I'm Leaving! (to a different blog)

As of now I will blogging using Wordpress at my SVarndell site, I will be endeavouring to update a bit more frequently so come have a look see if your interested in Art events and goings on in Birmingham.

Blitz Dames vs. Middlesbrough Milk Rollers

for those of you not yet sure what the hell roller derby is anyway, have a look at my previous post; What the hell is roller Derby and what's it got to do with Brum anyway. otherwise read on...

Last weekend the Blitz Dames played host to the amusingly named Middlesbrough Milk Rollers at the Dames regular stomping ground, Cocksmoors Woods Leisure centre in Kings heath. The match promised to be a wipe out, but the MMR certainly didn't embarrass themselves with a respectable 78 points to the Dames 198. Both teams played some great derby, the look of the game has tightened up recently, the pack remaining in solid formation throughout the match despite some vigorous pushing and shoving by both teams. Heres a snip, have a look at the block from Bee Sting, apologies for the low grade filming:

The Blitz dames swapped and changed positions a little bit, and saw some great jamming from Sleazy Rider and Kiki Kasplat, both of whom notched up some serious points. Players of the match for me were Violet attack and Union Jack-U-Up. Union, is going from strength to strength, and was a frightening adversary to the MMR, despite being one of the smaller players, her blocking is mercilessy quick and her balance apparently unshakeable. This combination made her an excellent jammer and blocker, as she was able to force her way through the pack with ease and speed. Violet Attack (team captain), provided equal menace to the MMR with her rapid jamming and nimble-under-pressure skating. Here is a ten sec snippet of Union jamming:

There were two injuries on track, though thankfully no broken bones, and play was stopped for a few minutes on both occasions. The match was good natured, and although players found themselves in the penalty box, there were no outrageous blocks or dirty playing. A first for roller Derby?!

The next home match for the dames will be in April (exact date as soon as I get hold of it) against the Leeds Roller Dolls, so keep your vocal chords in training. Tickets will be on sale through the blitz Dames website or on the door.

What the Hell is Roller Derby & What’s it got to do With Brum Anyway?

Speak to any Roller Girl, and they will tell you with conviction that roller derby is the fastest growing sport in the UK. True? I've no idea, but it is certainly growing at quite a pace. Birmingham is exceptionally fortunate to be the rolling ground of the Birmingham Blitz Derby Dames, who are possibly the most active team in the UK right now, playing more national and international matches than just about anyone else.

um...playing what exactly?

Contemporary Roller Derby is less than a decade old and hails from Texas and has come a long way from its seventies ancestry. For starters, its now exclusively female. To see a documentary on its inception, there is no better film than Hell on Wheels, which takes an admirably honest, frequently cringe worthy look at the trials, mistakes and successes of the birth of roller derby.

The game is quite simple really. There are two teams who skate on a flat oval track, each team has five players on (unless they have been naughty and are in the penalty box), one of each teams' players starts behind everyone else and is called the jammer, the jammer scores points for every member of the opposing team they overtake. Jammers have to get through the pack once before they can score, and the first jammer through is the 'lead jammer', and has the power to call off the jam whenever she feels is a good time to do so. If she doesn't call the jam off, then it will last for two minutes. All the other players stay in a tight pack, and do there best to prevent the opposing jammer getting through, whilst giving their own jammer the best chance they can. The whole match lasts for two thirty minute periods.

Roller Derby is a contact sport, players can hit other players out of the way using shoulders or hips, but no elbows, arms or tripping are allowed on pain of time in the penalty box, or expulsion for exceptionally bad fouls. Despite the protective gear, there are frequent injuries, so derby dames are generally tough cookies when comes to taking a fall.


Derby is unusual among sports, it has a very strong identity of attitude and expression. Each player assumes a derby name, but you can forget Maverick or Iceman, Derby monikers tend toward the fearsome and witty, Helen Fury, Kylie Volatile, Sleazy Rider, Violet Attack and Union Jack -U- Up, to name a few of my faves. The players also sport fetching uniforms, including fishnet tights, mini skirts and slogans like Eat Track, or Derby or Die embalzoned on their back.

As of this writing, the BBDD don't make any money from playing Derby, and are entirely self funded. The whole operation is funded entirely by the players, who don't get nearly enough credit for the hard work they do putting UK roller derby on the international map, and this is typical of Derby teams - it's all for the love of derby.

To support the Blitz Dames, turn up to their matches and have a good yell. Noisy crowds are encouraged, and tickets are £7 or £8, discounts are available. They are also a touchingly friendly bunch, and welcome all to after parties and fund raisers. I will keep you posted of next events here and on my feed, but do check out there website as well.

Treasure Seekers VIII

Treasure Seekers VIII

There is a scene in the martial arts film, 'Hero', when, in order to learn how to defeat his enemy, the hero (Jet Li), must watch him write. Only in this way can he deduce the subtleties of his foe's style and thus devise a strategy to defeat him.

The work of Caitlin Griffiths in Treasure Seekers VIII also links to the revealing of the psyche through handwriting (graphology), but instead of examining the minds of her foes, the archives of Margaret Street Art School have been plundered, and the target of Caitlin's inquiry are the minute takers, from as far back as 1821. By studying these minutes, several short stories are produced, creating a more intimate link to the personalities of the minute takers. The stories are sometimes surreal in nature, suggesting a dream like introspection on the part of the minute taker, sometimes written from a day to perspective of the subject, examining possible attitudes, actions and self criticisms. The stories stop short of giving too much away or over embellishing the characters. Each one is a self contained snapshot, filling out these anonymous characters, but equally suggesting more questions for the viewer to consider.

Short story by Caitlin Griffiths

Accompanying the short stories were a selection of small paintings, made by Griffiths, using the minute takers handwriting as inspiration (see below). These images are highly stylised, informed by the classical and elegant handwriting commonly used all those years ago. They compliment the stories by developing the work of the minute takers slightly away from their words and into the aesthetic. I can't help but wish the minute takers had done more doodling in the margins. There is a link in the way the forms have been isolated and diplayed as single entities, to the more classical Japanese painters and calligraphers motto of less is more elegant. Perhaps the show also draws on the likes of Robert Motherwell, who carefully re-produced his own drawing years after he had made it in, At Five In The Afternoon, and Franz Kline, who's style leans so heavily on the ideas behind calligraphy. Either way, for a show with six pieces on the wall, there is plenty to think about.

Painting by Caitlin Griffiths

The show is open 9-5pm mon-fri until the 26th of March, and was curated by Charlie Levine and Kate Pennington Wilson. It is one of a series of exhibitions developing work informed by the Margaret Street building. The title; Treasure Seekers, relates to their role as curators, drawing new meaning from forgotten histories. I'm not sure when the next one is, but will let you know as soon as I do, so keep an eye on the calendar, or subscribe to the RSS feed to keep up to date.

Battle of The Sockses

It has been several days since I made the half surprise discovery that I am a genius, by turning my sock inside out (see Yes I am a Genius), and during those days I have plumbed the depths and heights of intellectual isolation, yes, its lonely at the top.
Last night though, I met two fellow sock geniuses, and debate relentlessly raged quietly and pleasantly for around four minutes into the night. It started when Angie reported that she chose to accumulate a wide range of very brightly coloured and patterned socks, in order to make the laborious task of pairing easier. Imagine my disbelief. Was she not aware she was sitting next to the original sock genius? My moment to shine had arrived. "A foolish ploy!" I announced, loudly enough to ensure both members of my audience could hear, and would possibly become captivated, "My own strategy is far in advance, simply buy many pairs of the same colour, then all your socks will pair with each other! Look at my fine black socks!" The congregation looked at my socks and nodded, "My God, he's a genius" I assume they were thinking, but then, Angie after deep thought remarked that perhaps owning a collection of entirely black socks was boring. "What nonsense!" I replied, but I couldn't deny it, the suggestion had been made, and nothing could stop its avalanching progress. I am a boring sock wearer. But this was as nothing to great minds such as those surrounding the table, we pondered, fell into deep meditation, and brooded on the conundrum until Jo said "Why not buy many pairs, of the same brightly coloured sock? Perhaps in an electric blue?"
"Of course!" said I (being a sock genius I was well qualified to recognize a good suggestion), and with that, the conversation drifted slowly, like an iceberg or a thin jam, toward something less interesting.

A Portrait of Birmingham

A Portrait of Birmingham is a tall order by anyone's standards, so my hopes for this event were less on the lines of an insightful look at what makes the modern brummie tick, and more on the lines of music, poetry, pictures and a beer please (yes, I had read the flyer), and I have to say it didn't disappoint.

The literal 'Portrait of Birmingham' aspect of the evening came from a selection of photos from James Hepburn, who, having worked with, I can tell you knows just about everything there is to know about photography, so it was no surprise to see a collection of great shots projected onto the rear wall of the space. I have managed to get my hands on a copy of my favourite one, a picture of the Roller Derby player Violet Attack, a player for the Blitz Dames who had been somehow persuaded to sit still for a period of time without knocking anyone over:

Portrait of Violet Attack, James Hepburn

The first act was a poet called Spicey Fingers, a tall bohemian looking guy with a lulling Jamaican accent. He spoke on stage about both his initial landing in Britain from Jamaica, and his experiences of Birmingham's spirit, including its darker sides and it's one night stands,with humour and real stage presence. He managed to slip in between poetic verse and general discussion so comfortably that it almost took me by surprise to discover I was listening to poetry. I would definitely recommend having a look at Spicey Fingers if you get the chance.

Spicey was followed by a first time performer, Elisabeth Charis, who's first outing onto the stage included some nice work delivered well. I have to say I liked the last poem she read that dwelled on Birmingham the best. It was also nice to see a variety of performers being showcased, from the worldly knowledge and experience of Spicey, to the new and up-coming talent.

Elisabeth Charis (left)

Elisabeth was followed by Lorna Meehan who delivered a selection of wickedly funny poems, dealing with TV adverts for 'womens products', why she is not currently a rock star and a heap of other stuff that kept everyone in laughter. I would love to see more of this style of poetry around, it makes for a very engaging set, and it seems to me deserves the same sort of attention as music and art, but is very rarely seen. A wise man once said that poetry is made to be spoken not read, and I was certainly swayed to this opinion by the poets of the night. I will try and get some videos up if I can (I'm pretty sure the set was recorded), and will let you know if any more gigs are on the the way. Most enjoyable.

Lorna was followed by story telling by Caitlin Griffiths, who told a selection of short stories written by her brother, about a pub crawl around Bournville village. the stories were historically insightful and witty, with a good dollop of irreverence. Cheers Mr Cadbury's.

Many of us Birmingham arty types know Captain Ed, the sea-faring wild eyed story-teller. His latest instalment invloves a new character called Fast Eddie Stobart, who followed on the chocolate theme by telling an inuendo filled story about girls Snickers and his Culry Wurly. Much funnier than I can convey here I'm afraid, I will try and get the video.

Fast Eddie Stobart(left) Harminder Judge(right) Me(with head stuck in the middle)

After all this story telling I was glad to have some music to listen to, so I could get my chatter on and think abot about making a fool of myself. This opportunity was provided by the sexy indy tones of Drunk Lovers Sinners And Saints, and the chilled and frighteningly talented Bird Food jazz quartet. All in all a cracking night, I left very contented and topped it all off with a lamb tikka from the excellent cuisine at Neelams in Bearwood.

Many thanks to James Hepburn and Portrait of Birmingham for the photos above, I shamefully forgot my pocket snapper.

Yes, I am a genius.

Apologies for rambling so early on...
I, like many arty types I suspect, grew up with the certainty that I would one day grow up to be a genius. Yes, one day I would use the medium of drawing to propose a theory so wild, so magnificently unbelievable, that it had to be true. Perhaps I would prove that the universe was egg shaped, or that time does indeed flow neither forwards nor backwards, but in a squiggly figure eight shape, but twistier. For a long time now I have sidelined that belief and let myself slip like so many into the contented sleep of the non-genius. But not today, today is different. Let me explain; for around half an hour this morning, I walked around with a piece of sock cotton writhing like a very small dry eel between my big toe and second toe (fourth if you count from the other side), and then it hit me, Varndell you fool, why not turn your sock inside out, thus alleviating yourself of that irritating twine, and rendering your foot based undergarment 100% effective once again! Of course in hindsight it may seem obvious, but ask yourself weary traveller, just how comfortable are your socks right now? as comfortable as mine? I suspect not.