Sunday Smörgåsbord #075

Culture to consume as the world burns + my first ever Summer Exhibition.

Happy Sunday, friends.

We recently celebrated San Juan in Spain, or Midsummer. The night is marked by burning bonfires on the beach, which revellers leap over for good luck. We burn what we want rid of for the year ahead, then jump over the waves at midnight to cleanse ourselves of all negative energy, signalling a fresh start.

It’s a beautiful mid-year festival to welcome Summer, and one which feels more needed than ever in a world that is also, frankly, so on fire.

When the news cycle is a never-ending dumpster fire, I do three things:

1. I give to those who need it. Whether it’s a small donation, signing a petition, or cooking for a friend who needs a hand. Small acts of generosity help us feel we are making a difference, however small.

2. I spend purposeful time in nature - this includes our own ‘man-made nature’ which, IMO, is art and culture. Take a good book to a grassy knoll and read for thirty minutes. Don’t have thirty minutes? Do it for ten. Feel the sun on your face. Hug a tree. Put your feet on the grass. Remember some form of this will all still be here, even when we are not.

3. I move my body. Stagnant energy can piles up in us, suffocating us, making it harder and harder to feel like moving. Start small. If you’re able, stretch your arms above your head. Wiggle your toes. Put your favourite song and dance around the kitchen. Lift something heavy. I find the energy then moves, multiplies, and charges me onto something else. Sometimes something bigger or unexpected.

Emma x

PS - Speaking of time spent reading a good book, there are also still two weeks to read our Summer short story, ‘The Garden Party’, by Katherine Mansfield. We meet on 22 July to discuss it. All details via the post.

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🍳 Recent servings, in case you missed them…

60MBC7: The Garden Party, by Katherine Mansfield

Sunday Smörgåsbord #074

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📰 Features & Podcasts

NB: [PW] signifies a paywall, though some providers allow you to read a set number of articles for free.

• ‘‘My heart is pounding’: experiencing Rachel Zegler’s Evita balcony scene from the humble pavement’, The Guardian. Back pre-pandemic, my parents and I went to see a new production of Evita at the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre. It blew us away, so much so that we immediately booked tickets for its 2020 transfer to the Barbican. Of course that never came, so I was so excited to see this revamped version of the same production opening at the London Palladium this month. Jamie Lloyd, the director of this hot new version, has gone from strength to strength, judging by the oomph of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s backing and their ability to secure Rachel Zegler in the lead role. Lloyd continues to surprise and delight, surprising Soho’s streets with a nightly rendition of arguably the most famous number in the musical: ‘Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina’. I stumbled across the scene by accident the other night and I had goosebumps - not just at the quality of Zegler’s performance nor the audacity of the whole stunt. I couldn’t help but think of all the new theatre and musical lovers this decision would create. And of course, I went and booked tickets - so keep your eyes peeled in September for the ‘inside’ scoop rather than the ‘outside’ one.

My alt beach read

🎨 Arts, Culture & Entertainment

• The Guest, Emma Cline (Penguin, 2023). I inhaled this book in a couple of days whilst we had a public holiday to mark San Juan. Slippery, sinister, suffocating at times, the story follows protagonist Alex, a sort of Social-Climber-cum-Only-Fans who drifts from man to man (to boy, to man) in a desperate attempt to cling onto a life she never really had a shot at. Don’t expect a neat and tidy ending from this unreliable narrator - in fact the end was the the one part which frustrated me - nevertheless I loved Alex’s messiness, her raw (and often unpalatable) ambition, and her sheer ruthlessness. There was a lot of vulnerability to her, even if hidden under a layer of make-up and stolen jewels. The perfect alt beach read for a world that’s on fire.

• ‘The Phoenician Scheme’, dir. Wes Anderson (2025). A long-time lover of Anderson’s films, I have to admit, I checked my watch too many times in this one. It had moments of near-greatness - so many times it came close to tipping over into the perfect Anderson trifecta: repressed emotion, memorable but dysfunctional characters, irreverent intellect. But, like too many of his recent films, it was reduced to a never-ending carousel of cameo-filled vignettes. No one needs to see Tom Hanks and Bryan Cranston turn up and play basketball for, what, five minutes, in possibly the most pointless scene? It takes you out of the movie to keep mentally saying ‘oh there’s Tom Hanks’, ‘oh there’s Benedict Cumberbatch’, and seems to cover for actual plot points. (Case in point: I still don’t know what the damn Phoenician Scheme is!) If you go, go for Benicio Del Toro (always sooo good), Mia Threapleton (yes, Kate Winslet’s daughter!), and the cinematography / interiors of Del Toro’s bathroom alone. Just exquisite. In a world full of Marvel movies I’m glad Anderson both exists and is still making movies (even ones like this), but not my fave of his for sure.

Another snap from the Summer Exhibition 2025. Spot the Tracey Emin on the back wall.

• The RA Summer Exhibition 2025, Royal Academy, London. Never have I ever made it to the Summer Exhibition, a very specific British institution, run by another, revered British institution: the Royal Academy of Arts. Until last week! Spoiler alert: I loved it. But first, some context for the uninitiated… Just as there are British academies for biologists, geologists and mathematicians, there is one for artists (since its founding in 1768). And every year, anyone - anyone, member of the Academy or not, professional, amateur or student - can enter up to two works to be considered for their annual Summer Exhibition.
  
  What this means is that you get to see a whole host of works in one space (over 1,700 this year), crossing media (paintings, photography, architectural models), nationalities and fame (£100 illustrations sit side by side with a £150,000 Emin). And if you do fancy it, most of the artworks are for sale. Typically all the ones I looked at were either NFS (Not For Sale) or with names like Abramovic next to them and the cute little asterisk denoting ‘speak directly to sales desk’ (code for: if you have to ask, you can’t afford it). Nevertheless, I kicked myself for leaving it so long to finally go. Despite the ‘tradition’ of it all, I loved how fresh it feels, and how eclectic. This is not your White Cube-esque curated nothingness, but Victoriana-style walls bursting with colour, creativity, and curiosities. It felt inclusive, democratic, and all the best kind of British values. I wish I could go again, but I’ll just have to wait for 2026.

📺 What have you seen lately that’s worth a read, watch or listen? Let me know in the comments.

That’s it for this week. I hope you find something in this list that sparks joy or curiosity.

If you’ve got any recommendations on articles, podcasts, Substacks or shows for me to dive into, please drop them in the comments. Until next time!

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