Jenni Ajderian

(originally published by The Student )      Dovecot’s grand hall is lined with over three hundred works, and the wide space tempts the eye not only across, but also down to the floor below. With a working tapestry studio just over the handrails, the usual whitewash hush of conventional galleries is chased away, and we’re left at ease to appreciate the work of over one hundred artists, from pen-and-ink to still-life to lively textile and oils. Each piece has been donated to the charity MacMillan Cancer Support for their ninth annual Edinburgh Art Sale, and proceeds will be split evenly between the organisation and the local artists themselves.      Since this is a sale and not an exhibition, we have a lot packed into a small space, providing a sharp test for the curators, who have pulled off the execution of the exhibition wonderfully. Whether placing oils of Princes Street as a Winter Wonderland (Kate Green) next to pastels of su...

(originally published by  The Student )      When you step between the vivacious colours and three-dimensional art of Anton Henning’s Interieur No. 493 and the Ragamala collection at the Talbot Rice Gallery, it’s natural to feel a little surprised.      The bright white walls of the main space, and Henning’s multi-format works, some of which are indistinguishable from furniture, create an environment far more domestic than your average gallery, and one in which abstract paintings, confused sculpture and a simple white sofa seem utterly disconnected from one another. The artist’s free reign over the gallery space means that he has manipulated it well, controlling as he does the lights, sounds and setup of the art we observe to distort the normal museum hush of such a space.      However it is hard to find a common factor in terms of style: even within his collection of paintings, some pieces show Henning’s ...

(originally published by  The Student )      For a film aficionado, Edinburgh is the place to be according to Chris Brooks,  archivist for the Edinburgh Movie Production Society. “ This is a good city to be in. There’s the film festival, and there are always contacts bubbling away,” said Brooks.      Founded in 2004, EMPS brings the complex art of film production to a more accessible level. Even those who have never touched a camera before can create something, while those with more experience have the opportunity to make films using top-of-the-range equipment and mentor others.      “There’s a danger people will assess us very quickly,” Brooks said. “That it’s just for geeks who know how a camera works, but most of the society is made up of people who don’t even study film.” Drawing its members from across the University, members’ knowledge of film-making varies, meaning a range of talents and styles ...

(originally published by The Student )      “We've been killing a lot of zombies”, the comedian and bouffant-haired Tom Deacon explains from the notably zombie-free Brooke's Bar upstairs in Potterrow, “and I'm not really getting any thanks for that.”      Alas there are no awards for control of the undead, not like there are Chortle and Student comedy awards, which Deacon has no trouble in collecting. Away from the zombies and his beloved Xbox (“the most important thing in my life”), Deacon has his second hour-long Fringe stand-up show, a weekly Radio 1 show and a new comedy play to keep him occupied, all of which is a far cry from the dingy student pubs he was playing in just a few years ago.      Deacon is living a non-stop month this August on both sides of the border. In the day time, he performs in Joe Bor's new play Who Killed the Counsellor? , and finds the hormonal 17-year-old within. By turns huffy, boastful and se...

The all-absorbing nature of the Festival became all too clear when everyone started going on about some riots down south. Here, our newspapers are replaced by free review magazines, the daily grind with plays and comedy and exhibitions and the occasional concert. The strange filtering-through of news to a flat with no internet, no regular newspapers, no TV, was reminiscent of Glastonbury in 2009 when Michael Jackson died, and while the world outside was crying its face off, most of us were none the wiser. Whereas in the fields and the mud we had RIP Jacko tshirts by the following morning, up here in Auld Reekie the comedians react in the only way they know how- jokes. What seemed like a race to make the easy jokes first meant stand-ups were telling us how they were desperately trying to contact their loved ones in Tottenham- “Size eleven, nothing in white.” (Steve Day, Run, Deaf Boy, Run!), or how they were happy to be already in Scotland before the locals start re-building Hadrian...

If you only see one monumental multi-media sensory-deprivation performance artwork this festival, this year, this lifetime, Il Pixel Rosso's And The Birds Fell From The Sky should be it. A mere fifteen minutes takes us from the real world to a dream and somewhere in between, everything communicated to us through the dense black goggles placed over our eyes and the headphones in our ears. Daylight seems unnatural. As we move through a world to which we are now blind, the world in the goggles reacts, and what starts as a mere vision turns into a story which has us responding to its every whim. We travel in a car with four Faruq- a race painted to look like monochrome circus clowns who speak an impenetrable language, see dreams and visions; we smell the rain, the vodka, the lighter, the grass, we hear the birdsong, and we are asked- Are you sleeping through the best part of this journey? We are given a keepsake. Mine was The Fool, The Tower and The Hanged Man. In Tarot cards, these p...

We learn quickly. Aside from the festival favourites of Always Bring a Programme, An Open Mind and an Umbrella (ESPECIALLY if it doesn't look like rain), we learn the importance of timing. Deadlines being at noon on the following day, one doesn't want to write up reviews minutes after seeing the show for fear of missing the next one; neither should we write them at 2 minutes to noon, typing with one hand and nursing a cocktail of fruit juice, paracetamol and pro plus with the other. We learn the special kind of fatigue which comes from watching shows for four hours a day, walking between them all with our programme, our open mind and our umbrella in tow, and trying to socialise afterwards. See above and the fruit juice-paracetamol-pro plus cocktail. We learn the scale of the city, we learn to powerwalk off the beaten path and to cross junctions at a sharp angle. We learn how to avoid the flyerers which now plague the busy streets- either by singing loudly along with an iPod or ...