Peachy Coochy, the popular text and image entertainment, recently professed an interest in Surrealism, the strange art movement. He set out on his upright bicycle and was not seen for several days. When I next came across him, quite by chance, he was standing on a table in an ordinary café in the Victoria area of London. “Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all!” he shouted. It was clear from their respectful demeanour that many of the patrons were in agreement with him.
I knew that Peachy was very fond of the cape, which he saw as a versatile and stylish outer garment. Generally he would wear outsized and mismatched military fatigues beneath the swirl of fabric. On this occasion, however, he sported only a pair of dark blue woollen bathing trunks of the ill-fitting 1950s variety.
More arresting, however, was the entertainment’s tabletop behaviour:
Peachy Coochy, the diversion, bore, in his left hand (he is gauche), a straight stick torn (http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=WcCWdSwa7bsC&pg=PA29&lpg=PA29&dq=i+bleed+by+the+black+stream+for+my+torn+bough+joyce&source=bl&ots=oaeKRulI9z&sig=DZU3g386BMCWa-a5tOrQvcVLRSk&hl=en&ei=QI_CSePNM-TGjAfM94yGCw&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=1&ct=result) from a tree, the far end of which (that is, the stick) was in another man’s custard, swirling, as if the entertainment’s own cloak had imparted its key and flamboyant characteristic to the sugared sauce, and bearing, at the stick’s tip, surfacing from time to time like the glimpsed whale, a sausage, impaled.
I sensed that this was all very well. That you do not sink a savoury into another’s sweet. That our moments were numbered. “On my back, Richard!” I instructed. (I called him ‘Richard’ in order not to compromise the Peachy Coochy Nites.) We raced across town. Soon we would be at Toynbee Studios.
This is what you get:
David Gale’s Peachy Coochy Nites
The projector projects 20 images for precisely 20 seconds each. The Coocheur (or Presenter) speaks for precisely twenty seconds per image. Randomness is discouraged but narrative linearity is not automatically esteemed.
David Gale, having launched a nationwide performance must-have, continues to curate this series of Peachy Coochy events at ArtsAdmin’s new, stylish yet reassuring Bar. Each event features six Coocheurs, or Presenters, drawn from many walks of life. Each Coocheur will compose a verbal response to 20 images of their choice. Each presentation lasts 6 minutes and 40 seconds. There will be gaps between presentations for drinking and light conversation.
David, something of a Black Belt in these matters, will both compere and present the constituents that, while essentially contained, do not, thereby, compound a smoothness.
The Nites loosen the tongue for example this aside:
“If everything lasted that long how fast the world would be!”
Peachy Coochy Nites subscribes to the the National Belief System and is therefore committed to the provision of a wide range of contributors such as the lepidopterist, the trapper, the detainer, the ship that passes in the night, the tramp, the upstart, the downer, the evenhanded son of a gun.
The next Peachy Coochy Nite will be held, as usual, in the Bar at Toynbee Studios on Thursday March 26th at 7.30 pm. Tickets £5.00. Booking advised but walk up welcome.
more details here:
and a map here:
The Guardian catches some cooch:
Some of you, pleased by the Nite, may wish to compose your own presentations. See me afterwards.
The Nites will run on the last Thursday of each month. You will be notified.
all the best