Friday, 29 November 2013

KEEP YOUR HEAD HIGH CHARLES, CHARACTER ASSASSINATIONS ARE NOT ATTRACTIVE

Character Assassinations are never attractive. I will stick up for any friend if I feel they are wronged or misunderstood. I am not frightened of a fight or controversy. I hate unbalanced reporting by newspapers. I don't care what the subject is, it should always have pros and cons so the person reading the piece can make up their own mind with the correct facts legally available. In the case of Charles Saatchi it was horrific persecution from an early stage.
He very correctly apologised for the incident at Scotts and went to the police station for his behaviour.  Charles Saatchi has done so much for the British public, we have taken him for granted.  Equally he has been more than generous to his wives and friends. Charles is the master of advertising and the art world.  Artists  like Damien Hirst, Chantal Joffe,The Chapman Brothers and Tracey Emin have all benefited from his support.  Remember the exhibition Sensation? It was ground breaking. Have we so quickly forgotten that?. I was horrified by the vindictive and destructive twittering, news reporting and blogging that Charles has received, some from people I know he has entertained.   If the press won't stick up for him, I will.
This court case is about the sums of money allegedly spent by two of his and his wife's assistants on his credit cards, not a break up of a marriage, which is extremely painful, and a drug problem. The latter two will of course only colour the whole legal proceedings.
Any man or woman would go mad if some assistants ran up huge bills, any man or woman. When I had a cab account I used to keep the taxi waiting, I stopped as soon as the person paying was me.  My ex husband has today screamed at me saying why had I wasted money on making a film, that I would never get it back?  I of course defended myself, and I am proud of the film, which has won seven prizes, but I can see his point.
Money is not easily made, it is easily spent.
 I watch my bank accounts every week and although I am not brilliant at being frugal, I am fully aware when large amounts disappear and question them immediately.  I do not have assistants anymore, as I prefer to keep an eye on everything myself. Whatever went on in the Saatchi household, let's face it, even for multi millionaires, it is a horrific amount of money spent on two girls living on their own, with nobody to support. If what Mr Saatchi claims is true, the press should feel totally ashamed, and write a public apology.

CHANTAL JOFFE  THE SAATCHI GALLERY

As for the problem of drugs, nobody would want their teenage children exposed to this environment. It is is not Boho chic, it is not cool, and I have no interest whatsoever in my sons being near anything illegal.  I have educated them with these thoughts from an early age, I evan took them to NA meetings.
I was addicted to a slimming pill called Pondrax, when I was 12 years old. I was being bullied at school about being fat, and my country doctor gave them to me to lose weight.  I found it truly difficult to come off them.  I was then given a french drug called once called Lexomil, to relax as I am hyper active, it took me 6 months to stop them. These were not particularly dangerous drugs, and I was able to control myself, but imagine if I could not?.  I understand fully the problem of legal and illegal drugs and young adults.

Thursday, 28 November 2013

It's Thanksgiving.

It is Thanksgiving, an American Holiday to celebrate different cultures and religions coming together in support of love and family. I have come to realise that if I don't love myself, then I cannot expect anyone else to love me.  I care far too much about myself to place myself fully into the hands of someone else's thoughts and plans, so I like to be completely independent and not reliant on flattery, accolades and affirmations. I learnt at the age of five to not expect the luxury of being liked when I went to boarding school.
If someone does not like or love me, I shall dry my eyes and get someone else. There is nothing ever to worry about, things just take their natural time and patience. I trust in time. encourage things along, but sometimes that can cause problems, if you push, so I have learnt the hard way.
Although I like kindness, it is mine to give and not some other person to take. If someone does not like me, I am not going to explain myself, it is one person less in my life. It is their choice and it is fine.
I like independence so I do not want to ask a man "Is it alright if I can go out tonight?"
If  I am not happy I will not feel any happiness anywhere, evan if I am on a beach with my feet  in blue water. If I am not happy I will not be able to enjoy it.
The best things in life of course are free, nothing can buy oxygen, nothing can buy another chance, a walk in the park, laughter with good friends, nothing can buy real talent, or real affection. If  I can buy it, another person obviously can buy it too. The mistake is I have looked in the wrong places to find love, if I was meant to find a wonderful man in LA, chance would have taken me there, not buying houses. So I wish to be independent of this too.
I am however grateful for all the support and love I have received there for my film. My family and luck and I wish this on everybody too. Whatever happens from now onwards, I have been lucky to this date, and I am more than grateful for that. Kindness and forgiveness are the most important things.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my special friends around the world they know who they are.
If you are in Miami Art Basel next week try and come to this on the 4th December. 3pm.
The opportunity to show my film, The gun the cake and the butterfly, is given to me by the generosity of Pablo Ganguli Liberatum.
High 50 have kindly written an article on my behalf.






Friday, 22 November 2013

A THRILLING NIGHT AT THE NEXT ROOM

Last night saw the opening of In the Next Room, a vibrant comedy tragedy directed by Laurence Boswell, written by the American writer Sarah Ruhl, which started it's life in Bath. The other title The Vibrator Play. Beautifully staged at St James's new and very swish theatre, in SW1. With a restaurant and bar, it is certainly a wonderfully comfortable place to spend an evening. I also was given a vibrator, The Thrill by We Vibe,  that to my certain knowledge cost about £100.00 as a gift.  I know, because last week I went to Hustler on sunset Boulevard, the famous sex shop, and was horrified how expensive it was to have an electrical orgasm. So I was hugely grateful for this was a gift.
The audience was as interesting as the play, with Ruby Wax, Kathy Lette and Nancy Dell'olio all in one row, along with The Sunday Times  writer Camilla Long looking over our shoulders with her critical eyes. Long ago I spent a Summer with her and Isabella Blow, she was a sweetie pops then, and had written a piece on me for The Tatler. She compared me to Marie Antoinette. Well that's a compliment, except of course she lost her head.
Back to the play, a comedy tragedy which would funnily enough be better without the laughs of the audience, who nervously did not shut up. A serious and rather sad play which was poignant and had masses to say. It discussed the inability to be happy if you don't have orgasms, the relationships of husbands and wives, the new invention of electricity which brought us the vibrator all shown on the  stage on two levels. Science versus emotion, about race, about art, death, it was played for laughs and in my opinion it should have been played for smiles.  We English are definitely uncomfortable with the subject of sex.

This is a play which will be full hopefully every night, with depth, intelligence and panache it is well worth going to. It will make you think and amuse.

Wednesday, 20 November 2013

THE LIVES OF ISABELLA BLOW AND SIR TERENCE CONRAN ARE CELEBRATED

Clothes are my downfall and passion. I have loved them all my life.  If I have an addiction, I put my hand up in the air and say this is it.  Literally I dare not go near Sloane Street, I simply could spend all day there, but it is Sloane Street, and not the designers themselves.  If only the addiction was amphetamine. You cannot get this drug anywhere these days, yet if you go to the doctor, telling him you wish to slash your wrists, you can be sure you will be either locked up in the Priory, or given anti depressants, both of which could kill you, as it did my friend Issy.  I love clothes. Plain and simple clothes.
Last night I was with Tim Willis who was the ex boyfriend of Issy Blow's before she met her husband Detmar. Tim and I have an off and on love story, I suppose he likes me because I liked her.  He was in love with her many many moons ago. He met her when she wore a flag around her body and she apparently looked incredible. She was always incredible. He could not believe that half the clothes had survived, my housekeeper said they were filthy at the time, but here they are shown in a pristine beautiful way in the Embankment galleries, Somerset House. My congratulations to Phillip, it is one of the best put together shows I have ever seen.
Issy has imitators, but she is like a curiosity shop of eccentric and ravishing ideas and they are just that, imitators. Fans that try to be her. She had inside knowledge that few would have access to today. For instance there is not a Galliano or a another Phillip, there is not.  I know I am a fashion editor for Genlux Magazine, which has beautiful photographs, and the only one of its kind in Los Angeles. There is no Alexander Mcqueen, although Sarah does an incredible job keeping the whole thing together, but there is no Alexander.  These people are difficult to know, they have huge characters themselves.
The ownership of Issy's clothes, however was onerous, when she ran out of money she borrowed them, often never returning them. She gave me a hat that came from the Victor and Rolf show, which strictly did  not belong to her at all. I gave it back to Phillip last week. She was always giving things away.
 Of course the show was beautiful, totally incredible on the embankment, spectacular. It obviously could not show her funny side, her dirty finger nails, her lipstick all over her face, her dry wit, her tears.
You can however buy the hats and lipsticks in the foyer.
Nobody can have her outrageous, stunning, bagman, trashed up style, that is only hers. Last week Lady Gaga nearly got it, but she was neat, and there was no neatness in the innate  style of Ms Blow. Daphne has been influenced, we all have, but there is no Issy. Issy could be a bitch, she could be kind, she was funny, she could make me cry. She did often. She was as brutal as she was witty, but she too was fragile. I said I wanted to work once, and she turned on me and said "Stop taking jobs away from those that need them" She was thinking financially, I was thinking mentally. I love to work. I spent four summers with her in the South of France, not mentioned by Detmar's book Blow by Blow, or Lauren Goldstein Crowe's book written on her. They were obviously too unimportant to mention, but not for me.  Isabella could touch everybody if she chose too. At the time her cup was half empty, she was depressed. They were life changing for me, in every way. Before I looked like a girl from the Tyrol and then she turned me into Marilyn for a Tatler shoot. I was horrified, I felt uncomfortable in the white dress.  It was not so much what she said, it was what she didn't say. She loved to whisper is corners, about little gossips and wonderful stories. Issy was incredible to children, and to my son Charlie, whom she encouraged to trash her clothes, she said they looked better that way. She would put them on him and then make him run round the garden in the heat until they looked lived in. Then she told him that they were perfect. Funny he was singing for another party last night. Another brilliant person, Sir Terence Conran. Another idealist, for Liberatum.

Charles sang at Issy's funeral, "When I am laid"  and at the memorial. Children loved her. Once his friend Scarlett Carlos Clarke and he made a film about Issy and Detmar. It was hilarious.
I did not go to the dinner that Daphne Guinness gave at Claridges last night as he was singing and Thomas Gould was playing the violin, they were both playing and singing in my film, The gun the cake and the butterfly.  Pablo asked me to Liberatum  cultural evening at the Sanderson Hotel, to honour Sir Terence Conran, and that was as stimulating. Pablo is so clever the way he puts people together, with delicious Perrier Joet Champagne, with gorgeous bottles. . I was sitting with the brilliantly talented  Film Director, who made one of my most favourite films, The man with no name, Sally Potter,  with music from the Pearlfishers which I love. Also I chatted with Stephen Jones and Pam Hogg's. Luckily I was wearing my Louis Vuitton Hat, and not one of Phillip's.  Stephen had designed it. Phew. Then there was Terry Gilliam, his wonderful daughter Amy, Martha Fiennes, Alan Yentob, Julia Peyton Jones, surrounded by so many names, that I forgot the razzmatazz of Issy.  I wanted to be with the living. The beauty of Pablo's cultural evenings and week ends is that he creates families.
Pablo certainly creates a cultural merry go round which is good for the brain, Issy would like to have been included in both. I know she would, and she would have gone to both parties too, even if hers was on the same night..
AMANDA ELIASCH, PABLO GANGULI AND CHARLES ELIASCH
Sir Terence  spoke well about his life, he is a man who has achieved so much, and our whole lives would be different if he had not succeeded.  He taught me to appreciate the modernist designers, furniture, food and kitchen equipment, the chicken brick. From designing Mary Quant's shop to Quaglino's he has encouraged and coaxed us to live well, in a  stylish simple way. Far from the glamorous closet of Isabella Blow's.
Without these colourful creatures, my life would not be as it is today. Thank you.



Tuesday, 19 November 2013

AMANDA ELIASCH (+playlist)

MOTHER PROJECT

John Giorno Band - Scum & Slime

John Giorno PERFORMANCE ( the last poem) THANKS FOR NOTHING

THE WORD OF JOHN GIORNO POET

There is an intelligence in England that is hard to repeat anywhere else in the world. New York nearly has it, but England has time, Paris has time, but England is more charming. There is no way getting round it, that despite its terrible weather, today it is sunny, it is the most interesting intellectually in the world. Last night is just an example.  I thought I was going to a gallery to see some paintings and I end up listening to a brilliant poet, having a delicious dinner and chatting with Charles Aboah and Camilla Lowther two fantastic British characters. She runs the best photographic agency in the UK.
I love poetry, and from a child, I have lapped up the spoken word, the repeats, the meaning. Perhaps being badly educated too helped. Poets have had a large effect on me,much more than they might have done had I gone to Oxford University. The simplicity of John Giorno's work, etched its way into my soul, yesterday as I listened to him at Max Wigram's Gallery. This is real talent, not standing on any red carpet. This is the real thing. With lovers and friends like Warhol, Rauschenberg, he was centre of the New York Art Scene. Mentioning them, fighting and loving with them through his  brilliant spoken word. Burroughs spent the last few years in his house. He was also the subject of Warhol's first film Sleep.
Vital attractive and cool, this is a man to love and hang around with.

He shared ideas using words instead of their pop images. He was the hip hop scene.
His words make you think, they are personal, rude, abrupt, caring and cover everything you could feel for one person. If you get an opportunity to  ever to meet this man, he will leave a mark on you. His vitality is mesmerising. An original beatnik poet.
JOHN GIOMO

In two years time he is to be presented a retrospective at Palais de Tokyo in Paris.
Luckily I was one of twenty guests that Max Wigram chose to have for dinner to meet him.
Many thanks for a wonderful opportunity to see greatness first hand.


I

Thursday, 14 November 2013

ALL OF US ARE SHADES OF GREY

As I flew out of Los Angeles last night I realised that stars are a dying breed. Being a celebrity is not what it was. There are no Iconic lovelies anymore, there is little secrecy.  There is no Bette Davis, Elizabeth Taylor, Clara Bow or Alexis Smith, The dream factory ideals. Hollywood is a place where dreams were and are assembled.  Unfortunately an actress nowadays cannot sing and dance or twirl a cane.  Marni Nixon was the true singer behind most of them. Hollywood was intimidating, cold back then, and they looked like they could handle anything, but now they look like they are handled. It is scary. I think stars disappeared after super market clothes became the fashion. There is no Veronica Lake and no more Nathalie Wood. There are beautiful women but there are no stars,  Madonna styled herself on these stars, I style myself on these stars. Hollywood still uses these stars,  I am tarted up like  Marilyn Monroe because she has lasted 52 years after her death. We all lose our charms in the end. I shall be a galleon in full sail, The  Queen of the night. I love the idea of death, love and life, questioning everything.
DENNIS TARASOV

I consume ideas of sex, lust and taking life to the edge. I think most people do. The popularity of 50 Shades of Grey. One of the most successful books ever written, is proof of this.
I like graveyards, magic, sex and I love flowers and opera too. Today I walked down the Kings Road to discover what The Saatchi Gallery had to show us. Yet again Charles Saatchi, my friend, stretches our imagination with The show Body language. The photographic etchings in the graveyard by  Dennis Tarasov,  Through people's dusty  memories, Dennis has created the life of the person below ground, with flowers, drink, a Volvo car, people looking real and interesting, but our memories fading. Then there was the singed faces in Dana Schutz's work, A singed Picnic. I walked through the gallery and remembered how many other people Mr Saatchi has helped, along with his wife Kay Saatchi, Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin, Sarah Lucas, Mat Collishaw, Martin Maloney, by supporting them and showing and buying their work. After twenty odd years his gallery still excites me, his character too. Charles is edgy, he always was.  At number 3 in my most attractive men list, he is certainly no crashing bore. He has, lest we forget done enormous amounts of good for Great Britain.
DANA SHUTZ

The last few months have brought him right bang up to date along with the feisty artists he represents. Controversial and shocking, he rocked his world and ours, by his fight with his ex wife Nigella. He is able to make us think and question the popularity of books like Shades of Grey reminding us "What not to do" In other words he is his art. Let's hope he continues to stir  the world we live in, with his thoughts and artistic brilliance.  Tomorrow I have tea with him and I shall enjoy it because without doubt he is one of the most unusual men alive today.

Wednesday, 13 November 2013

SAILING ROUND THE WORLD

It is time to escape the back and front rooms of the film world and enter real life again. I have loved the making of the film, the organising of it, the poetry, the love and laughter, and now I need to write again. It requires peace and beautiful solitude.
I am planning to take a sailing trip round the world with a brilliant crew, who have won many races.  It has been a fantasy since I was a child. I have wanted to visit the antiquities of the past, reliving other peoples ideals. I am sure it will be as exciting as the past few years.
Nature is always much more interesting than the human being.  I was thinking yesterday the brain is wired incorrectly. In it we believe we are the most important people on the planet. We are nothing.  My son makes me laugh he came into my room at the AFM, for the selling of The gun the cake and the butterfly, and said "In twenty years you are gaga and in forty you are dead, along with everybody else of your age" We are all so unimportant. None of us is Shakespeare, whoever he was?. There are so many theories.
I am also excited to go back to England as next week I shall be celebrating the life of the late Isabella Blow who introduced me one day to Tim Noble and Sue Webster brilliant artists from England, hosted by the ravishingly artistic Daphne Guinness and a concert and dinner hosted by Liberatum honouring Terence Conran.


In the meantime I shall organise the boat, a beautiful stunning boat that is everything good about this earth.
My thoughts  run to the Philippines ravished by nature. The elements certainly have the power to destroy. I am still haunted by the wrath of  the Tsunami in Thailand, I sadly would never live on a beach after that. Sadly I have the inability to live under the water.



Sunday, 10 November 2013

FISHING FOR DIAMONDS AT MAT COLLISHAW's LAST SUPPER IN LA

I rushed from the AFM, for my wonderful friend, British Artist, Mat Collishaw's exclusive dinner hosted by Stephen Webster, in his Gallery on Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills. As I mentioned earlier this week Mat has brought his Velasquez thoughtful photographs of people on death row to Los Angeles, The City of Angels, for the first time. The last supper requests  are poignant,  a stunning  reminder to me, that Hollywood tells these stories in their studios. With depth and stunning simplicity Mat makes you think about our last few minutes on this earth. Contemporary art at its best.  My thoughts return to my favourite food which is a Thai soup called Tom Yum Goong. Hot and spicy I could live off it, and a lemon drink with pepper, it however would not look particularly delicious in a painting.


I entered the room to see a long table with black thin candles elegantly lit,  an insert of pink neon light ran down the middle of it. Diamond fish swam elegantly above the guests hanging like mobiles from the ceiling. It confirmed to me that England has panache that America likes to buy.
I was taken back to true glamour, white flowers, long dresses with diamond necklaces. Anastasia, Stephen's wife looked truly beautiful with white diamond butterflies elegantly skimming her shoulders. Delicious Vintage 2004 Dom Perignon flowed.
It was a British Art World night at its best. Mark Hix, one of the Britain's greatest chefs chose baked potatoes with Mottra starlet caviar and chives, fresh shrimp with new asparagus, Hudson Valley goose liver on a truffled cheese toastic, and Absinthe and Champagne with gold leaf jellies. I had tiny portions of his delicious ideas, I have sadly started my diet.
With people like Robie Uniacke, Rosamund Pike and Tracey Emin supporting Mat, and the elegance of Polly Morgan, his girlfriend, he should go far in this city, where beauty is noticed and supported.
Today I shall saunter back to the AFM to room 327 at Loews Hotel, Santa Monica, which has become my home in the last few days.
It was voted best decorated twice yesterday, it looks fun against the power of the studios and many stop by to watch my film The gun the cake and the butterfly.  I am starting the thriller next week when I go home to England on the back of it. Last night lifted my spirits, I shall start my new ideas with a new ring on my finger.

Friday, 8 November 2013

"ARE YOU CRAZY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING AT THE AFM?" THE REAL FILM WORLD

Writing at 6am in the morning from my bedroom is the first time I have been free for a week or two.  This week has been one hell of a journey. The selling of my film The gun the cake and the butterfly is an experience far from the excitement and fun of making a film, yet in a way, just as exhilarating. In my pink fluffy room with butterflies, my office looks like a Disney palace at the American Film Market.  Lionsgate, and hundreds of other huge film  industry offices, have their temporary home at the Loews Hotel in Santa Monica. With not a red carpet in sight, or a great beauty except for Natalia Souza, there is little to show that this is the film world as we know it.   My ex husband screamed at me yesterday morning and said "Who the hell advised you to do this, are they crazy, you have wasted thousands of pounds ?" I sort of agree and yet I don't, luckily I look at all life as a learning process and after this year and a half, I certainly know who to recommend in the film world and who not to. It has removed any naivety with cheerful optimism, artistic people cannot be in these rooms. The mantra at the AFM is money and profit.

So I felt blessed relief  when I walked into Stephen Webster's stunning jewellery shop/gallery in Beverly Hills last night to see my wonderful artist friends cheerful faces. Tracey Emin, Polly Morgan, Thomas Auksas and Pablo Ganguli from London. They were there to support Mat Collishaw's show "The Last Supper" which was fabulous, depicting last supper  requests on death row. They looked from another time. Ravishing images.
My artist friends  jokingly asked me yesterday if I had been paid to attend film festivals?  If I had paid for my film festivals awards? Who were the crooks in the business? How do you get to the top? Was I the new female version of Harvey Weinstein? It is however not a week to criticise, it is the week to work hard, and have back up. A week to negotiate, bullshit and network.
The man at the door, and the girl cleaning it, believe my room to be the best and pop in once a day to show their friends. Security men visit slipping off with a cup cake.  It is family, I think.
There are all types of people here, the good the bad and the ugly. It is a film in itself. The real groovers,  movers and shakers are sitting in the comfort of the Beverly Hills Hotel and Soho House, the workers are here..
There are lots of Far Eastern reps selling and buying film, but I have been warned not to give out my copies of the film out even with watermarks and pieces missing from  it and who could send the film viral.
China may  rules the world, but you feel the back lash here.
Another three days and then I can relax and rest. Boy do I need a holiday. That could be an unlikely experience for a few months yet. This is the reality of fallen princesses, but luckily, I have to think, NOT MINE, and at least it is not my Last Supper.


Last Supper an exhibition by brilliant English Artist Mat Collishaw