Policing the local community

Grab your pooper scooper dooper.

No shit Sherlock. For real. Etc. I've just been elected as a committee member of the Fishpool Street Residents Association - the FSRA - which sounds quite scary. I've loving re-named the coffin dodgers club the Fishpool Street R****** Association already. The FSRA and its curtain twitching members are all too easily abused - as will be my new found special powers. For real they really are a passionate bunch of do-gooding clever old so and so-s. Obviously I'll fit right in. How did this madness happen? I was nominated and subsequently elected for my great work in the community of course. Possibly to curb by breakaway activity for example the various loud n late illegal parties I've organised at the pub, the massively successful Fishpool Street Royal Wedding Street Party, the Half Pint Club for parents and kids [Friday nights and Sunday afternoons at the LRL], formation of a risotto club, my fag-in-hand doorstep street watch [AKA crime prevention] as a stay at home unemployed dad, my popularity with the young folk and the working class, the fact that I'm already the Major of the street / the LRL / the curry house / the Inn on the Park on Foursquare, my community mouse catching skills, etc. They're just jealous and want to be as popular with the kids as I am. If you can't beat em, elect em, is probably what they were thinking. Nuff said. Nearly.

Naturally I can't speak about the initiation ceremony and secrects that were shared with me at the AGM meeting I attended last Friday night. Friday the 13th. A coincidence? I don't think so. Freaky dancing that's all I'm sayin. Very Masonic. I know what you're thinking. Friday night! Pub night! The agenda has to change already. I'll be pitching my own alternative vote for non pub night meeting clashes at the next meeting - that will probably be on a pub night.

Anyway. I'll leave the old dears to continue the genuinely amazing work they are doing to maintain the fabric of our big society and the charming appeal of our wonderful street. My aims are simple. Consider me a mole steering the machine from the inside. My policies are pub and party centric. Not geriatric. Jesus they spent five minutes harping on about the fact that the treasurers accounts were out by a mysterious 54 pee. And later on about the psychology of litter bins - you know bins attract litter etc.

My challenges are: Pick up the giant human turd down the street that is a hideous horrifying blight that has been there for several weeks now and is disturbing some residents. To get said giant human turd photographed and included in the next FSRA newsletter. To pick up dog poo. Pick up litter / take it home and put it in my own bin. Build bridges between the yoof and the nearlry dead. Organise a few alternative g and tea parties. Introduce on the spot fines for dirty cars. Removal of unsightly window ornarments. Maintain my hanging baskets. Make sure my windows are clean. Create a Facebook page. Make sure no one closes the pubs. Protest hard. Wear my combat jacket more often. Listen to more Billy Bragg and Bob Dylan. Buy a gnome. Raise some cash for charity. Stuff like that.

Community scratching away the art market veneer

The new art crowd eating away foundations of the blood thirsty art market.

After a trip to Frieze a few weeks ago I found an ally, sharing my views on the current state of the art. I must have been one of the first few peeps to stumble upon the recently launched b_uncut art blog.

Last night I just went along to the launch their new online art gallery. Have I just witnessed a revolution or eclipse in art? It's more of an art solar system [with the artist in the middle] and a social evolution. Taking the art bull by the horns it appears [if you believe the hype and wine] that Philip Letts and his blur group have turned the art world on its mob-like horses head. Activating the user generated power of social media and brining the concept of Fairtrade to the aid of artists.

Utilising Wordpress, Ning, and Cafepress b-uncut are cleverly powering up a blog, online gallery [for the crème de la crème of the crop], online open studio community spaces and a gallery shop, with all the usual social trimmings of Twitter and Facebook. Giving art lovers and buyers a chance to find emerging artists work from around the planet and to dig around in their studio and explore the dark matter of their minds.

I’m reminded of my own struggling artist residency days, hammering away in a cold and damp studio, into the night. Feeling it was just me and my art and a whole art world against me. That’s a big mountain to climb. The internet was a million miles away for me then. I would have loved to finish for the night, upload my work in progress and share it with a few like minded critics to see what they think. It’s pointless flogging a dead horse, but it’s great to know your backing a potential winner.

b-uncut is about giving emerging artists a chance to develop, thrive, talk to their peers and earn a modest living. To get established before they die or chop off an ear, to help them to buy Pot Noodles, clothes from charity shops, razor blades, and stamps to mail letters to Theo in Paris etc. With 80% of each art sale going to artists they get a pretty good art deal; the traditional market I understand is something like 50 percent or less. This will turn a few clipboard heads I’d imagine. Twist some of them off I hope.

Sure anyone of the one thousand strong studio community of self-proclaimed artists could drop in to Etsy, Ebay, Zazzle, Cafepress, or even my good old friend PhotoBox and hop on the quick selling ship and sell a few mugs. But that that leaves them alone in the world. Central to the b_ucut philosophy is a support network of like-minded artists talking to each other, creating niche genre groups and collaboratively floating and voting the best to the top. Only the best as voted by the community [and with a little curating by the b_uncut team] make it on to the interactive online gallery walls. I like that. I also like the non-exclusive nature of the b_uncut beast, allowing the best crème eggs [artists] to achieve exhibition nirvana and to get pickled up by the big wig galleries if their work warrants the prize. b_uncut are not standing in the way of success they are nurturing it.

Credit for terrifying image used in this post: 'Baby' by Jason Ellis.

Blogger notice: Under the recently updated terms of the Geneva Convention of all things blogging I must declare my post to be influenced by some small quantities of red wine bribery as supplied by the glass by b_uncut. Not the cocktails as promised mind. I’ve had a night to sleep on it now and feel fine. Here’s a shout to all potential blog bribers and the internet police. Wine doesn’t count. An iPhone or a few hundred quid in a brown envelope would be nice though.

The community mouse catcher

I'm going to write some show and tell shit here about the freaky mouse fearing family down the street who are completely shit scared of live mice, or too posh to pounce. Sorry Pete ---> You know how inappropriate I can be. Please don't sue me.

To save community embarrassment / neighbourly shame / fun poking at the local pub, let's just call him neighbour "P", knocked on my door and asked me if I would come over and catch a potentially murderous mouse - because he's seen me holding a mouse the other day on my doorstep (quite true, don't ask). I thought it was a fantastic rouse to get me out to the pub for a few beers. Nope. So after copious amounts of "Are you serious?" it transpired quite seriously they had a mouse in the house.

Quote neighbour "P" ---> "I'm a record producer, I don't catch mice" or something like that.

Anyway after cornering the harmless furry rodent they didn't want to touch the thing and they wouldn't let the cat at it. In the process they'd turned the conservatory (not just any conservatory mind) totally upside down - sofas, rugs, coffee tables, the whole designer works. All on its head. Really it was like a kids play room / earth quake. Unbelievable. Royalty. Anyway problem quickly solved. Offending mouse dutifully picked up and lobbed over the patio wall in to the orchard (not just any old garden). He'll be back mind, with his mates, guns and knives ---> See artist's impression above. I'm sorry I laughed in your faces and asked if you'd been taking LSD in front of the kids. Jeeesus. Pussies.

So if you're in a tight mouse hole / spot and nobody else can help you. Just send me a fax or call and I'll be straight over to catch your mouse and sort you out. 0800 MOUSE CATCHER.

UPDATE ---> Because every tale should have a meaningful ending and one or two morals. Here are my mousey tail's salient points; 1) It's great to know you have a special skill that the community can call upon, even just once in a lifetime and even if your special skill is mouse holding, it's well funny and great that people can call upon you in times of great need. 2) Protect the weak and love thy mice fearing neigbours. That'll do micely.

P.S. Note to self. Remind me to write and update on the great Damien Hirst art crime story, including The Telegraph art cock up of the century, and to let you in on Becks plans to roll my "Dicks" design as the new bottle label globally! See my amazing Dicks entry and @Becks_Beer 09/09/09 for the scoop.