So tell me, where do I find the crap?

Dear people, I've said it before and I'm saying it again - where is the crap at?

Currently making small/medium sized sculptures from found materials, this is an example of how it would look if I could find the goddamn materials. These aren't materials I found, but borrowed, from a cupboard at college.
Old tubing, planks of wood, scraps of metal, glass, tape, grit, cutlery, fabric, chairs, tables, skateboards...

I've started to think that refuse skips would be good places to find items of a reasonable size, for no cost, and no extra environmental impact (no one wants them anyway).
If anybody (preferably near Thame/Oxford) has a neighbour with a skip outside their house at the moment please let me know.

Alternatively if you happen to be one of the wonderful people with a garage of crap they haven't got round to chucking out, let me come play in it!

Introduction to Sunday Breakfast Blog (starring Heroes on Ship Street, Oxford)

A few blogs ago, I revealed my enthusiasm to write a weekly blog about Sunday breakfasts. And for anybody who doesn't live in England, or lives under a rock, I do not mean Weetabix or toast. Oh no.

In England, a Sunday breakfast usually refers to a "full breakfast" and we affectionately call it an "English breakfast" too, unlike you European suckers and your "continental breakfasts" - as if a croissant and juice is really that special. A full breakfast is one of the most traditional English meals you could eat, and differs from any other breakfast in that it features cooked foods such as eggs, bacon or baked beans. Such a glorious dish would not be confined, by many people, to a Sunday, if it weren't for the fatty nature of the food and the growing pursuit of a healthy diet.

"It's called cholesterol, Scottish people eat it. Most of them don't live past fifty" - fictional character Alan Partridge on the full English breakfast.

There's a lot I don't like about this country - the weather, Cheryl Cole's accent and the price of cigarettes, but you'll never hear me badmouth the full English breakfast. In celebration of this dish I decided that every few Sundays I would sample this delight in a different Oxford eatery (in a totally non-sad, non-lonely way... obviously.)

Sunday 22nd April - Heroes Sandwich Bar, 8 Ship Street, Oxford.

Heroes is on Ship Street, just off Cornmarket - central and accessible, but slightly removed from the weekend mania of the main streets.
Obviously the first massive decision is "What do I choose?"
Fortunately, Heroes has a straight-forward traditional breakfast menu, and offers a 10% student discount, so I've not too much to worry about.
I read in Women's Health that it's far healthier to order a vegetarian full English because the quality of meat in some breakfasts isn't top. Sunday is also workout day, so on this occasion I made the healthy vegetarian choice.

The contents of this veggie breakfast: 2 fried eggs, 2 pieces of brown toast, mushrooms, tomato, baked beans, and (surprisingly) a falafel.
Having never had falafel in a breakfast before I was impressed by the bold and somewhat untraditional move - I enjoy food from other countries. (Doesn't mean I'll ever be ready to see frogs legs on an English breakfast menu, though.)
Eggs... I am a bit egg-phobic. Maybe it's because they're gooey and slimy and all to do with chickens not being pregnant - they are just fucking weird. Unable to pawn my eggs off to my breakfast buddy, I decided to brave them myself. And I liked them. That works massively in favour for Heroes.

I'd complain about the lack of hash browns, but their absence just meant I didn't feel so gross afterwards.

Yep. That's right. No complaints. Maybe I'm losing my bitter touch, or maybe Heroes just do a truly eggs-cellent Sunday breakfast!
What a great start to Sunday breakfast blog.

Until the next Sunday,

A plea for your 'crap'

"Be careful tonight, Kat, don't pick up any syringes."



Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I write to you with a plea for 'crap'.

For the last two months a theme within my art works has been 'found objects', particularly those which are considered 'rubbish' - broken, deteriorated or useless. (I affectionately refer to these objects as 'crap'.)
This has involved walks in various natural areas seeking out anything that quite simply does not belong within that environment. As you may imagine, my interest began to dwindle. Whilst I occasionally find something interesting, the majority of my findings are cigarette packets and drinks cans. Unfortunately, these alone are not enough for me to get really in to these works.

So now I ask you - what kind of 'crap' do you have? Maybe there are socks an ex lover left at your house, or broken objects, or dead batteries... anything.
Anything that you decide is useless to you, is useful to me - and for all you ecologically concerned individuals, rest assured that anything I do not use will be suitably recycled.

Please leave a comment, message me on Facebook or Tweet me @kittykingb if you can help me.

Plans for a one woman Wuthering Heights musical, thank you Kate Bush

Allow me to set the scene,


It is a Monday night.  Earlier today I sat through an Art crit where I realised I'd not done nearly enough work.  Sat at my dining room table, attempting to work, listening to my dad's mp3 player (I drowned mine last week.)  Suddenly - on comes Kate Bush's most wondrous Wuthering Heights.


My first experience of Wuthering Heights was aged 10 years old, watching the then popular Stars In Their Eyes Kids, where I watched a little kid attempt to knock this song out of the ballpark - as I too would aim to do, many years later, following many glasses of wine, on many occasions.
About 6 years later I used Bush's lyrics within an English Literature essay, having forgotten any critical quotes regarding the Bronte classic, on which my exam was about.  I still got a B.


At the table I begin to wonder - was there a Wuthering Heights musical? ... No, I decide there wasn't.  Well - was there a Kate Bush musical? ... I haven't heard of one.


It was about 5 minutes ago I, Kat Buchanan, concluded that should every other life ambition of mine fail, I will be a one woman Wuthering Heights musical, which will be running for 7 nights a week on London's West End, then New York's Broadway, until I die.


And you're all invited!


Disclaimer: I will be the screeching lady on the street corner being manhandled by police whilst screaming into the night - "It's me, KATTY!"


If you're having a hard time picturing it, I give you Noel Fielding, making less of an embarrassment of himself than I plan to:

A post that isn't even about me

Dear blog,

Believe it or not I've had so many ideas of what to write lately. At least one idea a day. And not even just ranty horrible blogs - some genuinely interesting, fun to read sorts. I don't know how I've not got round to it.
Tonight I'm not really writing about my life, but the lives of everyone else who's in my life.

This month, or even more specifically, this week, a lot of big things are happening to the important people in my life.

One of my best friends has been head-hunted by the NHS to be working in London, alongside doing her degree at Oxford University. She starts her new job tomorrow and will spend a few days in training up north. Words cannot describe how ridiculously proud I am of her, yet moreover I am in complete awe of how she plans to manage her time. I find time management impossible lately, today, for example, has slipped through my fingers completely and been a non-day.

Another friend had a big promotion.

On Saturday my brother is having a leaving party before he moves to Italy to continue a path that seems like it was made for him. It won't be too weird living in different countries - both my brother and sister did foreign language degrees and spent a year each abroad - but I'll miss having him around the corner in London... even if I haven't told him that directly.

Someone who is really special to me is moving at the weekend too, but fortunately less far afield.

Basically, everyone in my life is doing ridiculously impressive stuff this week.

What am I doing this week?
Tomorrow morning I'm collecting the bag I drunkenly left on the Oxford Tube on Saturday morning. On Tuesday I'm developing a black and white film. At some point I will find out how my first University interview went, but it went pretty badly and my hopes are low.

I find it so ridiculously depressing that it's almost more appropriate to laugh than cry.

Jealous and proud, in equal measures, of everybody right now. The people I love are embarking on really exciting adventures, so of course I'm happy for them. But I can't help feeling really unimpressive in comparison.

But come on, it's not all bad - I've had this idea for a weekly blog entry evaluating full English breakfasts. What could be more awe-inspiring?

(Please kill me.)

A post that isn't "fucking morbid" for once

If you have read this blog before you may have noticed that I take photos...

Between Summers 2010 and 2011 I did a lot of film photography. Until the last few weeks, the last roll of film I developed was a multiple-exposure experiment -



(A poor man's photography effect, but sometimes charming nevertheless.)

In my last art project the digital photography was intensive. I have a love/hate relationship with digital cameras - they're accessible and portable and quick, and you could argue that they work out cheaper than film cameras. But I also think that they're soulless, void of personality, and require no photographic skill from the 'photographer' whatsoever. (It's partly this hate of digital photography that put me off applying to do a degree in photography.)

During a fun day of exploration around Oxford with a friend in January, I had a fling with a disposable camera. Or two.






For my most recent art project, I've decided I'll be doing a lot more film photography and work within a darkroom. That'll include photograms like this - which remind me of X-rays, aesthetically and scientifically -




Last weekend I wacked my Minolta SLR out, and seeing the prints today has thrown me back in love with film, the way I was a year ago. The results were shots I'd taken between September 2011 and this week. The colour and focus that I get from this camera is a million times more beautiful than some shitty point and shoot and focus digital jobbie. The world looks a lot nicer through my Minolta prints.






Obviously, the other beautiful thing about film is the value: unlike digital, where you can take 1000 photos of the same thing and choose the best, there is a cost to every shot you take on a film camera. People tend to get attached to film photographs for their less 'mass producible' nature.

I can tell that this love affair has been seriously re-sparked.

Films I have to use up -
Half a disposable camera
Half on the Minolta
Either 22 left or 22 so far on a Canon F1.8 50mm which I've only tested once and I accidentally snapped and exposed the film (results ended bluish like this) -



My current project requires walks in rural and urban environments with these cameras, so if you feel like joining in (you won't be snapped unless I decide you're worth the £! Joy of film) then give me a shout. A walking buddy is always fun.


I'm hoping to get back to some sort of consistent blogging soon.
This blog is dedicated to a special person who gave me this valuable advice -




So that's a wrap folks.
Don't we love it more when I'm being cynical, though?

I've been missing, blah blah blah, tell you about it later.

Unsurprisingly, I've got a bee in my bonnet. Despite knowing very little about a matter, I'm about to rant a little bit about it.

There has been something on the news in the last couple of days regarding abortion.
The BBC mini-headline reads: "The Department of Health has launched an inquiry into claims that doctors agreed to carry out abortions on the grounds of the sex of unborn babies."

Having only skim read the rest of the article I'm not going to go into the facts at all, but if you'd like to read it in any depth it's here - http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-17136213

All I can really think about this whole thing is: WELL DUH! If something like that is actually happening then it's not actually surprising, anyone who can honestly pretend to be shocked by it is a class A bullshitter and I take my imaginary hat off to them.

People nowadays have been conditioned to expect they'll get everything they want. Go into Tescos (you want a stir fry for dinner) do you pick up an onion and beansprouts and pepper and mushrooms? No, fuck that, of course you don't - Tesco have chopped it up and put it in a little pack for you. Do you want cash back with that sir?

What I mean is we are a generation increasingly full of people spoilt rotten, and it's not even a class thing anymore. Everyone can have what they want. You don't feel like mothering a boy because they'll play football and get dirty - bang and the baby is gone. Maybe next time you'll get that little princess.

I'm being a bit bleak with this, maybe I should clarify that I'm pro choice, I'm also fucking tired, but seriously - this happened in China for ages. Baby boys were preferred to girls, and now that it is maybe happening in England everyone is getting so 'not in my back yard' about it.

To avoid becoming completely over opinionated I'm going to hold back a lot of other views I've got about this.

But was anyone else seriously unsurprised by this news article? Or am I just getting more cynical by the second?