Celeblogging
Living in London for almost one and a half years, I have not yet succumbed to report any celebrity spotting. That does not mean however that I mastered the Londoner's die-hard indifference to famous people (Yes I know it's Kim Catrall, yes, she was in Sex and the City, so what? Will you stop gawking at her for God's sake!!!). Far from it.
So last night I went to the Barbican to see the delectable, the uncomparable, the prima donna of expressivity (if such a word exists) CECILIA BARTOLI perform Scarlatti, Caldara, Corelli and Handel. It was a memorable occasion, not only because seeing Cecilia Bartoli was the very first thing I did when I cam to London in September 2004, but also because I went to queue for return tickets, was the first to get there and get one, and thus had ample time to go and see the Nobuyoshi Araki exhibition at the Barbican art gallery. To my surprise, there was a panel discussion announced with Yoko Ono! Free of charge! One day before the 25th anniversary of John Lennon's murder! Also on the board was Dr. Lucia Dolce, a scholar friend of mine from the SOAS and - incidentally - Steffano Dolce's cousin (of Dolce and Gabbana fame, for those who can't take a subtle hint).
Well, the exhibition was fantastic, endless rows of images of empty Tokyo landscapes juxtaposed with assorted genitalia and bound and gagged girls hanging baroquely from ceilings.... The discussion was about to start, but where was Yoko? Of course she was there and the embarassing thing was I knew her! She is a cruelly misnamed film scholar at Oxford Brookes, but in my self-delusion of the glamour of London (I had preformulated a whole blog entry in my mind about how cosmopolitian this all is - including me of course) I completely blanked out the utter unlikeliness of Yoko Ono commenting on the deeply disturbing colour shades of vulvae....
Living in London for almost one and a half years, I have not yet succumbed to report any celebrity spotting. That does not mean however that I mastered the Londoner's die-hard indifference to famous people (Yes I know it's Kim Catrall, yes, she was in Sex and the City, so what? Will you stop gawking at her for God's sake!!!). Far from it.
So last night I went to the Barbican to see the delectable, the uncomparable, the prima donna of expressivity (if such a word exists) CECILIA BARTOLI perform Scarlatti, Caldara, Corelli and Handel. It was a memorable occasion, not only because seeing Cecilia Bartoli was the very first thing I did when I cam to London in September 2004, but also because I went to queue for return tickets, was the first to get there and get one, and thus had ample time to go and see the Nobuyoshi Araki exhibition at the Barbican art gallery. To my surprise, there was a panel discussion announced with Yoko Ono! Free of charge! One day before the 25th anniversary of John Lennon's murder! Also on the board was Dr. Lucia Dolce, a scholar friend of mine from the SOAS and - incidentally - Steffano Dolce's cousin (of Dolce and Gabbana fame, for those who can't take a subtle hint).
Well, the exhibition was fantastic, endless rows of images of empty Tokyo landscapes juxtaposed with assorted genitalia and bound and gagged girls hanging baroquely from ceilings.... The discussion was about to start, but where was Yoko? Of course she was there and the embarassing thing was I knew her! She is a cruelly misnamed film scholar at Oxford Brookes, but in my self-delusion of the glamour of London (I had preformulated a whole blog entry in my mind about how cosmopolitian this all is - including me of course) I completely blanked out the utter unlikeliness of Yoko Ono commenting on the deeply disturbing colour shades of vulvae....
