"When he arrived at wardrobe, the costume director exclaimed: ‘You are the embodiment of Basic Instinct 2!’ which took Richard aback somewhat, given that he was still dressed in his normal clothes, and had yet to show her any of his ‘sleazy Soho’ outfits."

Extracted from my new book Richard Dedomenici Is Still An Artist.

This is a photo of me taken last spring:




And here are some stills from the Basic Instinct 2 trailer, filmed in Hanway Street, London last April:





Notice any similarities?

I'll give you a clue; that's not me in the foreground.

That's leading man David Morrissey, who in 2003 played Gordon Brown in Channel 4's 'The Deal'.

Question: Will such an association help or hinder the Chancellor's attempt to become Prime Minister?

Watch the whole trailer here.

On Monday me and my girlfriend Luci celebrated our anniversary.


Official Relloversary #4 Photograph courtesy of Photo-Me Clapham Junction


We decided to get on a train to Eastbourne, where it was rather too cold, wet and windy to spend very much time on the beach.

So went to the excellently titled QualiSea Restaurant instead, where we feasted on fish and chips and mushy peas and two different colours of wine, cheaper to buy by the glass (£1.50) that the bottle.

We also visited the Museum of Shops and Eastbourne Arndale Centre at which point we both went a bit mad.

I went to that club Cargo in Shoreditch last Friday to celebrate/commemorate my old university friend Sarah's 12-month-long relocation to Australia.














Fellow Cardiff School of Art Alumni Charlotte, Sarah and Genevieve

Whilst there, I discovered that my chain-smoking neuroscientist ex-girlfriend Katherine has recently had her first child. Apparently she's called him 'Ivor'.

Middle name 'Tiger'.

Ivor Tiger

As in:



















I couldn't help but think:

'He could have been my child'.

Congratulations Katherine! I will send you a modified plug-in air freshener as a congratulatory gift.

And best of luck at primary school Ivor.


At around 2am I got a bit overwhelmed by cigarette smoke, so I went outside for a bit of fresh air. But then the bouncer wouldn't let me back in, so I had to wait around outside in the cold for about an hour until kick-out time. I made friends with the other people outside the club; drug dealers, illegal mini-cab drivers, and a Don't Panic! flyer man.

The Don't Panic! flyer man asked me to hold up a poster so he could take a photo. I drunkenly ageed, only to find out, after he'd photographed me, that the poster was for the motion picture Deuce Bigelow: European Gigolo.

I sincerely hope the photo never enters the public domain, else my career might go a bit Tessa Jowelly.

Although some would argue that it's far too late to start worrying about that now.

Something's been bugging me for eight years now.

Am I Big In Japan, or am I Shit In Japan?

I can tell from the number of comments being left that loads of people are reading this blog, so the laws of probability dictate that at least one of you probably speaks Japanese, and can translate this clipping taken from a copy of MENS NON NO Magazine published in 1998:

Somewhere near Warrington, on the way back from Glasgow, I saw a Police Train:



I wonder what the devil they use it for?

Is it deployed for anti-terrorism purposes?


And if so, why wasn't it used on 7-7?

As part of my role as Artist-in-Residence at the National Review of Live Art 2006, I implemented a series of subtle interventions devised to ease the potential culture shock caused by the NRLA's move from The Arches to Tramway.



















The Arches

Tramway

This included a subtle sound installation of trains pulling in and out of Glasgow Central Station, recorded at The Arches, which is situated directly below the station's platforms, and piped through Tramway's PA system.

For those of you who either missed it or didn't notice it, and who feel a terrible sense of emptiness as a result, I've now set it as the background music for the frontpage of www.dedomenici.co.uk

Tramway is a smoke-free zone, so I also modified some plug-in air fresheners so that they pumped out the smell of stale smoke - so evocative of The Arches Bar.

Has anyone noticed the remarkable similarity between the new Abbey logo and the existing 30 St Mary Axe logo?

















Also Texas' recent single 'Getaway' appears to have blatantly ripped off 'Nathan Jones' by the Supremes (and latterly Bananarama) in both lyric and melody?

Texas:

The ring you were holding
Has hit the floor
And I can't live in this house
With you no more

Supremes:
The key that you're holding
Won't fit my door
And there's no room in my heart
For you no more

It really is shocking behaviour, Miss Spiteri.

If Mungo Jerry can succesfully sue Whigfield for a percentage of the royalties from 'Another Day' for using a similar melody to their hit 'In The Summertime', then I reckon there's a case here.

Does nobody have any new ideas anymore?

Has it all really been done before?

I hope not.

In other news, It was a great pleasure to go back to my old Art School in Cardiff yesterday to perform my new lecture 'Did Priya Pathak Ever Get Her Wallet Back?' to the students.

Since I left in 2001 my old teacher Andre Stitt has been made a proffessor:





















Meanwhile my friend Marcus Reeves is trying to raise £30,000 to stage a musical about Sister Wendy in London this autumn. It's an ambitious task he's set himself, and I am pleased to say that the benefit gig I performed at for him a couple of weeks ago raised £500:



That's a whole 1.5% of the total finances required.

Good Luck Marcus!

Reacclimatisation

I'm still struggling to reacclimatise to normal life, following the unprecidented back-to-back-live-art-double-header of Inbetween Time and The National Review of Live Art.

The final day of the NRLA was disrupted by an emergency evacuation of Tramway.

Here is six seconds of footage

Many people have accused me of setting the fire alarms off, citing the fact that I'd been wearing a luminous yellow armband with the words EVACUATION MARSHALL written on it all morning:



Pretty compelling evidence. Especially given my history of subtle anarcho-surrealist interventions.

Well, whether I did it or not, I've decided be pro-active and claim responsibility anyway.

While I'm at it, that was me in the gorilla costume as well.


Now, enough frivolity, back to the moustaches:

If you can't beat 'em..

Hello Blog!

Sorry for the vacuum.

I haven’t been able to locate an internet connection until today.

I premiered my new lecture Did Priya Pathak Ever Get Her Wallet Back? the night before last, which seemed to go well.

It’s all about the complex relationship between my work and the police.

I performed it in Tramway 1, by far the largest venue I have ever performed in, at about 700 seats.

The next confirmed performance of the lecture will be at the Bishopsgate Foundation. London, on March 16th, which should be interesting as the venue is next door to a Police Station, and I’m planning on giving the cops free tickets.


Front View



Rear View


You know that French woman who had the face transplant?

I quite fancy her.

But only the transplanted bits.

Is this wrong?


Having blown the whistle on the shocking state of security at Arnolfini last Sunday, I am now in a position to disclose the access codes for the security doors at Tramway in Glasgow.

But I shall not do so, for the pragmatic reason that the Scottish scare me much more than Bristolians.

In Somerfield, for instance, the lady at the till bent my French bread in half like an iron bar, before putting it into the carrier bag.

I've not been eating properly, either.

Although I did have an interesting discussion with a Belgian man last night about the conundrum of where to keep your cigarettes when visiting naturist sex clubs in Paris.

(Answer: In your sock)

And an American lady asked me if my work was informed by Post-Deconstructuralist Theory.

I lied and said yes.


As part of my role as Artist In Residence at the National Review of Live Art, I've been giving out these stickers:



So far at the NRLA I've seen

2 tits

and

0 cocks

(and the tits were on a video, so I don't think they count).


I had a dream the other night that I was getting off with an Alsatian dog.

I wonder what that signifies?

Shit!

It's gone midnight and I haven't yet posted anything on the blog.

I've been a bit busy today getting everything ready for the National Review of Live Art (NRLA) in Glasgow, where I am Artist-In-Residence.

I realise that being both Artist-In-Residence in Glasgow and Visiting Writer in Bristol at the same time could be perceived as double dipping.

But there's no time to worry about that now, I've got a train to catch in eight hours.

Before I go, I've totted up my nudity tally for Inbetween Time and the results are:

3 Cocks

and

4 Tits.


I'm sure you'll agree, that's quite a cock-heavy result.

But, going on past experience, The NRLA should more than make up for that.

I saw a nice bit of billboard liberation this morning on the bus:

As the index finger on my Latex Explain-O-Glove(TM) indicates, part of my residency at Arnolfini has involved the writing of a small book, entitled 'Richard Dedomenici is Still An Artist', which was published three days ago by Arnolfini and is available in the bookshop now.

The front cover image is of a ball composed of red elastic bands discarded by the postman on the pavement. For a while now I've been advocating that people return them to the Royal Mail, in the hope that the resulting cost savings will delay the impending increase in the price of a first-class stamp.

Well, the day-before-yesterday I was walking up Park Street and I saw a little boy on a skateboard with a ball of red elastic bands too.

Apparently it's a bit of a craze.

Until evidence is presented to me that proves otherwise, I accept all responsibility.

Richard Dedomenici
He's Got His Finger On The Kids

This moustache thing is getting out of control.

Hello again,

I've been thinking about the best way to approach writing this blog; On one hand, I'd like to add new content every day, while on the other, I don't want to spend too long writing it, otherwise I'll have no chance to ponce about gathering information to publish.

It's a balancing act.

In 2001 I published a small 64-page book entitled 'Things #1' which consisted of a year's worth of edited notebook entries typed up all neat. It was all very stream-of-consciousness, and juxtaposed found material with firsthand content, lies with truth, without ever specifying which was which.

It's a model I'm thinking of adopting here, as it will enable the fast entry of data from notebook to blog, and the lack of attribution will reduce the chance of litigation. So let's see how it works:


Artistically Promiscuous

Archipuncture

Caroline chastised me for calling her 'dear', citing her husband who condescendingly refers to women who work in supermarkets as 'dears'. I countered that I was using the camp meaning of the word.

(What do you think? Is it rude to call somebody 'dear'? Add your comment below.)

Rebecca's undergarments are made by Rigby & Pellor, who also manufacture knickers for Her Majesty The Queen.

I didn't even know The Queen wore knickers.

The solution to everything is eat chocolate and hide.

'Fetishised' is a word, isn't it?

If you take a vestibule out of a train, is it still a vestibule?

Nobody's older that anyone else, we were just all born at different times.

It's always embarrassing when you don't know if the performance has finished or not.

JD Wetherspoon Condiment Reconnaissance.

Perhaps Mark Oaten's fall from grace is all part of some kind of sado-masochistic sexual gratification.

I don't know how to gain pleasure from watching someone walking around.

Hello,

I'm Richard Dedomenici and I'm the Arnolfini Visiting Writer for the month of February 2006.

People often ask me: 'Richard, what is the remit of the Arnolfini Visiting Writer Programme?'

To which I respond: 'Ooh, good question' which affords me a bit of thinking time. Then I say something like. 'It's really nebulous' or 'it's very multi-nodal'.

This tends not to be a very satisfactory response.

Hence I've developed the Visiting Writer Latex Explain-O-Glove(TM), which I can put on at a moments notice, and really helps to clarify the situation:

As you can see from the index finger, part of my role involves keeping a blog, of which this is the first entry. In the coming month I will provide probing, up-to-the-minute analysis of the issues surrounding the Inbetween Time Festival, which kicked off at the Arnolfini last night; The National Review of Live Art, Glasgow, and anything else that I find pertinent/noteworthy.

Since I arrived in Bristol yesterday I've been alienating people by telling them that I reserve thre right publish everything they talk to me about on the internet, even though logistical ramifications preclude this.

At the minute there's a bit of a backlog ,or, if you like, b(ack)log, of information to tell you about, much of it libellous. I'm just getting confirmation from the Arnolfini legal department, and then the floodgates will open.

Thankyou for reading this far.

Here's a preview of the kind of incicive coverage you can expect:



Dont you think that Simon Casson from Duckie looks rather like Chris Rea with his new moustache?