back to berlin…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Catherine Lurie’s thoughtful, sobering documentary “Back In Berlin”. It follows eleven Jewish bikers travelling from Israel to Berlin for the Maccabiah Games (often referred to as the ‘Jewish Olympics’).
In 1930, a group of Jewish bikers travelled to all corners of Europe to find participants for the first Maccabiah Games. In 2015, to commemorate this heroic journey, 11 Jewish bikers set off from Israel once again to re-trace their ancestors' footsteps and carry the Maccabiah torch to the site of the infamous 1936 Berlin Olympics for the first games held on German soil. Travelling 4500km across 7 countries in just 24 days, together they explore their dark genocidal past and discover how they or they families survived the Holocaust.
Given the populist movements from both the left and right rising again today, “Back to Berlin” provides an essential connection between the past and present. It’s a cautionary tale but also a story of defiance, survival and people overcoming the worst from others to restate our common humanity – and with the games themselves being a kind of redemption. Or, as the Guardian film critic, Peter Bradshaw, aptly describes it: “an Olympic flame of hope burning defiantly in the presence of moral darkness”.
It’s a beautiful, evocative and poignant documentary that reflects on anti-semitism in Europe and very much worth seeing.
PS: There were just me and five others in the audience, but I did strike up an interesting conversation with a fascinating, highly intelligent, 83 year-old man (a former nuclear scientist)… and, for some reason(!), we found ourselves talking about Trump and Brexit (he started it!!)(note: he was very much ‘a man after my own heart’!) and bemoaning how on earth we’d come to find ourselves in the current mess. At the end of the film, he turned to me, wiping tears from his eyes, and simply said: “an emotional journey”. He was absolutely right.

two go on a great western adventure…

Dear GWR
I’ll try to keep this reasonably brief – because I expect a lot of the passengers on yesterday’s 19.03 train from London Paddington to Exeter St David’s might also be writing to you…

1. We arrived in good time, found our coach (coach A) and looked for our seats.
2. The electronic seat displays weren’t working (surprise, surprise!) BUT, thankfully, reserved seat cards had been put in place.
3. We had booked seats 61+62… only to discover that the carriage only had 61 seats (really)!!
4. We (and other passengers) then discovered that the reserved seat cards seemed to have been scattered entirely randomly throughout the carriage (I kid you not!!) and bore no relationship to the numbered seats to which they’d been attached.
5. Annoying and inconvenient as this was, passengers made adjustments as best they could and eventually settled into their seats… despite the frustrations, good humour generally reigned (but staff members were conspicuous by their absence).
6. Two minutes after the train was due to depart, there was an announcement telling us that all passengers had to move into the front five coaches (no apology or explanation, just an announcement)(the train had 10 coaches and we were later advised that a staff member had failed to turn up – which meant they were only able to operate with 5 coaches… which later reverted to 10 coaches because they’d eventually managed to find another member of staff)(are you following this?!).
7. The rear five coaches were already crowded with passengers and you can imagine the displeasure of those affected (and, in some cases, sheer panic!)…
8. After a further 10 minute delay (to allow for passengers to find alternative seats or standing locations in the front five coaches) - and, of course, the notion of securing any reserved seats had long since vanished and people just sat, if they were lucky, wherever they could – the train departed.
9. The journey continued relatively smoothly… albeit late (and I actually felt quite sorry for the train manager – who was trying to cope as best she could).
10. But as we approached Bristol Temple Meads (literally 30 seconds before the train’s arrival), there was another brief announcement telling any passenger who was proceeding beyond Bristol (fortunately, this was our destination), that they needed to be in the FRONT five coaches – as only five coaches would be making the full journey. I can only imagine the consternation of the passengers affected. Why on earth wasn’t this announcement made as the train left Bath Spa station, so that people had time to prepare themselves for their ongoing journeys?

Oh, what fun we had… two go on a Great Western Adventure (indeed!).
Travelling by train and being able to book seats in advance used to be a pleasurable, if relatively expensive, experience. I’m afraid this is no longer the case… journeys have just become experiences to endure rather than enjoy.
Yours sincerely
Steve Broadway

PS: Over the past several weeks, we’ve travelled by GWR (always avoiding busiest times of day) and have been consistently finding that there have been issues with our booked seats (not to mention the odd cancelled train and delayed services). Invariably, the electronic seat display (where applicable) isn’t working and passengers, understandably perhaps, refusing to give up their seats just because someone like me tells them that they’re occupying our booked seats.

PPS: We’ve also experienced a number of occasions when the train has become so crowded that there have been, for example, more than 20 passengers left standing in our coach for entire sections of journeys. It seems that you’re just delighted to sell as many tickets as you can – even if that results in unacceptable, over-crowded trains… and then, ironically (as a train manager announced to us passengers on a train last week), one of the reasons for the late arrival of our train was the large number of passengers getting off and on the train!!

suspiria…

I went along to the Watershed this morning (another 11am screening!) to see Luca Guadagnino’s “Suspiria” (there’s no truth in the rumour that I’d misread the Watershed advertising and thought it was something to do with a “sarsaparilla” drink). To be honest, I was in town first thing this morning and the thought of watching the ‘morning movie’ rather appealed – even though I knew very little about the film in question.
It turns out that it was a pretty scary film about witchcraft – featuring lots of blood and lots of skin (in the broadest sense). Apparently, the film is a ‘cover version’ (using the director’s description) of Dario Argento’s 1977 horror classic – which I’d never seen and knew nothing about. Guadagnino’s ‘take’ is set in Berlin in the 1970s (at a time when Germany was on ‘almost on the verge of a civil war’ – according to the Watershed’s blurb) and follows Susie Bannion (played by Dakota Johnson) as an ambitious young dancer auditioning for a place in a prestigious school - run, it turns out, by a coven of witchy women – including the wonderful Tilda Swinton (who also plays the parts of the company’s lead choreographer and, bizarrely, an 82 year-old male psychotherapist!). Students are disappearing (apparently due to some kind of ancient violence that dwells within the school’s walls)…
I certainly am no fan of ‘horror films’ as a genre, but was quite impressed by its rather spellbinding, dark ‘look’ and its eerily brilliant score (by Thom Yorke). Guadagnino describes the film as being about “being immersed in a world of turmoil and uncompromising darkness”... and it's difficult to disagree. Less impressive, for me, was the film’s length (2hours 32minutes)!
If you’re looking for a warm, cosy, feel-good film, this is probably not for you!

november 2018 books…

Ariel: A Literary Life Of Jan Morris (Derek Johns): I’m a great lover of Jan Morris’s books (her ‘Oxford’ and ‘Venice’ titles are probably in the top 20 of my all-time favourite books). She’s a supremely gifted writer and story-teller about places and I love her elegant, distinctive style of writing. This book (published 2016) is written by the man who was her literary agent for 20 years (they met for the first time in the early 1980s) and is a wonderful, affectionate biography which is full of quotations from her various books - “structured more thematically than chronologically”. It is not ‘authorised’ as such, though Johns interviewed Morris “several times”, and she gave him access to material and provided the (stunning) line drawings which are scattered throughout the book. I very much enjoyed it and it’s made me want read (and re-read) some of Morris’s other works.
The River In The Sky (Clive James): This is an epic poem which takes readers on a grand tour of “the fragile treasures of his life”. Powerful, poignant, and often very funny, recollections of places, people, books, art, music, cinema, regrets, high points, Cambridge and his family and much more, as he comes to the end of his life (I wrote to him more than 3 years ago… at a time when it seemed he didn’t have long left!). I love James’s writing - his wit, his eloquence, the breadth of his knowledge. I had originally wanted to read the whole thing out loud, but all too frequently found myself stumbling over classical names, exotic places lines of Latin and the like! But I did succeed, in my rather stumbling way, to do so for pages on end and, although there was much of the poem that I didn’t fully understand (due to my lack of knowledge and intellect!), I was completely bowled over by his ability to write such beautiful prose. From his previous books, I was well aware of his love of the Tango and, sure enough, the book contained a wonderful, evocative passage - that runs for a couple of pages (pp35-6) - about the “most delicately gracious of all the dancing ladies” who was “stone blind” and “danced like a dream”. It brought tears to my eyes. It’s a stunning book – which I’ll dip into constantly over the coming years. It helps put the ‘meaning of life’ into grateful context. A real treasure.
Milkman (Anna Burns): This won The Man Booker Prize 2018 and it’s a wonderful book. Extraordinary, in fact. It’s set in Northern Ireland in the late 1970s (in an unnamed city). The entire book is written in the first-person through the eyes of an intelligent, well-read, 18 year-old woman (‘middle sister’ as she calls herself). It’s a story of gossip and hearsay; when being on the ‘wrong side’ could have severe consequences; about power and fear; where life is cheap; about rumour and counter-rumour; about control and defiance; about ‘renouncers’ and ‘non-renouncers’; about the state and the paramilitary; about innocence and naivety. The book is, in turns, frightening, hilarious and joyous (that might seem hard to grasp, but that’s exactly how I experienced the book). No ‘proper’ names are used – instead there are characters referred to by such names as ‘Somebody McSomebody’, ‘tablets girl’, ‘nuclear boy’ and ‘maybe-boyfriend’. Although the book is set in a world dominated (in all senses) by men, there was, for me, a real sense that women-power was ultimately going to play a huge part in bringing peace and commonsense to the Province. I was quite captivated by Burns’ exceptional, original writing style. Quite, quite brilliant. A truly remarkable book (in my view!).  
Sincerity (Carol Ann Duffy): Duffy is clearly a very gifted poet and this is the third book of hers I have. Although, over perhaps the last five years or so, I’ve become a great lover of poetry, I still struggle with a lot of individual poems… and such is the case with this book. However, there are perhaps a dozen poems that I think are quite wonderful (and, no doubt, there’ll be others that I will come to love as I re-read them over the coming months and years). I particularly like her ‘take’ on political situations… Overall, I have to say, I was a little disappointed (there’s still part of me that wants poets to provide postscripts giving some context for their ‘less obvious’ poems to help those of us who struggle to understand them!).
Playing To The Gallery (Grayson Perry): This was published in 2014 (one might describe it as a tidied up version of his brilliant Reith Lectures from the previous year). I’m a huge fan of Perry and think he has a real gift for words as well as art. The book underlines his commitment to ‘making’. At the beginning of the book, Perry says: "I firmly believe that anyone is eligible to enjoy art or become an artist – any oik, any prole, any citizen who has a vision they want to share" and I’m absolutely with him on this. He talks about judging quality (in a chapter entitled “Democracy Has Bad Taste”) and about his own pathway into the art world (in a chapter entitled “How do you become a contemporary artist?). It’s all very profound, straightforward and amusing. He’s very good at exposing artistic pomposity and I loved his tongue-in-cheek contention that developers should pay artists to live somewhere for 10 years rent-free (on the basis that “artists are the shock troops of gentrification”… moving into cheap housing, do their work and, before you know it, a buzz starts up and people start describing the area as “interesting” and “cool”). He clearly feels that ‘learning a technique’ is crucial to any individual artistic development (“my imaginative possibilities have expanded”). Although he freely admits he didn’t make a profit from art until he was 38, I think it’s definitely a book written from the perspective of a ‘successful artist’. He talks enthusiastically about students attending art college being allowed “uncertainty” and “the need to find themselves, the desire for freedom but also the desire to know what to do”… and, for me, as someone who frequently struggles with trying to understand ‘contemporary art’ (with countless experiences of attending Fine Art Degree Shows and feeling utterly depressed by most of the work I see!), these were important observations. Nevertheless, it still made me feel that for every ‘successful’ artist, there are thousands (some of whom are quite brilliant) who ‘just about’ survive (and only thanks to having a determination not to be beaten). Thought-provoking, stimulating, joyful… and funny.

twelfth night at bristol old vic…

Moira and I went along to the Old Vic this afternoon to see Wils Wilson’s ‘take’ on Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night”… and it was quite wonderful! We’re SO lucky to have such good theatres in Bristol that put on such amazing stuff and, now that the brilliant new foyer is up and running (and operating beautifully), the whole theatrical experience at the Old Vic is second-to-none.
We’ve seen “Twelfth Night” performed several times over the years (including a brilliant one when Felix was performing at the RSC), but this was also very, very special. This production is set in the late 1960s – with all its music, its fashion, its style and when ‘pleasure-seeking’ was ‘celebrated’(!) – and is just perfect for this ‘take’ on the play. It’s colourful, confident, clever and an absolute delight (and very funny too). Obviously, the late 60s was ‘our’ period too, so we felt entirely ‘at home’!
You probably already know the play’s plot: Duke Orsino of Illyria is in love with Olivia, but his advances are rejected. A shipwrecked Viola arrives on his shores, and with the help of a Captain, disguises herself as a boy, calling herself Cesario, and enters Orsino's service. Orsino takes to Cesario, and sends 'him' to woo Olivia for him. Have you got that?
It’s a very modern interpretation of the play, with gender identification playing an important part (including Dawn Sievewright playing ‘Lady Tobi’ as opposed to Sir Toby Belch and Colette Dalal Tchantcho playing Duke Orsino).

The acting is consistently brilliant – the entire cast is hugely talented (they’re ALL stars) – and the music is stunningly good too (with, I think, six of the twelve actors playing a wide range of musical instruments and singing). Almost impossible to pick out the ‘stars’ of the performance but, for me, I thought Dawn Sievewright (Lady Tobi), Christopher Green (Malvolio), Guy Hughes (Andrew Aguecheek) and Dylan Read (Feste) are especially wonderful.  

It was an absolute delight… an absolute joy (I’d happily go back and see it all over again tomorrow!).
Photo: Christopher Green, as Malvolio, complete with cross-gartered yellow stockings.
PS: The high-heel boots of Malvolio and Andrew Aquecheek reminded me of one of my fellow architectural students (I'm blowed if I can remember his name: Alan Byrne perhaps?)... who, despite already being 6'3" tall, used to wear high-heel boots... handsome man with a very deep, refined accent and he consistently wore a velvet jacket and trousers... whatever happened to him?
PPS: The play runs until Saturday 17 November: if you’re within easy reach of Bristol, then I urge you to see it.

peterloo…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Mike Leigh’s film “Peterloo”.
As you probably already know, the Peterloo Massacre occurred at St Peter's Field, Manchester in August 1819 (the massacre was given the name ‘Peterloo’ in an ironic comparison to the Battle of Waterloo, which had taken place four years earlier), when cavalry charged into a crowd of 60,000–80,000 who had gathered to demand the reform of parliamentary representation (15 people were killed and hundreds injured).
Although I was well aware of the Peterloo Massacre, somewhat shamefully, I knew comparatively little about its details and context (I was forced to drop History as a school subject in my second year – that’s my excuse!).
Leigh weaves multiple stories of everyday people to create an impressive historical epic that delivers a very sobering look at a 19th century moment that still resonates in the present, but there’s still part of me that rather agrees with Mary Beard’s recent comments about her dislike of ‘fictionalised history’ (with some details perhaps invented/embellished/slightly manipulated) but, nevertheless, the film is a remarkable achievement.
I’m a great fan of Mike Leigh and, yes, I know he can always be relied upon when it comes to pointing out cruel injustices waged against the working classes… but, frankly, thank goodness that we do have someone with his talent and in his position to do so!
In some ways, however, I have to say that I was slightly disappointed.
I think I’d expected it to have been concluded in something of a “what-lessons-can-we-all-learn-from-this?” big film ending, but that’s not the way Mike Leigh does things. I thought the film was slow and a little too long (just over two-and-a-half hours) – with some passages running on excessively for my taste and yet there were other sections where I would have liked more focus/greater depth. But the film is a veritable tour de force – with thousands of extras (no digital imagery for Mr Leigh!) and it tells a really important story about our crucial social history… and about the suffering of the poor families and labourers emerging utterly transformed and urbanised by new technology following the industrial revolution. The massacre was clearly a defining moment. In the Watershed’s programme notes, Leigh complains that whilst every school pupil is taught about Henry VIII’s six wives, the ‘Peterloo’ massacre is largely ignored. Interestingly (for me at least), according to Wikipedia, Peterloo is commemorated by a plaque close to the site - a replacement for an earlier one that was criticised as being inadequate as it did not reflect the scale of the massacre.
I learnt an awful lot from the film… about how the poor of the early 18^th century were so mistreated; about the fact that most of them had no political voice or true representation; about how power and influence was reserved for the tiny privileged minority; and about how, to a large extent, these people abused their responsibilities within society. Some might say: “T’was ever thus”... and they might have a point.
Inevitably with Mike Leigh, the films makes political points for us today… in the early years of the c18th, people maddened with hunger because corn law tariffs had barred imports of cheap grain from the continent… and in 2018, our government is planning to stockpile food (and medicines) in the event of similar restrictions on trade.
The film’s about austerity. It’s dour. It’s about dissent. It’s about political agitation, oratory and challenge.
Maybe there aren’t that many differences between then and now... mass pro-democracy protest in Manchester, 1819 and the People’s Vote march in London, 2018? There’s certainly the same sense of anger and unfairness.

 

karine polwart at st george’s (again)…

I went along to St George’s Bristol last night to hear Karine Polwart perform (alongside her talented guitarist brother Steven and accordionist/percussionist Inge). I think this was the seventh time I’ve been to one of her concerts (although, ridiculously, the last time was 5 years ago) and, as you might imagine, I’m a huge fan!
My goodness, she IS utterly brilliant!
She started her performance by blending two of her beautiful songs together (both making powerful statements about the 45^th President of the US): “I Burn But I Am Not Consumed” and “Cover Your Eyes”. I already knew both songs but, nevertheless, they still made me want to stand up and link arms with everyone else at the concert (and in the UK… and in the world!!) and say “These are OUR songs – they speak for us!”.
Listen and weep.
It proved to be another stunning evening – powerful, intelligent, thought-provoking, political, tender, poignant music at its very best. She’s an eloquent poet (and she’s frequently funny too). She’s a person who reminds you that small voices are important. She’s an inspiration.
At this time when so many of us are disenchanted by politics and what’s happening in the world, last night was a wonderful reminder that there ARE decent, inspiring people who demand to be heard.  
May it be so.
PS: It was lovely that quite a few friends were also at the gig (including Catherine, Tracey, Sarah, Judith, Charlie, Richard, Dave and Nick)… all people with impeccable tastes in music, obviously!
Photo: Catherine and I sat in the front row(!) and this is a rather hurried ‘snap’ at the end of the concert (strictly speaking, photography isn’t allowed)(oops, sorry)…

struggling schools within a struggling society: present and future problems…

You’ve probably read/heard stuff about how schools are struggling…
You’ve probably seen/read about the thousands of head teachers from around the country demonstrating in London recently…
You might be a parent who is seeing for yourself some of the scary issues schools are facing through lack of adequate funding.
You might well have shrugged your shoulders and thought: “well, we’re all struggling, what makes schools so special?”.
Well, I’d urge you to read this (please):

After retiring from my architectural practice, I spent six years working in a secondary school in a mentoring capacity. This morning, I received this from a friend/former work colleague (she’s still working in education, but not at the same school):

“I'm so glad you are out of education Steve it's heartbreaking where I work now, so many kids with problems... they just can't get the mental health support need counselling. Teachers are dealing with disruptive kids every lesson no TAs. One class has 2/3 kids with SEN no TA. When kids tell me they are cutting themselves I'm told the waiting list for in school counsellor is over 6 months. They have no money to buy in counselling support, they try to get trainee counsellors but there aren't any just now. Schools are dealing with lack of special school provision for those who need it. One boy in year9 genuinely doesn't think he's a human. Other day was lying on the floor in class teacher couldn't get him up. We are failing him as he is more anxious by an environment he shouldn't be in and the rest of the class are learning lot less. That's one example of many. I'm seeing kids where parents don't engage at all with them, complete neglect - and social services are not on any of it as short staffed. I'm not even in a pastoral role and 4 kids have confided in me this month with big problems who need and were getting no support. The sad thing is I often can't get them that support. It's breaking my heart you'd hate it. You can't run a society not looking after your mental health, disabled, your kids and the poor as well as screwing over social workers schools and hospitals. Why the hell are we letting this happen?”

Things were bad enough when I left education in 2011 (thank you Mr Gove and welcome to the depressing world of Academy Schools!). Mental health issues were rising at an alarming rate and waiting lists for counselling support for pupils were in order of six weeks (they’re now six months and the numbers of children needing support is increasing).

Disruptive pupils, lack of parental support (frankly, an alarming number of parents who seem to think they have little or no responsibility for raising their children once they’ve started school)(you might be shocked by this, but I can assure you I came across many such situations).
This is the next generation of adults we’re talking about, for goodness sake… and they’re going to be the parents of the generation after that. It MATTERS and this isn’t anything that the short-term, egotistical whims of education ministers will solve.

In my view, we’ve completely lost our way when it comes to education (some of my teacher friends might disagree with certain aspects, but…?). Everything seems to be focused on ‘league tables’ and ‘results’. Teachers are all under ridiculous pressure to ensure that ‘attainment standards’ are met and for the 'curriculum' to be rigidly adhered to. It also seems to me that it’s currently about ensuring most children receive a university education (I personally think we need to focus far more on apprenticeships and the like - a degree doesn’t need to be for everyone), instead of educating future citizens of the adult world in the broadest possible way - where the environment, the arts and humanities are given far higher priority and where issues such as relationships, respect and kindness play a fundamental part in teaching children about life and the world.

But I’m clearly living in cloud cuckoo land and I’m old and I just don’t understand.

new foyer at st george’s…

I love St George’s – it’s definitely my favourite concert venue in Bristol and, last night, was the first time I’d been able to experience its new Foyer (a £6.3million extension by the Midas Group), which opened last month. I’d endeavoured to see the new building a couple of weeks ago when I called in for mid-morning coffee, but everything was locked up… which I found somewhat surprising.
It’s obviously early days and things still look a little unfinished (a scaffold tower remains at the Great George Street entrance) and I freely accept that I haven’t been able to explore the new facility in its entirety but, I have to say, I was left feeling rather underwhelmed.
Yes, there are lots of aspects of the new extension that are very good (it’s very light and airy in character, the external areas will work well during the summer months, the entrance into the auditorium is a huge improvement etc) and it will clearly provide a great new resource for the city but, especially when compared with the recently-opened extension to the Old Vic Theatre down the road (which, admittedly, was more than twice the cost), I think it falls well short of my personal expectations.

For me, the new building seems to lack design coherence. My initial impression was that it had been designed by a group of individuals - each responsible for particular elements – but who hadn’t really managed to get together to coordinate things in terms of the overall building design.

Here, for example, are just a FEW matters that I found unsatisfactory (and, yes, I know this is all very subjective)(photos numbered clockwise, starting top right):
1.    The new exposed concrete staircase immediately adjacent the entrance is fine, but sits uncomfortably with the adjacent white staircase (with its curved half-landings and solid balustrade walls)(photos 1+5). 
2.    I think the metal balustrading, with its vertical spindles, looks rather dated to my eyes (or perhaps the designers are TRYING to give it a retro ‘feel’?)(photos 7+9). There’s also a very strange detail at the bottom of the concrete staircase (photo 6) where the balustrade is continued back just beyond the half-landing (looking almost like an after-thought to try to prevent children from playing under the stairs!). It all looks rather awkward and incongruous. 
3.    In use (ie. before the performance/during the interval), there was clearly insufficient space for people to sit (there were a total of only eight small tables, I counted) or to stand against or find somewhere to put their drinks glasses while chatting. No one, it seems, had thought this through. There was a distinct lack of shelves or ledges for putting down glasses (comparison with the Old Vic is embarrassing in this respect – where they try to utilise as much space as possible for such purposes).
4.    I wasn’t able to get into to the large seminar room on the first(?) floor, but noted that it had a fully-glazed wall running alongside a balcony walkway link to the ‘white staircase’ described above. The trouble was that someone had decided to install the small server counter with all its rubbish, wires and general paraphernalia exposed and visible from the walkway link. Ridiculous! (photo 2)
5.    Everything looked a little bare (including the bar)(photo 8). I quite like a ‘minimalist feel’ but I don’t think they’ve got things right, here. I’ve no idea if they provide food in the bar/foyer. Hopefully, they do - but there certainly weren’t any notices or information. In fact, what little signage there was, all felt rather like an afterthought – notices/directions on music stands being placed in inconvenient locations so that people were constantly walking into them, for example (photo 1).
6.    I had assumed that the old bar area would be incorporated into the new bar/reception area but it seems that most of it has been devoted to small seminar rooms(?), offices and a rather disappointing ‘history of St George’s’ display that wastefully (to my mind) utilises quite a large area.
7.    I think it’s all crying out for someone to ‘take control’ of St George’s new facility… in terms of the whole experience, what it looks like, what message it conveys to its punters… and getting the small details ‘right’. At the moment, it looks a little as if no one cares (or is bothered) about such issues.
8.    I could go on…

I might be being a little unfair in this initial assessment and absolutely appreciate that I need to visit on a number of occasions and at different times of the day to fully appreciate how the new building is being used and what additional resources it provides. Sadly, in addition to its design deficiencies, it left me with a sense that it was only AFTER the building had been ‘handed over’ that anyone had been allocated the task of actually managing its use (I may be wrong!)… so, instead of utilising the construction time for this purpose, it felt as if there were more important things to think about.

Yes, a wonderful new resource for the city, but perhaps an opportunity not fully realised?
PS: I know that this will seem incredibly trivial in the whole scheme of things, but I also thought that whoever chose the wine glasses ‘got it wrong’! It seems that all the glasses have 4” stems – just perfect for ‘ease-of-knocking-over’ (not that I did, you understand!). They just seem incredibly impractical or is that just me?
Photos (numbered clockwise starting, top right): 1: main stair plus signage; 2: seminar room from balcony walkway (showing back of server+ paraphernalia); 3: general view from white staircase; 4: front sitting area from white staircase; 5: white staircase; 6: balustrade rail to main staircase; 7: main staircase and walkway from front balcony walkway; 8: foyer and bar area; 9: front balcony walkway; 10: external view, with scaffold tower.
All taken very rapidly, before I wrote my blog post.

stacey kent at st george’s…

I went to see/hear a concert by Stacey Kent at St George’s last night. As you probably already know, she’s a Grammy-nominated, American jazz singer. She travelled to England after graduating to study music at Guildhall School of Music, sang regularly at Café Boheme in London’s Soho in the early 1990s and, within, three years began opening for established acts at Ronnie Scott’s.
Somewhat embarrassingly, I wasn’t really aware of her myself until my great friends Gail and Ian Adams recommended her music to me a couple of months ago. Since then, I’ve been listening to her (a lot!) via Spotify… and it was Gail+Ian who also flagged up that she was booked to play at St George’s as part of a brief UK tour.
So, I duly bought my ticket and chose, as I often do, to sit in the side gallery - with an excellent bird’s eye view - as part of a large audience of devoted and appreciative Kent fans.
Well, it proved to be a wonderful evening.

She performed alongside her 4-piece band of truly excellent musicians (her husband Jim Tomlinson on saxes and flute; Graham Harvey on piano; Jeremy Brown double bass; and Josh Morrison drums). When I grow up, I’d like to play the piano like Graham Harvey please.

The entire evening was superb. Relaxed, utterly professional and very, very enjoyable… you know that feeling when, within the first few bars of the first song, you just KNOW ‘everything’s going to be alright’! Well, that would be a massive understatement.
The five of them were simply sublime.
If you get a chance to see her perform, please take it – I can guarantee you won’t regret it.
PS: In fact, Kent opened the performance with an apology… she’d been struggling with her voice by the end of her Swedish tour, but was determined not to cancel. She explained that she’d therefore selected songs for the evening that she hoped would minimise the strain on her voice… and assured the audience that she would definitely return to St George’s. Well, if this was Kent on a ‘bad night’, I can’t imagine how she could be even better!
Photo: this was the view from my seat.

october 2018 books…

Lucky To Be An Artist (Unity Spencer): This memoir (published in 2015) by Unity Spencer (1930-20170, daughter of painter Stanley Spencer, is a wonderful, poignant, candid account of her memories of her father (and the often chaotic world that surrounded him) and of her own artistic life. It describes a number of struggles with depression and mental illness (her own, her mother’s and, indeed, those of three male friends who all ended up committing suicide at various stages of her life) and, right up to when she was in her forties, tensions with various members of her immediate family. I bought the beautifully-illustrated, hardback book for £2-50 in The Last Bookshop(!). Although Stanley Spencer is one of my favourite artists, somewhat embarrassingly, I knew very little of Unity’s work. In fact, she was a very talented artist in her own right (I love the self-portrait, painted in 1954, which adorns the book’s cover). She and her sister Sherin clearly adored both their father and mother and the books ends with a beautiful, joyful, yet heart-breaking, letter Unity wrote to her father in March 2009 (he died 50 years earlier) giving him “some idea of the things that have happened” in her life.  
Negroland: A Memoir (Margo Jefferson): Jefferson is a black American theatre+book critic, writer and a professor of writing at Columbia University School of the Arts. She was born in 1947 (so we are of similar age) and this rather profound book is a memoir of her life at a time, in the 1950s and 60s in particular, when being black came with a whole host of society’s prejudices and discrimination (and segregation). But, for Jefferson, life was rather different from images we might have of black society in America. The ‘Negroland’ she refers to is not so much a geographic location as a state of mind; an exclusive club without discernible borders, to which few have ever belonged. Over the years, its members have been characterised by descriptions ranging from “the coloured 400” (families) to “the blue vein society”. Jefferson’s fashionable, socialite mother (married to a Chicago paediatrician) described their family as “upper-class Negroes and upper-middle-class Americans”. It’s an absolutely fascinating (and sometimes quite shocking) book, beautifully crafted (she writes wonderfully) and mixing historical background of with that of her own family and her own memories and experiences… and frequently with reference to fashion, music, magazines and ‘accepted manners’. A remark by Jefferson’s mother, perhaps tired of the constant requirement to frame their lives through race, was telling: “Sometimes I almost forget I’m a Negro”.
The Fourth Sacrifice (Peter May): As you may have realised, I rather like Peter May as an author (I loved the ‘Lewis Trilogy’). Thanks to the Last Bookshop, I bought a couple of May’s books from his ‘China Thrillers’ series of books (£5 for the pair). This is book two out of seven (I know, I know). The Chinese police have been forced to enlist the services of an American pathologist (she was apparently in book 1) to work alongside a Chinese detective (he was also in the first book… and it seems that the two of them were ‘quite intimate’!) to investigate a series of four horrific ritual executions. Yes, it IS a thriller and May is an excellent writer… but it’s 500 pages long when, frankly, it should have been cut down to perhaps 300 (so much unnecessary, and rather tedious, ‘romantic padding’… something May isn’t particularly good at writing about in my opinion)(was he on a bonus from the publishers if he reached 500 pages?). Nevertheless, I did enjoy it and will certainly read other books in the series.
Iconic Nature+Travel Designs 1931-85 (Clifford+Rosemary Ellis): I bought this short book after seeing the exhibition at Victoria Art Gallery, Bath. Essentially, Clifford and Rosemary Ellis were pioneering art educators. Clifford (1907-1985) studied Illustration at Regent Street Polytechnic, before taking an Art Teacher’s Diploma. Rosemary (1910-1998) was a student of sculpture and art history at the Polytechnic. They married in 1931 and worked in partnership for the next 50 years designing posters and book jackets… signing their work simply “C&RE”. After moving to Bath in 1936, Rosemary taught art at the Royal High School (when Rosemary started work there, it was called the “Royal School for Daughters of Officers of the Army in Lansdown”… oh, how times have changed!). Clifford ultimately became Head of the Bath School of Art and, after the war, he became Principal of Bath Academy of Art from 1946-72 (and duly supported there by Rosemary). A very good, well-illustrated catalogue to support an excellent exhibition. 
Nothing Is Black (Deirdre Madden): A beautifully told story of three women who find themselves in a remote part of Donegal, Ireland at defining moments in their respective lives. A wealthy and ‘successful’ woman desperately seeking peace of mind; a painter leading a solitary life; and a neighbour longing for reconciliation with her estranged daughter. Lyrical, sparse and hauntingly beautiful.

fahrenheit 11/9…

I went along to the Watershed this morning (yes, this morning... again) to see Michael Moore’s film “Fahrenheit 11/9”. The thing about Michael Moore is that you know what you’re going to get, so the film was a predictably impressive, satirical, anti-establishment analysis of Trump (he compares Hitler to Trump), the Republican Party… AND the Democratic Party (they ALL get condemned in their various ways). It seems that Bernie Saunders is one of the very few politicians who comes out of the film in a positive light. In July 2016, Michael Moore (no fan of Trump!) wrote an essay entitled “5 Reasons Why Trump Will Win” and was duly labelled as a ‘doomsayer’.
The rest, as they say, is history… and, according to Moore, we’re all complicit.
Sadly, it’s all very well us in the UK shaking our heads in despair of decency and democracy in the US but, frighteningly, the same thing is happening on our own doorstep. There’s a very real sense that corporations and big business (not to mention the odd foreign power) are influencing elections and how we think.
It’s quite a long film (just over 2 hours long), but I found it completely compelling and tremendously persuasive… albeit depressing. Perhaps it dwelt a little too long on the water fiasco at Flint, Michigan (where Moore lives), which he for which he lays at the feet of the state’s Republican governor, Rick Snyder (Moore uses the piece to illustrate what he sees as power, corruption and deception). It’s frequently funny, but it also makes you squirm uncomfortably. One of the key matters from Trump’s election that is highlighted in the film is this: Trump voters 63million; Clinton voters 66million; non-voters 100million. Moore acknowledges that Trump has learnt from other big business leaders that you can get away with negligence and cronyism. The film is certainly a warning (to us all!).

If you’d expected Moore to be rousing and encouraging, you’d be disappointed (but he is powerful and convincing). He suggests that the principal hope might be the next generation (he trumpets the work of the teen survivors of the Parkland school shooting, and the aggressive anti-gun protests they’ve led) or, just possibly, if more people are prepared to stand up and fight against what’s happening in America (he reminds us of the general strike that teachers in West Virginia engaged in over the appalling meanness of their pay, and how that action spread to other states). It's a very impressive film and one that's well worth seeing.

There IS dissent happening across America (and across the UK in the ugly shadow of Brexit) and people ARE calling for change. Resistance is not futile, but is it enough? Is it too late already?
PS: The film's title relies on US date notation to refer to November 9, when Trump's 2016 presidential win was announced (the election took place the day prior). The title simultaneously serves as a callback to Moore's 2004 political documentary Fahrenheit 9/11, which refers to the date of the September 11 attacks in the United States. Both of Moore's documentary titles are an allusion to the 1953 dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (taken from Wikipedia).
PPS: The excellent photograph montage is from The Irish Times.