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!