I don’t know if it’s the warped soundtrack, the computer-generated vocals or the mesmerizingly basic Adobe Flash animation but whichever way, I saw “Is That All There Is?” at the Tate Modern (London) and now it’s all I can think about.
I swear to goodness I wish it would just leave me alone. After all, it’s hardly something you can sing along to, not when the earworm in question sounds like a deflated emergency siren.
And, a much as I value the importance of art, I wish this wasn’t the one thing to have stuck with me since my visit to the Tate Modern in November 2022 (that’s right, it’s still haunting me!)
IS THAT ALL THERE IS? considers the environmental impact of global warming. YHCHI often use dark humour to highlight difficult issues. The text and melody of the work are based on the song Is That All There Is?, made popular by singer Peggy Lee in 1969. The fire in the song’s lyrics here becomes a reference to wildfires in California. The question ‘Is That All There Is?’ is repeated again and again, highlighting the lack of personal and political accountability in relation to climate change.
Few things have shaped me more than a mechanic exhibition housed in the visitor centre of Cornwall’s world famous Eden Project. Shaped me, in a negative way.
Back in 2000, when the biomes for The Eden Project were still under construction, the visitor centre was opened up to the public. I was eight years old. “This will be educational,” my parents thought, “Alice will get to see this amazing thing being built and learn a bit about the nice plants in the visitor centre.”
Plant Takeaway, an exhibition also referred to as “The Dead Cat” (which personally I think says it all) is, according to the attraction’s website, “[an] automated puppet show that explores our total dependence on plants. Visitors watch as absolutely everything made of plants in Alan and Enid’s kitchen is taken away.”
It sounds all harmless enough, sure, but let me put to you this; Plant Takeaway features scary mannequins (and you know how I feel about those), nudity and what I have always assumed to be a “Peeping Tom”. It is a reminder of the importance of plants (big tick) and how their removal will result in the painfully slow erosion of everything you hold dear (uh-oh) until ultimately you die from starvation or a lack of oxygen, which ever comes first.
“…Daddy, am I going to die?”
I can see Mumma B rolling her eyes at me now, “she’s 30 and still going on about that silly mechanical exhibit at The Eden Project” but you know what, Mum, yes, I am still going to harp on about it. There was an eight year old me, eyeball to eyeball with a naked collapsed man. To top it all off the cat dies. That’s it, THE END.
I spent the rest of the day crying. When we got back to the holiday cottage we were staying at I was in a state best comparable to that time Hermione got herself petrified in Chamber of Secrets. I remember these things because I was haunted.
I think I had a mild form of PTSD, Plant Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Years later we returned to The Eden Project, where as a teenager I was quickly rushed through the visitor centre. We’d all hoped Plant Takeaway would have been retired and thrown into a skip somewhere but nope, still there.
I was going for third time lucky when I visited last year. On seeing its ugly, clunky presence I decided to face my fears and watch it through to the bitter end.
I gave up halfway through.
In my defence I really did try, and in my equal defence this exhibition is a pile of trauma. Other people have recorded and uploaded the whole thing onto YouTube…or at least I assume so (I’m not going to check; go look yourself and on your own mental health be it).
The other 98% of The Eden Project is absolutely lovely and well worth a visit, but this? Nah. I have two questions to put to the management of this attraction 1) who in their right mind signed off the development of the Plant Takeaway exhibition and 2) who is continuing to let it stay?!
Uh-oh, I think I might have triggered myself again (passive-association from the memories). I’m off to get some ice cream.
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After years of having my beloved city breaks restricted by geographical borders, in September I travelled to Budapest in Hungary.
Any that wasn’t the only change in scenery…
Ps this video was uploaded later than I planned to because a) life, b) my laptop broke down (and then even longer to get it fixed) and c) once I’d finally put the video together, the file got corrupted during export, causing no end of headaches. But we’re here now.
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Find out more about the other painted doors which feature in the city of Funchal’s ‘Old Town’ district (Rue de Santa Maria). Click this link or enter “Painted doors Madeira” into your trusty search engine. There are some absolute beauties to be found.
Here’s a quick run-through of what happened when I went on London Underground’s newest service, the Elizabeth line.
The first thing I was aware of when I descended the escalators at Paddington was the whizzy LED signs.
I don’t know why, but I found them mesmerising, like a lava lamp. It was also 7:30am and I hadn’t had coffee, which I acknowledge may have been a contributing factor. Nudged by another commuter in that classic “get-on-or-move-on” fashion, I hopped onto the next Eastbound train.
Now the thing is…well, I wanted to illustrate that even though it was very busy at Paddington station the train was pretty quiet. But, equally, I didn’t want it to be obvious I was taking random photos of the train. You can see my predicament. So what do you get?
A slightly burred picture of a door.
It really was a classically Alice dilemma.
Oh, thumbs up for the seat coverings by the way.
And the floor? I mean, I wouldn’t say I’d be eating off it, but by London standards it was fairly squeaky.
I just wish I could say it was seam-LESS! (Get it? Because there’s a joining line? Well, I thought it was witty).
And here’s a photo of Custom House, before a-la-mosh pit I got scooped up by corporate commuters and funnelled toward the ticket gates.
*Then Alice did actual work stuff at the ExCel conference centre*
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On leaving the ExCel I was running back what felt like the thickest black jacket in the hottest day. To say I was a bit toasty was an understatement, I was effectively drowning in a pool of sweat and free pencils.
Honestly I was so relieved to be somewhere with air conditioning and seating I forgot to take any photos. Minor detail.
It was probably owing to this (realising at Bond Street I hadn’t taken any photos and unable to, thanks to the copious amounts of free pencils filling my hands) that I became very obsessed with scoring a selfie with the Underground sign at Paddington. That, and in part because of the very strong coffee I knocked back before leaving the ExCel.
Ten attempts later (not kidding), I settled with what I got and shambled upstairs to find out the outbound train I’d been racing to get was actually a very slow train so ended up loitering around Paddington for 40 minutes for the train which, it turns out, all my colleagues were on as well. None of them were interested in my pencils, only moaning about the cleanliness of the toilets at Paddington. For a whole hour.
So yeah…
The Elizabeth line! Clean (enough), mesmerising signs (if you’re suffering from caffeine withdrawal) and just enough air con to stop you gagging on the stench of someone else’s body odour. What more could you want?!
Oh, and it’s actually super quick to get places. Minor detail.
Video of my recent five-day break in the New Forest, England. I went out specifically to focus on writing and while it didn’t quite turn out entirely as I’d hoped, I had a very relaxed time in beautiful surroundings.
Until the next time!
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I’ve just got back from my writing retreat and, newsflash, it was beyond amazing.
Full retreat cohort, including course tutor/professional author Caitlin Davies (in the red jumper)
I met 22 wonderful human beings (15 other participants + tutors/guest readers + Arvon staff), and there was so much to take in and reflect on, and every night I felt I like I could burst with creativity (which would have been awkward, as I don’t think anyone signed-up to being coated in chunks of Alice…at least not before dessert).
With so many thoughts, feelings and emotions running through my head, it’s hard to put into extacting words what the past week has meant to me. From 1-2-1s with critically acclaimed writers, to long walks, to sitting down at a desk (in front of a gorgeous view) and hitting word to paper, my time spent on an Arvon tutored retreat at The Hurst (deep in the Shropshire Hills) has been an incredible experience.
A group of us prepare for a mid-morning woodland hike. Photographed alongside course tutor/publishing editor Jacob Ross (second right)
I’ll get something more substanial down soon but for now know this; I’m a very, very happy Alice!
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