Phut

Fortified by a Mr Whippy with the taste and texture of a jellyfish, I went to the animation screening at the Royal College of Art this evening. Joan Ashowrth is the head of animation there and we have been friends for more than 15 years, from when I lived in Camberwell a stone's throw (quite literally) from her, just through the estate (mind the hypodermics and the kestrel that rides the thermals from the high-rise flats, swooping on poor unsuspecting shrieking sparrows), under the smelly pigeon bridge (mind the plops on your head and the man having loud arguments with a disembodied voice on his mobile phone), and across a road (mind the cars).
I knew I couldn't stay for the whole lot but it is always good fun. The urbane Christopher Frayling makes a speechlet at the beginning; this year he mentioned that the students have been animating archive interviews from the Imperial War Museum. In passing, he talked about the stuffed donkey at the museum, which he claimed responsibility for. Apparently, they ordered a mule but the Government sent them a donkey instead. It was an ammunition donkey: make of that what you will.
The students there make a wide variety of films, and there are lots of good stories amongst them, not just clever animation (though there is that, too). It is a relief that they have not become totally besotted by digital technology. In a lot of the films, you can see good illustration at work, or good model-making.
After the screening, everyone climbs up hundreds of flights of stairs, to the Senior Common Room where the walls are dotted with paintings by extremely famous artists who have either studied or worked there. Very delicious wine is poured into your glass when you are not looking and you have to be careful, or you are sick when you come out of the tube station on the way home.
One year, I met John Hegley there. We used to share The Chefs' drummer with his band, the Popticians. When they got more famous than us, Russell left to be a full-time Poptician, and the Chefs went phut. We had needed his energy; but I think our time was up anyway.