Well the plan was, on encouragement from Lewis to share with you some of the delights of my current location; Herceg Novi in Monte Negro.
I came down here to a physiotherapy institute to try and increase the flexibility on my injured knee. The idea was Nana's parents' who are doctors and familiar with the institute. On the surface it's a stunning deal; for roughly the same price as one physio session in London you get a whole days worth of physio plus 3 meals and a big hotel room with balcony and bath.
Furthermore despite being together with Nana for 10 years this is my first trip to anywhere near her 'original' part of the world (she actually grew up in Denmark and has a Danish passport). But since I have barely left the institute in 10 days there is not a great deal to report. Apparently it's stunning out there...I did accept a dinner invitation on your behalf from one of my fellow convalescents by the name of Mister Kusturica on the vague hope he was related tothe Mister Kusturica (who owns a cinema and bar down by the port) but alas no; my guy was a 77 year old retired gynocologist.
We drank warm beer and watched Holland get kicked out of the Euro 2012.
So this all you're getting. The view from room 714B at 6.02 am today:
But on a serious note it gives us a place to channel our anger and on a lighter note, being dandies at heart, we are primarily interested in the aesthetics of resistance on the performance of rebellion; the fonts of Mayakovsky and Rodchenko, the woodcuts of Frans Masereel, the primary shapes of Bauhaus and Oskar Schlemmer.
So it was that we had to find a gris-gris for our authority issues, an object or objects in which we could store our troublesome inclinations for safe-keeping.
This came in the form our 'Blackheads' (Black Flag, Black Hand..) a mob of unruly Stockman busts that we bought for our second presentation in Paris and have stored under lock and key in the heart of Paris. They're a hard-drinking, chain-smoking, gobby bunch of proto-feminists guaranteed to bring any tranquil gathering to a violent and unpleasant conclusion. They've been known to picket modelling agencies. (they're French after all).
Here's one we brought out for our pop up shop back in December. Reasonably well-behaved but if you look carefully you can see her starting to curl her fist.
For the SS12 collection we collaborated with the French toy-maker PIXI to make a mini Blackhead.
Hardliners say she is too effeminate to be a true Blackhead (she doesn't even have sawdust under arms) but we were smitten with her air of puzzled insouciance nonetheless.
So when we found out we were moving to Paris Nana's brother Vlada took one of the figurines all around the city:
Hanging out with the other ladies on the rue Saint Denis
Lost on a map of Paris
Overlooking Ile de la Cite
Messing with Poseidon
On safari in the Tuileries
Admiring the gold leaf on the Pont Alexandre III
Slumming it in a back alley