Andrew Logan: Time to honour the man who's 'shitting glitter'

'Andrew Logan Phenomenal
Elizabeth Taylor Portrait'

Some time ago I wondered (very) aloud why venerable actor Christopher Lee had not yet been knighted, when just about anyone garlanded with a sporty medal is honoured by the age of 30. It took awhile for comprehension to sink in, but one day I awoke to the news that Sir Christopher had arrived.

I now turn my attention to Andrew Logan. Not merely founder of Alternative Miss World, he is a celebrated sculptor, jewellery-maker, performance artist, painter and portraitist - a fine example is his Elizabeth Taylor, currently on sale on eBay for a modest £22,250 - 'postage' is an extra £500. Buy here.

Andrew Logan's Red Bracelet: £280

His international influence is without question - no object may be saved from conscription into his multi-media fantasies and bling; and Los Angeles, Monterrey and St Petersburg have hosted his exhibitions, among other places. Not one celebrity has so much as grazed their moist, perfumed flesh on the jagged glass framed in his pendants, necklaces or bracelets: to turn a stellar ego into a looking glass for other stellar egos to gaze into for auto-erotic delight is itself a subversively amusing phenomenon, an irony lost on many of the mirror dolls in their showbiz get-ups, perhaps. Even planets have a part to play in his artistic vision - so naturally, I am a fan.

When our dreadful leaders have quite sated themselves on the persecution of the poor, unemployed, disabled and anyone else perceived as economically vulnerable for a cheap slash, perhaps they might like to consider honouring Mr Logan (a Libran btw, born 1945) and demonstrate to the world that British talent does not start or end in the fucking Olympic Village.

If you want to learn more about Logan I recommend you see the 2011 movie documentary, The British Guide to Showing Off, which explores and celebrates his glittery and anarchic world, and features the 'shitting glitter' observation (by gorgeous Grayson Perry, I think). Here's the trailer....

John Waters: Johnny Mathis and loving your polar opposite

Illustration by Eric Hanson

Last time I was in Baltimore I had an opportunity to meet the cult filmmaker John Waters - director of Pink Flamingos, Hairspray, all the crazy movies I hope to watch again in my last week on this planet (mid-century, bitches). It was an opportunity I passed on... there was a trannies' street party to attend. And meeting one's minor gods is always a mistake. I've never recovered from a 1-2-1 with the actual Gore Vidal.

Now I'm delighted to see that Beautiful Books is to bring out Waters' Role Models later this year. It's a memoir of sorts hitched to the stars who've inspired him and whom he worships: the religious instinct can never be expunged, please note. Among these idols are Denton Welch, ex-Manson follower Leslie van Houten, lesbian stripper Zorro and outsider pornographers Bobby Garcia and David Hurles. And Saint Catherine of Siena - you may recall that St Catherine now communicates through the US clairvoyante Elizabeth Baron: indeed, she's friends with the late Hollywood drama queen Lana Turner. Only Madame Arcati can be trusted to tell you this stuff.

Another Waters idol is singer Johnny Mathis - the two men even get to meet (read this taster from Role Models, scroll down). Waters describes the veteran smoothy as "the polar opposite of me" and asks: "Do we secretly idolize our imagined opposites, yearning to become the role models for others we know we could never be for ourselves?" And he recollects: "When I taught filmmaking at a jail in Maryland in the 1980s, I always got my class to loosen up by doing improv and asking them to play 'the exact opposite of yourself.'"

I like this game. I've been thinking of some celebs who might benefit from some improv of their polar opposites

Simon Cowell - Divine
Pope Benedict - Dirk Diggler
Sarah Palin - La Cicciolina
Martin Amis - Katie Price
Richard Dawkins - Michael Jackson's Bubbles
Victoria Beckham - Daw Aung San Suu Kyi
Russell Crowe - Jo Brand
Piers Morgan - Marcel Marceau
Nick Clegg - Nick Clegg

Beautiful Books blog

Duncan Fallowell to make Divine: The Movie!

I hear of an exciting rumour - me and my rumours! - that the acclaimed writer and movie actor Duncan Fallowell and actress Jenny Runacre are to make an avant garde film about Divine for the 21st anniversary of (Harris) Glenn Milstead's death next year (March 7) - Milstead was the lady herself. Apparently meetings have taken place and the film will be about 35 minutes long, very amusing but strange and dreamy, too.

The ghost of Divvie is plainly drawn to me. Regular readers of my blog will recall my visit to the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore in June where I saw for the first time Andrew Logan's monster-sized statue of the silver screen's premier drag act, click here. In some ways it is more like Divine than Divine herself. She was a Libran (natch), just like Duncan, whom I owe a horoscope btw, and his (Divvie's) mummy is still alive as you'll see if you click the link.

I'm not quite sure how Duncan will deal with the shit-eating in Pink Flamingos so I'll ask him when I bump into him at the Groucho. But for Divvie, Hairspray would not have become the great franchise it's turning out to be (the sequel is in preparation); and John Travolta and the increasingly, er, "flamboyant" (doncha love the tabloid cunts?) Michael Ball would not now be celebrated Edna Turnblads of stage and screen (unrespectively).

Divvie owed everything to Dame Elizabeth Taylor whose beauty and incessant diva-dom tutored him-then-her in the dark arts of celebrity warfare and use of kohl.

HonFest: Madame Arcati in Baltimore - hi, hons!

When I arrive at Washington Dulles (how suddenly polite airport security seem to be: what a contrast to past experiences at US airports: and the staff have lost weight ...) I take the scenic route by road to Baltimore for a whistle-stop tour of the city and its Inner Harbor.

I am talked into "riding the ducks" aboard some WW2-built truck that doubles as a boat and our guide/driver is Captain Crackerjack . The tourist custom is to wave at passing native pedestrians and shout hello while blowing a yellow duck decoy whistle at them. People wave back. Captain Crackerjack plays Village People's YMCA for some reason and blows his duck whistle hard to the beat and I notice he has a bushy 'tache. Already I have connected with the spirit of Baltimore.

Capt Crackerjack would appear to be complementary to HonFest - the event dedicated to Hairspray and which I am attending today in my feather boa, Edna Everage-ish specs and heavy gem ring. All part of the city's innocent celebration of cockless camp. You have to wonder about Baltimore. Anyway if there's time this weekend, I'll fill you in on HonFest ...

(Did you know half a bottle of cognac and three red roses are left on Edgar Allen Poe's Baltimore gravestone every year? No, nor did I)