The Museum of Everything

The Museum of Everything, I learned this morning, is a highly diverting way of passing a couple of hours, even if you do have to spend time in Primrose Hill village as a side effect. 

Exhibition #3 is a collaboration with the veteran artist and collector, Sir Peter Blake, the man best known for creating the album cover of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Blake's wide-ranging interests include self-taught art and discovered artefacts, and there is a lot of work here, from collections of shells to circus posters. The downstairs of warehouse-style gallery space is divided into intimate rooms whose walls are covered from floor to ceiling in art. Turn one corner and you encounter a tiny room full of dolls, turn the next and you're presented with dozens of black and white photographs of midgets and bearded ladies. 

 

Upstairs holds Walter Potter's Museum of Curiosity, an extraordinary collection of stuffed creatures created by the Victorian taxidermist. Two-headed lambs, three-legged geese and miniature dogs are displayed alongside elaborate scenes involving squirrels, rabbits and even toads (not easy to stuff, we are told). It's bizarre, but somehow joyful to see.

Despite the swanky location and the smugness of some of the staff, this art is totally accessible. The wall notes, some written by Blake himself and some by the artists whose work is featured, are informal yet educative. Blake's passion for the work he collects comes across clearly, without the ego one might expect from someone of his standing. This exhibition is a chance to share in the objects he loves. Don't let it pass you by.

The Museum of Everything runs from 13 October to 25 December and is located at the corner of Regents Park Road and Sharpleshall Street, London, NW1. 

Some recent correspondence

It's not my usual practice to post professional correspondence on my blog, but the particular circumstances of this situation merit it I think.

Last month I was approached via email regarding the editing of a work of fiction. I replied, asking for more details of the task and supplying my fee for the work. I heard nothing back, so sent a further email checking that my first reply hadn't gone astray. The following is what I received in return:

"Jo,

As much as I appreciate your reply, I think this manuscript is perahps [sic] too heavy for you.
Don't get me wrong, I am not remeaning [sic] your professionalism, it's just VERY profound and maybe too much for a female to edit.
A delicate mind I do not want editing this.

Best regards,

Etc"

I shall make no comment on this email, but will leave you to come to your own conclusions about my reaction to it from my reply, which you can read below:

"Dear Etc,

Thanks for your prompt reply.

Thanks too for your candid (not to mention eloquently expressed - although I believe the word you were looking for was 'demeaning', not 'remeaning') appraisal of my intellectual and professional capabilities. It's reassuring to me, as a 'female' (again, I believe you mean 'woman') of delicate sensibilities and feeble judgement, to know that considerate gentlemen such as yourself exist to protect me from that which I lack the depth of character to understand.

As to how you've assessed that I am too weak-minded to work on, or even indeed to read, your manuscript, given that we have never met, or even spoken on the phone, I can only speculate. I wish you, in any case, all the best with it.

Have a lovely weekend.

Kind regards,

Jo"