• Bernadette Lafont, 1938-2013
Maybe they're deeply unfashionable, I don't know, but when I bought a swatch of Liberty's Bauhaus fabric last year it sparked a little love affair with the patterns of Collier-Campbell.
In an age when creativity means a handlebar moustache motif on a canvas tote, the live's of these sisters, spent in the highly specialised advancement of their aesthetic, is an absolute inspiration.
This ratty old cushion in CC's exuberant signature fabric, Cote d'aZur, repays its 50p over again in given pleasure.
Pigbag's Sunny Day is not exactly my favourite track, but it is one of my favourite sleeves; which explains why it's sat fading at the front of the 7" box all these years.
Not far away sits this little string dispenser (though I don't know who made it, when, or from what), these two abstract cousins in blue and red form a vital part of Team Bookcase.
In light of this week's glorious days (and the hope of a whole load more), here's some illustrations by Gertrud Zucker from Hannes Hüttner's Jina och Lillebror på landet (Jina & Little Brother in the Country), 1967.
I'd have to type every line into Google Translate to truly understand the text but the illustrations shine high-summer bright from every page.
I enjoyed hanging out in London so much for a few days last week that I can't tell you why I ever moved away. I'm not sure which bit was best, catching up with friends, seeing some shows, or eating/drinking our fill at HIX (yep, their vegetarian menu is tasty too). If fellow diner, John Cooper Clarke, fancied being left alone, then —oops— he picked the wrong night.
Featuring the fractured bodies of cubist guitars, the latest exhibition from Ricky Swallow at Stuart Shave/Modern Art, struck a quiet, thoughtful tone. Resembling painted maquettes of cardboard and tape, each work is precision cast in bronze. The new space swaps the concrete-cool modernity of Eastcastle St for the ornate charm of the Old World... and carrying buggies up two flights of stairs.
Aside from the time my hapless dad skippered a vessel into the path of an oncoming ferry, memories of childhood holidays on Lake Windermere are fond. I've not returned in years, but Blackwell's current exhibition of Bondil Manz and her gossamer geometry has me contemplating the schlep.