A room of one's own: an unattainable dream?

Where there's an online product, you'll soon find a hacker or a pirate.

The latest examples that confirm the human urge to scream 'Mine' very loudly are Andy Coulson's tenure as editor of the News of the World (phone hacking has been alleged by, most recently, the New York Times) and hacker success in distributing popular ebooks for free.

Even the unveiling of the Stig's identity on Top Gear smacks of the school playground bully, tearing off the wings of a butterfly.

At stake, personal and professional privacy, and the right to make money from electronic products.

This is a gold rush in reverse where, in a landscape where information wants to be free, no one is allowed to make money. This spells disaster to conventional business models for creative companies. The globalisation effects of YouTube, home recording and back-bedroom piracy will propel the media into a dangerous Wild West outlaw world where copyright is seen as red tape and creatives won't be able to earn a crust. The new billionaires will be the sharp-elbowed owners of the speakeasies at the edge of the law and beyond.

The likes of Mick Jagger, J K Rowling, Steven Spielberg, Clint Eastwood and Dan Brown represent the last of a dying breed: stars who get rich through their imaginations.


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Pulling a rabbit out of the hat: The Illusionist review

Fabulous movies don't have to be plot-filled. And great scripts can be stuck in development hell for fifty years.

Jacques Tati wrote the screenplay for The Illusionist back in 1956 as a way of trying to re-establish a relationship with his estranged late daughter, Sophie (see also Edinbourg rendez-vous? Yes, please)

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The Tati Estate has been very cautious about anyone producing the story, so Sylvain Chomet (the maker of the classic Belleville Rendez-Vous) needed the tact of a fox to convince the family to let him loose on the crown jewels as a feature-length animation.

And to persuade them to let him reset the movie largely in Edinburgh and the Highlands of Scotland.

Big on atmosphere, father-daughter relationships and the disappointment of fading dreams, The Illusionist is a period costume piece without nostalgia. It's a rites of passage story about growing up and growing old, sad without being tragic and with a strange nobility invested in the central character: Tati himself as the illusionist.

Almost a silent film, the movie has a great chance of an Oscar next year as Best Foreign Picture. Go see it for yourselves.


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Notting Hill: the people's carnival

Fans of Notting Hill the movie would be forgiven in thinking the avoid was devoid of black culture. The film, however, was an airbrushed version of the vibrant reality. Not so much Hugh Grant as Eddy Grant; not Julia Roberts, more Robert Nesta Marley, universally known as Bob.

At Notting Hill Carnival time, the ethnic diversity of the area is celebrated with music, costume, Caribbean food and joie de vivre (not to mention truckloads of Red Stripe lager). The floats started their parade at around noon, and the crowds promised had not reached bone-crushing, pickpocket-cruising levels at the time. The volume of the music was less ear-splitting than feared (maybe Kensington and Chelsea borough council whispered in the organisers' shell-like ear, after last year's sound systems would have given a Jumbo jet a run for its money). The food was reasonably priced (jerk chicken and a beef pattie for £6.50). And there were surprising pockets of calm, with jewellery stalls, face-painting opportunities, and vuvuzela sellers dotted around.

The police were everywhere without being obtrusive. I only saw one cannabis dealer and one guy offering laughing gas to an unsuspecting public, both plying their wares at a mobile disco where nubile young things were writhing to the ragga on the back of a specially customised lorry.

All in all, a joyous day, wrapped up with a warming-down walk through Kensington Gardens and a read  of the paper next to the Serpentine.


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The art of East London: beyond Banksy

'How can you tell me you're lonely
And say, for you, that the sun don't shine
Let me take you by the hand
And lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind'

Ralph McTell might have been singing about isolation in the big city, but Hookedblog.co.uk's blogger and street sherpa, Mark, took a group of individuals at a loose end last Sunday on a tour around the ever-changing surfaces of parts of Islington, Hackney and Tower Hamlets.


This urban jungle safari brought out an abundance of sightings of work by the likes of Roa, Invader, Eine, D*face and the Toasters: many of which would be missed by the untrained eye. Mark's tracker skills in the wilder streets proved invaluable. Everyone caught the moments with their cameras, while trophy hunters were discouraged.


And were the walk to be repeated in a few weeks time, the images captured would be different; shifted by the passage of time, the councils' clean-up teams, gallery commissions, opportunistic collectors and street-art politics.



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Don't believe the type

Primary Care Trusts are due to be abolished, according to a White Paper publishing by the Government and the fall-out commentary in the media.

Not so fast. At a barbecue last night I met a senior LibDem policy wonk who said there were communications issues to be ironed out with the Conservatives, included the supposed demise of the PCTs. Apparently White Papers are little more than a first draft.

Hmm. Either this means there'll be a big fight on this or that the PCT proposal will be kicked into the long grass, beyond the timeframe of the coalition.

In the meanwhile, here's an idea for recycling the White Paper ...


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Billy Millionaire: the Olympic opener

London 2012 has just taken another decision. Danny Boyle and Stephen Daldry have been handed the reins of creation for the Olympics' opening ceremony.

Both directors have form. Danny Boyle's biggest success was the Oscar-winning Slumdog Millionaire; Stephen Daldry was the creative force behind Billy Elliot.

So what can we expect? Something new, or a hybrid of previous projects: Indian boy makes good in his quest to be a Bollywood dancer?

Whatever results will be very different and presumably less expensive than the opening to the Beijing 2008 Olympics.


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Occupational hazard: the danger of painting

Caravaggio died for his art, it's official.

The bones of the artist have been identified in Tuscany and they show signs of lead poisoning.

Caravaggio died at 38 after an eventful life. But how come the likes of Michelangelo (89 years), Leonardo da Vinci (67 years) and Titian (91-plus years) lived into old age, despite prolific output of paintings?

Is this a genetic pre-disposition to absorbing lead, was Caravaggio a workaholic, or did he simply use different paints to the others?

As a mystery is solved, a new riddle is formed.


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Wedlock and Mandible

The new London 2012 Olympic mascots are a bit of a tongue-twister and have the look and feel of a children's focus group. Say hello to Wenlock and Mandeville, for the Olympics and Paralympics respectively: cuddly, one-eyed steel-girder off-cuts from the Stadium.

The reaction, from adults, will be harsh initially, who will hark back with nostalgia to unreconstructed furry icons like World Cup Willie.

The children, however, should love them, especially with the four-minute Michael Morpurgo scripted animation. The mascots are inked in to earn £70 million from merchandising, and websites like Facebook and Twitter will be bombarded with interactive opportunities to engage with the dynamic duo.

Give it a few weeks and everyone will have come round to the concept. Two years to go, though, so Wenlock and Mandeville will have their work cut out to stay relevant to the news agenda.


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Blowing their own trumpet

Nellie the elephant packed her trunk and said hello to the Circus: that's Piccadilly, Oxford and Cambridge Circuses, among others.

All over London, arty elephants have landed like a jumbo treasure hunt. It's not some much 'Where's Wally?' or 'Where's Waldo?' but 'Here's Barbar!'

It's all in the name of Elephant Parade, a campaign to highlight the loss of habitat for Asian elephants. The artworks will be auctioned at Sotheby's in July with a view to raising £2 million for the cause: all assuming trophy hunters don't cart the artefacts off to the black market before the game keepers can react.


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Late flowering of talent

The defeat of reigning champion John Higgins by Steve Davis at the world snooker is one of the most 'interesting' wins of his career.

After winning six world titles before 1989, Steve Davis has done practically nothing in the sport since, while expanding his horizons into chess, poker and television commentary on snooker.

Some people, like volcanoes, can have their talent lay dormant for years until some unexplained moment when their skill and experience erupt into a new event.

As with Mr Davis, Brian Close played for England at cricket in 1949, the youngest to do so, and was still facing the bowling in 1976 against the then might of the West Indies.

Diana Athill wrote a novel and a collection of short stories in the 1960s, while working as an editor at André Deutsch, but her true flowering as an author of note only came with a autobiography called Stet written well into her 80s. She is still writing, even as she moves into a care home.

Mary Wesley famously churned out unpublished novels up until her 70th year when finally her public career was launched with a bestseller. Thereafter she wrote a novel a year to huge readerships for the next two decades.

Igor Stravinsky met Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky as a youngster, composed The Firebird at 28 in 1910, and carried on creating until completing his Requiem Canticles in 1966, at the age of 85.

Pablo Picasso kept painting through his various periods from the beginning of his career as a young cubist until the end of his long life in 1973.

What keep the critics occupied is comparing talented people against their own skill at various points in their lives. The greatest geniuses may be those people who expertise is equally celebrated at all points of the lives.


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How to get a Hollywood star in your home movie

If it's Keira Knightley, you've only got to ask at a dinner party; provided, of course, that it's an interesting project.

Miss Knightley said 'yes' to taking part for free in artist Stuart Pearson Wright's £15,000 video installation, playing an Elizabethan getting lost in a Tudor maze.

I don't imagine she'll make a habit of it, but as this was only one day's filming she may feel like she's a trendsetter?


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Wanted: a better class of heckler for an internet age

Day 3 of the general election campaign, and the quality of political heckler has reached a new low.

Ben Butterworth harangued Gordon Brown about the lack of a school place for his 4-year-old daughter. He later wrote on his blog that George Osborne was a 'slimeball'. Although there is no recorded comment about the LibDems, Mr Butterworth seems despairing of all politicians.

The parties need to take care in an internet age of claiming disaffected voters are actually supportive of their policies. We live in a fragmented world of opinion.

The most effective hecklers may turn out to be online poster hackers. Why not go the whole hog and Photoshop original, funny images that can be circulated virally? Or topical Youtube sketches? Or create irresistible Facebook petitions masquerading as humorous rants (see the effect of the Virgin flyer who complained about the airline's food)? This might even negate the effect of expensive election advertising campaigns devised by the likes of the Saatchi brothers.


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Olaf Pirlo makes a killing

Hot on the heels of their April Fool story about Labour's campaign making a virtue out of Gordon Brown's pugilism, the Guardian is flogging the T-shirts.

Perhaps this is a sophisticated polling ploy to find out if this approach might actually work? Would this be a poster that wouldn't get defaced on the internet?

Humour might be the best way of making voters take notice of a message. Get the people laughing with you rather than at you.


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Hans Christian Andersen: 205 today

Google follows its own agenda. Most publishing ventures celebrate round numbers when it comes to rites of passage: 50, 100, 250 years after the event.

But not Google.

Today, behold, 205 years after the birth of Hans Christian Andersen, it is a Google tribute to 'Thumbelina'. Last week it was Jan Amos Komensky's 418th birthday hitting the spotlight. Last year the search engine celebrated 143 years of the life of H G Wells and the 2560th anniversary of Confucius. Just because Google can do what it fancies.

It's less a question of 'do no evil' as 'keep your competitors guessing'.


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Hubble Bubble: toil and trouble?

Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London, has unveiled the winning design for the iconic public sculpture in Stratford's Olympic Pack: the ArcelorMittal Orbit by Anish Kapoor, which Boris has nicknamed the 'Hubble Bubble' to deflect attention from his wayward hairdo. And, chiefly, because it is being privately funded.

There will now follow a period of vicious ranting and name-calling on blogs and in the press, including speculation about whether the sculpture merits planning permission. A lengthy row about the waste of public funds will morph into resigned indifference.

Then, just before the Olympics starts, we'll get fiercely patriotic and the press will say it's a fantastic structure that knocks the Eiffel Tower into a cocked hat. And we'll forget the expense, saying that £19 million was a small price to pay.

The public, from 2012 onwards and not before, will love it.


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Odd title Diagram Prize winner

The votes are in and the winner of the Diagram Prize for the unintentionally oddest book title of the year is ...

Crocheting adventures with hyperbolic planes by Daina Taimina (see also earlier post, 'The importance of being odd', 11 March 2010)

Apparently it's the best fusion of crochet and mathematics known to humankind. Long may it prosper in the Billboard Geek 100 bestseller chart.

Party pieces

The National Portrait Gallery is running a promotional campaign based on things you never knew about the rich, famous, great and good. See if you can pick the truth roe from the red herrings:

• Lord Horatio Nelson suffered from seasickness;
• Jonathan Ross has a fear of telephones;
• Mary, Queen of Scots was a dab hand at golf';
• Sir Winston Churchill preferred herbal ciggies;
• L S Lowry's day job was a rent collector;
• 50 Cent digs classical music;
• Rio Ferdinand almost became a ballet dancer;
• Mike Tyson is a talented impressionist;
• Andrew Flintoff played for Lancashire at chess;
• Frank Sinatra spoke fluent Swahili;
• Vanessa Perroncel appeared in The Phantom of the Opera movie;
• Tony Blair felled his father's cherry tree with an axe in his youth.

The odds are true, the evens are false (as far as I know) ...

Never mind the Balka

When Miroslaw Balta conceived his How It Is installation for Tate Modern's Turbine Hall, he would have intended his container to black out all light and for people to be completely disorientated by the experience.

He would not have bargained for visitors' resourcefulness. Everyone used their mobile phones as miniature torches, and the pitch-black effect was reduced. It was not exactly a Blair Witch experience.

The only way to get the full effect of the piece is to visit the place on your own and promise yourself not to cheat.

The origin of football songs

I watched Barnet FC play today: a rare 3-0 victory over an Aldershot Town team handicapped by the enigmatic performance of a lanky forward called Marvin Morgan, who looked like a Giacometti bronze but who lacked the sculpture's £65m price tag.

At the end of the game, the tannoy announcer said the only way to celebrate the performance was by playing the Bees' club song. What could this be? The Flight of the Bumblebee perhaps? Abba's Honey Honey? Anything by the Bee Gees anyone, say (Saturday) Night Fever?

No. It was Happy Together by The Turtles.

Why, I have no idea.

The origins of the hit song mean something awesomely amazing might have happened in the history of Barnet FC in the swinging sixties, or else someone on the board has a liking for hard-carapaced, amphibious reptiles.

A Google search reveals nothing Turtle-like; no explanation either on the football side's website. The DJ, it seems, just went off on one.

If Liverpool and Celtic fans can have You'll Never Walk Alone, West Ham United followers can sing I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles, Manchester City supporters can croon Blue Moon, and Everton addicts can whistle The Theme from Z-Cars, then Barnet ought to have their own song.

C'mon you Bees: you can think of something appropriate, I'm sure.

The Richard Thingummy Lecture

Sir Terry Pratchett delivered the 2010 Dimbleby lecture via his trusty sidekick, the actor Tony Robinson.

The irony of the speech was that although the content was Alzheimer's disease and assisted death, while Mr Robinson spoke for an hour from memory -- or at least no discernible autocue.

Sir Terry might soon go the whole Warhol/Hirst Factory route and get stunt scribblers to write his Discworld novels?

It's all a long way from Dimbleby senior's spaghetti harvest hoax, but maybe if you have Alzheimer's you would think it was true.