Today we say Sayonara to the Japan scenic photo series with misty blue islands and silver grey cities.... Click through for more.Read More
I wish Mr G. and I were the kind of art fair folk who talk about ‘Frieze’ and ‘Art Basel’ the way we talk about Meli Melo and Valdeon. That way I could have told people ‘oh, we slipped down to the Naoshima for the Setouchi Triennale’ last year. The truth is we are more enthusiastic about cheese than art and we only found out the triennale was on about a week before we got on the plane to Japan. I’m glad we did because now I can tell you that you that if you don’t get to traipse Naoshima and its companion islands with a bunch of Japanese art students, enjoying the accompanying student-standard food and accommodation, getting lung fulls of tropical-ish breezes and eye fulls of misty blue island panoramas and modern art - then your trip to Japan will be terribly incomplete.
Most of the food on the island is student-standard because students don’t really eat, they just drink. So the question is not so much ‘what is there to eat?’ but ‘what can you eat?’ on Naoshima. Lets get started before I put you off….Read More
I’m half Greek, but I’ll be the first to tell you that Greeks don’t elevate food to ‘art’ like the French or Japanese do. There’s no doubt that they love their food just as much - but despite the enthusiasm with which which they eat and create meals, most Greeks I know would send you out of the kitchen with a terse ‘malakismeni’, (which you can Google because I will not translate) if you called them a ‘foodie’. Because food is for family, nourishment and arguing over, but definitely not for amassing cookbooks, photographing, instagramming or indeed, even blogging about. Like I said-I’m only half.
I feel like I'm cheating with this one. Two parts of the world so stunning even I couldn't manage a bad shot. Enjoy.
In Australia our green is pale-ish and dusty and our hills are softly rounded and finish in with long, sweeping shoulders. On the 6 hour train ride out of Tokyo to the tiny, tour bus-y, historic town of Ogimachi in Shirakawa-go, Autumn was raging across the jagged, steep cliffs and the lush, saturated mid-greens were being burnt alive into reds and golds.