Review by Dips Patel of the book and film “Beasts of No Nation” by Uzodinma Iweala / Cary Fukunaga & the memoir “A Long Way Gone” by Ishmael Beah

That same day (see two previous posts), I also happened to watch a corking film called ‘Beasts of No Nation,’ which is based on a book of the same title (by Uzodinma Iweala), set in an unnamed West African country.

It’s essentially about a kid who becomes a child soldier and then finds a way out and hope for a better life. Hugely affecting (both the book and the film) it ain’t pleasant or easy viewing (or reading for that matter), but it is worth watching as the performance of the child actor (Abraham Attah) is incredible and powers the film while easily holding his own against Idris Alba and I’d watch that rapscallion in anything – he is very, very good.

Even though it’s a work of fiction (having read ‘A Long Way Gone: the True Story of a Child Soldier,’ by Ishmael Beah, which is absolutely worth reading), it’s time well-spent watching or reading these books/film, a slip of a novel that you’d whip through in an afternoon, but is likely to stay simmering in your consciousness for a long while after and I could say the same about the film and the memoir too.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “Alexander Calder: Performing Sculpture” – an exhibition at Tate Modern

Alexander Calder: Performing Sculpture
Tate Modern
11 November 2015 – 3 April 2016

After Giacometti’s exhibition at National Portrait Gallery (see previous entry), I took a stroll down river to Tate Modern to take a gander ‘n’ gawp at this:

http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/exhibition/alexander-calder-performing-sculpture

Triple Gong, c1948

I’ve loved his stuff for years and apart from seeing a bunch of his work in, I want to say the Musee d’Orsay, but it could well have been the Pompidou, or even the Louvre, never had a chance to see an extensive collection of his stuff. (I remember one option of a module on my art course in college was making a mobile and after about a day of abject failure I picked something else to do!)

Vertical Foliage, 1941

His really early stuff, the simple wire pieces were mesmerising (I know I’ve said before that sculptures are just drawings in space) but these things, the manipulated wire looking like someone has literally just drawn a head in mid-air and sometimes only when you have walked around the thing does it take on the shape and form of a head seen from different angles, or a face or a horse or elephant or a team of acrobats or a…it looks playful and there’s generous humour in these pieces (incidentally, whoever thought of the lighting for this show should get some credit, it is a really gorgeously lit exhibition).

Form Against Yellow, 1936

There’s the seed of something great in the pieces, to me unmistakable, and as you walk through the rooms the development of the work, his ideas, going from mechanical kinetic sculptural works (one of which had Einstein watching it for 45mins until it had gone through its full rotation) to the increasingly monumental mobiles for which he is most famous, ultimately the evolution of the work reveal a clarity of thought and knowledge of materials, physics and engineering (trained as an engineer in his youth) and execution of ideas which resonate with a deep, almost substantial lightness (I know what I’m saying is odd but again I can’t think of the right words).

Medusa, c1930

Varese, c1930

Saturn. The planet. Massive, second only to Jupiter as gaseous giant in our system of solar, and with its rings looks like a reet monster but it’s made of gas so as the gag goes, find a large enough bucket and it’ll float. That’s his mobiles right there, Saturn. His mobiles are like Saturn, which is apt as he did a few sculptures inspired by space and the celestial bodies and stuff. Floating in space, as people move about displacing the air around them they change, evolve and transform the mobiles into living things. That was a treat and a half!

Goldfish Bowl, 1929

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “Pure Presence: Alberto Giacometti” – an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery

Pure Presence: Alberto Giacometti

15 October 2015 – 10 January 2016

National Portrait Gallery

http://www.npg.org.uk/whatson/giacometti/exhibition.php

The Artist's Mother: Oil on canvas, 1950 

Of all the artists in all the studios in all the world he has to be the singular inspiration for my own daubs and doodlins. I’ve seen his work both as a collection of just his work and as part of a collection in so many galleries and museums all over the world, but this is the first time I’ve had a chance to see a focus on his portraiture (with some nods to his sculptural work). While, weirdly, his sculptures have had the loudest influence on my (2D) work, it’s his paintings and drawings that have had the deepest emotional impact. 

Woman of Venice VIII: Bronze, 1956

You’d recognise his 3D work straight off the bat (really thin, gaunt figures that scream isolation and emotional disconnect) but the 2D stuff is where the real power lies as that’s where the philosophical heart lies of his vision and it is a vision. The later work is what really got me the first time I came across his work (back during the pre-Cambrian era, also known as my college years) cos it was the first time I’d seen paintings painted like it was a drawing. That’s not very clear (‘clear as mud dip.. bloody nutter’); he painted like he was drawing, so he wielded his paintbrush and used paint like we use a pen and ink and it helped create a singular vision and style which makes him an absolute giant of modern art. 

Diego: Oil on canvas, 1959

There was one piece in particular ‘Figure Grise’ (tete en gris), 1957 that had me spellbound for a good half hour/forty mins, floating, shimmering would be more apt, on the wall and with each forward step taken towards it, it appeared to recede further away into itself, simply withdrawing to the point where up close, and I mean right up close, it’s nothing more than a series of worked and reworked lines of paint. Get too close and invade its personal space and it would simply disappear, maddeningly indifferent to my presence a detached curiosity haughtily asking ‘who are you looking at? me? hmm? Get back there, go on, keep going..’. Only when I stood almost on the other side of the room (a good 15/20 feet away or thereabouts) did it really look like it felt comfortable with me looking at it, demanding I keep my distance and it would play nice. 

Figure Grise (tete en gris): Oil on Canvas, 1957

Like a small child, reticent and reserved in the company of strangers but curious of what they’re doing, a child that runs away at the first sign of your approach but given a bit of time it’ll get used to you – yup, that’s how I felt when I was looking at that painting; and you might feel the same: it’ll come to you, but not before it’s ready.

Self-Portrait: Paper on pencil, c1923-4

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “Gilead, Home, Lila” a loose trilogy by Marilynne Robinson



Marilynne Robinson

Marilynne Robinson’s novels Gilead, Home and, the latest, Lila, are a very loose trilogy, in the sense that they take place in the same fictional world and involve some of the same characters.

Gilead centres on John Ames, a minister recounting his life, writing his memoirs and reflecting on his belief and faith in the face of almost constant challenges (and by that I mean tragedy after tragedy after tragedy…) and comparing his life to his close friend (and lifelong chum) Reverend Robert Boughton, another man of the cloth. (Home is set concurrently to Gilead, though it completely stands as a story in its own right.) The Boughton family form the basis of this story, the second novel in the trilogy, which centres on the return of the Reverend’s prodigal son Jack and the impact on the family his coming home has, seen through the eyes of his younger sister Glory. And rounding off the trilogy is Lila, revolving around Lila (shockingly!), John Ames' second wife he married late in life. It's about her and john's courtship and subsequent marriage, but also about Lila's life before she came to be in the world of Ames.

Gilead was written in 2004, Lila published in 2014, Home in 2008 and kicking things off Housekeeping in 1980. Just the four novels spread over 35 years (she has written numerous non-fiction essays and pieces over the years). What makes her peerless, certainly to me, is the quality of writing maintained throughout, there is no flabbiness anywhere in any book and over that long a period of time is frankly staggering. She writes with beautiful clarity and intelligence and perception of human nature it's almost illusory like a hologram or something... But it's also a warmth and comfort that settles you physically and mentally and I would say even emotionally, like when you've just had a really crap day, boss on the rampage, forgotten the pack lunch so overpriced and over-salted sandwiches here we come, driven to distraction when the office is littered with the empty husks of staplers everywhere because no-one’s bothered to put in any staples once they’ve run out, and then you have a long walk home in the freezing rain, a hundred tiny ice picks a minute stabbing you in the face as a numbing coldness seeps through your clothes, soaking you to the bone and your feet leaden weight and long since numb… But when you walk through the door, a hugging warmth envelopes you immediately, you can smell your favourite dish simmering away and waiting to be drunk after you've changed into your fave pj's and comfy slippers having had a nice hot soak in the tub, is a hot chocolate with fresh whippy cream and marshmallows! Imagine how good you'd feel then after that day and that's how it feels reading these novels: jaw-droppingly magnificent work.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “Housekeeping” by Marilynne Robinson

Marilynne Robinson is one of my all-time favourite authors. Her first novel Housekeeping was nominated for a Pulitzer. I need not say more cos that nugget speaks for itself. (She did win a Pulitzer and that was for Gilead, her second novel, more of which another time...)

Housekeeping is about the lives of and relationship between two sisters and the impact of a third woman, their aunt, who comes into their life and the effect she has on them as individuals and their relationship. Regularly charting highly in “Books to Read Before You Die,” “greatest novels”-type lists, there's no end of difficulty in recommending this novel (and author) highly enough.

You know when you stare at something long enough and then quickly look away and there's a light, negative outline shape of what you've been looking at, and it seems to vibrate and “pulse” for a while before slowly disappearing?… Well, once you've read this book it will “pulse” for years after and you'll go back to reading it again and again, each time thinking “it wasn't as good as I thought it was last time, surely not,” and then you read it and realise it was better and just keeps getting better and better… I've read Housekeeping three, no make that four times now over the years and if there is one author and one book I'd probably recommend above all others it's this one.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of "Dead Leader" by Jang Jin-Sung, and "Nothing to Envy" by Barbard Demick

And I’ve just finished reading Dear Leader by Jang Jin-Sung, which is a memoir/autobiography of a guy who escaped out of North Korea (and escape is the right word, though fleeing for his life is more apt). He was a poet/writer/musician who somehow got himself into the inner-most circle of Kim Jong-il (this circle is referred to as "the Admitted," which tells you something about the cult of Kim) and right when he was riding that popularity wave at its highest, one careless slip, one "unthinking" moment meant his life was up for grabs and escaping to South Korea (via China) was the only option.

It is an immensely affecting insight into one of the most secretive, insular countries in the world and a disturbingly intimate look into Kim Jong-il’s reign and also reveals the history of the country post WWII, the split with the South, and how the North Korea of today came into being seen not from an outsider’s perspective, but a man who had access to government documents and workings.

 

I’ve read and recommended Barbara Demick’s Nothing to Envy countless times and while that chronicles the lives of the ordinary Korean on the street (so to speak; it’s essentially a series of interviews with six defectors given some novelisation stylings), this gives you the chance to see North Korea from a different angle, from a real insider’s view, life in N. Korea for the privileged few and what that looks like and means. As Jin-Sung recounts his life and escape, it also reveals how North Koreans are seen and treated by the Chinese, by South Koreans and by fellow North Koreans, particularly ethnic Koreans living in China. As is the case with Demick’s book, there are several moments reading the book where I put it down, got up and walked away, got myself a brew, went for a walk, just did something to give myself some breathing space before I continued reading, as lumps-in-the-throat appear with more frequency than is comfortable and what you read becomes almost overwhelming. Yeah, I would say Dear Leader is absolutely worth reading as it is bang up-to-date (2014) and if you haven’t read Nothing to Envy (2009), that’s an essential read too!

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Dips Patel reviews Justin Kurzel's "Macbeth" and writes about his "Snowtown" and Kurosawa's "Throne of Blood"

The latest version of Macbeth hit the big-screen recently, directed by Justin Kurzel (who brought us Snowtown, which if you haven’t seen is well worth catching; brutal, grim and based on a true story it’s worth bracing yourself before you press play on that one...)

I digress, back to Macbeth, this time we have Michael Fassbender and Marion Cotillard in the lead roles. Visually sumptuous, the cinematography is exhilarating (and could easily be cast as a character in its own right) some interesting modern flourishes to the story and generally casting is spot on with Fassbender immensely affecting and pretty much perfect as the initially sceptical and apprehensive would-be king turned maniacal tyrant. My only issue with the film is, and it pains me to type this, Cotillard as Lady Macbeth. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, I think she’s a fantastic actor and has a great screen presence but a presence which doesn’t quite ring true for this role, her understated take on the character lacking any ‘theatrical’ quirks (a good thing) but also lacking (a bad thing) in that believable insidious lust for power that in my head, the character is consumed by, not just for her husband but herself. In my ever-so-humble-opinion, it’s the Lady Macbeth character that’s the driving force of the play and sadly I just didn’t get that from Cottilard’s performance, nonetheless , the film as a whole is definitely worth watching. 

Now then, for a pretty awesome Macbeth-y film I would highly recommend Akira Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood, which loosely takes the story and sticks it into a feudal Japan. Starring Kurosawa stalwart and long-time collaborator, Toshiro Mifune as Taketoki Washizu in the Macbeth role, and even given the deviations from the original source (of which there are many, including having just one witch instead of three who, by the way gave me the heebiejeebies) for the most part it’s a fantastic take on the Scottish Play. The point of me mentioning this now, sapping the last vestige of your patience is simply the performance by Isuzu Yamada, who plays Lady Asaji Washizu (the Lady Macbeth equivalent role). Creepy as hell, hugely impressive and wholly believable as the quietly Machiavellian wife whose whispering words in her husband’s shell-like unleash a murderous monster before falling to pieces as the realisation and ramifications of her machinations make themselves at home. A mesmerising, stunning and exquisitely pitched performance, well worth a peek.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “Alone in Berlin” by Hans Fallada

Easily ranks as one of my all-time favourite books and is one of my “go-to” books whenever I’m asked to recommend a book to anyone who asks me, “I want something I can really get me teeth into.”

It’s probably better to describe this as “faction” – the story is littered with biographical details of the author (as is the case for a lot of his novels) and is about a couple who were opposed to the Nazi regime in Berlin. After their son is killed fighting for the Nazis, the couple embark on a campaign of dissent, writing anti-National Socialist slogans on postcards and then dropping them in the stairwells of apartment buildings around the city.

The book can be seen roughly in a split, the first half is about the couple and the effect the war has on them, their relationship, and their relationships with their family, friends and neighbours. The second half becomes a real cat-and-mouse thriller with the couple trying to evade the attentions of the Gestapo Inspector charged with finding and stopping them.

What makes this book, for me anyway, is that the couple the story revolves around were real (and in the paperback there are facsimile copies of documents on the couple as part of the Gestapo’s files on them, as well as copies of some of the postcards they created). The author knew of them but didn’t really know them personally as such, so this is a fictionalised account of who they were and what they did. An extraordinary novel, brutal, harrowing and exhausting you will remember this long after you’ve finished reading it.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of the BP Portrait Award 2015 at National Portrait Gallery

Annabelle and Guy by Matan Ben-Cnaan, 2015: Oil on Board 1195 x 1395mm

While I was in the big smoke I strolled off to the National Portrait Gallery to check out the BP Portrait Award. This is the first year it's been open internationally and it shows in the breadth of the work. (Previously it was open to UK based artists, regardless of nationality.)

There's been a very strong return to photo/hyper-realist styles and pieces over the last few years and while the sheer technical execution of the work renders you more often than not utterly speechless (and at times light-headed, for example the picture below) after a while, when you see it over and over again, it loses its power somehow and that's really unfair on both the work and the artist, but what can you do? We are at the mercy of the judges and the curators! Anyway, this year it was staggering! The first prize winner was astonishing (it’s the picture above with the artist himself), capturing light at the best of times is damn difficult, but to be able capture a light that is so recognisable and inextricably linked to our idea of what light, colours and textures are in that part of the world is nothing short of miraculous (the picture on screen just doesn't do it justice) up close in the flesh, as it were, it is almost unbelievable. And I can say that about any number of the pieces in that exhibition, my favourite ones tend to be the more expressive “painterly” works rather than the photorealism ones.

Juanito by José Luis Corella, 2014: Oil on board

Don't get me wrong about this, I can only stand in awe and admiration for the skill and technique these folks have and detract nothing from them or their work, but my own artistic sensibilities have always leaned toward the more expressive, “abstracty” style of fine art. Put simply, given the choice of a Pollack or a Constable, I'd pick the paint dripper 9/10 times. As much as I like the 1st prize winner in this exhibition, I actually liked the third prize winner piece more (below), there is something I don't know, “other,” about it, the fact it's not “complete,” there's bare canvas showing around the portrait, you can see paint drips and washes and “underneath” work, coupled with just the way the portrait has been executed it's just got that “je ne sais quoi” about it…

My Mother and My Brother on a Sunday Evening by Borja Buces Renard, 2014: Oil on Canvas 1600 x 2200mm

Again, seeing it onscreen isn't the same as in the flesh. Anyway, whenever it's the summer be sure to catch this show, it happens every year, it's free and you never know what you'll see, very exciting!
http://www.npg.org.uk/whatson/bp-portrait-award/exhibition.php

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Hesmita Patel of Dips Patel’s unnamed series paintings

Untitled. Oil on Canvas (40” x 30”) 2009

Having seen some of the previous figure work in the unnamed series by Dips Patel, I was excited and honoured that he offered to create a one off unique piece for me.

Untitled. Pen and Indian Ink on Canvas (60” x 24”) 2012

Looking at this piece it is easy to overlook the complexities depicted within the perceived simplicity of the figures. When I look at this piece I am drawn to the emotions that I feel each individual figure appears to represent. The slight tilt of a head showing me sadness, two figures facing each other showing me friendship and love and two back to back figures showing anger and frustration. I feel that you can look at this piece in a range of different moods and find a figure that you can relate to at that specific moment in time, demonstrating the subjective nature of this work.

Untitled. Pen and Indian Ink on Canvas (40” x 35”) 2014

Each time I look at it I notice new intricacies and have new thoughts about the work. The fading of the figures into the background adds another level of depth and the perception of infinity, perhaps also representing the infinite amount of emotions one can displace onto the figures.

About the reviewer
Hesmita Patel has recently qualified as an Occupational Therapist, embarking upon her career in sunny Manchester. She likes baking, reading, occasionally running quite far for charitable causes and has been known to worship at the altar of fizzy cola bottles, having converted from the Church of Strawberry Laces.

Review by Suzanne Wells of Dips Patel’s paintings

Untitled. Pen and Indian Ink on Canvas (60” x 24”) 2014

To look at Dips Patel's work is to enter a seductive yet quietly disturbing world where Giacometti-like figures appear to stoop, stare and search the canvas for a way out.

Patel's elongated pen and ink figures have a deep sense of melancholy. The untitled series for example consists of miniature block canvas with two or more figures contained and constrained within a simple linear grid. The deep block frame in which the canvas hang only seems to accentuate the deep sense of foreboding these figures permeate, stuck in an eternal void, suspended in timeless stagnation.

Untitled. Pen and Indian Ink on Canvas (10”x 6”) 2002

That the artist chooses to construct the work using a monochrome palette serves to simplify the response from the viewer. With no palette to distract the eye, the viewer immediately begins to contemplate each figure's presence. The 2D realm in which these eerie figures exist seems silent without sound or depth. The fact that the viewer's interpretation of any narrative is subjective, only serves to enhance the forlorn charm each piece displays.

To view Patel's work is to momentarily escape the at times frenetic and absurdly modern pace of life we now so often inhabit. The viewer has time to draw breath, and quietly absorb the simplicity and elegance of each work before opening the door, powering up the smartphone and stepping out once again into modern wired life.

About the reviewer
Suzanne Wells is an Art History graduate from the Courtauld Institute of Art.
She has her own caricature pet portrait business producing quirky one off pieces with a strong emphasis on character.

Review by Dips Patel of Agnes Martin’s exhibition at Tate Modern

Tate Modern: 3 June – 11 October 2015

A recent exhibition I toddled off to gawp at of a morning that left me dazed and overwhelmed was of Agnes Martin. I will readily admit I’d never heard of her until I read a review of the exhibition in The Guardian and thought, “oh aye, I likes the look of that I do,” so I went!

Abstract work with a very very limited visual language (predominantly straight lines with very subtle, at times barely visible, washes of extremely pale colours: just blue, red and yellow with subtle variations on white in some pieces) and scale ranges from the very small-scale, almost intimate studies and drawings to the 6 feet square canvas' that just envelope your vision when you give them the chance, she really was an incredible artist and lived a proper independent life.

In her later life, she developed schizophrenia and produced a series of paintings which she produced as a means of helping her deal with what was happening to her. In the exhibition they were put in their own room, collectively called The Islands and I spent the best part of an hour just in that room alone. If you ever get the chance and you're somewhere close that's got her work on show, go see it cos it's just magnificent. (I even bought the exhibition catalogue after, which I rarely do as they are usually prohibitively expensive!)

I give it all this praise, but then you might look at it and think 'Dip, you are full of it!' C'est la vie, qui est de l'art! I thought it was awe-inspiring anyway…

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” by Jean-Dominique Bauby

I'm almost positive at some point someone has mentioned this book to you but at the risk of sounding/reading like an arrogantly condescending/patronising bore, I will summarize just in case you don’t know the story.

Bauby suffers a cerebrovascular seizure (which I think is like a massive and uber-severe stroke) and remains in a coma for nearly 3 weeks. Upon waking he finds himself left in the condition known as “Locked-In Syndrome” where he is fully aware mentally but is left with severely restricted physical ability, in his case acute head movement and the blinking of his left eye. The book is about his life before this event (or what he can remember), what he recollects of the event itself and his life thereafter and what it means and feels to him to live in this condition on a day-to-day basis.

The entire book is dictated by him blinking that left eye (he works with a language expert who devises a system where she reads out the letters of the alphabet, arranged according to frequency of use, and he blinks when she says the right one until the word is spelled out).

It's a very thin (not even 150 pages) but beautifully recounted memoir of a life which was hit by an almighty whopper of an event and the fact it's even in print is a towering testimony to not only the patience, support and love of his family and friends but the sheer will of Bauby who passed away within days of the book’s publication. The film that was made based on this book is also worth your time watching, quietly beautiful with an astonishing performance by Mathieu Amalric as Bauby.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “The Devotion of Suspect X” by Keigo Higashino

Very much crime, but not a grisly type (I'm talking Mo Hayder, Kathy Reichs, Karin Slaughter type of crime fiction, the kind you feel you need scrub yourself with a wire wool brush after reading) but is a bit more of a puzzler. There's this bloke see, he's a maths genius (well a teacher of maths, but he's ruddy brilliant at problem solving) and his neighbour is a single mum who he's pretty much in love with in an-unrequited-love-from-afar-kinda-way-but-not-that-afar-she-lives-right-next-door-to-him. Anyway, she does away with her ex-hubby (the swine that he is, he had it coming I tells ya!) and this guy helps her clean up the mess, so-to-speak. Naturally the crime comes to the attention of the police and the lead detective has his suspicions and this is the meat of the story, a battle of wits between detective solving the crime and the “good” Samaritan trying to help a friend. There's a sting in the tail and every person I spoke to who read the book didn't see it coming and I most very definitely didn't, I did think I had it figured a couple of times but no it’s a sneaky twist all right!

One of the stand out crime fiction books I read in year 2012 and easily one of my “go-to” recommends of crime fiction of recent years, honestly it would make a great tv show/even film (you heard it here first people) and if you figure it out before the end you are if not a genius then far too intelligent for my liking.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Review by Dips Patel of “Sculpture in the Modern World” by Barbara Hepworth

Tate Britain: Exhibition 24 June – 25 October 2015

I went to see ‘Barbara Hepworth: Sculpture in the Modern World’ at Tate Britain. Easily ranking in my favourite 3 sculptors ever, this is the first proper retrospective of hers I’ve seen (I’ve seen a fair bit of her work, but only as a single piece/pieces in a museum’s larger collection). 

I. WAS. BLOWN. AWAY. Work that I’ve only ever seen photos of, in the flesh is a whole other experience, it’s not just that the early stuff, whether its wood or stone, is just superb, the forms and composition of the work almost ethereal in their realisation, it’s the sheer skill at carving that absolutely drops the jaw not only in admiration but utter enthrallment.

It’s the scale of the work too, (at the entrance of the exhibition is an example of her late bronze work, giving the impression of an unspoken promise of something monumental to come) especially the “guarea” pieces that make you stop, hold your breath, forget to breathe, then gasp audibly and make you something of a babbling fool wondering how it’s even possible to think of the idea of the sculpture let alone the execution of it.

I felt like those chimps first being confronted by the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey, honestly, I just cannot convey the sheer physicality of the work in words, there were pieces by other sculptors/artists to give context to her work (inevitably including Moore, Nicholson and Skeaping), and there’s also a film documentary as part of the exhibition which goes a long way to showing the emotional content to her work.  For more info click on the link below:
http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/exhibition/barbara-hepworth-sculpture-modern-world

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.