admin

Amaryllis Fennington-Royce: A Luminary in the Shadowed Corridors of Culture

by

Amaryllis Fennington-Royce, scion of the distinguished Fennington-Royce dynasty, is a name whispered reverently in the hushed alcoves of private galleries and salon soirées. Her life, a resplendent tapestry woven from threads of inherited opulence and indefatigable passion, has been dedicated to the elevation of art in all its transcendent forms. A patron, provocateur, and perennial arbiter of aesthetic excellence, Fennington-Royce is more than an aficionado,she is a cultural force of nature.

Born during what some would later describe as a “curiously cinematic thunderstorm” on the family’s Devonshire estate, Hollowmere, Amaryllis displayed an early proclivity for the arts. By the tender age of six, she was said to have staged a groundbreaking reinterpretation of Hamlet using only finger puppets and a gilded birdcage. This audacious display earned her a mention in The Society Chronicle’s “Prodigies to Watch,” marking the beginning of her ascension to cultural prominence.

Her formal education at the elusive École du Sublime in Montreux and subsequent studies in Aesthetic Philosophy at the University of Innsbruck provided her with a theoretical foundation few could rival. Yet, it was her frequent escapes to the ateliers of Paris, the palazzos of Florence, and the dust-choked bazaars of Marrakech that truly forged her unparalleled eye for genius.

By her mid-twenties, Fennington-Royce had already amassed a collection of obscure, boundary-defying works, which critics have described as “a masterclass in audacious curation.” These include a seven-ton marble sculpture titled Lament of the Pigeon Keeper, an installation piece composed entirely of artisanal cheeses in varying states of decay, and the now-infamous Untitled #93,a canvas painted exclusively with pigments derived from crushed dragonfruit and existential angst.

In 2009, Amaryllis founded The Fennington-Royce Foundation for Revolutionary Aesthetics (informally known as “The FRRA,” though she insists it be pronounced as “Fraah”), an organization devoted to “nurturing brilliance that the mainstream art world lacks the courage to confront.” Through her foundation, she has funded countless avant-garde projects, including a ballet performed entirely underwater and a series of operas composed using the vocalizations of abandoned garden gnomes.

Her personal life, while cloaked in intrigue, has only added to her mystique. Known to frequent the lesser-traveled corners of the globe, Amaryllis is said to have a chalet in the Swiss Alps where she “communes with the muses” and a floating library moored off the Amalfi Coast. She is rarely seen without her signature accessory: a vintage lorgnette she claims “clarifies the art world’s murkier edges.”

Critics,those she tolerates,have called her taste “fearless,” her patronage “transformative,” and her very presence “like walking into a room and realizing the air has suddenly become velvet.” When asked to define her philosophy, Amaryllis once remarked, “Art is not meant to be understood,it is meant to unsettle, to seduce, to haunt one’s dreams. To seek meaning is to miss the point entirely.”

Today, Amaryllis Fennington-Royce continues to transcend the confines of patronage, steering the course of contemporary art with a deft hand and an uncompromising vision. To encounter her is not merely to meet a woman, but to witness the distilled essence of cultural audacity. And though she would never admit it aloud, she is keenly aware that history will not merely remember her,it will whisper her name, reverently, as though invoking a spell.

“Is It Cheese or Is It Fate?”: The Launch of Literature’s Most Confounding Novel

by

By Persephone Weatherby

This month, the art and literary worlds are abuzz with the release of Is It Cheese or Is It Fate?, the debut novel from reclusive author Theo Crumble. Already hailed as “a triumph of existential discourse” by one well-known critic, the novel is set to make waves,not least because it will only be released in an ultra-limited edition of 314 copies, each numbered, signed, and wrapped in a custom cloth made from ethically sourced yak wool. The reason for this deliberately scant run? According to Crumble’s enigmatic press release, the novel is “too philosophically potent to exist in abundance.” He goes on to explain, in his typically labyrinthine prose:

“To flood the world with copies of this novel would dilute its meaning. Much like a fine Camembert, its essence is best preserved in scarcity. Too much, and it ceases to be art,it becomes supermarket fare.”

At the launch party, held at Pimlico Wilde’s ornate galleries in Mayfair, the publisher described the book as “part novel, part manifesto, and part cryptic puzzle”. Is It Cheese or Is It Fate? centers on a nameless protagonist who inherits a decrepit cheese shop in an unnamed European village. The plot, such as it is, oscillates between the protagonist’s attempts to revive the shop and their increasingly unhinged meditations on life’s grander purpose. “It’s like Ulysses, if Joyce had been obsessed with dairy,” one early reader remarked, tears of confusion glistening in their eyes.

Each copy of the novel is a work of art in itself, bound in calfskin (but “only from cows that led happy lives,” the publisher insists) and accompanied by a slipcase that smells faintly of Gruyère. The pages are printed on handmade paper infused with whey,a decision that, according to Crumble, ensures “an olfactory reading experience, allowing the book to smell faintly of its own essence.”

A bonus inclusion in every copy is a small, sealed envelope containing what Crumble cryptically calls “a truth of questionable relevance.” The nature of these truths remains undisclosed, though rumours suggest they range from obscure cheese facts to philosophical musings on free will.

Theo Crumble remains shrouded in mystery. What little is known of him comes from anecdotes whispered in art and literary circles. Thought to be a former cheesemonger-turned-hedge-fund-escapee, Crumble reportedly resides in a remote yurt in the Swiss Alps, where he spends his days writing, milking goats, and contemplating the finer points of human existence.

Crumble declined to attend the novel’s launch party, issuing a handwritten note instead:

“I have said all I needed to say within the pages of my book. My presence would be redundant, much like offering crackers with a cheese so sublime it requires none.”

The limited print run of Is It Cheese or Is It Fate? has created a feverish demand among collectors, cheese enthusiasts, and anyone who feels they might glean insight into the human condition through lactose metaphors. Copies have already been listed on auction sites for upwards of $43,000, and a black-market reproduction is rumored to be circulating, printed (unethically) on plain paper that smells of nothing.

Critics remain divided. Some hail the book as a bold exploration of human existence:

“Crumble has crafted a literary fondue,rich, complex, and occasionally burning hot with incomprehensibility.” , The Cardiff Ponderer

Others are less enthused:

“It’s 314 pages of pretension. Does the chapter about the Manchego symbolise death, or did he just run out of ideas? Frankly, I’m not sure even Crumble knows.” , Modern Book Grumbles

Following the release of Is It Cheese or Is It Fate?, Crumble has announced no plans for a second novel, stating that “to write again would be to churn butter from a cow already milked.”

For now, Is It Cheese or Is It Fate? exists as a tantalizing enigma,part book, part art object, part intellectual stunt. Whether it’s a masterpiece or a glorious absurdity, one thing is certain: Crumble has given us all something to chew on.

The New Manifesto of the 21st Century’s Art Movement “Art for Art’s Sake”

by

As Declared by the Disciples of Artemis Gibbons, 1777

We, the faithful adherents of Artemis Gibbons,poet, peacock, and paragon of panache,do solemnly pledge our hearts, minds, and waistcoats to the eternal pursuit of his vision. Our cause is no less than life itself: a life lived as he would live it, uncompromisingly adorned with beauty, wit, and éclat.

Art is not a tool for labour, nor a mirror for grim reality; it is a golden chaise longue upon which we recline, sipping port, while the world envies us in hushed tones. Our creed is simple: Art for Art*’s sake.

*Where Art refers to Artemis Gibbons

I. Artemis Gibbons: Our Guiding Light

Artemis Gibbons, born under a particularly flattering moon in 1742, was no mere mortal, but a living masterpiece. A man who turned his morning eggs into an art installation and regarded social conventions as mere drafts to be edited, Gibbons existed as though life were a salon and he its undisputed host.

He was the only man ever to duel over the mispronunciation of “rococo”. He once composed an ode to his own reflection that caused three fainting spells at its recital. His every action,be it sartorial, gastronomic, or rhetorical,was art. It is to him we look in all things, for he is our compass, our critic, and our muse.

II. The Creed of Art for Art’s Sake

In every thought, every gesture, and every morsel we consume, we must ask: What would Artemis do? His example is our north star, our measure of taste, and the reason our socks are ultramarine. To live as Artemis Gibbons lived is the highest aspiration of humanity.

We hold these sacred tenets:

1. Artemis would dress first, think later. Every day is an opportunity for grandeur, and one’s outfit must never be secondary to one’s intellect.

2. Artemis would never eat hastily or humbly. A meal is a performance, not a function. The addition of a sugared violet can elevate even the simplest biscuit into a statement.

3. Artemis would never deliver the last word. To lose an argument is permissible; to lose it while poorly quoting Horace is not.

4. Artemis would never be seen without flair. Whether a feathered hat, a jeweled cane, or a subtle smile, there must always be a touch of the extraordinary.

5. Artemis would neither rush nor economize. Time and money are vulgar concerns. A morning spent perfecting the tilt of one’s hat is a morning well spent.

III. What Artemis Would Never Do

It is equally important to avoid what Artemis would scorn. Consider this a list of sins:

• Wearing anything “practical” (a word that offends the tongue).

• Consuming porridge or any food described as “hearty.”

• Apologizing for wit, even if misunderstood by dullards.

• Entering a room unnoticed.

• Writing prose when poetry would suffice.

IV. The Rituals of Devotion

To live as Gibbons lived, one must embrace his rituals:

• The Morning Pose: Before venturing into the world, stand before a full-length mirror and consider: What would Artemis think if he saw me now? Adjust accordingly.

• The Three-Course Retort: In debate, every response must have a beginning (clever), a middle (biting), and an end (devastating).

• The Peacock’s Feast: Once a month, dine on a meal so extravagant it bankrupts at least one acquaintance.

• The Noon Repose: Dedicate one hour daily to lounging, for the sake of pondering beauty and being admired from afar.

V. The Symbols of Our Order

Let all recognize the followers of Gibbons by these sacred emblems:

• The Peacock Feather: An eternal reminder that Artemis believed beauty need not justify itself.

• The Mirror: Carried at all times, not for vanity, but for self-improvement (and occasional inspiration for sonnets).

• The Gilded Snuff Box: A repository for ideas, gossip, and powdered sugar, as Gibbons preferred his inspiration both sweet and portable.

VI. A Closing Oath

Raise your crystal goblet, dip your quill in gold ink, and swear with us:

To live as Artemis lived, to love as Artemis loved, and to ignore the world’s sneers as Artemis ignored invoices. For life without beauty is unthinkable, and beauty without Artemis is unimaginable.

May we forever ask, in all things great and small: What would Artemis do? And may our answer always make the dull weep with envy.

In feather, flourish, and fidelity,

The Devotees of Art for Art’s Sake

My Life as an Art Dealer: The Art of Deception

by

By Harissa Beaumont

Some names have been changed to protect the innocent

Monday began, as it often does, with a desperate phone call from a collector who has the purchasing sense of a Labrador with a trust fund. Gerald, a man who once claimed Basquiat was “a type of French bread,” had set his sights on a very specific Damien Hirst piece. Naturally, it was sold years ago and now lives somewhere in Qatar, but Gerald insisted that I “just pop it out of storage.” I explained this wasn’t an option, to which he replied, “Don’t you people have a back door for these things? Like Harrods?”

This conversation lasted 35 minutes.

By midday, the gallery was graced by Lucinda, a hedge-fund widow whose taste in art hovers somewhere between “Instagrammable” and “irreversible mistake.” She sauntered in with a handbag worth more than most cars, declaring she needed something “bold and conceptual” for the guest loo in her chalet. I suggested a small sculpture from an emerging artist in Peckham that explores themes of grief and societal decay. Lucinda stared blankly and asked, “Does it come in lilac?”

Tuesday was worse. The courier for a £250,000 painting by a mid-century modernist misread the address and attempted to deliver it to a kebab shop in Shepherd’s Bush. I had to bribe the gallery assistant with promises of lunch at Sketch to take the Overground and retrieve it, whereupon she discovered the painting leaning against the kebab counter, perilously close to a large tub of garlic sauce.

We also experienced the unwanted arrival of Maurice, a self-declared “art investor” whose understanding of the market is as thin as his knowledge of contemporary aesthetics. He loudly informed me that Banksy is “too mainstream now” and asked whether I could get him “an up-and-coming graffiti chap.” When I pointed out that I deal primarily in fine art, he winked and said, “All the same, isn’t it? It’s just stuff on walls.” I almost called security and had him thrown out.

Thursday’s highlight was the debut of a new artist I’d been championing for months: Sorcha, who creates large-scale installations from discarded electronic waste. Her work is raw, powerful, and exquisitely confrontational. The private view, however, was an utter circus. Sorcha arrived late, wearing what appeared to be a dress made of VHS tapes, and immediately started arguing with a collector who asked if she’d consider “toning down the dystopia.” She might be looking for a new gallery.

Friday morning, I discovered the gallery had been tagged in an Instagram post by a minor celebrity influencer who captioned a photo of herself in front of one of our pieces with, “ART IS JUST VIBES.” I’ve had three inquiries since from people wanting to know if we sell “NFTs of the vibes.” Of course we do, we sell anything, we are art dealers.

Finally, this morning, the landlord informed me he’s raising the rent because “art brings prestige,” which is a delightful way of saying, “I’ve been watching your clients arrive in Bentleys.” I briefly considered explaining that not all my clients arrive in Bentleys; some arrive in Range Rovers and refer to me as “darling.” But instead, I smiled, thanked him, and went to drown my sorrows in an oat milk latte.

If you’re looking for me next week, I’ll be at an opening, holding a glass of lukewarm champagne and pretending I’m not dying inside.

Did Impressionism Actually Begin Not in Paris but in Chipping Norton?

by

Part Two: Edmund Winthrop and the Forgotten Pioneer of Light

If the thesis of Chipping Norton as the true birthplace of Impressionism is to gain traction in the broader field of art history, no figure demands closer examination than Edmund Winthrop. Once dismissed as an eccentric regional painter, Winthrop’s oeuvre,when considered without the distorting lens of Parisian hegemony,reveals an artist whose daring technical innovations and conceptual insights predate the canonical Impressionist movement by at least two decades.

Indeed, to understand Winthrop is to rethink the very trajectory of modern art. In this installment, we will scrutinize his contributions to the treatment of light, atmosphere, and temporality, and place him in dialogue with the more celebrated figures of the French Impressionist circle.

The Early Years: Oxfordshire’s Unsung Luminary

Born in 1821 to a modest family of tenant farmers near Chipping Norton, Edmund Winthrop displayed an early aptitude for the visual arts. His initial training came not from formal academies but from the natural environment of the Cotswolds. Winthrop’s letters suggest an almost obsessive interest in the changing qualities of light across the seasons, which he referred to as the “ungraspable hues of the hour.”

While his contemporaries in London were captivated by the precision of the Pre-Raphaelites, Winthrop sought instead to depict the fleetingness of perception itself. By the 1840s, he had developed a distinctive technique of fragmented brushwork, eschewing detail in favor of broader strokes that captured the interplay of light and shadow. This approach would later become a hallmark of Impressionism, though Winthrop’s efforts remain largely uncredited in this regard.

Key Works: Prefiguring Monet and Pissarro

Among Winthrop’s most significant works is his 1851 painting, Morning Mist on the Evenlode. At first glance, the composition appears almost unfinished, with daubs of pale blue and muted gold dissolving into the horizon. Yet this very sense of incompleteness is the painting’s triumph: Winthrop captures not the permanence of the landscape but its perpetual transformation.

Art historian Clara Montague-Jones has argued that this work contains the seeds of Monet’s Impression, Sunrise (1872). Both paintings are united by their rejection of linearity and their emphasis on the subjective experience of light. Unlike Monet, however, Winthrop anchors his vision in the quiet stillness of rural England, where the industrial upheavals of the era remained at a safe remove.

Winthrop’s Sunset on Chipping Norton Common (1856) further underscores his radical departure from traditional landscape painting. Here, he employs bold strokes of vermilion and ochre to evoke the dappled evening light as it filters through the trees. Critics of the period dismissed the piece as “indistinct” and “amateurish,” failing to grasp that Winthrop was not painting trees but the light around them. It is precisely this preoccupation with the ephemerality of vision that situates him as a precursor to the French Impressionists.

An Overlooked Intellectual Milieu

While Winthrop’s artistic innovations are remarkable in their own right, they did not occur in isolation. The mid-19th century saw Chipping Norton emerge,however briefly,as a locus of intellectual ferment. The town’s Blue Boar Inn hosted informal gatherings of thinkers and creatives, including Harriet Lunscombe, whose theoretical writings on luminosity we explored in the first installment. Winthrop was an active participant in these salons, and his journals reveal a preoccupation with Lunscombe’s ideas about the subjective instability of sight.

Could these exchanges have seeded the broader Impressionist ethos? It is notable that Winthrop’s fragmented brushwork and atmospheric effects align closely with Lunscombe’s proposition that “the eye perceives not what is, but what it remembers of a moment.” This interplay of art and theory in Chipping Norton anticipates the collaborative dynamism later seen in Parisian cafés, where the Impressionists refined their vision.

Connections to France: Parallel Developments or Transmissions of Influence?

Perhaps the most tantalizing question surrounding Winthrop’s legacy is whether his work directly influenced the French Impressionists. As noted in the first article, Camille Pissarro is believed to have visited Chipping Norton in 1852. Records from the parish archives suggest that Winthrop exhibited several pieces during this period, including Morning Mist on the Evenlode. Could Pissarro have encountered these works, carrying their innovations back to Paris?

Though definitive evidence remains elusive, parallels between Winthrop and Pissarro’s early landscapes are too striking to dismiss as coincidence. Both artists share a fascination with rural life, atmospheric depth, and the fleeting quality of natural light. Moreover, the very notion of en plein air painting,a practice often credited to the French Impressionists,was central to Winthrop’s methodology years before it gained prominence across the Channel.

Reassessing the Narrative

If we accept that Edmund Winthrop’s work prefigured, and perhaps even influenced, the French Impressionists, then the art historical narrative must be revised. Chipping Norton, far from being a provincial backwater, emerges as a site of innovation that shaped the trajectory of Western art.

In the next installment of this series, we will explore the role of Harriet Lunscombe’s theoretical writings in shaping Winthrop’s vision and consider how her intellectual contributions anticipated Impressionism’s philosophical underpinnings. Was it Lunscombe, not Baudelaire, who first articulated the fleeting, ephemeral essence of modernity?

World’s Most Expensive Artwork Sells for $3 Billion: ‘Untitled (Probably a Fish)’ Stuns the Market

by

History was made last night at an exclusive auction in Ramsgate when the enigmatic artwork “Untitled (Probably a Fish)” sold for an eye-watering $3 billion, officially becoming the world’s most expensive artwork. The sale took place at the hyper-exclusive Black Glove Auction House, attended by art-world royalty, billionaires, and several people who appeared to just be there for the canapés.

The buyer, whose identity is shrouded in mystery but rumored to be either a tech billionaire or a crown prince, outbid a swarm of global elites in what was described as “the most intense bidding war since Van Gogh’s left ear sketch hit the market.”

The Artwork

“Untitled (Probably a Fish)” is the magnum opus of obscure Belgian conceptual artist Lars Van Der Klink. The piece consists of a single crumpled sheet of paper, reportedly salvaged from a seaside café in Ostend, onto which Van Der Klink scribbled a faint outline of what might be a fish,or, according to one critic, “the fleeting essence of despair itself.”

The artwork’s frame,a minimalist creation made of reinforced carbon fiber and ethically sourced Himalayan yak wool,was designed by Van Der Klink himself and has been hailed as “integral to the piece’s critique of human fragility.”

“Is it a fish? Is it not? That’s the power of the piece,” said noted art historian Claudia Grey. “It forces us to confront the ambiguity of existence, the frailty of interpretation, and, most importantly, our inability to understand what Lars was thinking.”

The Bidding Frenzy

The opening bid was set at a modest $50 million, but it quickly escalated as collectors and institutions vied for the honor of owning the enigmatic masterpiece. Witnesses described the atmosphere in the auction room as “electric” and “slightly unhinged,” with one bidder reportedly throwing their shoe in frustration after being outbid.

Auctioneer Lucien D’Argent, resplendent in a velvet tuxedo, milked the crowd with theatrical pauses and dramatic intonation. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is not just a fish,or not a fish,it is a moment. A cultural apotheosis.”

The final hammer fell at $3 billion, accompanied by a smattering of polite applause, gasps, and at least one audible “Are you kidding me?”

Reactions

The sale has sent shockwaves through the art world. Critics are divided, as always:

• The New York Art Lens called the sale “a landmark moment in the commodification of ambiguity.”

• Post-Canvas Review derided it as “a billion-dollar doodle.”

• Social media, predictably, erupted in memes, with hashtags like #ProbablyAFish and #MoneyLaundering trending within minutes.

Meanwhile, Van Der Klink, the artist himself, appeared bemused by the record-breaking sale. In a rare statement from his self-imposed exile in a yurt outside Brussels, he said, “I honestly forgot I made that one. But it’s nice that people like it, I suppose.”

The Legacy

With “Untitled (Probably a Fish)” now enshrined in art history, speculation has turned to its future. Will it be displayed in a public museum, as the auctioneer promised, or locked away in a private vault, joining the shadowy ranks of “art for no one”?

One thing is certain: the sale cements Lars Van Der Klink’s position as a leading figure in the conceptual art world, while also ensuring that “crumpled paper chic” will be the hottest trend in galleries worldwide for years to come.

For now, the world can only marvel at the staggering sum paid for a scribble on paper, and ponder the immortal question: Was it really worth it? Or, as Lars himself might say, “Is anything?”

Ephraim Velour’s Sock Soliloquy – a review

by

In the heart of the bustling city, amidst the towering skyscrapers and the ceaseless hum of urban life, lies a hidden gem, a testament to the power of art to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. This artwork, a conceptual sculpture titled “The Laundromat Rainbow,” is a captivating installation that challenges our perceptions and invites us to contemplate the beauty and fragility of everyday objects.

At first glance, the sculpture appears to be a whimsical arrangement of colorful socks, seemingly haphazardly strewn across the gallery floor. However, upon closer inspection, a deeper meaning emerges. The socks, once discarded and forgotten, have been meticulously arranged to form a shattered rainbow, a symbol of hope and unity that has been fractured and dispersed.

The artist’s choice of material is both poignant and thought-provoking. Socks, often overlooked and undervalued, are transformed into a powerful metaphor for the overlooked and undervalued members of society. By elevating these humble objects to the status of art, the artist challenges us to reconsider our perceptions and appreciate the beauty in the mundane.

The shattered rainbow serves as a visual representation of the broken promises and shattered dreams that permeate our society. It speaks to the fragility of hope and the challenges we face. Yet, amidst the fragments, there is a glimmer of hope, a suggestion that even in the face of adversity, we can find beauty and resilience.

The sculpture’s placement in the gallery is equally significant. Positioned in a space that is typically reserved for the display of precious and valuable works of art, the laundromat socks challenge our notions of value and worth. By placing these everyday objects in a context that is traditionally reserved for the elite, the artist subverts our expectations and forces us to confront our own biases.

“The Laundromat Rainbow” is a thought-provoking and visually stunning artwork that challenges our perceptions and invites us to contemplate the beauty and fragility of everyday objects. Through its clever use of materials and symbolism, the sculpture speaks to the challenges of life, while also offering a glimmer of hope for a brighter future

Book Review: Dada, You’re Doing It Again: The Avant-Garde as a Prolonged Temper Tantrum by Professor Malvina Jibber

by

In Dada, You’re Doing It Again, noted cultural provocateur and self-styled “historian of art hysteria” Professor Malvina Jibber offers a blistering reinterpretation of the Dada movement, suggesting that the entirety of early 20th-century anti-art wasn’t a reaction to war, or nihilism, or even Duchamp’s moustachioed Mona Lisa,but rather an extended and highly curated temper tantrum thrown by artists who had simply not been invited to enough parties.

Jibber’s central argument is that Dada was less a movement and more “a collective sulk that got out of hand, then became extremely fashionable.” She likens the famous Cabaret Voltaire gatherings in Zürich to “the avant-garde equivalent of revving one’s motorbike whilst wearing a velvet smoking jacket.”

Chapter One, Tristan Tzara Throws a Fit, opens with an imagined scene in which the poet, denied access to a fondue party hosted by Swiss Symbolists, retaliates by inventing performance poetry made entirely of sneezes and obscenities shouted into a megaphone through a sock. “This was not rebellion,” Jibber insists, “it was a form of attention-seeking too abstract for kindergarten but somehow perfect for 1916.”

From there, the book gleefully unravels. Marcel Duchamp’s famous Fountain? “A passive-aggressive bathroom prank.” Hugo Ball’s costume poems? “Proof that if you give a man too much felt and not enough supervision, things will head south quickly.” Jean Arp’s paper collages? “The work of someone who dropped things and decided not to pick them up.”

Jibber’s prose is relentless in its scholarly tone, riddled with footnotes that lead nowhere, references to fake Swiss newspapers (Le Scandale Invisible), and one baffling appendix devoted entirely to the dietary habits of Zurich’s café culture. Chapter titles include:

• Cut-Up or Shut Up

• Zürich, Zany, and Slightly Damp

• If You Glue a Spoon to It, Is It Still Art?

• Why the Hat Was Crying: A Psychoanalysis of Max Ernst’s Millinery Phase

Most outrageously, Jibber proposes that the entire Dada movement was retroactively curated by a secretive alliance of Parisian gallery owners who found the movement’s nonsense to be “highly affordable and weirdly portable.” In one passage, she posits that Dadaism peaked when a man accidentally sold his laundry as a symbolic sculpture titled Le Défi des Chaussettes.

Though some of her claims are historically inexact and frequently incoherent, Jibber’s book is riotously entertaining. She skewers sacred cows with a butter knife and dances around scholarship like a dadaist performing a foxtrot with an oversized soup can. Her love for the absurd is palpable, and her conclusion,“Maybe Dada never ended, it just moved to Instagram”,feels disturbingly plausible.

Recommended for: anarchic aesthetes, curators with a dark sense of humour, former art students and anyone who has ever been caught short whilst looking at a urinal on a plinth.

Have Henry V’s Watercolours of Agincourt and Other Battles Been Discovered in a Cellar in Monmouth?

by

The sleepy Welsh town of Monmouth, birthplace of King Henry V, has been thrust into the spotlight this week following a sensational discovery that could rewrite art history. Local historians are abuzz with speculation after what appears to be a series of watercolour paintings, purportedly depicting scenes from the Battle of Agincourt and other key military campaigns of the 15th century, was found in a dusty cellar beneath the Monmouth Museum of Cheese.

The paintings, attributed (in pencil, on the back) to H5, are being heralded as “a revelation of unexpected delight.” Could it be that the warrior-king who once cried “Once more unto the breach!” was also quietly murmuring “Pass me the crimson alazarin”?

The Discovery

The artwork was unearthed during an ambitious effort to install a vending machine selling artisanal crisps in the museum’s basement. Maintenance worker Nigel Pumble, who made the discovery, described the moment:

“I was moving a crate of novelty keyrings shaped like longbows, and suddenly there they were,some old, scruffy paintings just sitting in a box marked Agincourt stuff. I knew straight away they were important, because they had a distinctive historical vibe.”

The alleged masterpieces were wrapped in what has been identified as an early example of a 19th-century tablecloth, leading experts to speculate that they were rediscovered,and promptly forgotten again,sometime during the Victorian era.

The Paintings

The collection consists of seven watercolours, each bearing a unique interpretation of Henry V’s famous military victories. Among the highlights:

• “Agincourt in the Rain” , A moody, grey-toned depiction of soldiers slogging through mud, with remarkably detailed puddles that hint at Henry’s possible obsession with “the English weather as metaphor.” Some art historians are already comparing this piece to Constable, though admittedly it would be Constable with terrible perspective.

• “Siege of Harfleur, But Cheerful” , A vibrant explosion of yellows and blues, with an inexplicable number of smiling faces. A curiously modern-looking dog sits in the foreground, wearing what might be a soldier’s helmet.

• “Portrait of a French Knight with a Sad Moustache” , This intimate close-up of an enemy combatant reveals Henry’s softer, empathetic side,as well as his struggle to draw hands.

• “Battle Banquet Still Life” , An oddly serene painting of roasted pheasants, goblets of mead, and a lone, half-eaten custard tart. One expert theorizes this may reflect Henry’s post-battle priorities: food first, speeches later.

Each painting is signed with a cryptic “H5” in what could either be a signature or a very sloppy attempt at Roman numerals.

Could They Be Genuine?

The discovery has divided the art world. Dr. Felicity Gudgeon, a medieval art expert at the University of Littlehampton, is cautiously optimistic:

“It’s entirely plausible that Henry V could have dabbled in watercolours. After all, the court had significant downtime between battles. What better way to unwind than by painting your enemies in increasingly vibrant shades of vermilion?”

However, other scholars remain skeptical. Sir Trevor Snoddley of the Royal Society for War Art, called the paintings “about as likely to be Henry V’s as my Aunt Mildred’s embroidery of the Spanish Armada.” He pointed to several “anachronistic flourishes,” such as the presence of a rainbow in one painting (not yet a prominent motif in medieval art) and what appears to be a soldier holding a baguette in “March to Agincourt.”

Public Reaction

The people of Monmouth have fully embraced the discovery, with the town council already commissioning banners reading “Monmouth: Where Kings Paint”. A Henry V-themed watercolour workshop has been announced, where locals can attempt to recreate “Agincourt in the Rain” using puddle water and locally-sourced pigments.

The discovery has also sparked heated debates on social media. “Henry V was too busy being a warrior-king to paint!!” one Twitter user exclaimed, while another countered, “You don’t know his life. Maybe he had a hobby, OK?”

What’s Next?

The paintings are set to undergo rigorous testing by experts to determine their authenticity. Carbon dating will be used to establish the age of the paper, while handwriting analysts will compare the “H5” signature to known examples of Henry’s writing.

Should the paintings be proven authentic, they would undoubtedly add a surprising new dimension to our understanding of the famous king,one less about martial glory and more about the importance of shading.

For now, though, the collection will remain on display at the Monmouth Museum, where it is already drawing crowds of curious onlookers. Whether genuine or not, the works remind us of one thing: even history’s fiercest warriors might have paused now and then to ask themselves, “What if I added a bit more zinc white?”

Artist Ephraim Velour Embarks on a Radical New Chapter: The Art of ‘Conceptual Laundry’

by

By Mirabel Finch

Ephraim Velour, the avant-garde darling of the post-minimalist-near-maximalist movement, has stunned the art world yet again. Known for his provocative installations, such as “The Tedium of Eggs” (12,000 eggs painstakingly arranged by best-before date) and “Oxygen: A Manifesto” (an empty room with fans blowing intermittently to symbolise “breath privilege”), Velour has announced an audacious new area of focus: Conceptual Laundry.

In this bold new phase of his career, Velour seeks to explore the hidden poetics of laundering clothing, a process he describes as “the purification of identity at 1,200 revolutions per minute.”

Speaking from his studio (a converted laundromat in an industrial part of Berlin), Velour explained the inspiration behind this new direction:

“We all wear clothes, but who among us considers the journey of those clothes? Laundry is an ancient ritual,a cyclical erasure and rebirth of sweat, sorrow, and spaghetti sauce. To cleanse a garment is to erase its memory, to obliterate its history. My work will interrogate the violence of this act while celebrating its necessity.”

Velour’s initial works in this genre promise to be as profound as his earlier output. Highlights include:

• “Spin Cycle: A Study in Oblivion”: A 45-minute video piece in which a vintage washing machine is filmed from inside the drum, offering a hypnotic meditation on motion, chaos, and the fleeting nature of soap bubbles.

• “Lint: A Soft Archive”: A tactile installation composed entirely of lint gathered from dryers around the world, organised by texture, colour, and residue.

• “Detergent Triptych”: A performance piece where Velour drinks shots of organic, lavender-infused “laundry detergent” (actually a non-toxic coffee-based liqueur) while reciting poetry about stain removal and existential dread.

• “Sock Soliloquy”: A conceptual sculpture made entirely of socks found in laundromats, arranged to resemble a shattered rainbow.

A New Medium, a Familiar Approach

While some might see this pivot as a new direction for the artist, those familiar with Velour’s oeuvre will recognize his signature themes of futility, repetition, and absurdity. “Laundry is an inherently Sisyphean task,” Velour explains. “You think it’s done, but it’s never done. Isn’t that the essence of life itself?”

Critics are already divided. Renowned art critic Giles Throckmorton called the announcement “a revelation,” adding, “Velour has elevated the mundane into the metaphysical. He is the Da Vinci of detergent.” Meanwhile, a less enthusiastic review in Post-Art Journal labeled the work “wet and over-agitated.”

The buzz around Velour’s new work has already reached fever pitch, with collectors clamoring for early access to his pieces. A private auction of his lint sculptures reportedly caused a bidding war in Zurich, with one piece, “Greyness #4 (Clean but Sad),” selling for $250,000.

Fashion designers are also taking note, with whispers that a capsule collection inspired by Velour’s “Laundry Aesthetics” is in the works, featuring garments that are “pre-laundered” to perfection.

What’s Next?

Velour has big plans for the future, including a touring exhibition titled “Delicates Only: The Untold Stories of Laundry”, set to debut at the Billingsgate Contemporary before traveling to Tokyo and New York.

He also plans to publish a companion book, “Tumble Dry Philosophy: Essays on the Art of Erasure,” which will be printed on fabric instead of paper for “maximum tactile engagement.”

When asked if he feels this new chapter might alienate fans of his earlier work, Velour is nonchalant. “True art should alienate,” he says, smoothing a crease in his linen shirt. “Otherwise, it’s just décor.”