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'Pre-Raphaelite Art in the Victoria and Albert Hall Museum,

For those who do not know and I have not drunk with the subject, let me say that since the beginning of the year, I prepare an memory. The current phase is less draule it is me starting to write, but this is not the purpose of the day. I decided, for some time, to devote myself to the Pre-Raphaelites. An article comes at a fascinating art school English in the 19th century, but today I wanted to talk about the last book I read about them, found a sympathetic London bookstore.

As its name implies, P re-Raphaelite Art in the Victoria and Albert Hall Museum is a study of museum collections, which are also well beyond the few pieces of furniture or upholstery that j 'I could see the V & A. It therefore holds forth on the Pre-Raphaelite painting but also on the stained glass, tapestries, furniture ...

The work is perhaps not the most exhaustive that I cross, but it has the merit of being clear, concise, well written (I bless the English who, unlike their fellow French university, not not seeking complexity when This process of theoretical subjects) and for once, we do not have pages and pages that relate the stories of artists buttocks certainly exciting but hardly useful for the analysis strictly artistic.

What is remarkable with Suzanne Fagent Cooper is the objectivity of his analysis, unlike a Hilton or a Timothy Tim Barringer. Overall, I feel that this neutrality characterizes women who approach the subject, if we exclude of course the ultra feminist studies, provocative and ultimately Pamela Gerrish Nunn poor and Jan Marsh.

's book Fagent Ms Cooper therefore organized into themes such as Religion, Literature and Legends, Women and Sexuality, Realism, Music, focusing however to describe the distinctive features of the works of the second generation Pre-Raphaelites, led by Rossetti and Burne-Jones. While I found it a bit far forced upon it, and if she speaks a little too much for my taste, the accurate analysis of works are researched and extremely rich, both in terms of the form and the technique used as themes and interpretation.

What I find most interesting is the chapter on Legends, Literature and Women, which is good since it is on these topics that I work in my memory. His study of sexuality and representation of women is remarkably lucid, contrary to the crowd of critics who do nothing but take a look of mingled fear and admiration.

Finally, Suzanne Cooper Fagent quite successful in recreating the impression that emerges when the viewer is confronted with the Pre-Raphaelite art: a sense of "refinement" of "delicacy" as is liked to show Oscar Wilde. I therefore advise

this book to all lovers of Victorian art, but knowing he must still find a minimum history of Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood The order to appreciate the prose of the author.

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' Alice in Wonderland 'Tim Burton

"Quelle est la différence entre a raven and a writing desk?" the Mad Hatter asks Alice throughout the film. Besides the fact that the Hatter does not answer to the riddle unfortunately (unlike what Lewis Carroll highlight of Through the Looking Glass ) the film of Tim Burton comes down to the adjective generally follows: disappointing.

I will not dwell on lines with respect to this kind of obsession that has for 3D because I myself, during the session, wearing my red and green glasses. I would add that just see this flood of posters decked the 3D logo begins to seriously break my candy. But that is not the issue, since I found that the 3D was pretty well used. Admittedly, it flattens the colors but it fits well with the dark world of Mr. Burton, and for once, (but unlike my cousins) I'm not leaving the room with an irresistible urge to put my head in the toilet.
So I see, graphically it is sublime. A world oh so Tim Burton, with outlandish costumes, the dress that Alice puts orgasmic when in the Red Queen, a colorful Hatter ...

Only ... Here, that's the problem is that there is "only". A beautiful scenery is not everything. Who knows why Tim wanted at all costs translate the world of Carroll's 10 years later, when Alice is old enough to marry. Who knows why this world, usually so funny, so crazy and so ambiguous, becomes a completely black and white, with white pieces on one side and red cards in the other. Tim is known normally for its strange movie, devoid of morals, which explore the darkest corners of consciousness and childhood fears. One would think that the works of Lewis Carroll correspond well mad genius of Burton. Yes, dear viewers, this film could have been a massacre.
Instead, we used one in Narnia (because after all, Tim Burton is above the crap for kids) where Alice becomes a heroine who must battle the evil Red Queen. Not only is the antithesis of the spirit of Carroll, but more clumsily Tim amalgam Queen of Hearts from Alice to the Red Queen's chessboard of the second album. It The result is a rough movie, with great length.
Generally, references Carrollian are very poorly integrated, especially when Alice has not yet fallen into the burrow. Like when she noticed a caterpillar on the shoulder of her stepmother nickname ...

The worst is the recreation of Victorian society, its rules and customs. Looks like a sub adaptation of Jane Austen for the BBC. What do you, Tim try, the sauce does not really. I will not dwell on the ridiculousness of Tweedledee and Tweedledum, the total absence of humor, lest the director castigate I love (did) so much.
God thank you, Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp catch up somewhat the case, I must admit that the Hatter is still very good. Depp is pure, he abandoned the mimicry unbearable legacy of Jack Sparrow that were found in Sweeney Todd, and Helena is pleasurable in Queen unbearably angry.
The actress who plays Alice is not bad, except at the beginning where she spends her time trying to wake up.
But the problem is that that's about all. Pay you a good slice of Marradi, though, as my cousins and I, you wanted to piss you laugh at the slightest appearance of the eyes of toad Anne Hathaway. The worst part is that I do not even know if Burton was aware of his game distressing and arms constantly in the air that we want to cut to make it look like the Venus de Milo. As to his castle, he is labeled Barbie Power Mille.
Finally, the scary side of Carroll's work is completely neutralized. If the Jabberwocky surprises with its graphic quality, as soon as he opens his mouth, you feel like crying because of the stupidity of the spoken word.

can find a thousand explanations for these failures, but I think simply, the universe (too) British Carroll does not fit Burton, and that is why the Victorian society portrayed is devoid of any shred of reality. By trying to do too original, it has moved away from the extraordinary drawings by John Tenniel who returned to the literary conscience, or, later, the paw Arthur Rackham Fairy. And to console me, I want to review the Alice Disney remains the best adaptation of the book, whatever one may say. Even if Burton hated that cartoon, and even if for now, the person I think about when I see the tea scene is miles away. Yep, this is Alice at least has the merit of provoking uncontrolled dementia home, to want to scream expressions typically nonsense like "WHAT TIME IS THE TIME?", "A MONNNNSTRE" and other "paint the roses red". And if you are careful, some dialogues are unchanged.

That worries me. Because Tim is on a slippery slope. Maybe that family life makes it silly and plunged into a sea of marshmallow, but it produced no masterpiece since Big Fish. I am replicate there were Corpse Bride and Charlie and the Chocolate . course, but these films lack the emotion of Big Fish, or the strength of visual Sleepy Hollow or humor Beetlejuice. Mr Burton, return us!

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Kitty, Daisy and Lewis at Café de la Danse

room black hole tiny red seats. Rather dim lights. The first part? folk tend to intellectual masturbation, except for those times a little dancing group. But music altogether rather impersonal, and, anyway, I do not listen carefully to the first groups of parties when I go to an artist that I like. The advantage is that we really are all ready for the stage.

Towards around 21 hours, Kitty, Daisy Lewis and their parents point the tip of their nose on stage. Upon entry, "the" is set: hair slicked back, as Carry Grant costume for Lewis, red satin dress for Daisy, while Kitty wears a dress with small flowers and ballerinas to be more comfortable.

*** Well I least liked was to find myself next to a certain person who, in addition to myself unsympathetic, is a photographer in concert. I take this digression to make a small digression on this community so unique and strange that the photographers are together. Besides the fact that I hate them cordially proudly when their backstage pass, their attitude m'insupporte. Yes, you poor little insignificant spectator, I'll shoot without remorse, without bothering to say sorry, because, you see, I have to take a picture and my big gear gives me all rights. Well, that's about the kind of behavior that I equate the height of rudeness. The digression of the chick is embittered over. ***

Kitty Daisy and begin their set by singing a cappella ("whap bham boom, that's What the song is all about), like all their concerts. So I feared a pale copy of the show that the group had served in Rock en Seine but I hardly doubt this would happen. In fact, the concert exceeded my expectations. The whole family is reunited Durham in full force and we will issue a set of half past one. Too short, the aficionado will tell crowds and live music? Perhaps, but with one album under their belt so far, it was understandable. The songs are linked

like "Mean Son of a Gun," "Polly Put the Kettle On," or even "Honolulu Rock a Rolla". Even if the siblings Durham alternates behind each instrument, trends emerge: Daisy and the rhythm in the skin, excels on drums, Kitty guitar and harmonica Lewis on keyboards. What swing, how fast!

In the room, to twist it all is, the atmosphere is highly charged, something that I'm somewhat similar to such a small group. The public is very hot, it dances, it would almost want to rock freestyle!

And suddenly, we realize that Kitty Daisy and Lewis take us on an incredible journey time and space. We are no longer in 2010 in a small venue in Paris avant-garde. No, we find ourselves in 1950, in a post-war America that exudes happiness and the beginnings of rock'n'roll.

Highlights remained all so the traditional "Going Up the Country" and "Hold Me Tight." As in Rock en Seine, a "special guest" on stage, the same black on trumpet (which I completely forgot the name), but certainly good that raise a little strength "yeah yeah yeah" to to repeat the public.

matter. After the false exit backstage, the band returned for a final absolutely explosive, mostly to interpret songs without words. Kitty and Lewis in particular engage in a demonstration of musical conversation: Lewis is talking about his keyboard, which responds by Kitty guitar chords that repeat the same line notes. And on the very end, the youngest of the siblings Durham sends us a gorgeous harmonica solo, so much so that the youngest is all out of breath.

Kitty Daisy and Lewis, this is not just a small group in London playful compositions, which attempts to repeatedly rockabilly revival low fifties. Kitty Daisy and Lewis, a whole attitude, a way to live oh so retro to show us that not only the good rock existed before the Beatles, but also that young people today are able to integrate various influences and can twist without taking any price to play the card of modernity.