House

At first glance, it looks like an eerie still from a Tim Burton film. A gothic sprawling house with precarious, pokey turrets perches uneasily on a desolate dock. Jagged rocks loom in the foreground beside a ragged highway, as a flock of black crows suspiciously hovers in the air. They might even dive bomb at any given minute. There’s a burning pier in the distance – clouded by thick black smog. It’s all a bit disturbing and disorientating, yet somehow magnificent and awesome. A wonderfully atmospheric, but horribly haunting, landscape. You wonder where this place is, who set the pier alight, and how the house hasn’t crumbled into the sea. In short, you’re scratching your head in utter confusion (well, this was my immediate reaction anyway) wondering what the hell is going on. Or, to be more precise, what hell is going on.

But then you peer closer and it all becomes clear. Well, sort of clear. Despite appearances, this photo (simply entitled "House") cannot be a photo at all. For starters, you realise that the fairytale house is an impossibly layered mansion of chimneys, windows and porches that structurally defies reality. This is not reality, nor is it a Tim Burton-esque still. No, this is just one of artist Jim Kazanjian’s many surreal, swindling landscapes. Designed to fool you. And you were fooled by the tricky thing. To label his work as photography would be misleading. You see, Jim’s a bit of a meanie (and a magpie… let’s call him a meanie magpie) – chopping and changing photos from his huge archive and digitally reassembling them into deliberately realistic landscape prints. His mission? “To defamiliarise the familiar” in photography. I genuinely shudder at these words (anyone who studied English Literature will understand my pain) – so to translate from Pretentious to Nutshell, he basically asks us to question today’s mass digital photography by confusing us with something that seems authentic. And he definitely succeeds. His work is a series of fascinating collages, both impossible and impossibly real. It’s all a bit apocalyptic in Jim’s imaginary world: houses regularly seem to implode upon themselves and he’s a big fan of monochrome graphics and sci-fi elements. It’s intriguing. In a world of endless digital photos, where even the most ridiculous can be made to seem real, this is brilliantly conceived art that makes you peer that little bit closer. Jim, you meanie magpie, just two words. Mission accomplished.

http://www.kazanjian.net/

Beautiful Chaos

Sometimes names can be deceptive. Dover Street Market sounds like it should be a bustling seafood bazaar, perhaps located somewhere in the East end – all wet streets, loud street hawks, and a whiff of fish so strong it makes your eyes water. But it's not.Instead, the only fish that come anywhere near this super stylish, upmarket department store that is the real Dover Street Market are mercilessly taxidermied and triumphantly on display in one of the many fascinating (if admittedly pretentious) wooden cabinets dotted around the shop. There's certainly a smell in the air- but it ain't fish, it's the whiff of fashion snobbery sniffing their noses at anything priced at less than four digits. For here, cutting-edge haute couture meets derelict art gallery. Designed with the concept of “beautiful chaos” in mind, it’s the brainchild of Comme des Garçons’ visionary founder Rei Kawakubo- a 6-floor palatial market just off Bond Street retailing only the most influential designers in fashion. From Hussein Chalayan to the ever-covetable Alaia, this is the shop where fashion dreams are made and destroyed (by lack of cashflow). Perhaps one day in a gazillion years' time I might just be able to afford an Alaia dress. Or, to be more precise, the belt of an Alaia dress. Hell, who am I kidding: the buckle of the belt of an Alaia dress.

But for all the expense and exclusivity, Dover Street Market is undoubtedly London fashion's first port of call for sartorial elegance and incredible design. Everything here is thoughtfully contemplated - from the designers' individual spaces to the main window display (this year crafted by irreverent wind-up artists Jake and Dinos Chapman, featuring smiley faces on flags and dinosaurs- wacky, yes, but also a little underwhelming given their rich imaginations). Each year, the marketplace undergoes a biannual Tachiagari (Japanese for beginning) – a transformative period when the marketplace retreats into its chrysalis for 3 days, only to emerge with reworked spaces and new collaborative concepts. 2012’s first Tachiagari has recently been unveiled- and with its scaffolding remnants, untreated white floors, and exposed electrics, the entire feel is one of scrubbed down chic. Rebooted spaces from the likes of Alexander Wang, Ann Demeulemeester, and the hotly-anticipated introduction of Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen (visionary creator of that royal wedding dress) continue to put DSM firmly on the map, proving it is still the destination for cherry-picked, to-die-for style. Even if you're only here to window shop. My secret tip? The market is now newly-opened on Sundays , and with the delicious Rose bakery on the 4th floor serving up a mouthwatering brunch menu that includes smoked salmon (oh look, they do sell fish after all) and scrambled eggs, pancakes with banana and maple syrup, muesli with fresh berries and more, now you have yet another excuse to visit. After all, at reasonable prices, this brunch is probably the one thing in the entire 6 floors which normal people can realistically afford. All diehard Sunday shoppers, just make sure you shop first and eat later: brunch this good means you're sure to be one little piggie rolling out of the market.

http://www.doverstreetmarket.com/

Hare and Tortoise

You could forgive me for thinking, nay hoping, that this restaurant would be some sort of country pub serving proper helpings of traditional British fare. In my head, Hare and Tortoise sounded like one of those rural pubs you drive past in a sleepy little village in the backend of nowhere, run by a sweet but ancient couple who were probably around when Aesop first wrote his fable. You know the type: pubs so old they’re practically inns. Or to put it allegorically: pubs more tortoise than they are hare. So you can imagine my surprise, if not slight disappointment, when we arrived at said restaurant – only to be handed Oriental menus. Confused, yes I was. Now, don’t get me wrong: I will always be partial to a little bit of noodle. It’s in my blood, after all. But I had spent the entire day in the office happily imagining, and I mean properly crafting, the dream burger I would be utterly devouring come dinner time. With fries on the side, of course. Those who know me will testify that really is no exaggeration. (I often wonder how I am still slim. One day, my metabolism will revolt in disgust against my rudely healthy appetite, and I will wake up positively obese. Until then, please keep feeding me).

But although my initial reaction to the Oriental menu (handed to me by an Oriental waiter, the clue was there from the start, wasn’t it?) was one of outrage – as my dream burger disappeared in a cartoon puff of smoke- I can now happily report that this restaurant is great. Yes, its name is cruelly misleading, and you often have to queue if you haven’t got a reservation (luckily I swanned straight in with my super-organised friend) – but the food is delicious and best of all, it’s cheap. The menu is one massive Oriental umbrella, covering everything from noodles and Thai curries to sushi and Malaysian rice dishes. The ingredients are fresh and despite the Western name, the food genuinely tastes authentic. Think Wagamama’s but this time cooked properly. And with comfier seating. Best of all, if you order a green tea, you are eligible for endless free top-ups all evening. Perfect if you back your epic conversational skills (as we most definitely did…peeling ourselves out of our seats many, many hours later). With various branches around London, this Asian restaurant chain is well worth a visit for tasty yet affordable food. And whilst the service can sometimes be a bit slow, if anything it just proves that, like the tortoise, slow and steady always wins the race.

http://www.hareandtortoise.co.uk/

All at Sea

Inside the theatre, it's almost as cold as the unforgiving winter outside. Although it's mid-performance, many of the audience remain huddled in their overcoats, scarves wrapped around themselves like blankets - their breath foggy vapour in the chilled air. This is not your average theatre. Instead, we are deep in the Old Vic Tunnels, a sprawling maze of unused space beneath Waterloo Station- and currently the venue for the recent revival of Eugene O'Neill's early Sea Plays. Cavernous, dimly-lit, and steeped in history, these atmospheric vaults are the perfect setting for these plays- an exciting and brilliantly original interpretation that leaves us all at sea. From beginning to end, director Kenneth Hoyt expertly steers us deep into O’Neill’s turbulent mind- navigating us from the unremarkable venue entrance, underground into the tunnels and then past half-naked men stoking coal in a fiery furnace en route to the theatre. Plunging us headfirst into the visceral, gruelling life aboard a 20th century tramp steamer. And to think this incredible venue lies below people on their everyday commute. A subterranean diamond in the rough, if ever the West End Fringe had one. 

Penned between 1914 and 1917, this trilogy of one-act sea plays, inspired by O'Neill's own seafaring experience, is a brief but intense snapshot of the gritty life at sea. Opening with Bound East for Cardiff as a violent storm lashes the vessel, the unique tunnel setting instantly comes into dramatic force- as the rumbling of trains overhead double for roars of thunder. Together with dramatic lighting, a few buckets of water (so glad I wasn’t sitting in the front row), and the whole cast shouting, the storm was utterly convincing. Hello acoustics. Alarmingly, it felt as if we too were aboard the weather-beaten ship - rotting below deck alongside these battered and homesick sailors. As one sailor, Yank, is severely injured in the commotion, the storm simply dies down into the mental anguish of the dying Yank and his sentimental Irish colleague who tries to comfort him. This is vintage O’Neill, after all. To say his works are depressing would be a vast understatement. The excellent Matt Trevannion conveys the anguish and despair as his friend slowly dies - and as the cast sing "For Those in Peril on the Sea" whilst casting Yank's body to the waves- it would be safe to say a collective chill went down the audience's spine. 

But in the second play, In the Zone, O'Neill reminds us that such claustrophobic living quarters below deck brews suspicion and distrust almost as readily as it breeds this opening homoerotic relationship. A reticent shipmate is falsely accused of being a German spy as cabin fever breeds trouble and unrest. There's a restlessness to all these men at sea who dream of nothing but a happy life at home. As Yank observes, this is a life of "travellin all over the world and never seein none of it". A line that takes on added poignancy by the final play, The Long Voyage Home, which tells the story of a homesick Swedish sailor who is cruelly shanghaied as he attempts to pay his passage home. This is trademark O'Neill intensity blowing a full-force gale throughout- by the interval, I guarantee you will need to escape to the nautical-themed bar for a drop of something strong. 

But although it's an intense production, it's a bracing one- a tidal wave of powerful drama that resurrects these rare plays and brings O’Neill’s foggy pea soup world to life. The roll and swell of the sea echo loudly throughout O’Neill’s plays - it leaves its tidal mark without restraint.  Take The Iceman Cometh, set in a waterfront saloon, or Edmund Tyrone recalling the ecstasy of his past life at sea in A Long Day’s Journey Into Night: “For a moment, I lost myself – actually lost my life. I was set free! I dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying spray, became beauty and rhythm, became moonlight and the ship and the high dim-starred sky!” Such is the intensity of this production that we too get lost in the rhythm of this seafaring life. From the tiny theatre as crammed as below deck itself, to the dramatic sound and lighting and the magnificent ensemble cast (their sailors' vernacular is spot on), this is brilliant stuff. My advice? Set sail with the cast now. With the production washing ashore on February 18th, there aren't many days left for you to become a stowaway. Just make sure you wear a coat... 

http://oldvictunnels.com/event/the-sea-plays/