tish…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday to see a film about Tyneside photographer Tish Murtha (1956-2013), who chronicled working-class lives in the north east in the 70s and 80s (and marginalised communities).
WOW!
I absolutely loved this film… and Murtha’s wonderful black+white photographs.
I’m embarrassed to say that I hadn’t previously heard anything about her before reading the Watershed’s film ‘blurb’ (I know!). Clearly, lots of other people had… because the Watershed was a total sell-out – even on a Wednesday afternoon (ok, it was shown in the small Cinema 2, but nonetheless).
The film is beautifully presented by Murtha’s grownup daughter Ella (who is an eerie likeness of her late mother)… talking to Tish’s relatives, friends and teachers at the School of Documentary Photography in Newport.
Tish came from a working-class background and lived a tough life; much of her photography was shot in different areas of poverty and deprivation. She was just one of the people whose lives she recorded and, as such, wasn’t seen as an intruder when it came to her taking her photographs. She was never understood by the arts establishment and, sadly, Tish was never able to make a living from her photography.
In her final years, she was reduced to poverty by Austerity Britain after the 2008 crash, terrified of being sanctioned by the Department of Work and Pensions. She died of a sudden brain aneurysm at the ridiculously young age of 52.
I found it a very moving film… a reminder of the poverty and deprivation of areas like Tyneside in 1970s/80s (and beyond) and the political attitudes of the time (and beyond!)… but also how such a talented photographer was never recognised for what she was – something of a genius.
I would urge you to see this film if you can. You won’t regret it.
PS: There is a now a room at Tate Britain devoted to Tish Murtha’s work. 

november 2023 books…

Lucy By The Sea (Elizabeth Strout): I’m a huge fan of Strout’s writing (this is the fourth of her Lucy Barton novels). This one, set in March 2020, sees Lucy’s ex-husband William pleading with her to leave New York and escape to a coastal house he has rented in Maine… she reluctantly agrees, expecting to return in a week or so. But William (with his scientific background) knows best… he’s aware of the emerging Covid pandemic that was beginning to take hold. I absolutely loved this novel and her wonderful, graceful style of writing. It was a reminder of the fragility, uncertainty and fear that we all lived through at the time (and, of course, many didn’t)… not being able to meet with family and friends (let alone hug them); the daily walks; the social distancing; the closed shops, cafés, theatres/cinemas; people having work from home; the isolation of those living alone; the fears; the anxieties; the rules (and the rule-breakers)… as well as the positives, such as no traffic, birdsong and the possibilities that the long, quiet days can inspire. Her books don’t feel like novels to me – much more like personal reflections… and this book managed to capture so much about what we’d all been through in some form or other. Quite, quite brilliant.
Companion Piece (Ali Smith): I think I’ve only previously read one of Smith’s books (‘Accidental’, back in 2012) and, according to my old blog post wasn’t desperately impressed. Strangely, as it happens, this is another lockdown story (published in 2022). The father of the main character, Sand, is ill in hospital. She sits outside the hospital gazing up at the windows of the ward where the people they love are probably dying; she’d looking after her father’s dog. She’s contacted by an old university friend, Martina, from years ago (who she never really got on with) who wants to tell her a story; this woman’s teenage daughters burst into her life (and home). Sand fears these ‘Covid-denying anti-maskers’ may be carrying disease… The second part of the book’s story relates to where Sand walks the dog in a local park, beneath which lies a medieval plague pit… and this introduces us to a time-travelling female blacksmith with a fairytale aura, who made beautiful things centuries ago. Those things include a famous lock that is at the centre of the story Martina told… The book is something of a fable; it’s a beautifully-crafted tale of episodes of injustice from the distant past coupled with frustrations and sadness induced by the recent pandemic.
Nothing But The Night (John Stoner): This short novel (published in 1948) follows one day in the life of 24-year-old Arthur Maxley, who’s living alone in an anonymous city after dropping out of college. He lives a somewhat listless life (paid for by his father) which frequently involves intoxication. He receives a letter from his long-estranged father (a man that Arthur has a powerful fear and aversion towards) and they agree to meet for lunch. After their meeting, Arthur disappears into the night, gets drunk and ends up becoming involved with a beautiful young woman. This, in turn, brings back painful, disorientating memories of a childhood trauma involving his mother… and his night comes to a violent end. Unlike Williams’ compelling book ‘Stoner’ (which I read nearly 10 years ago), I’m afraid I found this one utterly forgettable.  
Notes To Self (Emilie Pine): Having read (and been impressed by) Pine’s ‘Ruth+Pen’ novel, I decided to explore this non-fiction book of essays (published in 2018, 4 years before R+P). She’s quite a brilliant writer and these assays are extraordinarily frank, honest and raw. They are part-memoir and part-psychological exploration. The book’s cover describes them thus: “she writes of caring for her alcoholic father, the childhood pain of her parents’ separation, her unboundaried teenage years, infertility and sexual violence” (I was particularly impressed by the essays about her father and her own infertility). It’s a fascinating, confessional book. Harrowing, honest and brilliant.
The Moving Finger (Agatha Christie): Yet again, I’ve resorted to Agatha (this novel first published in 1943). I hadn’t previously read the book, but knew that I’d watched one of the BBC ‘Miss Marple’ adaptations of it on the telly (she doesn’t enter the story until two-thirds the way through the book). The trouble was that, typically, I could no longer remember who actually HAD committed the murder(s)! Another clever, satisfying crime mystery – albeit with some rather ‘dated’ attitudes and comments (it was written 80 years ago afterall!).

mahler: symphony no.1 at st george’s…

I went along to St George’s again last night to see/hear the Bristol Metropolitan Orchestra tackle Mahler’s Symphony no.1 (I love Mahler!). My great mate Ed was one of the seven(!?) horn players featured in this full orchestral rendition. 
There’s something very impressive about witnessing a large orchestra (70+ performers?) in full voice… and last night was a bit special.
The two other works performed last night were: Cécile Chaminade’s ‘Callirhoë Suite’ and the world première of ‘Selene's Awakening’ featuring Sophie Stockham on solo saxophone.
All in all, a really magical evening.
Photo: orchestra view from my seat (needless to say, I didn’t quite manage to fit everyone in!)…

reflections on health, ageing and stuff…

I’ve been mulling over all sorts of health-related matters over recent days… and, hey, I’m well aware that there are LOTS of other urgent world issues that also need our thoughts at the present time.
As you might imagine (if you know me), these reflections are incredibly muddled, inconclusive and incomprehensible… but I felt the need to scribble them down (to prove to myself how little I know about such matters!)(I’m not asking for people to point out that I’m wrong!).
Here’s the context (and these are just three examples close to my heart):
1. Many of us are aware of how badly children’s mental health has been affected by Covid lockdowns and its repercussions. Some of our grandchildren have certainly struggled in this regard. After retirement from my architectural practice, I worked at a secondary school for six years (until 2011) and was frequently involved in making CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) referrals. At that time, waiting lists were in the order of 6-7 weeks. Today, 12 years on, I understand those waiting times are now in the order of 2 YEARS.    
2. Moira was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease (PD) in 2022 (first suspected in 2021). She had an appointment with her Registrar and Consultant in May 2022 and they promised to see her again in 3-4 months’ time. More than 18 months later, this still hasn’t happened (despite pressure from the PD Nurse on her behalf)… so, apart from the PD Nurses’ occasional notes, they have absolutely no idea how Moira is coping. Fortunately, Moira’s medication has proved to be helpful in coping with key aspects of her condition, but nevertheless… Moira and I are regular followers of the brilliant weekly “Movers+Shakers” podcast about PD and it seems that again and again people report that they’ve only managed to see their consultants once a year at the most. It really shouldn’t be like this but, no doubt, resources (staff and funding) are stretched to their limits.
3. I’m currently struggling to walk. I need another hip replacement (my right hip was ‘done’ some 9 years ago – and very successful it has proved). I’ve been ‘referred’, but am currently in limbo land as I await contact from Musculoskeletal (MSK) team (waiting times are now ‘longer than anticipated’). Nine years ago, it took something like 7 weeks from referral to operation. These days, I’m told it’s more like two years (but I’ve actually no idea as to my current position in the queue). In the meantime, I walk with a stick and my ability to walk any distance beyond half a mile is very limited. My condition is both depressing and debilitating. Yes, apparently, I could ‘go private’ for something like £15,000 and be treated within 4 weeks… but this is against my principles (in these days of the NHS, why should we discriminate between those who can afford and those who can’t?). Yes, no doubt there will be many who will disagree with me.

Of course, thanks to amazing scientific advancements, life expectancy in the UK has risen by almost 10 years in the past 50 years (currently 81 years compared with 72 in 1975, apparently). The population is getting older and we have the ability to treat them (in some form or other)… if we WANT to.
But health and welfare is an expensive business and, perhaps unsurprisingly, for the past dozen years or so, the UK’s Conservative government has seemed prepared to underfund the NHS and exert pressure on people to take up private healthcare (thereby jumping the queues etc). So, whilst the NHS has the ability to undertake a wide range of measures, lack of funding has meant that what funds have been allocated are more thinly spread… resulting in staffing levels being reduced (and overworked and stressed workers), waiting times increasing alarmingly and, almost inevitably, staff leaving the NHS (not to mention the EU doctors and nurses who have departed since Brexit).
It’s a nightmare scenario for politicians and administrators alike. What SHOULD the priorities be? Regular evaluations and monitoring of a PD patient, for example, are vital for appropriate prognosis and treatment. Such evaluations aren’t happening at present… A two year waiting list for children with mental health issues is two YEARS of their childhood, for goodness sake… Of course, for example, people awaiting cancer treatment should come before me and my hip replacement, but…
For me (and I appreciate that - in this world of climate crisis, wars and cost of living issues - there are LOTS of areas requiring extra funding!), raising taxes to pay for effective NHS and Social Welfare services seems like the ONLY appropriate measure… and yet we have currently have a government that has a philosophy of actually REDUCING taxes.
What hope is there?