23 minute read
Change of Art
A CHANGE OF ART
After almost two years of unleashing the manic brilliance of writer Adrian Reynolds in an illustrative fashion, our regular feature, Blather, sadly came to an end last month. Instead of getting all melancholy about things, we chose to celebrate its time between the pages by catching up (over email, of course) with the local lady behind the brushes: Corrina Rothwell. Under the spotlight we get chatting about Blather’s beginnings, the pleasures and perils of being an artist and the inspirations behind her brand of explosive abstract workings.
Starting from the beginning, how did Blather come to be?
It was all down to Adrian (Reynolds), he's the ideas guy. We've been friends for ages and he was always keen for us to collaborate on something, but the right thing hadn't really presented itself before. Blather provided the perfect opportunity. It’s kind of sad that it’s come to an end, but at the same time I felt like it was at the end of its natural life, partly due to the fact that I no longer work as an illustrator. Two years was a perfect length of time for it to run.
Can you tell us a bit about your other art projects?
I was working as an illustrator until recently – my main thing was funny greeting cards. I'm probably best known locally for my Apostrophe Rage design. But over the past two years I've been painting. I wanted to get back to something more expressive, more hands-on and visceral. I wanted to get my hands dirty and express myself from the heart and gut rather than the mind. Designing cards was all about thinking. So I've ended up really getting into big abstract paintings to the exclusion of everything else.
How did you get into the industry in the first place? Was art always your passion?
I've just always done art. My mum and dad were artists, I grew up in that environment. I did go to university to study European Studies, but I dropped out after a year and started making painted cushions on the Enterprise Allowance Scheme. I've done other jobs along the way but essentially I'm an artist, that's been the common thread throughout my life and that's all I want to do, ultimately.
Where does your inspiration come from?
This is a difficult question to answer with the work I'm doing now because it's not ideas-based. I work intuitively, but obviously I'm always soaking up information from the world around me in terms of colour, shape, pattern etc. Lately I've been drawn to industrial buildings and have been collaging small photographic images into my paintings – I feel like this comes from the landscape I grew up in, in Lancashire. I tend not to question it really. I just try and shut my brain off and go with whatever I'm compelled to put on the canvas.
Do you ever suffer from an inspiration block?
I get stuck quite frequently, partly because I don't like to stay in one place for too long and have to find new things to do in my paintings to try to keep myself interested and excited. My go-to solution is usually to just let rip on a big piece of canvas with lots of paint and big brushes, painting with my hands, spraying water, splashing ink – and eventually, something will start to come out of the chaos. Sometimes this process requires wine and loud music too, if I'm finding it hard to let go!
What have you got in the works at the moment?
Well, as you know everything has gone a bit tits-up lately! So everything that was in the pipeline for the next few months no longer is. I had an exhibition scheduled for May with two artist friends at the Nottingham Society of Artists which we're hoping to hold towards the end of the year instead. I've been running small painting workshops from my home studio recently, which have been very popular – but obviously I can't do those for the time being. So I'm focusing on continuing to build up my body of work ready for when things get moving again.
What is it like to be an artist in 2020?
Being an artist at any time isn't an easy option. It's a pretty precarious lifestyle and, unless you're well established and have collectors regularly buying work from you, you're going to find yourself on a bit of a financial roller coaster. Obviously it's impossible to talk about what it's like to be an artist in 2020 without referencing our current situation which, of course, has made things incredibly difficult for lots of people, not least of all selfemployed artists. Our income has dropped away dramatically and we're left scrambling around trying to come up with ways to make money to survive. Personally, I'm trying to ramp up my online sales which is the obvious thing to do. And offering gift vouchers that people can buy and use towards workshops and artwork once this is all over.
Do you have any advice for young artists?
Oh gosh – do I? I'm not sure. I didn't do any of this in a sensible way, really! The main things I guess are: you need to be persistent, you need to be tenacious and you need grit. If you really, really want to do this, then you just have to keep going despite the insecurity, the knock-backs, the crises of confidence. You have to be prepared to be in it for the long haul!
corrinarothwell.co.uk facebook.com/CorrinaRothwellArt
, interview: Alex Mace
Know Your Place
Recent events have shown the importance of communities more than ever before. A large part of our collective community in Nottingham comes from the communal spaces we share and, which of late, our access to has been severely restricted. Adrian Reynolds explains how and why communal spaces impact his life...
Not far off one of the arterial roads that connects Nottingham to the motorway system, a dual carriageway where traffic churns pretty much 24/7, there’s a drive-in McDonalds. Opposite, there’s a turning that branches with two routes into Old Basford. One takes you over a stone bridge by a church, and towards industrial units where you can buy sheet glass or get your car fixed. The other, along a wall behind which trains rattle, past a boarded-off site that’s never been repurposed in any of the ways local rumour has suggested, to a place of terraced houses.
Locally, rather than take unwanted items to a tip, people tend to leave them outside their homes for passers-by to choose whether they want a wooden CD holder with a missing shelf, a wonky spice rack or a stray toaster. Before now I’ve come home with things that I can use, or that I know a neighbour might appreciate for the kids she looks after in our shared back gardens. The outdoorness of it all is critical. And connected to that, a park is somewhere for everyone. Unlike so many other places we spend time, a park is not branded except in the most basic ways. It has a name, and that’s pretty much it. Compare to the urban experience, where logos shriek at you from every building, insisting on the right of the corporations they denote to impinge on your consciousness. Instead, give me birdsong, lime trees, and a chance of spotting the heron who’s become an occasional resident.
There are more subtle aspects I’m still pondering. Walking by the pond, approaching a path that leads to one of the entrances, you go under a stone arch. It changes the way I feel as I do, and that’s about more than stepping through brickwork. Something about the surface above flickers constraint along with shadow as I step beneath. For an instant, the feeling of being inside strobes within, like a switch has been flicked.
A couple of minutes away Vernon Park welcomes Sunday league footballers, dogwalkers, families tossing a frisbee. Half an hour ago a guy in his twenties, leaning back on a bike, watched his three kids play, agreeing with their mother that they’ll have McMuffins for breakfast in a while.
I’ve been enjoying the park on a daily basis for a few weeks now. Sometimes I’ll use the exercise equipment that’s been there since 2012 courtesy of the Queen. The roads were packed when she came, on a blazing hot day. I still don’t understand what she had to do with putting gym gear there, planted in concrete to deter anyone who might want to uproot a rowing machine for their garden, but I’m appreciative of their presence.
Getting to know Vernon Park better has helped me understand the concept of parks more generally. They’re interesting spaces. If I’m not making use of the exercise machines, then I'll wander around the whole area. I could use any route across the grass, through the trees, by the pond – but what I actually do, more or less, is follow a tarmac path. The whole space has been designed with that in mind, allowing you to take in a variety of scenes as you do.
Coming through gates painted municipal green, there’s a low building with a 1980s feel. There are changing rooms for footballers and those who use the tennis court, toilets for anyone, and rooms available for hire. I’ve been to a Slimming World class there, and voted in the exact same space on several occasions. Just after that building is the first of the twenty-odd bins dotted around the park. Dog owners are requested to deposit bagged droppings there. I use them to put in the litter I sometimes collect, which I started to do when, after a few days of visiting, I began to feel like one of the custodians of this shared space.
That notion of communal territory is interesting. I don’t feel obliged to pick up litter on streets, so how come I do when there’s grass around me? Partly it’s about the visibility of that litter against the green, but there’s more to it. A park feels different in all kinds of ways, and the space shapes our behaviour. You’re more likely to engage with people in a park. In an open space, where there are trees, and animals run more or less free, we change in ways that are good for us. The greetings we exchange, the little conversations that crop up, are a reflection of that. Something social is happening for which we are grateful. We need spaces like this, and I am blessed to have one on my doorstep. And I have some sense of how others experience it. The retired chap with a dodgy hip who circumnavigates the park five times before going home, where he will have lunch with his grandkids a couple of times a week, and in the evening sit in the garden with a bottle of wine as he does his crossword. The veiled women who laugh as they picnic on a huge blanket. The geezer with swept-back hair and a cigarette who takes his aged mum for a walk. The Turkish man with three rods lined up hoping for fish he can catch to eat and sell. The pink-haired woman perched on a rock at the back of the library using its wifi so she can send job applications from a laptop.
I think about other places I’ve known. The woods in Disley where I spent my fiftieth birthday, bathing my feet in a chilly stream under a canopy of trees. A beach in Anglesey, the sea lapping against a pebbled beach as it has for millennia. A mountain in Bavaria I climbed with my father, looking at the tapestry of landscape unable to discern signs of human presence. A walk around Uluru, radiating something primal and mythic with a visceral intensity that punches through the frenetic surface of the branded world’s greedy hold on the mind. Companies pay millions to create brands hoping they will establish a foothold in the consciousness of consumers, but the presence of something so powerful that demands nothing – while offering so much – makes it clear how pale, how needy, how empty that clamour for attention is.
adrianinspires.com
You’re sitting on the edge of Old Market Square: the sun is shining, the atmosphere is alive, and you’re feeling proper chilled out. Then out of the corner of your eye, you see a guy wheeling a cart around selling ice lollies. Yeah. You could scoff one of them up right about now. That guy is Isaac Greenway-Tambini. He’s been selling his popular Pola ice lollies on the streets of Nottingham for about a year now, and is prepping for another summer on the roads…
“Since the age of fifteen I've been wheeling and dealing, re-selling electronics and things like that, so I've always had that entrepreneurial spirit,” Isaac tells us. “I never fancied doing an office job. One day I went to my career's development at uni and they ran an enterprise programme, which I completed and won some money from. After that, I bought an old school ice cream cart, renovated it, and got some branding help from my mates.” He then got his peddler’s licence, which lets you sell all around the UK as long as you're mobile – aka always moving, as well as your cart being a certain measurement.
Isaac’s icy trading roots go back to his greatgrandfather, who sold ice cream in Wales as an Italian immigrant. His Pola ice lollies also still have a family connection – many of the ingredients are sustainablysourced and homegrown, such as the rose petal cordial made from his mum’s prized flowers. “We have elderflower trees in our garden which we use to make cordial, and then apples and blackberries from our allotment. The food I source is generally from a mile radius of our house, and we work with Nottingham farms for a few of our other flavours,” he says. “We get our raspberries and strawberries from Starkey's, and the mango one is made using Pakistani honey mangoes from a market stall in Hyson Green.”
After a successful summer selling around town last year, being stocked in Nottingham haunts like Homemade and Albert’s, and a huge weekend at The Vegan Campout, he started to see his hard work pay off. Naturally, he’s faced some coronavirus-shaped setbacks, which means you probably won’t spot his cart in the streets anytime soon. But he’s got some brand new tricks that will soon mean you can get in on the lolly action: “I’ve registered with Uber Eats; it will be me and my little brother delivering them! It will all be local delivery, and I’ll be selling packs of five, ten and fifteen,” he tells me. “The hot weather has come quite early, and has given me a kick up the arse!”
them at home,” he says. “I'm currently testing how to make them shelf-life stable so that they can be left unfrozen and still be safe and tasty to eat. It also means I’ll be able to reach new audiences, which is really exciting.”
So why save your chops for a ‘boujee’ (as Isaac says) Pola lolly, instead of a cheapie pack from the local shop? Isaac argues: “A lot of supermarkets use fruit concentrates, fructose and artificial flavours, and on the packaging, they may say natural, but if you read the ingredients list that’s often not the case.” He continues, “We're very transparent in what we use – fruit, water, and a bit of cane sugar. We will also be the world's first compostable ice poles, so we're not only going to be a healthy alternative, but also more sustainable too.” When you’re able to get your mitts on one, lounge in the garden on your poshest chair with it.
Imagine you’re back in the Square, and get all relaxed. Add that to the comfort of knowing you’re doing your bit for the community and the environment and… Ah. Sorted.
words and photos: Dan Coles from
Iberico World Tapas
Serves 4
For the pasta
Ingredients
50g fine semolina 100g flour 100g ‘00’ flour 40g olive oil 65g water 2 egg yolks 1 whole egg 5g salt Semolina for rolling
Method
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7. Mix all the ingredients in the bowl of a stand mixer until it comes together to form a dough (don’t worry if it looks dry, as it will soften after resting). Wrap in cling film and rest for one hour minimum. Dust with semolina and roll through a pasta machine starting on number 1 and repeating up to number 5. Change the pasta machine for your tagliatelle cutter and run the pasta through again using plenty of semolina. Alternatively, you can cut the pasta by hand. Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil. Drop in the tagliatelle and cook for 1-2 minutes. Drain off the pasta.
For the pesto
Ingredients
25g wild garlic leaves 20g basil 30g toasted sunflower seeds 30g parmesan Juice of half a lemon 20g apple cider vinegar 75g olive oil 50g water Salt to taste
Method
Blend all the ingredients together, but make sure not to over-blend. Adjust with salt, water and lemon to taste.
To serve
Cherry tomatoes, quartered Fresh basil Wild garlic flowers Toss the pesto through the pasta, add the tomatoes. Divide by 4 plates and tear over the basil and the garlic flowers.
words and photo: Ritchie Stainsby from No. Twelve Serves 2
2 Jerusalem artichoke 2 banana shallots (or 1 large white onion) 3 cloves of garlic ½ tsp brown sugar 1 lemon 30g samphire 1 tbsp truffle oil 2tbsp nutritional yeast 1 stock cube 2 sprigs of thyme 200g Arborio rice 30g butter (regular or plant based) 50g parmesan (optional) 75ml white wine
Begin by finely chopping your garlic and shallots. Pre-heat your oven to 220°C and peel your artichokes. Chop your artichokes into quarters and put them into a roasting dish with 2 tbsp of olive oil, the brown sugar and salt/pepper to season. Transfer them into the oven and roast for around 35 mins, or until golden brown and soft. Put a deep frying pan on a medium heat with a nice glug of olive oil. Add in your thyme, garlic and shallots. Sauté for a couple of minutes until they begin to soften up. Then add your Arborio rice. Turn your pan up to a medium high heat and toast your rice to seal the grains, this will take a couple of minutes.
Caramel Artichoke and Truffle Risotto
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
Add in your wine and cook off the alcohol (beware if you are using an open flame!). Once your wine has reduced, turn down your pan to medium low or a light simmer. In a saucepan, add your stock cube into around 500ml of water and set to a rapid boil. Once boiled, turn down to a simmer and add a ladle of stock to your rice every few minutes, or until the stock has pretty much reduced. Repeat this until your rice is starting to soften up, taste your sauce and season with salt and pepper accordingly. With a teaspoon, lift out some rice and wait for it to cool. With your fingers gently squeeze (it should still be firm in the centre, but soft on the outside). If it is, add your samphire into your risotto and fold in. Now your artichokes are roasted, pull them out of the oven and with the back of a fork, crush them until they are broken down (almost like mashing a potato). Fold them into your risotto and add in your nutritional yeast. Your risotto should start to become really nice and creamy at this stage. Directly into your risotto, grate in the zest from your lemon and add in your butter (and parmesan if you are using it). Finally, add in your truffle oil and turn off the heat. Let your risotto sit for a minute and then toss your pan a few times to thicken up. Serve immediately into a pasta bowl and finish with some fresh herbs, another little drizzle of truffle oil and, if you are using it, a shaving of parmesan. Enjoy.
Support your local coffee roaSter
Don’t look at empty shelves in the shops www.stewartscoffees.co.uk order online
Our new regular feature delves back into the LeftLion and Overall There is a Smell of Fried Onions archives to find what Notts was up to back in the day...
From the pages of Overall magazine...
News
Sylie Dog was standing in the May 1995 election on a platform of free soft toilet rolls for the unwaged, dole for dogs and free tampons and contraceptives for all. We’re not sure who was behind the campaign, but the fact that there was a fundraiser at the Skyy Club makes us think it was one of the local party crews. Needless to say, they were not elected.
Film
Interview with the Vampire (Dir. Neil Jordan) HeavenlyCreatures (Dir. Peter Jackson) Priest (Dir. Antonia Bird)
Music
Two highly touted local emo-hardcore bands played a gig together at The Zone on King Edward Street (down the road from where Pryzm is now). While Manly Banister, the Overall reviewer, gushed over them, he did offer the following advice: “For both bands the problem is the same – Nottingham is yours and you run the risk from suffering the audience’s overfamiliarity. The M1 is there for the taking from the helm of a Transit van.”
our style is legendary
From the pages of LeftLion...
News
Who remembers the ‘Slanty N’? Back in the days when the City Council had decided to replace the city’s old ‘Our Style Is Legendary’ Robin Hood motif with something a little more erm… generic. They tasked local design agency Purple Circle to come up with something, and the final piece received much abuse amid accusations of ‘wasting money’. Reading back, we were one of the more neutral voices at the time.
Films
Star Wars: Episode III Revenge of the Sith (Dir. George Lucas)LayerCake (Dir. Matthew Vaughn)Madagascar (Dirs. Eric Darnell & Tom McGrath)
Music
Our May issue from fifteen years ago was a full-on Notts music scene special. It featured interviews with Amusement Parks on Fire, Bent, Detonate DJ Transit Mafia and seventies throwbacks Paper Lace. However, the overriding theme was wondering why we hadn’t seen a Notts band trouble the charts since KWS in 1992. Thankfully, that seems to have changed for the better since then. Our music listings were full of club nights like Spectrum, Psycle and Pure Filth. Dot To Dot festival launched with Punish The Atom, Ladytron and Lo-Ego on the bill.
News
Riding high from the success of classics like Gladiator, LA Confidential and A Beautiful Mind, antipodean actor Russell Crowe decided to have a stab at Robin Hood. It was the first major Hood film since Kevin Costner donned the famous tights, and we went bonkers about it with an entire issue dedicated to Notts’ original gangster. The cover shoot, featuring current-day Robin Ade Andrews, was shot in my living room. We went to see the film together as a team after the mag came out, and shared a collective sigh at Crowe’s attempted accent and, well, the rest of the film too.
Other (better) films
Iron Man 2 (Dir. Jon Favreau) Looking For Eric (Dir. Ken Loach) Micmacs (Dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet)
Music
Believe it or not, back in the day they used to put on big free gigs in the Market Square. Regular live music was part of the plan of the 2007 rebuild and May Bank Holiday in 2010 saw the short-lived City Pulse festival take over featuring Boney M, Dr Feelgood, The Animals (minus a member or two) and Imelda May.
Whitney Houston made an appearance at Nottingham Arena and tickets were £50-100 (which was a lot of money for a ticket back then). Rock City had gigs from The Fall, Slayer and
Chase and Status. Dot to Dot celebrated its fifth year with Zane Lowe, Mystery Jets, Ellie Goulding and Liars. Local acts playing that month included Breadchasers, Fists, Maniere Des Bohemians, Pilgrim Fathers, Swimming, Rebel Soul Collective, Roy Stone (RIP) and We Show Up On Radar.
Spanky Van Dykes had just launched as a new venue and Late of the Pier were on the decks. Other promoters doing good stuff locally were Acoustickle, Detonate, Fuzzbox, Hello Thor, Influx and Smokescreen.
Issue 34 ∙ April-May 2010
Broadway Brooding
words: George White
I have a confession to make. Since going into lockdown, I’ve only watched a couple of films. I know what you’re thinking: surely quarantine presents the perfect opportunity for me to catch up on all the movies I’ve missed over the years, now I’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to go. You’d be right to think that, but this self-isolation business has made me realise there’s one thing I love most about films – going to the cinema to watch them.
For me, there is nothing better than immersing myself in the latest blockbuster or checking out a new arthouse indie in a darkened room full of people equally enthusiastic about the art of filmmaking.
There is something about sharing this experience with others – as well having an excuse to wolf down a massive bag of Skittles – that makes it extra special. There is a sense of community that you simply cannot get in your own home, and I miss it.
This is particularly the case for Nottingham’s own Broadway Cinema. There is little else I love more in the world than nipping into the Cafébar for a delicious pizza before losing myself in a beautiful film like Portrait of a Lady On Fire. It’s a magical place, and I can’t wait for its return.
It’s also a hub for the city’s filmmaking community, providing a platform for smaller movies and top quality training sessions for aspiring filmmakers. Notts director Daniel Turner summed it up perfectly when he said, “Broadway is synonymous with filmmaking in Nottingham.”
So I would ask you to show support to Broadway during this difficult time if you can. Donating or buying a membership can make a huge difference, and will make sure we can all come together to celebrate filmmaking again soon (and eat a ton of pizza, obviously).
