Falling Sky

Further Adventures In International Currency

Over the last few months I've been slowly transferring artwork on sale from Etsy to DaWanda, having got progressively more hacked off with the former. Advantages with Dawanda are that a) everything's priced in Euros rather than the infuriatingly limp US$, b) there are no listing fees, so it's basically free until you actually sell something, at which point there's a fair commission of 5%, c) the interface and design is that bit more advanced, straightforward and useful than Etsy and d) the Eurocentric nature of it (based in Germany, available in English, German and French) opens up a new customer base. Downsides? That customer base thus far appears to be smaller than that at Etsy, and while the Euro pricing is a step up, a UK£ option would be far preferable. I've now got twenty items on sale at DaWanda, shipping included in all prices - most of the pieces you'll have seen, but do have a look just in case. Nothing's sold yet, but it's early days and thanks to the free listing there really is nothing to lose.

All the same, I haven't completely given up on the other side of the Atlantic, so my current plan is to list new works on Etsy for three months then, assuming they haven't sold (and if the last quarter is anything to go by they won't) listing them on DaWanda. There's about two hundred Etsy users who've got me 'hearted' (sigh... hard to believe that site was designed by adults sometimes) and if just a few of them keep an eye on new works produced by said heartees then that's a few potential buyers right there. Worth a gamble of 20 cents but I'm not getting into this ludicrous 'relisting' system that no doubt makes a sizeable proportion of Etsy's profits, encouraging people to relist an item numerous times a day just to stay visible on the front page for more than a few brief seconds. Sod that.

So, the first new piece this year went up today, and a lovely little painting it is too. Called Skye Blue Sky (2008), it's a smaller version of this painting from last year and based on this 2006 sketch drawn on Skye. Judge not by its size though - this little bugger took weeks and weeks to get right, since the scale of the piece meant I couldn't use the texture and blending for the clouds that worked on the original. Instead, I used quite a few layers of oil paint to build up a nice thick texture that contrasts nicely with the shiny sky, achieved using linseed oil and a long drying period. Finally completed to my satisfaction, it's now perched nicely on one of the shelves in the living room. Being wee (5" x 4" x 1.5") it doesn't have to be hung on a wall and could instead brighten up someone's office cubicle or even perched on top of a monitor. The perfect window substitute!

Death Is Not The End

THE ORPHANAGE (EL ONFANATO)

Now, here's a treat & a half, most likely one of the best films this year and surely the spookiest of them all. There's plenty of films that can gross me out (in that sickly-enjoyable way), but films that can scare? That can provoke a genuine sense of supernatural dread, fear and near-unbearable tension? Very, very few - in recent memory, the only examples I can think of are the original Ringu, the narratively nonsensical but effectively terrifying Ju On and, er, that's it. Far as I'm concerned there's very few frights to be found in films, certainly in the last decade. For example, while Pan's Labyrinth is undoubtedly an excellent film, I never found it scary as such, and the recent Diary of the Dead provoked no emotions beyond boredom, frustration and the odd flash of gory glee.

So when I say The Orphanage is a genuinely scary film, that's high praise indeed. All the more remarkable is that it does so without sacrificing characterisation or plot, as Ringu and Ju On both did. Eschewing the increasingly tedious explicit horror of the Saw franchise et al, this film instead takes its cues from Hitchcock's best thrillers, cranking up tension and dread through the simplest ways, hardly ever revealing anything actually horrific on screen (but when it does... FUCK!). It taps into the unease of being alone in a house at night, echoing childhood fear of buildings in the dark, how nothing more than the groaning of floorboards and creaking of doors can become something unspeakably terrible in your imagination. This is very, very effectively manipulated by this film, all the more so in the cinema when these creaks and groans seem to surround you completely. The other, primal terror this film taps into is that of losing your child. I found this quite affecting, so goodness only knows what it's like for parents.

Beyond that, I don't really want to say any more about the story, because it is so compelling, so surprising as it unfolds. If you're going to see The Orphanage - and by god you should, unless you don't like genuinely scary ghost stories - then stay the hell away from any reviews that go into details. The less you know, the more satisfying it will be, no doubt about it. Suffice to say it's an excellent film on all levels - the acting is superb, especially the children, while the cinematography and sound design are key in building up the suspense that makes it so tense, fearful and, ultimately, incredibly satisfying experience. Go to the cinema, watch & enjoy, come home, put all the lights on, spray WD40 on every door hinge and ban your kids from ever wearing masks. Just to be sure.

(Half a teacake lost due to unnecessarily shaky cam at one point - otherwise, perfect!)

LolMoby

A confluence of this weekend's work on a painting of my mog Moby and the death of the mighty Arthur C. Clarke a few days back:

moar funny pictures

Happy Beaster!

Ah yes, it's that glorious time of the year when we all give thanks and celebrate that very special day 15 years ago when Bob Mould, David Barbe and Malcolm Travis, recording as Sugar, released the mighty Beaster. Still clobbers the crap out of most modern releases on the rado - if you don't believe me, slap on the howling Tilted, the shattering JC Auto and the air-punching bounce of Feeling Better. Just to make things sweeter, Mr Mould will be playing in Glasgow later this year touring his new album, with the promise of some old classics popping up in the setlist. Hallelujah!

We've marked this celebratory holiday in pretty much the same way we'd spend any Sunday. For the most part we've been hunkered down in our flat keeping cosy, especially with the Burd feeling a bit peaky the last couple of days, but I did scamper out to the gym this morning followed by a typically top-notch brunch at the Caley. The paintings are all having a day off to dry, with one of them finally completed (a smaller version of this, it'll go on sale in a few weeks time once dry to the touch) and another all-but-done, a gift for the Orcadian couple who put us up in 2006, with the rest due for another seeing-to tomorrow before the study seamlessly transforms into a guest room later this week. The Moby painting mentioned below has been somewhat revised since Friday as I try and nail the composition down to satisfaction - there's been plenty of teeth-grinding frustration while staring at the canvas furiously, but I should have it sorted by this time tomorrow and be ready to start bringing it together for completion in April.

Entertainment-wise, we just finished watching the animated perfection that is Ratatouille for the first time since we caught it's premiere at the EIFF last year. It's an incredible work of art, as intelligent and witty an animated film as I can think of, and the depiction of Paris is stunning. If you've not seen it yet, you owe it to yourself to set aside a couple of hours and savour the film. How satisfying to have an animated feature that doesn't insult your intelligence - quite the reverse, it credits you with sense, taste and an appreciation for something beyond crass laughs. Just don't watch it on an empty stomach - knowing that it's just a collection of pixels doesn't stop the food from looking succulent, delicious and bursting with taste.

The DVD extras are certainly worth a look afterwards, whether you're a foodie, animation nerd, or neither. There's a genuinely fascinating making-of short that highlights the working similarities between Brad Bird, director of the film (and all-round hero of mine), and Thomas Keller, chef at the French Laundry. Equally interesting is a feature on the work that went into capturing the 'feel' of Paris for the film - not just the Eiffel Tower, but details on the ground, cobblestones, sewer grates, granite steps worn down over centuries. Bugger, now I'll have to get the Art of book. But the highlight has to be Your Friend The Rat, an 11 minute animation that uses CG, 2D, stop-motion and live-action to tell the history of rats alongside humans. It's a huge amount of fun, taking the visual invention you see in Pixar film credits that much further. Well worth getting yourself the 2 disc DVD from HMV, as they've included some surprisingly snazzy Ratatouille art cards of stylistic concept art, ripe for framing and hanging in the kitchen. Very nice, even if it does leave me wistful about my non-existent career in animation and what those four years of animation study were for. Still, que sera sera - and besides, I was never anywhere near good enough to have worked for the two studios I truly admire, Pixar and Ghibli. Most likely I'd have ended up scraping a living animating tacky cartoon toy adverts 18 hours a day and loathing myself for selling out. The civil service seems pretty sweet by comparison.

Coming up? Tonight we'll be finishing off the last of the divine Montezuma chocolate that the Dunn's gave me for my 30th - by god, that stuff is good, especially the wonderful Dark Milk Chocolate. Off to The Orphanage tomorrow for what promises to be some quality spooking, along with more aforementioned painting. Over to Glasgow later in the week to help Rob & co with moving house while the Lass keeps Emily, the coolest 1-year-old on Earth, amused. I'll be glad when April rolls around - the winter here in Scotland seems to have been around for ages and I could really do with some warmth. On the horizon, there's Portishead in Edinburgh a few weeks away (I've heard their new album and it's a stunner, so ordering this was pretty much inevitable) and, weather permitting, the start of my year of zoo sketching which should make this blog a bit more visually interesting. As for now, I'm off to do the washing-up before digging out that old Tilted/JC Auto (live) 7" and popping it on the turntable for the first time in years. Praise Bob!

Elbow, Not Arse

"The Seldom Seen Kid" (Elbow)

I can remember first hearing Elbow a decade ago, god help my elderly slipper-wearing soul. It was December 1998, a few months after I'd started studying in Dublin, and I flew home for a few days over Christmas, during which I diligently taped the entire Festive 50 on John Peel - I couldn't pick up Radio 1 to hear his show normally (though I could get Radio 4 on LW and found listening to Home Truths incredibly comforting). Back in Dublin, I listened to those tapes obsessively for the next two months compiling a shopping list of fabulous new music to go a-hunting for - mostly in Road Records, Ireland's finest music emporium. 1998's F50 was a hell of a list (but you could probably argue they all were), turning me on to Boards of Canada, Melt Banana (for which I will be forever grateful), Half Man Half Biscuit, Evolution Control Committee, Solex, Cinerama, Daniel Johnston, the Cuban Boys, Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, Ten Benson and, there at number 34, a band called Elbow with an utterly spellbinding track called Powder Blue. I was hooked, but had to wait until 2001 for their first album to get a release. Asleep in the Back wasn't consistently great, but there were enough good songs on there - particularly Newborn (ignore the shortened single version that stops just as it gets going), Bitten by the Tailfly and aforementioned Powder Blue - to make it worth owning. Their second album never really caught me, aside from the rather lovely Fugitive Motel, but their third one was stronger, opening with the excellent Station Approach (recently covered by Belgian choral group Scala, fact fans).

Now their fourth album is out - it's only been available for a few days and already I've listened to it more than I ever have to Cast of Thousands or Leaders of the Free World combined. It feels like they've finally nailed down all the elements of brilliance found in their earlier albums, resulting in good song after good song after good song, flowing sweetly together. It's a mature and confident album, lyrically managing to be emotionally affecting and true without ever sounding trite or clichéd, touching on bittersweet romance, divorce, hopes of escape. There's stories to be told in these songs, most notably in The Fix, an enjoyable tale of gambling schemes and Mediterranean dreams sung in a duet with the Bard of Sheffied, Richard Hawley. The band is on the ball as always, while Guy Garvey has really progressed as a singer - even back on Powder Blue his vocals were one of the most distinctive elements of the song, but hearing his voice now leap and dip so gracefully yet still retain that unique character is a pleasure for the ears. So too are the backing strings that gently swoop in on tracks like the swoonsome Mirrorball, while there's some good subtle uses of electronica in there too, keeping things fresh Without a single duff track to be found, this is definitely Elbow's finest album so far and comes recommended to pretty much anyone.

Blood For Oil

THERE WILL BE BLOOD

I should've written this weeks ago, especially after seeing the film a second time on my birthday, but to be honest I found the film so overwhelming it's taken this long just to form the right words into a review that goes beyond "WUHHH! BUH GUH DUHHH!!"

So, off we go. There Will Be Blood. There's no way of writing about it without resorting to the same epic overblown imagery that all the other reviews use - it really is the only feasible way of conveying what the film is and does. It's EPIC. Sodding HUGE. And yet it has a cast of tens, not thousands, with no immense historical event to pivot around, no computer-generated armies bashing the pixels out of each other. Instead, it's an inverted epic, an all-encompassing gaze on just one central character, and how that character deals with the people and the world around him. Comparisons with Citizen Kane are well-suited, both in terms of scope and quality.

TWTB, if you don't already know, revolves around the life of one Daniel Plainview, an ambitious oil man in the opening decades of the 20th century. Loosely based on the 1927 novel "Oil!" by Upton Sinclair, the film follows him from 1898 to 1927 as he becomes increasingly successful. It's not a story I want to delve too deeply into because I got a lot of joy from watching it and not knowing where on earth it would be going, but it's incredibly compulsive and fascinating up to the final moment. So utterly focused on the central character, the film only has room for a handful of others, who come into contact with Plainview in different ways. It's a character study of a film, but it's the scope of that study and the raging, relentless, increasingly sociopathic of that character that makes this such a breathless epic. Such a film lives or dies by that central performance - good thing that Plainview is played to Oscar-winning perfection by Daniel Day-Lewis. Beyond acting, it seems as though Day-Lewis is Plainview - when you look at his face, caked with oil, eyes blazing, lit only by fire, it's a remarkable sight. Later, there's a stunning moment when Plainview comes to silently realise something, and it's all told in his face, every emotion as clear as if it were spoken. He may not be an attractive character - indeed, the film is ultimately a study of his rejection of humanity, his ugliness increasing with his wealth - but by god is he compulsive.

Along with the performances, there's so much to enjoy in this film. It's an incredibly well shot film, capturing these vast sun-baked rocky landscapes so completely you can almost feel the heat rising off the ground. The little scraps of civilisation - railroads, huts, derricks - seem so puny and fragile against this immense vista that demands to be seen on a big, big screen. There's a standout scene in the film when a derrick bursts into fire that has to be one of the most genuinely breathtaking and thrilling sequences I've seen in cinema, ranking alongside the beacon-lighting of Return of the King and the train journey in Spirited Away. It's that good.

And, oh, the sound, the sound. With a soundtrack composed by Jonny 'Radiohead' Greenwood that sounds like nothing else out there (save perhaps his Bodysong soundtrack from a few years back, which this seriously improves on), scenes which might otherwise appear plain and serene become tense, anxious, on the verge of something dreadful. When the fire rages, percussion rattles furiously in the background, increasingly intense (sadly not included in the soundtrack album, damn it all).

TWTB is, without any doubt, the best film I've seen in quite a few years. It got even better on the second viewing and I hope to catch it a third time while it's still on at the local - as good as it'll be on DVD, it belongs on a huge cinema screen as wide as the ambitions of the film itself. That first time, I came out really quite staggered, dumbstruck - I knew I'd seen a masterpiece, but wasn't so sure how actually I felt about it - did I enjoy it, or just admire it? The second time there was no such question - I loved it, every frame. Knowing what was coming actually gives you more time to appreciate what you're watching, hearing and feeling. It's so good, not even five out of five teacakes is enough so, for the first time ever:

Shriek! Green Ray!

While docked and onboard the International Space Station, a STS-123 Endeavour crew member captures the glowing green beauty of the Aurora Borealis March 21, 2008. (NASA/Reuters)

I Can Has Expressionism?

Not been much in the way of artwork on this here website since December has there? Come to think of it, there's been zilch since then. Dearie me. Still, although I haven't resumed life drawing sessions - I'm still hoping for a pay-as-you-go one turning up somewhere, or possibly giving Dr Sketchy's a shot sometime if it's not full of wankers - I've not been completely inactive. While the last three months have all been too blasted cold for any outside drawing (ruling out the zoo, the farm or the garden), I've been looking back over my old sketchbooks and photos for some kind of inspiration. As well as revisiting - well, restarting - a couple of unfinished oil paintings from 2006, I've also been working on a couple of small oils based on Orkney watercolour sketches (with limited success - what works with watercolour doesn't always pay off in oils), a little painting of an orange flower that comes with its own diddy easel to sit on and a smaller version of this painting from last year. Mind you, being a busy servant of Her Majesty's Government can often leave a fellow quite exhausted when the weekends come around, hence the lack of any finished work after three months - hopefully there should be a couple of finished pieces to show in the next fortnight.

Anyways, thanks to bank holidays either side of this weekend, I've been off work today and used the time and good strong daylight to put some hours into the pending paintings. Having done so and left them to dry around the increasingly painting-packed study, I also decided to start two new pieces. One will be a still-life of a sheep skull that I photographed back in Orkney and should make quite a nice stark image. The other is something I've wanted to paint for over a year now - a portrait painting of Moby, a moggy who I grew up with, lives with Mum back in Northants and is almost 18 years old now. I painted her late sister's portrait from a photo back in 2006 and it's still one of my favourite paintings since I started working with oils, so I wanted to be sure that a companion piece would look just as good. Ideas have rattled about in my head for a suitable pose/angle/look for Moby since I finished Clod's painting and, almost two years later, I've sussed out which image to tie the portrait to - this one. While it'd be easy to paint her portrait looking wide-eyed and alert, as she often is, I prefer to show her more relaxed, at ease, with just the slightest hint of the feral behind the domesticity. I used an already-used box canvas (I've run out of blank square ones, and this only contained a 'test' painting for a larger piece) and roughly knocked out the composition of the painting, filling in key areas with colour just to get a feel for it. You can see the result below - I particularly like the thought of using a lot of reds, oranges and browns, contrasting nicely with the shining green of her eyes, while the bottom-left and -right corners look empty right now but will eventually have Moby's wild whiskers filling them. It's a 'closer' portrait than Clod's, but I think that's all the more suitable for the lower light, warmer colours and making sure the eyes get the attention they deserve. There's a whopping amount of work to be done on this but, day-job workload notwithstanding, I'm hoping to finish in the next month or so. After that, who knows - maybe Free Cat is up for modeling...

MP3s of the Week: SXSWX3!

The annual SXSW thingamajig down in Austin, Texas wrapped up a couple of days ago, but the music files uploaded by bands performing during said shebang continue to be available for the listening pleasure of any good soul on the face of the earth. So, what goodies are there to be found amongst the (literally) hundreds of bands and MP3s at SXSW Music? Fear not, Falling Sky's been digging about and pulled out these three shining pearls of sonic goodness with something for everyone. Well, those with good music taste anyway.

Torche: In Return (3.5MB, MP3)

Torche have only had one album and one EP out thus far, with a second album, Meanderthal, out next month on lovely lovely Hydrahead. This is the title track from last year's pounding In Return EP on Mogwai's Rock Action Records and it hits the ground charging, deep low-tuned guitar riffing at one hell of a rate as the drums pound ahead, then halfway through cranks things back to a slower, heavier grind. A great metal track, similarish to Baroness or Mastodon at a stretch, but it's pretty much unique.

British Sea Power: Waving Flags (3.8MB, MP3)

For some reason it's taken me three albums to really get British Sea Power, but their latest, Do You Like Rock Music?, is a real treat and one of the best releases so far this year. This here's the second best track on the album (after the glorious anthem of No Lucifer) and has a pleasing whiff of my beloved Godspeed You Black Emperor in the use of crescendoing jangly guitar and drawn-out climaxes that make your heart go "WOO!" It'd make a great national anthem. By the by, there's more of that echoing-epic GYBE feel in the No Lucifer Efrim Menuck Mix which I only just found out about, Efrim being one of the musicians behind GYBE and A Silver Mt Zion.

Black Helicopter: Buick Electra (5.8MB, MP3)

Any friend of Mission of Burma and Shellac is worth checking out. I'd never heard of Black Helicopter until I started digging around the SXSW list and my eye was caught by the name - good thing too. This opens with a low guitar refrain with muscle, before drums and bass kick in hard. The MoB influence is tangible without being derivative, solid momentum but never out of control, brilliant driving music. There's not many new bands that keep that guitar sound that bands like MoB and Husker Du pioneered back in the 80's, but it sounds like these guys do, keeping it fresh. They've got one album out, Invisible Jet, and once I've streamed a few of the tracks may well buy it later this month - on the strength of this song, it should be a guitar-driven goodie.

They're All Up To Something

Portraits by Vincent J. Musi, National Geographic

If you've not seen this month's National Geographic, I'd highly recommend buying yourself a copy (or alternatively just read the articles online) as I found it one of the most enjoyable issues in recent times. Why? Well now, there's a fascinating article on Iceland and the tug of war between environment and economy there that's somewhat reminiscent of the drive for and arguments against wind farms in the Western Isles, with some suitably beautiful photographs of the volcanic landscapes. On top of that, there's a cracking article on my beloved Large Hadron Collider down at CERN, star of numerous Project Valhallas passim. The photographs are awe-inspiring in the magazine - especially this picture as a three page fold-out - and seeing them online doesn't do justice to the immense scale and mind-boggling intricacy on display. This stuff should be on the front pages of newspapers, for goodness sake! The article is highly accessible and you don't need to be au fait with quantum physics to appreciate what it's all about - even if the atheist in me rankles just a tad at the title, ultimately you can just construe it as saying that Edinburgh University's own Peter Higgs is God. Higgs be praised!

The highlight of the issue for me though is the cover feature, a genuinely fascinating and thought-provoking piece on animal intelligence. Having read a book on cat psychology while researching a story ten years ago I've always had an interest in the minds of animals, being particularly amazed by the story of Koko and All-Ball (nice to see Koko is still signing away nicely - there's a nifty photo blog of recent pictures on the Koko site). The National Geographic article justifiably focuses on four particular cases - Alex the parrot, Betsy the border collie, Betty the crow and Akeakamai the dolphin - all of which are quietly remarkable, but the portrait photographs taken to accompany the article reveal more instances of animal intelligence (be sure to read the notes below the photo). I'm particularly taken with the serenity of Azy the orangutan, the scarlet mischief of JB the giant octopus and the oddly alien image of Maya the dolphin. They all look good online - and you can watch video where the photographer, Vincent Musi, gives a commentary on how the sessions went - but, as with the LHC, they look their best on the glossy printed pages of the magazine. Great stuff, the kind of work that National Geographic excels at - and all the more reason for us to rue the day when dolphins develop thumbs...