David Bruer-Weil
David Bruer-Weil is not one of those artists content to be occupied by the petty details of everyday life. Instead he is driven to explore the very conditions of our existence and the issues that we face. His infamous paintings are monumental, both in scale and content, and there is also an intensity and vastness of emotion and concern that seeps into the very texture of the paint; that exudes from his everyman figures and their swirling environments. It requires a unique space to hold such work, and the two previous Project shows were exhibited at the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm and the Oxo Tower's Bargehouse respectively. For this installment, the artist, with the help of the Ben Uri Gallery, has claimed a suitably massive venue, hidden beneath our very nose: an abandoned, multilevel warehouse that sprawls behind the Seven Dials's Mercer Street. Perhaps not a five-second quick glance of an exhibition, it is open late enough to have a wander through after work and over the weekend when you can allow yourself the pleasure of floating away into Bruer-Weil's vast and intriguing visions.

Fixed @ Design Museum
You've seen them around, doing their crazy Martian dance on the pedals as they battle to come to a halt. Fixed gear bicycles (no gears, no brakes) have developed a passionate and curiously growing following on city streets around the world. Whether the look is NY messenger hardcore or stylized Tokyo chrome, fixies, as they are affectionately known, deny coasting, and thus require a simpler, more complete control of the bike by the rider. Their adherents, often a little fanatical, relish this purity and, cultishness aside, it is hard to deny the beauty and style of their unique steeds. Curator and fixed gear aficionado Ben Wilson is honing the Design Museum's gaze on this trend, examining the fixie and its fans from 1888 to the present day in the museum's riverside Tank space.

Grand Tour in Soho
Once, on a school trip to the Louvre, I managed to get myself separated from the rest of the class. No biggie, except that I had no money, only the most cringing schoolboy French, and it was a sweltering day in the middle of the summer. I eventually slumped onto a bench somewhere, staring morosely at some vaguely depressing masterpiece by Rembrandt or Vermeer, dehydrating away, cursing all things curatorial and foreign until I was scooped up by my condescending French teacher an hour later. I still have issues with 17th Century Dutch painting, but more importantly have come to the conclusion that vast, overwhelming museums, like classrooms, are no place to be in the summer. Perfect then that the National Gallery are exhibiting 30 unbelievably glamorous, full-scale framed repros from their collection around the streets of Central London, complete with informative plaques and an optional mobile phone audio-tour. That's right. No walls to hold you in. Instead you can sup your pint as you stroll through the great outdoors relishing the classics that are so usually incarcerated.