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Art Design People

Pattie Boyd + The Lower Third Soho London

The Other Side of the Lens

“My dog’s name is Ziggy Stardust and my son’s middle name is Bowie!” introduces Karrie Goldberg. “I’ve had the great fortune of working with rock legends like Duran Duran and Glen Matlock and Thomas Dolby so for me this project really is a dream come true. Being able to open a bar on Denmark Street – wow! To be able to bring music back to Denmark Street is truly an honour. Above you, as you may know, is the former 12 Bar Club so you are actually beneath where the likes of Adele and The Libertines played some of their very first gigs. Tonight I am especially thrilled to welcome the legendary Pattie Boyd.”

“Afterwards I invite you to go upstairs and try some of the killer cocktails!” Karrie concludes. We will. Joined by Pattie herself. Exile on Mainstreet, Itchycoo Park, Schoolboys in Disgrace, Technical Ecstasy… the alchemic elixirs are as memorable as their names. Band of Gypsys, Quadrophenia, Never Mind the Bollocks, Nursery Cryme. You 20th century music lovers will recognise those names. They’re song titles from Genesis, Jimi Hendrix, Sex Pistols, Small Faces, The Who and a few other every so slightly well known artists. Cheers! As for the name of the bar itself, turns out David Bowie recorded with a group called The Lower Third. Fellow model Twiggy rocks up. So does Queen drummer Roger Taylor. And writer and comedienne Kathy Lette. Some nights last forever.

“I thought it would be a good idea to just have a book of only photographs with the odd little anecdote, little joke, little story, but essentially about photographs,” says the eternally beautiful Pattie Boyd, model turned photographer. And raconteur extraordinaire. “I think very few people have got time to read everything that’s being written. It’s much easier to flick through and see the photos.” She should know. Pattie has not so much read the zeitgeist as has been the zeitgeist for decades.

Back to the Sixties. “In those days,” Pattie tells us after dark, “If you were booked for a shoot, models had to bring dark shoes and light shoes and jewellery, makeup, hair accessories, combs. We were definitely not spoiled. We were paid £4 an hour. Things have changed dramatically. The girls now have their makeup done, hair done, everything is super glamorous! My agent would give me a list of photographers to go and see to show them my portfolio. In order to get a portfolio I made friends with photographers or would-be photographers or assistants who would then photograph me on condition they would give me a few prints so it worked for both of us.”

The Lower Third is quite simply the coolest venue in Soho London. In Soho. In London. Denmark Street was developed in the late 17th century and is called after Prince George of Denmark. The Rolling Stones recorded in a studio on the street and Elton John wrote songs in one of the offices. It soon became known as London’s ‘Tin Pan Alley’, a version of New York’s famed music dominated district.

Pattie didn’t live the Sixties. She was the Sixties. “All my friends were filmmakers, artists, painters, designers, architects. I knew there was something in the air; people started changing their attitudes. There was a freedom that wasn’t there previously. Dresses were getting shorter and wilder. The boys were looking even better! Everyone was looking so cool and David Hockney was so wonderful – he was doing great paintings. I think about all the great photographers and fashion designers. David Bailey and Terence Donovan. Ossi and Biba and Mary Quant. Everybody was bursting out with huge creative talent. It was everywhere; it was wonderful. And music of course. You can’t forget that!” Pattie’s first husband was George Harrison; her second, Eric Clapton.

Never short of quips, Pattie is on a roll tonight: “I didn’t realise that I was shortsighted and in those days there was no autofocus.” We’ve swapped from being in front of the camera to behind it. “I was doing a job for Ringo photographing people on a Dracula film he a was doing and at the end of the day he wanted to see my photos.” He said, ‘They’re a bit soft focus.’ I realised I needed glasses to focus properly!”

“I was taking photos from ’64 onwards,” she remembers. “I didn’t know who I was and I loved taking photographs but I couldn’t be so bold to assume that I was a photographer because it was something I enjoyed so much. Then I had a few photographic exhibitions and they seemed to go down well. People liked what I’d taken so I’m fine with hanging onto that label of photographer. I take life as it comes to me. If you find yourself feeling dull, just change your mind.”

Categories
Architecture People Town Houses

Origin Gallery Dublin + Noelle Campbell-Sharp

Change of Art

Quite simply there’s nothing as mad as a well spent afternoon in Dublin before or during or after The Races. Sometimes one brings the madness; the party will always follow. Several of her famous original racy set including a former Taoiseach and his sweetie lover have long since kicked their proverbial buckets but Noelle Campbell-Sharp is well and truly alive and very much kicking ass. The Charlie Haughey era is now banked, vaulted and sealed history. Today, Noelle captures the essential present face of a hugely successful Dublin art gallery and wildly far flung County Kerry artists’ retreat. Her face is exquisitely framed by sharp green glasses and fiery red hair complete with a yellow flame curl. Aged 77 now, she would still pass for Vivienne Westwood’s hotter more fun sister. Not many people, back in the day blonde, could outshine Jerry Hall. “I remember that was quite a  party!” She’s getting ready for the latest private view in her relocated Origin Gallery. “The key is attracting some of the brightest artists in the world.” Like its forerunner the gallery is behind a Georgian façade in the Irish capital. That’s where the similarity ends. Abruptly. Her new gallery is… drummer boy roll for understatement… calmer. Wedgwood blue ceiling, deep navy carpets, virginal white walls.

As for the original original Origin… oh yes, time to talk about Noelle’s very steamy love affair with Napoleon. Perched above the piano nobile gallery, her just below the nursery floor eaves library was once a full blown homage to the homme. His heraldic birds and heroic bees were sewn into the carpet and painted onto the shutters while spreadeagled eagles boldly crouched on the bookcase columns, spreading their wings ever wider in an ever increasing ever encroaching clockwise span swooping over easy prey… “pray tell us more!”. A double barrelled stripy fabric billowed across the ceiling like the last sails of the French General’s ship. Among the miscellanea on display was an original drawing of the Imperial Arms of France. “What any French museum would give to get their hands on all this!” envied Karl Lagerfeld when he clapped eyes on her loot. A jib door in the trompe l’oeil wall slid through to a very sweet en suite decorated with the naughtiest mural in Dublin if not Ireland. It was enough to make sailors blush, although seemingly not the Napoleonic soldiers engaged in lots of action.

“I’ve totally fallen out with Napoleon. When I was a child I discovered tea chests in an attic brimming with his letters, jewels and toy soldiers. They sparked off my obsession. Actually I still sleep in an attic! I like to surround myself with antiquarian books. I can’t pass them by. William Butler Yeats, Empire Period, Irish folklore … alright maybe I am still just a bit in love…” Noelle is soldiering on with her autobiography. Five chapters completed so far. She counts Karl, Yves Saint Laurent and David Bailey among the many entries in her not so little black book; Robert Maxwell definitely doesn’t appear: he owed her £10 million before he toppled over portside; and with rock band manager, press baroness, socialite, conservationist, arts patron and gallerist filling her résumé, presumably there’s enough material for at least five more chapters?

Noelle’s forever dashing. An ostrich feathered fully plumed hat and sapphire laden museum quality choker necklace was once her fashion du jour. Tomorrow she’s off to Cill Rialaig, the abandoned rural village she transformed into an artists’ retreat with the help of celebrated architect Alfred Cochrane. “It’s on the last road in Ireland. New York is caviar compared to escaping to Kerry!” That doesn’t stop artists coming from far and wide – Argentina, Italy, Russia and so on. “There’s a selection process, but really it’s down to whoever spins the best yarn.” The Emerald Isle’s most recognisable Rolls pulls up on the street outside Origin Gallery. Ms Campbell-Sharp has left the building. Somewhere, across the city, a mad party is about to begin before or during or after The Races.