GABRIELE NEHER draws attention to an astoundingly skilled Flemish painter who defied the notion that women cannot paint like men
Latest editorial
Clown jewels
LYNNE WALSH relishes a sweetly anarchic hour of dance and acrobatics, underscored by a big theme
DANCE ME: Jo Fong and George Orange in The Rest of Our Lives
[Sara Teresa]
The Bard pays homage to Hull’s finest promoter and venue, and awards Douze Points to Laibach
KEVIN DONNELLY outlines how the bourgeois institutions inhibit our ability to to view art in revolutionary ways, and suggests some tactics to overturn it
ANDY HEDGECOCK welcomes an accessible - and optimistic - take on our relationship to new technology
JOHN GREEN suggests that a new, biased, and highly readable re-hash of the story of the Cambridge Five be taken with a large pinch of salt
BRENT CUTLER welcomes a timely reminder of the long history of protests and the outdoor spaces in which they takes place
The Rest of our Lives
Battersea Arts Centre
BATTERSEA Arts Centre now bills itself as “a home for the extraordinary,” and this effervescent, melancholy, skilful show is exactly the right stuff.
Self-identifying as an old dancer and an old clown, Jo Fong and George Orange create a sweetly anarchic hour or so, with dance, acrobatics, and the best playlist of dance songs outside a wedding in the Welsh Valleys.
Fong is as earnest as a new primary schoolteacher, and just as anxious, with Orange as her lugubrious and long-suffering foil.
Similar stories
JAN WOLF enjoys a British revival of the 1972 come of age farce/panto Pippin
MAYER WAKEFIELD is gripped by a production dives rapidly from champagne-quaffing slick to fraying motormouth
![DEFIANT: Dan Daw and Christopher Owen in The Dan Daw Show [Pic: Jess Shurte]](https://dev.morningstaronline.co.uk/sites/default/files/styles/desktop/public/2025-08/crip%20joy%20web%281%29.jpg.webp?itok=OcQcfsb0)
Given the tawdry push and pull around disability benefits, MATTHEW HAWKINS relishes Dan Daw’s defiant celebration of body and sexuality
PETER MASON is wowed (and a little baffled) by the undeniably ballet-like grace of flamenco