A Happy Christmas

Have a very happy Christmas - and think of warmer times to come.

Grosvenor Square London, September 2010

Establishment artist?

On a cold, snowy afternoon in the City I came across this cheery scene. I think it is probably the work of graffiti artist Ben Eine, who made his name with his ‘alphabet’ shop fronts, all over Shoreditch, Whitechapel and beyond. I’m sure that this installation will have been done with approval, because it is so complex and must have taken many days. Up close, I think I can detect five ‘layers’ of work, from the first background coating of the wall, to the final individual letters.

Last summer Barack Obama was presented with a Ben Eine painting by David Cameron. From the graffiti community to establishment artist, success has come to him as it has to his compatriot Banksy.

(Double-click on the photographs to enlarge them)

Some of Eine's alphabet work from 2005:

The sun sets

The daylight fades quickly: this was at 16:21 hours yesterday

Right place, right time

A great success here for the photographer who caught this snap and then saw it used by almost all the national papers. Six out of eight in this collage, and it also appeared in the Express. The Scotsman, Yorkshire Post, Belfast Telegraph, and BBC News all used it on their web homepages.

Well done photographer Matt Dunham.

UPDATE: Roy Greenslade has a report here about how Matt Dunham got this photo.

Dulux Dog

I saw this today in Banner Street, EC1 and I think it’s lovely. The ‘canvas’ is a couple of the steel cabinets used by the cable broadband companies, usually painted a dull green. The artist is Teddy Baden who seems to specialise in images of dogs. I assume this is meant to be the Old English sheepdog featured in the Dulux adverts – very appropriate really, given the medium Teddy works in.

Gender bender

Alternative: of or relating to behavior that is considered unconventional and is often seen as a challenge to traditional norms

My father's 100th

Every day is a day for thinking about family, but today has special significance for me. If he were still alive, my father would be celebrating his 100^th birthday today; he died in March 1999. Here he is with his grandson on Christmas Day 1998.

I have been puzzled recently to see Helen Mirren in a television advert for Nintendo Wii – not the sort of product I expected one of our theatre dames, and an Oscar winner, to be advertising. It all became clear on Wednesday when this article appeared in the Guardian. She is speaking out for sufferers of Parkinson’s disease. My father self-diagnosed his Parkinson’s and I’m afraid it blighted the last 25 years of his life, and of course my mother’s life too; she died eight months after him. Today, I am very happy to remember him, and will raise a glass this evening.

Read about the charity Parkinson’s UK and their Fair Care for Parkinson’s campaign.

Harrier and Jaguar 2010

There is a most unusual installation at Tate Britain. In the enormous Duveen Galleries, the two central spaces you walk into on first arriving, artist Fiona Banner has installed two warplanes. Her piece is called Harrier and Jaguar 2010, and is composed of two decommissioned planes, a BAE Sea Harrier ZE695 and a SEPECAT Jaguar XZ118. These are not what you expect to find in an art gallery, even one as adventurous as the Tate, and the first reaction is surprise and shock.

The Jaguar has been stripped of all its markings and its paint, and lies upside down on the floor. It is beautifully polished, sleek, silver, looks touchable and unthreatening. It reminds me of some desirable design object, a domestic item from Allessi, or possibly a trophy, certainly not a weapon of defence and warfare. It is also smaller than I had imagined. I peered into the cockpit, surprised at how small it is. I don’t want to appreciate it, but it is strangely beautiful.

The Harrier hangs from the roof, pointing downwards, its nose almost touching the floor. By contrast, it is dull, grey, and looks exactly what it is : a fearsome machine of war. There is nothing glamorous about this. The feathers drawn discretely on its bodywork do nothing to soften this crude and threatening machine. The party of schoolchildren are dwarfed by it, although they don’t seemed overawed.

Why my different reactions to the two ? It must be the polished silver versus the industrial grey, and perhaps the closeness and touch-ability of the Jaguar set against the Harrier, which towers above me, threateningly. Both are very much at odds with the grand but gentle and familiar Victorian spaces of the Duveen Gallery.

Ironically, the last Harriers (‘jump jet’) took off from the deck of the Ark Royal this month: they are all being decommissioned, 80 of them, as is the carrier, as part of the government’s Strategic Defence Review.

Fiona Banner, is a British artist in her 40’s, who has long been fascinated by the emblem of the fighter plane.

"I remember long sublime walks in the Welsh mountains with my father, when suddenly a fighter plane would rip through the sky, and shatter everything. It was so exciting, loud and overwhelming; it would literally take our breath away. The sound would arrive from nowhere, all you would see was a shadow and then the plane was gone. At the time harrier jump jets were at the cutting edge of technology but to me they were like dinosaurs, prehistoric, from a time before words." – Fiona Banner

See and hear her speak about this work on a Tate video

Reviews of Harrier and Jaguar 2010 by Charles Darwent in the Independent and by Adrian Searle in the Guardian.

Once again I am impresed by the skills of the Tate staff in mounting such a complex piece. How did Tate Britain hang a Harrier jet? Leo Benedictus has the answer here.

Cuddles

I spent the afternoon with my girlfriend

Squat and gobble

An unfortunate name for a cafe.

Aussies smashed

For long-suffering England rugby fans it wasn't the score, it wasn't the win: it was the way they played. Fabulous rugby.

England 35 - Australia 18. What a result.

Clegg's Spineless Betrayal

It was inevitable that the coverage of the student demonstration in London would focus on the riot at the Tory party hq, and thereby deny the students the chance to debate their cause more publicly. I was in Millbank, where thousands of young protesters passed by me, usually in their college groups, in many cases accompanied by what I took to be their lecturers. Remember that the event was jointly organized by the NUS and the UCU - the professional association for academics, lecturers, and related staff.

From my viewpoint, and if the claimed 52,000 attendees is correct, fewer than 1,000 were in the forecourt of Millbank Tower, and later inside the building. The vast majority were in good spirits, chanting their message with passion, and debating with whoever would listen. Apart from any rioters who subsequently appear in court, the most damaged person and party has to be Nick Clegg and the LibDems. Thousands of individual placards expressed the anger felt at his betrayal. The Lib Dems fought the general election promising to scrap tuition fees, with Clegg himself, at a photo-op, saying

"I pledge to vote against any increase in fees in the next parliament and to pressure the government to introduce a fairer alternative"

That is pretty unequivocal: no doubt about what he meant. The morning after the demonstration Clegg admitted on tv he “should have been more careful” when he signed that pledge. I don't think he meant that as an apology.

Many more photos from the demonstration are here:

At the going down of the sun

Turn again, Whittington

Yes, the pantomime season will start shortly, and it’s interesting to consider this blue plaque on a house at 20 College Hill, in the City of London.

Wikipedia tells us:

Sir Richard Whittington (c. 1354–1423) was a medieval merchant and politician, and the real-life inspiration for the pantomime character Dick Whittington. Sir Richard Whittington was four times Lord Mayor of London, a member of parliament and a sheriff of London. In his lifetime he financed a number of public projects, such as drainage systems in poor areas of medieval London, and a hospital ward for unmarried mothers. He bequeathed his fortune to form the Charity of Sir Richard Whittington, which nearly 600 years later, continues to assist people in need.

The Whittington Hospital at Archway in north London, where my lovely granddaughter was born, is named after Richard Whittington. Its logo incorporates his legendary cat.

Window dressing

It feels as if window dressing may be something of a lost art. With fewer major department stores in our cities than in years gone by, there are fewer grand sweeps of windows in which designers can display a range of goods from within the store. In London, I know of only Harrods, Selfridges and Harvey Nichols that still manage to surprise and impress with stunning window displays. Some of their efforts look so expensive that I imagine the aim is to attract attention to the store, rather than to the specific goods and merchandise. I saw these windows at Harvey Nichols a few weeks ago and they certainly caught the attention of passers-by. I can’t find out who was responsible for the design, and the Harvey Nicks press office was unhelpful, so we just have to appreciate the anonymous talent that put together these brilliant displays: the first, is all spanners and nuts, the second is HB pencils, and the third is books. Excellent.

Double-click on each photo to see it large size.

BBC News had a story earlier this year that retailers might be required to turn out the lights on such displays, to save energy.

I have just come across some additional photographs here and here

The Building Worker

I have no idea how many statues there are in London; hundreds I’m sure, perhaps thousands. A quick Google to find the answer and I discover that there are also hundreds of websites about London statues and works of art; too many for me to wade through to answer my own question. It is quickly clear that the vast majority are of males, white, with a background in the military, parliament, and the aristocracy. Most of them we pass without a glance.

This one caught my eye recently, just north of the Tower. It is a male, but reflects a trade, not an individual. It is called The Building Worker, and the inscription reads:

For the thousands of building workers who have lost their lives at work, we commemorate you. For the thousands of building workers who are today building and rebuilding towns and cities across the United Kingdom, we celebrate you.

The statue was commissioned by UCATT - Union of Construction, Allied Trades and Technicians, Britain's trade union for construction workers, which has 120000 members. It was designed by Alan Wilson, and unveiled by Ken Livingstone, mayor of London, and Alan Ritchie, UCATT General Secretary,in October 2005. I particularly like it because of the detailing Wilson has achieved (it's a carpenter), with claw hammer hanging from his belt, other tools in the pouch, level over his shoulder, and of course a hard hat and reflective jacket.

ANOTHER TATE UPDATE

The closure of the Ai Weiwei installation attracted lots of press coverage over the weekend, the Independent’s being reasonably balanced. There was also a leading article on the subject.

Today the Guardian prints four letters about the seeds, the dust, and related safety problems – one of them from me. (the Dickinson letter).

Many people will have travelled considerable distances to see Ai Weiwei’s installation. Like them, I’m frustrated that we can’t now experience this piece as the artist had intended. There will be considerable embarrassment at the Tate management about this cock-up (for that is what it is). Nevertheless, I still admire them for being willing to have a go at these difficult things, and I hope they hold their collective nerve and continue to be audacious in their commissions.

Why modern art is a matter of experience.

Art Theft - UPDATE

An update on my post below: Rumoured last night, the Press Association has now confirmed that access to the exhibition is to be restricted to ‘look only’.

A vast carpet of more than 100 million porcelain "seeds" in the Tate Modern in London has been declared out of bounds to art lovers only two days after it opened because it poses a health threat.

Visitors to the gallery were initially allowed to walk on the imitation sunflower seeds, which cover 1,000 square metres of its Turbine Hall, but that has now changed.

A Tate spokeswoman said: "Although porcelain is very robust, the enthusiastic interaction of visitors has resulted in a greater than expected level of dust in the Turbine Hall. Tate has been advised that this dust could be damaging to health following repeated inhalation over a long period of time. In consequence, Tate, in consultation with the artist, has decided not to allow visitors to walk across the sculpture."

The Standard reports: Tate Modern has been forced to close the giant Turbine Hall sunflower seeds commission to public access because the surge of interest has created dangerous levels of dust.

The Telegraph has a short video here.

And the Guardian has a nice collection of ten stills of the installation being enjoyed by the public earlier this week, before it was made out of bounds.

It is a shame it hasn't quite worked as the artist and the Tate had wished. I can't see 2 million people, looking at it from the high level bridge, being particularly enthralled. I believe the Tate has shown great willingness to experiment and take risks with the Turbine Hall commissions - we have to allow them to occasionally fail.

Enormous credit is due to Unilever, their sponsors for this enterprise for the past 10 years.

Stealing Art

I am surprised at the admission by Guardian journalist Charlotte Higgins that she stole a porcelain sunflower seed from the new installation at Tate Modern. Her piece appeared in the paper yesterday under the heading. Is it OK to steal a Turbine Hall seed?

The seeds, about the size of a Smartie or M&M, are the work of the Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, perhaps best know in the UK for his contribution to the design of the beautiful ‘bird’s nest’ Olympic stadium in Beijing. He has been commissioned to create the new installation in the giant space of the old Turbine Hall, which will be in place for six months.

Ms Higgins seems to justify herself by saying that because there 100 million of these hand-finished objects on the floor of the Turbine Hall, the Tate can afford to lose one to every one of the 2 million expected visitors. But where would she draw the line? What if those visitors want to take a couple of dozen each?

Antony Gormley’s piece Field for the British Isles is composed of 40,000 tiny terracotta figures; would she steal one of those? Or perhaps take one of Carl Andre’s 120 bricks?

I went down to the Tate today to see the exhibition – but only from a distance. It was ‘closed for maintenance’. Two hours later, and it was still closed. A helpful member of staff confirmed, off the record, that they were trying to decide how to deal with the potential theft - handfuls had been taken at the press launch on Monday - as well as the dust rising as people tramped through the seeds.

Meanwhile, I’m surprised that the Guardian’s Chief Arts Writer should not only confirm her own theft, but seem to encourage her readers to do the same.

A lone worker rakes the seeds

I shall make another attempt to see it when the ‘maintenance’ problems have been resolved.

The critics seem to like it.

Telegraph: he’s come up with a masterpiece.

Guardian: I love this work. It is a world in a hundred million objects….Sunflower Seeds is contingent, oddly moving and beautiful.

The Independent. This, in the end, is rather a melancholy piece....But it’s also about our responsibilities to one another, and the energy we share, and so it contains a seed of hope. Make that 100 million seeds of hope.

Quango*

*definition: quasi-autonomous nongovernmental organization. A semipublic administrative body outside the civil service but with financial support from and senior appointments made by the government.

Today the coalition government announced their long awaited cuts – known until this week as the ‘Bonfire of the Quangos’. The full list is available on the Cabinet Office website.

Tucked away on page 18, under the responsibility of the Foreign Office, I notice the intention to abolish the Government Hospitality Advisory Committee on the Purchase of Wines. Well that must be a blow to all those lucky enough to have benefited from it. Does this mean the government will stop buying wine? Or, is it simply that they will no longer have a committee to advise and will now use Oddbins online? Let’s hope there is time for one last committee meeting, so those officials involved can drown their sorrow in some style.

I see from an answer in the House of Commons two months ago that the government has spent £966,702 on wine, beer and spirits over the last decade. Impressive.

Uncle

Toby came home for a few days: Ella was elighted to meet him for the first time.