Observations: In art, life is always a cabaret

Alice Jones
Friday 03 April 2009 00:00 BST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

For her latest exhibition, on show in the National's Lyttelton foyer, her paintings delve into historical and imagined worlds of the English music hall, the heyday of Weimar cabaret and backstage burlesquerie. Its title, Tingle-Tangle, is the German name for a particularly low-rent, and occasionally sleazy, form of variety show, featuring characters such as Inferna: the Human Torch; Mimi: Daredevil Queen of the Slack Rope; and Cecilia the Astonishing.

Halls travelled to Paris and Berlin, collecting original material and visiting old cabaret haunts. "But I was about 70 years too late for the performances I wanted to see." On her return, she set about crafting her own authentic costumes and props and roped in friends to create theatrical tableaux, which she then painted "from life". Photographs of the process accompany the finished paintings and demonstrate the extraordinary lengths Halls has gone to to recreate a lost world of the theatre. For one, she hand-made a mechanical replacement for a chorus line in which a row of identical, wooden-jointed female figures was sandwiched between and manipulated by two human dancers at either end for theatres that couldn't afford the full live complement.

To 30 May (www.roxanahalls.com)

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in