Tough Crowd

 

To the Strand Gallery in London where Dave Brown, who joined us on the last leg of our ambulance trip earlier this year, has an exhibition of photographs of famous comedians entitled Tough Crowd. A monochromed Bill Bailey looks tormented, Julia Davis (above) appears concerned, Chris Addison peers dreamily from behind red scaffolding, Tim Minchin resembles Jesus pondering his crucifixion, Alice Lowe’s mascara streaks down her tear-stained face. These intimate photographic portraits of comedians as you never see them are a selection from more than 50 taken over the past three months. They all have one aspect in common – there is not a hint of a smile.

“I wanted to show how difficult it is to be in the comedy business,”says Dave. “I wanted to show how hard it is to make people laugh, how hard it is to get a break and how hard it is to stay there. Tough Crowd isn’t just about the audience, it also says how tough it is to be a comedian, how thick-skinned you need to be.”

To achieve his idea, he asked the comedians he photographed to recall the lowest moments in their career. It might have been after receiving a scathing review or a night when no one laughed or an audience was rude or hostile. It may have been when a script they had submitted was rubbished and thrown back in their face.

“Comedians are often fragile, sensitive characters at odds with their public face,” continues Dave. “In the early days of trying to make a success of it, you’re travelling around the country on your own ending up in a pub in the middle of nowhere that pretends to be a comedy club but which only has an upturned crate for you to perform on, and then you lay your soul on the line with sensitive material and you’re lucky if four people are listening to you.”

Dave is speaking from experience. He’s been around comedians for 20 years, most notably with The Mighty Boosh together with Noel Fielding and Julian Barrett. He played Bollo the monkey, but as a graphic designer by trade, he created much of the group’s visual identity. He now designs books and DVDs for other comedians including Jimmy Carr and Tim Key. Photography is a sideline passion. He has known Fielding since they were students together at Brunel University and would lend him moral support when he first started gigging. When he joined the Boosh full-time they would enjoy sell-out shows at the O2 Arena but not before the slog of small venues with only three grannies to play to. Dave also knows only too well the truism that what makes a comedian’s job even more exacting is that you may have an audience rolling in the aisles one night and yet the same material dies on you the next. Sara Pascoe (below), another of Brown’s subjects, uses a restaurant analogy.

“When a waiter drops a tray of crockery some people cheer, others ignore it, some are even angry. There are so many factors that can shape the mood of an audience.”

So how did the subjects themselves feel about being photographed in this contradictory way? Jessica Forteskew, who Dave has captured looking decidedly world-weary, sums up the general feeling.

“It was amazing to be asked to do a shot when you didn’t have to go ‘Hey, look at me, I’m hilarious.’”

Limited edition prints from all the photographs on show can be bought from £50 - £100 depending on the size. The money will go to the charity Afrikids that runs projects helping children in the poverty-stricken area of the north of Ghana where Dave has visited and photographed. The exhibition at the Strand Gallery, London WC2, runs until 16 December.

Movements of the Soul Exhibition

Thursday evening, 1 November it was down to Chelsea’s Andipa Gallery to attend Movements of the Soul, the title of the first major solo exhibition of Belgian artist Johan van Mullem, a rising star in the modern art world. As the title suggests, this collection of striking portraits represents windows into men’s souls, an exploration of the psyche, an attempt to depict abstract emotions through tangible pieces of art. The paintings, none of which have titles, are not traditional portraits but surreal interpretations of the subjects’ innate feelings. As in any abstract painting, we the viewer can interpret them in any way we choose. He uses expressive brushstrokes and vivid colours. I found them quite haunting and powerful, sometimes vulnerable, all mysterious. The sorrowful eyes and sad mouths make each one recognisably portraits, some offering several faces in the one picture. Some remind me of those children’s books in which you have to find the face hidden in a morass of detail. They are meticulously painted in ink. As a result, they are drawn quickly, some within an hour, all within a day. I met the man himself, very affable and eager to talk about his work. “Using ink I can remove unwanted brushstrokes completely in a way you can’t do with say watercolours. Once it’s dry that’s no longer possible and ink dries quickly.” There is another reason for speed. His paintings are expressions of deep emotions drawn from daily experiences, nostalgia and dreams. “Once I arrive at the time when I step back and start analysing what I have painted, I know the work is finished.” Yellows, browns and reds dominate. Van Mullem, 53, began by drawing in black and white, then moved to painting only in sepia. Russets were a natural development. Embedded in van Mullem’s psyche is an unhappy and lonely peripatetic childhood in which he followed his Belgian diplomat father from country to country. He was born in the Democratic Republic of Congo and spent seven formative years in Tunisia. His parents refused to send him to art classes since they regarded an artist as an unsuitable profession for their son. Young Johan had started drawing portraits from the age of five and found art as the only way he could express his true inner feelings. He turned inward, at one time contemplating suicide. He lived what he calls a “Jekyll and Hyde” life. He studied architecture and became a city planner in Brussels, “playing a role that was not me.” It was only when he decided to become an artist full time that he feels he achieved what he calls true contentment. “It’s not that I wanted to paint, I needed to paint, to express my real self.” The introspection he practised for decades is at the heart of his work and has remained despite his “rebirth” as a person. It is difficult to reference other artists’ influence in these portraits though some have likened the themes to those employed by William Blake and Francisco Goya. His life, he says, has been a difficult journey and, in the same way, each painting is the manifestation of a particular emotional story. Check it out and make your own journey. Johan van Mullem’s Movements of the Soul exhibition is at the Andipa Gallery, 162 Walton Street, London SW3 2JL and runs until 25 November.

Bolgatanga - end of the road

There were times when we thought we wouldn't, but on Monday we reached our final destination - Bolgatanga, Ghana. We'd driven more than 4,000 miles, endured an ever-changing landscape, extremes of climate, political instability and mechanical breakdowns. But we made it intact. The last day was not without incident. We'd bade a tearful farewell to Malvena on the Friday night - it was strange not having her in the car and we all missed her. But Philip Hancock and Dave Brown, whom we picked up in Ouaga for the final leg of the trip, soon established themselves as entertaining travelling companions. We travelled on Sunday to Nazinga Game Park in Burkina Faso which boasted several hundred elephants. Whether they were all hiding or had been shot I'll never know but we saw not one of the long-nosed bastards. On the Monday morning we made our way to the Ghana border where, guess what, Beast 2 wouldn't start. We'd had a problem with the battery and so when a mechanic came it was easy for him to spot the problem and cure it at least temporarily. I was pleased because the idea of being towed into Bolga would have been humiliating to say the least. When we did finally arrive in mid-afternoon we received a warm welcome and a couple of bottles of bubbly. It had been an unbelievable trip. We learnt a lot about the countries we visited, a considerable amount about diesel engines and car electronics, and more importantly something about ourselves. I'd like to add my personal thanks to all those who followed our progress and who offered their support both moral and financial. Without you it would not have been possible to realise this crazy idea. But achieve it we did.
Thanks also to my family for putting up with my long absence, and to Ben, Nick and Malvena for all the fun we had. It was unforgettable and I believe we've left the Ghana health service with two fine vehicles especially the one with the roof rack! .

Ouagadougou

Beast 1 wouldn't start when we set off on Thursday morning. The Maissa Hotel was a pleasant place to break down and the people at reception summoned a mechanic within minutes. While Nick stayed with the stricken car, Malvena and I bought provisions and changed money and by the time we returned the car was fixed. The clutch that had been repaired the previous day had been fashioned from a part not specifically designed for our Nissan. We now had the right component and it drives like a dream. We drove over the border into Burkina Faso with scarcely a hiccup and decided to push on the 450 miles to Ouagadougou. Nick and I led with Malvena following with i-pod in her ears. It was a difficult drive once night fell. There were lorries that had no lights seemingly popping out of nowhere and the inevitable potholes. Yet we were exultant when we arrived at the Hotel Yibi at 10.30 and took great delight in waking Ben up. He was pleased to see us. He felt he'd missed out on the lows and therefore the whole experience. It took some convincing!

Mali mayhem

We've reached Sikasso in Mali near the Burkina Faso border. The past two days have been the most challenging so far though not for the reasons we had envisaged. First Nick got a puncture in Beast 1 that was quickly repaired by a local mechanic. Then our car developed a problem with the relay which is am electronic component that does something electronic - or not in this case. This delayed us considerably and by nightfall we'd only reached halfway to Bamako to a place called Diema that had no place to stay though another mechanic made a temporary repair to this relay thingy. So we did what we vowed we wouldn't do and drove through the night towards the capital. We were 75 miles of our destination when we hit a pothole that broke our clutch. It would be unfair to name the driver since it could have happened to anyone. Besides, she was very upset. It meant we had to spend the night in the cars by the side of the road. Things got even worse when we decided to tow the damaged car to a nearby town and the other car wouldn't start. So we may not be mechanically minded but we are nothing if not resourceful. Malvena and I hitch-hiked into town, found a mechanic with an uncanny resemblance to the athlete Michael Johnson and he had fixed both cars within four hours. So we have driven to Sikasso and will cross the border tomorrow. The Malian people have been so kind and welcoming.

Kayes, Mali

Yes, you've read it right. After reconciling ourselves to a failed mission, we've taken advantage of a wind of change and gone for a splash and dash through Mali. It was a difficult decision and one nearly revoked from the start when neither car would start. We had stayed in a town called Saly in Senegal A mechanic was summoned and it soon became apparent that Nick had put the air filters in the wrong way round. No change there then. We then motored our way to Tambacounda where we found a nice hotel. This morning we drove to the border not knowing what to expect. I admit to some metaphorical loosing of the lower bowel over entering Mali. The reality saw the imodium still untouched. The border was a nightmare. There was intense heat and we found ourselves queuing up with several hundred lorries.
What's more, we were caught in a sandstorm - it couldn't get much worse, one would think, but it did! Malvena went to investigate where the customs place was and ended up walking more than a mile. Some lorry drivers kindly made space for Nick and I to drive on to a service road and we made our way towards the front after locating Malvena. Eventually we got through with patience running on empty. At the first petrol station which had fuel we noticed Nick's car had a puncture. It's always Nick's! Immediately, people came to help and within an hour the tyre was fixed, the air filters cleaned and the tyre pressures checked. We then drove to Kayes where we have found a safe place to stay and keep the cars. The Mali people have come up trumps so far. Having passed through the windiest town in Europe we are now in the hottest town in Africa at the hottest time of the year. It reached 50 degrees this afternoon. Hot hot hot.

Dakar

We were sad to leave St Louis. It was a pleasant distraction from the despondency we felt over the Mali situation. We met two hardened German bikers who told us of how soldiers in Mali were commandeering any 4x4 vehicles they could find. They were told to get out of the country asap. Many others have related similar tales. We drove the four hours to the capital Dakar and met the British Ambassador who has kindly found a place for us to store the vehicles until they can be collected when Mali is accessible again. I was hoping he would invite us for pink gins by the pool but alas he was too busy. We have found a campsite in a diving school where someone has just caught two enormous fish that they are barbecuing for us. Bob Marley is playing on the speakers. It's the closest to Mali we're going to get (geddit?). Please yourself!

Senegal

We have arrived in St Louis, a vibrant bustling town in Senegal. We used a guide to show us a route through a national park that was "off-piste". Ironically, as we approached the park we saw groups of warthogs and exotic birds. Then when we paid the money to enter the park we saw sod all! Our tow-rope came in handy when Nick tried, for a reason known only to himself, decided to attempt a slope he should not have and got stuck in the sand. We got through the border in less than two hours and drove to a campsite on the beach - the biggest I've ever seen. The sea looks decidedly hostile though. However, we are back in a country that serves beer!! We took full advantage.
The bad news, however, is that our effort to drive to Ghana looks in serious jeopardy because of the deteriorating situation in Mali. All four of us agree that it is too unsafe to go there - we have been warned off it by all and sundry. By-passing it looks to be impractical so we are looking at options such as leaving the cars in Senegal for others to pick up later. Needless to say we are all very depressed about it. Even Ben getting stuck in the sand in the campsite necessitating the use of the tow-rope again has not lifted the mood. Well, actually it did but perhaps not as long as it might have.
Today is Senegal's independence day and we will be having a rare day off before travelling to the capital Dakar tomorrow to get our car import validation.

Nouakchott

They said it would be dangerous and that we should stay away but so far Mauritania has exceeded all expectations - friendly people and plenty of military around to make us feel safe. Getting through the border at Noadihibou was painless thanks to a guide called Mullai who saw us through the bureaucracy. He then drove us to an auberge where they had a sit-down toilet and hot showers (bliss). We bought fish in the market and cooked it in their kitchen and then met a real cool dude called Dahid who for a price next day took us to a national park where we swam in the sea and ate lovely fish in a house near the beach. We all four slept in a Bedouin tent that had iron pegs - vital since we were exposed to gale force winds. The journey there was partly off-piste which called for the first use of the 4-wheel drive. After showering the following morning in the dark still with the wind howling, we set off for Nouakchott, Mauriania's capital. We drove straight to the Mali embassy and processed our visas within hours. Nick took Beast 1 to a mechanic friend of Dahid who fixed an overheating problem. Malvena took Ben to an eye clinic where he was diagnosed with conjunctivitis and got drops and ointment. I was left to cleam out Beast 2. We are headed for Senegal tomorrow with amother guide who will ensure a smooth passage through the border. We will await news of the Mali border situation before heading west. Ben has told us that he has bought beer for us tonight as a treat. I happen to know that it is non-alcoholic but he doesn't know I know. It'll be fun playing him along! Apologies for typos - I'm writing this on my Blackberry.

Arrival in Tangier

After spending a cold night in an olive grove in countryside north of Seville, we got up in the dark. Malvena, unable to function without a caffeine fix, prepared a caffetiere of coffee. I was the only one brave/stupid enough to endure a shower courtesy of warm water poured out of a plastic bottle on to one,s body parts. Once back on the road, the wind got up to gale force so much so that when we reached Tarifa the ferry to Tangier had been cancelled owing to the rough seas necessitating that we go to Algeciras where the ferries are bigger. Chaos ensued. Some had been cancelled and a huge number of cars and lorries were forced on to the 4pm sailing. Drivers faced bottleneck after bottleneck with horns blaring and arguments flaring. It took 3 hours to board and once on we had to queue for an hour to have our immigration cards stamped. The ferry left at 1930 and we arrived in the dark. By the time we had sorted the car insurance it was nearly 10 o'clock, and since the wind was still howling we sought shelter at a hotel in Tangier township. The following day we drove to Rabat where we needed too apply for visas for Mauritania and Mail. Again, we arrived at night, couldn't find a campsite and again booked into a cheap but very nice hotel where the beer and wine was a welcome respite from the days exertions. We're following closely any news of dangers lurking in Mauritania and Mali. We've agreed to make informed decision based on intelligence from people we met who have been travelling through the area of our intended route. While our natural inclinations are to push on, we don,t intend being foolhardy. Discussions with people at the Malian embassy today were very positive and we will travel through Western Sahara collecting information on the way. We'll make a final decision, therefore, on the viability of this trip at the Mauritanisn border. In the meantime, we've decided that if the for runs out and things get really bad, we will eat Ben since he has more meat on him than the three of us put together.

Arrival in Santander

Over the past 18 months we have planned our road trip to West Africa in meticulous detail; the personnel, the route, the logistics, the provisions, the medical equipment required, the necessary vaccinations, visas, insurance, and above all, the vehicles in which we will be spending most of the next three weeks. It has been an often tortuous process - purchasing them, having them properly serviced and then having one of the radiators blow only a few days prior to departure and the finger-biting period in which we were not sure if it would be repaired in time. On the first day after we had docked in Santander against the picturesque backdrop of the snow-capped Pyrenees, we set off on our 4,000 mile journey. At the very first roundabout, I repeat, the first roundabout, I and Malvena watched aghast as Nick, who was leading the way, drove himself and Ben the wrong way round it narrowly avoiding complete disaster almost before we had started.
Having negotiated the oncoming traffic, we set off on the correct side of the road for as far as we could get through Spain. We were approaching a small town just north of Seville as night began to fall. There were no campsites to be found. The resulting first night in a field will be the subject of my next blog.

Lewis Moody

So sad to hear that a shoulder injury has put paid to Lewis Moody's rugby career. His never-say-die attitude on the field was an inspiration. A few years ago I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with the England rugby club where we went dragon-boat racing on the River Thames in London. Lewis was our boat captain - the man who banged the drum telling us when to paddle. He was exceptionally friendly and as much interested in me (a nobody) as I was of him. That's us in the picture. That says a lot about someone in the limelight. Good luck to him in whatever way he fills the void caused by his retirement.

Pandagate

Last week, I became involved in a minor spat over the BBC's inclusion of a panda in its Women Faces of the Year 2011. I wrote mini-profiles of a list of people of which I had no input over the choice. I say minor: it was enough to make the front page of several papers including, disappointingly, The Guardian. It was meant to be a light-hearted piece in keeping with a tradition in which Peppa the Pig and Benson the Carp had featured in previous years in both the male and female lists. However, given the justified anger at the BBC's failure to include a woman in their nominations for Sports Personality of the Year, and being an extremely thin day for news, the choice of the panda was seized upon, out of all proportion, as another example of BBC misogyny.
It was interesting that most of the argument was played out on Twitter. I enjoy Twitter for various reasons but the very nature of the medium does lend itself open to frenzied responses and bandwagon jumping. Once a row has started and a trend begun, here's an opportunity for everyone to charge in with an opinion. This can be fun and entertaining, but the importance of the subject can spiral out of all proportion.
Another amusing aspect of the whole business was that many of the abusive emails and tweets I received, including one which read "all men are apes" were far more sexist than anything being complained about. Insult to apes, methinks.