Congrats to bookies favourite Jeremy Deller for winning the Turner Prize last night, unfortunately I wont be picking up my winnings, shucks what a pretty packet I could have made! So after the craze of the camping art buyer at RCA Secret has finally died down, I've emerged from the Arttart wilderness of the last couple of weeks to comprise a concise, pocket shaped low down for all you avid Arttartetonians.
I was lucky enough to be treated to rather lovely long lunch at the new cafe at the National Gallery along with my budding journo friends and I think it deserves a mention just for the deserts that I had to wait the entire meal to get my sticky little fingers over, for that reason alone it is sure to give brasseries all over Soho a run for their money. You would obviously have to bypass the hotel lobby marble clad new entrance in case you got mistaken for a wrong turn at nelson and thought you had ended up in the four seasons but with the hustle and bustle of the tourist train that runs frequently through NG, make a bee line for Degas and Raphael before they close for a gold ole Sunday classical jaunt.
On the other hand you could always grab your big nose and baggy pants from the dressing up box and head down Berkeley St way. Cindy Sherman was of course sporting a fine example of clown shoes at the opening of her show at Spruth Magers Lee the other week. Looking extremely inconspicuous, she paled in compassion to her big brash Clown photographs.
With a glorious hangover that could only be cured by a Saturday afternoon PV at Sketch, I anticipated the first London performance by Tobias Bernstrup. With the blackened video installation to calm the retina, the ever flowing champers but harder to pin down canapés tray kept the afternoon afloat until the transformer clad TB took centre stage and blasted us with his electro beats.
To follow on into the evening, Arttart was out partying for a second night in a row. After supporting the numerous Arttartcompadra's that are exhibiting in The Black Album show at Maureen Paley, there was the after party to rival them all. This is because it featured one perfect dancing element, a real 70's style-flashing dance floor. Oh yes kids, the art pack shaked their booty's in the darkest depths of Shadwell to tunes spun by the many birthday boy DJ's of the night, in a twister styley, beat the light cubes, in kung-fu toe stepping moves.
So openings this week that all true Arttarts will be congregating at are Fred Tomaselli at White Cube this Thursday alternatively you may prefer heading The Empire way for a Performance by The Icelandic Love Corporation. Come Friday we have Grate Britain at Cell Project Space or if you would rather a more further a field affair, hop on an easy jet flight and catch Bob and Roberta Smith at Baltic. To top off your art extravaganza weekend, skip merrily along with Christmas cheer to Curb Your Enthusiasm at Millers Terrace on Sat.
Air kisses galore to my little intrepid Arttarts
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