, dressed as some type of strange ladybird – enjoyed a smorgasbord of delights. Unidentifiable punch, gummy teeth and Mr Kipling Halloween Fiendish Fancies were just a few of the treats sampled by spittle while observing one gallerist-curator on all fours, frantically sweeping a large quantity of spilled popcorn into a plastic pumpkin bowl which he then surreptitiously replaced on the table. Remember reader: we are always watching.
ICA Director Bengi Ünsal looked very relaxed while enjoying a black-and-white-salt-trimmed martini surrounded by MA art students (we assume) out in force for the Tuesday night launch of EPOCH magazine’s second issue. A v healthy crowd proved the kunsthalle’s ingenious idea that exclusively opening late (hours are now 4-11 pm kids) is the way forward – these CSM x Goldsmiths children are clearly phoenixes of the night.
Breathing molecules of ‘haze’ in the darkened theatre, attendees gathered to mark not Halloween but the Gaelic seasonal festival of Samhain with guest appearances from Liz Johnson Artur, Dexter Navy and Bones Tan Jones.
With poetry from James Massiah, mesmeric Yohan Kebede on the jazz keyboard, Mehrnoosh Khadivid’s spotlit scent dance performance and even a surprise waterphone interlude from Hannah Catherine Jones, we spent all night geared up for the traditional Samhain ritual sacrifice but sadly, none was forthcoming.
The opening of ‘Women in Revolt!: Art and Activism in the UK 1970–1990’ was so busy that one major league gallerist was heard nostalgically declaring it the “first covid superspreader event of the season”! #throwback
The punkiest show we’d seen in London for some time, we were naturally obsessed. Also infatuated with the show were many familiar faces: Louisa Buck, Lubaina Himid, Lisette May Monroe, Alison Jacques, Rhea Dillon, as well as the woman of the night: curator of the show Linsey Young. Our two fave moments? Watching the leather jacket-clad neo-naturists snapping selfies in front of their works, and musing over the joys of public sex with the iconic Dal LaGrace Volcano…
Speaking of public sex, this happened to be one of the main topics of Prem Sahib’s conversation with Sita Balani in tandem with the artist’s exquisitely hair-raising show at Phillida Reid… sadly now closed: for those that missed it, you missed out x
For one night only, naughties heaven Feng Shang Princess was overrun by art and fashion people, standing shoulder to shoulder up the gangway. If The Great Flood had come that evening and those gathered on the Princess had inherited the New World, the New World would have been… so chic.
God’s chosen few sipped ‘life-changing margaritas’; as screamed by one creative director over the excited cacophony of people who normally hang out exclusively in East London, finding themselves together in West! Throughout the evening, more boundaries were broken: never have art-fashion people eaten eight courses of Chinese cuisine together. The likes of Julianknxx, Rose Easton, Angelica Jopling, Evan Moffit, Jack O’Brien, Sam Moore, Camille Charierre, Selvi May Akyildiz, Gary Card, Antonia Showering and Hannah Quinlan & Rosie Hastings were treated to sleight-of-hand tricks by a mystery man who may or may not have been the official entertainment, and table hopped through conversations about which institution has the hottest board members/parallels between Mexican wrestling and auction houses/whether it is necessary to even make sales to be thought of as a good gallery. One guest characterised the evening as “obviously chic, exclusive, dark, moody, packed… magic was in the air and everyone was wearing knowingly low-key lewks.”
Gallerist Helen Neven – the latest in the line of hot girls who run galleries around Cambridge Heath – threw a party for Jen O’Farrell on the occasion of the artist’s debut show, ‘no longer endless’. Techno met art in the basement of the Queen Adelaide, with incriminating conversations mingling in the air above the pub-club’s bathroom stalls. Michael Ho took to the decks and that’s when spittle’s memories begin to get hazy, perhaps due to the dancefloor’s circular economy of a particularly lethal-looking bottle of something called Fuoco dell’ Etna that passed hands throughout the night. As one anonymous artist-curator in attendance recalls “the mood – and moves – were buoyant”.
Giving volcanic at every moment, the night mirrored the exhibition, which saw the one-time minicab office (now full-blown gallery) exhibit high gloss black floors and an overflow group of revellers admiring O’Farrell’s scorched earthworks, both pre and post party… x
The new Bloomsbury set coordinated their opening nights again (despite the chaotic antics that took place last time…) and we couldn’t help but join the pilgrimage. Starting west at Phillida Reid we made our way east, to Union Pacific and Herald St, before concluding the eve at the most anticipated opening of the night: Zazou Roddam at Brunette Coleman.
A new discovery for us, we couldn’t help falling in love with Roddam’s work which combined two of our all-time favourite things: black leather and Sex and the City! Artist Joanne Burke observed that, “the brickwork in synchronous tower reminded me of those *abrasive* bricks outside of nightclubs.” We know exactly what you mean Joanne x
Gallerist-curator Ted Targett added, “when people watched the film, they couldn’t instantly tell it was Sex and the City, but then you’d have moments like when Carrie’s cigarette-wielding hand is visible and people suddenly chime in and say ‘that’s when so and so did blah blah…’” #slay! Packed like sardines to get in and out – spittle was forced to squeeze between artists Louis Blue Newby and Rhys Coren and Sprüth Magers’ Carla Schöffel. It was like Abramović’s Imponderabilia but everyone was sadly clothed. Targett was amused to find one visitor’s wired headphones gracefully tangled with the wall-mounted press release folder… y2k-coded reader if you’re listening, lost and found is located on the 2nd floor of 42 Theobald’s Road ?
Seriously jet lagged and bound to strict itineraries, a chunk of the scene assembled in Shangers for Shanghai Art Week – flitting from SAW to West Bund and Art021. We’re not sure why the Chinese government officials in charge chose not to invite spittle this year, but we’re making it *clear* that our critical gaze is international, my dudes.
We revert to our sources – a high-flying gallerina and a hot young artist – for the inside scoop: “Shangers was heaven, with parties every night and more dinners in business centres than you can shake a stick at. While the free baijiu was flowing, it’s unclear whether the ailing Chinese market is quite as liquid – a British mega-dealer was overheard exasperatingly saying to a staff member, ‘yes, but nice conversations don’t make sales’ at the West Bund afterparty.” Intriguing! Spotted on the Sunday flight back to London? “I had eyes on Mark Rappolt, Richard Wentworth and Freddie Powell…” anyone for a game of Snog Marry Avoid?
Fashion × art crossover show of the season was Anya Gorkova’s debut solo with South Parade curated by general information, aka Robert Spragg. As we wrote in our review: “…image junkies that we are, we can’t get enough of Gorkova’s work and have thought every day since of the hot pink, diamanté dressed walls of South Parade’s iconic loo where the artist has installed a white & pink Sony Ericsson Walkman, dispersing y2k tracks into the ether for anyone brave enough to revisit – and perhaps romanticise – a simpler, sexier time…”
Fans we spotted at the PV include South Parade-alumnus Ellie Pratt, Gagosian’s Saskia Hubert, Plaster’s guerilla vox popper Kane Le Bain, ArtReview’s Fi Churchman, Another’s Violet Conroy, artist-diva Woodsy Bransfield and polymath Anastasia Fedorova. Gorkova was spotted in a custom Sinéad O’Dwyer shirt for the opening. The small works on the wall are keenly priced at £250 (probs plus VAT) – snap ‘em up quick kids!
In Shoreditch, Russell Tovey launched a film commemorating artist David Robilliard’s life in collaboration with Wetransfer’s WePresent. In tandem with this, he put together a show of T-shirts relating to LGBTQ+ activism all reclaimed from vintage clothing banks by the creative studio PAST. The whole project was touching – also reminding us of friend of the newsletter Daisy Sanchez’ incredible lesbian t-shirts sourced from eBay she sometimes posts on IG. Googling the initiative we stumbled across, we kid you not, bootleg Russell Tovey homage T-shirts which are now top of our Christmas wish list – link here: you’re welcome.
Questions on everyone’s lips extended beyond the show’s curatorial conceit. Vogue’s Daniel Rodgers asked why Tovey had abandoned his tache? “I’m gonna grow the tache back as soon as I can. I mean, hell yeah! It changed my life? I’ve always been a manchild, but I just turned 42, and it makes me feel like a proper adult.” There was a big crowd but it was giving drama school so this writer couldn’t place many people (apart from It’s a Sin’s Omari Douglas) and the Gilbert to Russell’s George: Robert Diament. Oh wait, Gilbert and George were actually there too! Star-studded x
“Sadness is priceless” said one speaker at Ana Viktoria Dzinic and Zak Klein’s iconic cabaret event in Islington. The duo invited Serpentine’s Hanna Girma, gallerist Freddie Powell, film curator Roisin Tapponi, Sadie Coles’ Sam Will, model Kiki Willems and nepo baby Wolf Gillespie to present to the audience some of their favourite TikTok videos (verifiably the future of panel discussions). spittle settled in with a dear friend – whose current motto is ‘going out is back’, and who is trying to convince us to start smoking again – to people spot: guests in attendance included Gagosian’s Benedict Winkler, Phoebe Philo’s Olivia Allen, artist-writers Sofia Hallström and Arthur Poujouis, and model Leon Dame.
As the aforementioned dear friend recalls, “the vibes were good, very chic. A cosy refuge from north London winds with a mix of familiar faces and a mountain of Diet Coke. The TikToks taught me a lot about Buckfast and provided the perfect opportunity to Juul in the dark. An abundance of old Abercrombie bags were dotted around the room.” #trendalert
Atmospheric and gothic, the red-bricked school/chapel building now called Emelda’s – which may or may not be Alvaro’s new space – was lit with yellow for a night of readings to mark the launch of Rhea Dillon’s new publication. Icons including Françoise Vergès, Zakiya Mckenzie and Vanessa Onwuemezi gave voice to their chapters, with an introduction by Worms magazine editor Clem Macleod. Guests including artist Tiona Nekkia McClodden, gallerist Hugo Wheeler, writer Amie Corry, cult tattooist Cash Frances, and artists Michael Ho and Jen O’Farrell lapsed into rapturous applause after Dillon rounded off the evening with a graceful and considered dedication.
As a site with historic links to Jack the Ripper, you can guess which non-alcoholic beverage was incidentally on the menu…
Until next time… xoxo spittle
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