mon 28/07/2014

Mark Hudson

mark.hudson

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Bio
Mark is the author of Titian, the Last Days. He writes on art and music for the Daily Telegraph, the Mail on Sunday and The Observer. His other books include the award-winning Our Grandmothers' Drums, Coming Back Brockens and The Music in my Head.

Articles by Mark Hudson

theartsdesk at the Port Eliot Festival

Remember when festivals were only about what they were ostensibly about? When, say, Reading offered nothing beyond hard rock bar disgusting toilets, overpriced hamburgers and the prospect of a punch-...

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Alan Davie, 1920-2014

Alan Davie, who died on Saturday aged 93, was one of the great 20th-century British artists, a life-long maverick whose explosive canvases cut a swathe through the provincial aridity of the postwar...

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Yuletide Scenes 3: Winter Sea

There’s movement towards a walk after lunch, but by the time everyone’s hummed and hawed about where they might go, rubbed their bellies after one too many forcemeat balls and argued about who put...

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Youssou N'Dour: Voice of Africa, BBC Four

You either get Youssou N’Dour, or you don’t. For millions on his home turf, the Senegalese singer is a major cultural figure: the street urchin-turned-superstar who almost became president. For large...

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The Dark Side of the Moon: A Counterblast

In March 1973, John Lennon was 33. Elvis was 38. There was barely a musician, in the sense we understand it, over 40. No one with a mortgage – or hardly anyone – was into rock’n’roll. The Dark Side...

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Interview: Artist Richard Wentworth

Richard Wentworth is the eminence not-so-grise of British contemporary art. The perpetually youthful sculptor’s activities span an extraordinary range of eras and ideas: serving as a teenage...

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Man Ray Portraits, National Portrait Gallery

Travelling through Canada by train – more decades ago than I care to divulge here – I bought a book of Man Ray photographs at Banff in the heart of the Rockies. I spent the rest of the journey with...

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Yuletide Scenes 3: Snow Falling in the Lane

Christmas might not seem the most appropriate time to ask you, dear reader, if you’ve ever suffered a nervous breakdown. Yet for many this festival of conviviality amid the darkest hours of the year...

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Artes Mundi Prize, National Museum Wales, Cardiff

An award for artists whose work engages with "social reality, lived experience and the human condition" has been won by a Mexican forensic technician whose works deals intimately with her country’s...

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William Turnbull, 1922-2012

William Turnbull was a Dundee shipyard engineer’s son who became a highly respected fixture on the London art scene for over six decades, principally as a sculptor, but also as painter and printmaker...

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Kafou: Haiti, Art and Vodou, Nottingham Contemporary

I’ve rarely come across an exhibition as loaded with context as this one. Voodoo – or Vodou, as the show has it – is a massively complex and contested phenomenon, from the pin-sticking and zombies of...

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John Berger: Art and Property Now, Somerset House

John Berger isn’t a man who has suffered through appearing to take himself massively seriously. His way of phrasing his most modest utterance as though the fate of the world’s dispossessed hangs on...

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theartsdesk at Land's End: The Penzance Convention

Standing in Tate St Ives with the sun gleaming on the Atlantic, you wonder who they are, all these chilled, nonchalantly now people. Through the great curved window, the sun is setting over the...

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Globe to Globe: The Winter's Tale, Shakespeare's Globe

The Winter’s Tale may not be one of the best loved of Shakespeare’s plays – not quite a comedy, not quite a full-blown drama – but the Globe was packed on the hottest night of the year for this...

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CD: Hawkwind - Onward

If Pink Floyd were always just businessmen in loonpants, Hawkwind really did appear to live the dream – or was it the nightmare? The early Seventies people’s band looked as though they permanently...

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The Excruciating Power of the Parental Legacy: My First Foray Into Curating

Remember when you were out playing football with your mates, and your dad pulled up beside the pitch in a slightly too flashy car and told you it was time for tea or – even worse – tried to join in...

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