Photography is a way of expressing feelings. Feelings caught on film forever. Little things remembered, long after little things are forgotten. Photography is the art of observation, altering life by holding it still.
Photography is an art form. It evolves and it creates. It saddens and it brings joy. And always, it inspires.
Take this new exhibition of photographs at the V&A Museum of Childhood for example. It’s called “On Their Own: Britain’s Child Migrants” and it charts the shameful history of child migration from Britain to it’s Commonwealth colonies between 1869 and 1970.
The children, some as young as four were shipped off to Canada, Australia and other Commonwealth countries in a series of misguided humanitarian schemes employed by successive British governments.
Under these programs as many as 100,000 children, mainly from poor backgrounds and broken homes, were sent abroad for a “better life” in the colonies. Ultimately many were used as free child labour in factories and on farms. Slaves.
This exhibition documents their heartbreaking tragic… in photographs.
‘On Their Own: Britain’s Child Migrants’ is a collaborative exhibition between the Australian National Maritime Museum, the National Museums of Liverpool and the V&A Museum of Childhood.
‘On Their Own: Britain’s child migrants’ opens at the V&A Museum of Childhood, London E2 on 24 October and runs until 12 June 2016. For details go here ~~>vam.ac.uk/moc.
Welcome to another slow-assed news day where nothing is going on except Boris Johnson and this picture of him having his haircut at a Turkish barbers.
I’m not sure if this will help any but his face is still way uglier than any haircut he could ever have but either way it’s always newsworthy when someone doesn’t give a damn.
At first it may seem odd that Boris Johnson has gained column inches here on NMi but if you remember that Boris is an annoying pain in the ass then it all starts to make sense.
It also coincides with my theory that all politicians are argumentative, evil, black hearted monsters who always do the opposite of what the people elect them to do.
For example, if we asked Boris Johnson to “shave his head” and “STFU” then he’d grow his hair past his ears and immediately start talking about bleaching his anus with an organic peroxide. However, there would be no inspiring words about how Londoners might pay their rent.
Honestly, why are all politicos such a pain in the ass?
Loveable Scamp, Miley Ray Destiny Hope Cyrus v Perky Penguin, Adele Laurie Blue Adkins.
Introducing the contenders.
For some reason Adele drives me wild. To be honest I can’t quite put my finger on why that is. I don’t know if it’s the way she waddles around like a sexy emperor penguin or that she doesn’t take shit from anyone. Maybe it’s because she’s just very talented.
Sometimes it’s enough just to want to make a difference.
I think Miley Cyrus stopped caring what people thought about her somewhere between the age of eighteen and fifty million in the bank. That grew her up really fast. If still she feels the need to sing crappy party songs, smoke weed and show off her tits… well so be it, she a heroine!
I’m sure that makes more sense when you’re super high.
And there they are. Consider the case closed. (See picture above)
The three people who just walked through the Twitter Art Gallery (presumably looking for the toilet) must have stared at the above picture and mused, “Wots this? The Chuckle Brothers are an art form now?”
But don’t worry art lovers, Twitter isn’t going into the art business any time soon. No, they’ll be sticking to their core business – turning blurred and naked selfies into trippy Polaroids.
And what are we talking about exactly? Allow me to explain.
The story all began earlier this week when The Poke website threw down a challenge to its readers. They asked them to turn placid works of art into visions of comic beauty. Yes, go put the Chuckle Brothers’ faces onto some famous paintings.
So off they all went. Off to the land of Photo-shop, where digital talent shines and magic markers glow. Baby steps Tweeters baby steps, distort this, render that, there you go… a Laughing Cavalier with a slightly bigger nose.
It wasn’t long before a bizarre trend began on Twitter, a trend complete with it’s very own hashtag. Hundreds of magic eyed genies all displaying like Jean-Michel Basquiat.
Of course, it’s only a matter of time before the Glittering Gays of HootSuite show up and quench our thirst for a sparkle-embedded Vincent Van Chuckle!
Well it’s been much, much, MUCH ado about nothing because all the Poke really wanted was to keep us going back and forth to their website until our minds were all “oooh’d” out. I guess this foolish nonsense must have worked for them. Probably.
Now that’s all said and done, try and remember this. Any fool can become one with art and any art can become one with a fool. But if you set out to make a fool out of art… then you’re an idiot.
Okay… lets talk about Viagra. The days of men (and women) praying that a placid pecker would sparkle on demand have long gone. The shady side of the internet made that happiness happen when it started selling little blue pills via PayPal.
Now we know that Viagra works wonders for willies, what about women and their mysterious G-spot?
A controversial campaign led by a coalition of American women’s groups has been trying to win federal approval for a lady version of ‘viagra’.
One campaign has been waged under the banner ‘Even the Score’. Groups also in the coalition included the National Council of Women’s Organizations, Jewish Women International and Nurse Practitioners in Women’s Health.
Their campaign accused the Food and Drug Administration council (F.D.A.) of gender bias because it had previously approved Viagra and other drugs to help men have sex while leaving women with nothing but sad little G-spots.
The ladies campaigns were brought together by a consultant to Sprout Pharmaceuticals, the developer of Flibanserin – the lady version of ‘the blues’.
Well war was waged and war was won!
Yes sir. On 18th August by a vote of 18-6, an advisory committee to the Food and Drug Administration said that they favoured approval of the drug.
So. In news that will be welcomed by women across the world it’s now been announced that the lady version of ‘the blues’ will be available this autumn.
Indeed. Following official approval by the F.D.A the sex drug Flibanserin (to be sold as Addyi) will be available in America on a prescription-only basis. A rival brand, Bremelanotide, will also be available.
Commerce is ecstatic as experts predict that the world market for ‘lady blues’ could be worth in excess of £1b a year. Wow… that’s a lot of global happiness.
Finally. Gift ideas. Why not take a troll through PornHub’s comprehensive Milf section this autumn. You’ll no doubt find everything there that a lonely ‘Grafenberg’ has ever needed.
Dismaland: I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say anything bad about Banksy, not ever. He’s talented, he’s quiet, he creates interesting things, and once he even tipped a waiter.
Every time one of the world’s most famous women takes off her clothes it’s a visual laxative for the tabloid soul and therefore it’s newsworthy. So I have to give a begrudging tick of respect to Daily Mail today who have reported on how Banksy has released a dark and sinister trailer for his Dismaland exhibition.
Tickets to the exhibition went on sale yesterday. Banksy’s website was selling them for £3 but his site crashed (twice) due to heavy levels of traffic.
I dunno, exhibitions they’re everywhere right now. Whenever I’m at a modern art exhibition and people are murmuring the word ‘genius’ about a vagina shaped sack of sand resting on an upturned coffee cup, I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I just want to take my stupid tie off, grab a beer and watch some porn.
Dismaland is different. Banksy’s murals and installations are everywhere and they hold thought provoking messages for us all. His works make one think about our world and where it’s going. What are we doing with it and more importantly what are THEY doing with it?
The Dismaland experience makes me want to scream. Scream about the plastic bags that come floating across the ocean from those littering folk in NYC. I feel an irrational need to burn my girlfriend’s designer dresses on a fire of Greek coloured bank notes. I want to shout my protest about Hitler’s brain fluid being encased in the corporate strategies of greed.
That’s right, Dismaland makes me want to be a better global citizen.
I know, in the end I’ll probably do very little, other than moan and pay my tax bill a month in arrears – vat’ll lern ’em.