She was the stand-out star of The September Issue, stealing focus from Vogue editor Anna Wintour, and last week Grace Coddington sold her memoirs to Random House for over £700,000. Before they hit the shelves, though, the flame-haired creative director at US Vogue will be the subject of a new exhibition. Limited Edition Collection will open at The Ivy Club in September, and will feature previously unseen photographs by Willie Christie, Coddington's ex-husband, which have lain hidden in a drawer for over 35 years. The pair met on UK Vogue in the 1970s, a golden age when the magazine's top-floor photography department was manned by David Bailey and Irving Penn. The exhibition will reveal the Christie's portraits of Coddington, then fashion editor, taken in the privacy of the marital home as the couple experimented with looks and photography styles. Among them are a dramatic sepia portrait and a Hollywood-style black-and-white photograph of Coddington reclining on a sofa with a book and a glass of wine, bathed in a spotlight. Christie's portraits of Mick Jagger, David Bowie and Jerry Hall, among many others, will also go on show.
Critics are not invited to the ball
They're the original theatre anarchists and now Kneehigh's latest show has been deemed too wild for the critics. Reviewers ready to board the train down to the company's Truro home The Asylum to see Midnight's Pumpkin were informed last-minute that "Kneehigh see it more as an event-cum-party, and not really something they feel it is appropriate to review as theatre. The audience have been enjoying it immensely, but it's not for review." The show, a take on Cinderella in which audience members play the guests at a ball, complete with food, drink, music and dancing, is billed on the website as "the best night ever". Since the critics remain uninvited to the party, we'll have to take their word for it.
Remembrance of things past
A wedding dress, a pair of tangerine Y-fronts, a broken gnome and an axe. These are some of the exhibits that will go on show later this month at The Museum of Broken Relationships. Opening on 15 August at The Tristan Bates Theatre in Seven Dials, the show is a collection of objects – some funny, some bitter, all poignant – which relate to failed romances, as donated by heartbroken people around the world. The award-winning museum arrives in London on a tour which has taken in San Francisco and Buenos Aires. Its permanent home is in Zagreb where its creators, the artist Drazen Grubisic and the film producer Olinka Vistica, live. They came up with the idea when they split six years ago and were debating how to divide up their possessions. A white wind-up rabbit toy, which belonged to both of them, became the first exhibit. They're still taking submissions, so if you're pondering what to do with that commemorative mug or fluffy pink teddy bear, ponder no longer.
Natural barn star
Last month I revealed that the man behind the 2011 Serpentine pavilion, Peter Zumthor, was in the process of designing a bungalow for Living Architecture's series of stylish holiday homes. Now, Alain de Botton's holiday rental revolution has signed up Hopkins Architects, better known as the team behind the Olympic velodrome (which is, in turn, better known as the giant Pringle). The Long House, a barn-like, open-plan residence built using using local larch and flint, will be the practice's first domestic residence in the UK since 1976, and will open for business in the Norfolk village of Cockthorpe in November.
One to watch
Here's a date for the diary. On 19 August, Christian Marclay will make a rare appearance in London for a lunchtime talk at the ICA. The artist behind The Clock, the 24-hour video work that wowed at the White Cube last Autumn and went on to win the Golden Lion at the Venice Biennale, and to be snapped up by LACMA and Boston's MFA, will be in conversation with the novelist Geoff Dyer at the free event. At last, an opportunity to find out how many films he had to watch, and just how long it took him to stitch them all together to make his stunning work.