A LOCAL VISIT...

As a break from all the trouble and strife of the world, had another visit to the local village of Birling, nestling beneath the North Downs here in deepest Kent.   

Now Birling is one of those archetypal English country villages where you can spend a fortnight in an afternoon.  It has a long history with the Church and Manor being recorded in the Domesday Book and like many of the villages around here, Birling has its own village sign - pictured above.

It has a couple of claims to fame - one genuine, the other less so.  The genuine one is that the churchyard includes the grave of one of the country`s best admired and most prolific artists in Rowland Hilder.  He spent some of his early years with his grandparents in Birling and, as he himself recalled, "It seemed miles from anywhere.  Even the people living in the next village to us, Ryarsh, were considered as foreigners."  See more about him here - http://www.artnet.com/artists/rowland-hilder/

Local myth has grown over the years concerning the speech given by President John F Kennedy in 1963 in which, despite local claims, he did not say, "Ich bin ein Birlinger."

Anyway, here are a few photos I took, along with the one at the top, on my recent visit - please click on the photos for better images........

The Lychgate

Birling Park Farm

Away from it all

Harvest time

PANTOMIME SEASON BEGINS...

I think it was the late Brian Sewell who said something to the effect that you always know when the pantomime season begins when the Turner Prize turns up.  And last night the £25,000 prize for 2018 went to one Charlotte Prodger with her entry which comprised a pretty gimpy film shot on her mobile phone.   

Now I know it`s supposed to be all about `exploring new innovations in the visual arts` - that kind of thing - but once again the reputation of visual art has been invaded by yet more meaningless nonsense.   Given that the award is supposed to honour the name of JMW Turner I`m sure that, now as an annual ritual, he is once again turning in his grave. 

Now, Turner was himself supposed to have been controversial in his time but at least he produced pictures that people could recognise and admire.   These days it seems the whole idea of what constitutes visual art is reduced to parody, to farce and, yes, to pantomime.  Kim Howells got it right when, as Culture Minister in 2002, he pinned this message on a board specially designated for visitors` comments:-

"If this is the best British artists can produce then British art is lost. It is cold, mechanical, conceptual bullshit."   PS :  "The attempts at conceptualisation are particularly pathetic and symptomatic of a lack of conviction."

Anyway, just to remind us of the heights to which visual art should, even today, aspire, have a look at this and be thankful that Jan van Eyck didn`t have a mobile phone:- 

A DECEPTIVE QUIETUDE..

I took this photo yesterday.  It`s an idyllic scene on a quiet, late September morning, the photo taken from a public footpath looking up towards the North Downs here in deepest Kent.   It`s close to the village of Birling, where we parked the car - just a few minutes drive from home.

Birling is famous for two things really.  The first was way back in 1963 when President John F Kennedy made his stirring speech which ended, "And there are some who say in Europe and elsewhere we can work with the communists.  Well, let them come to Birling.  Ich bin eine Birlinger!"  (He might have said `Berlin` - I might have misheard.)

The second is that Birling`s churchyard includes the last resting place of Rowland Hilder - surely one of the country`s most well known and well loved artists.  Here`s an example of his work and his love for this part of Kent:-

On our walk we came across a gamekeeper who told us that the pheasant shooting season was due to open on 6th October and that 3,000 pheasants were currently enjoying life in the nearby wood and fields.  I hope they have a good week as next week they will be scattered into the air to become targets for those who enjoy killing pheasants just for the fun of it.  

And so the quiet peace we enjoyed on our walk in this tranquil corner of Kent turns out to have been deceptive, especially if you`re a pheasant.

INTERESTING....

I was sorry to hear of Brian Sewell`s passing yesterday at the age of 84 following a losing battle with cancer.   He was without doubt `interesting` but perhaps perception of him was too often limited by his rather superior, almost regal manner of speaking.  It was, however,  probably the least `interesting` aspect of a very `interesting` life.

I won`t go on about the many facets of his 84 years - others have done that in abundance - but there are a couple of things that I feel are worth mentioning here.   The first is his parentage which, it turns out, included the composer Peter Warlock as his biological father, who died before Sewell was born.  Warlock himself was `interesting` and is perhaps best remembered, by me at least, for his  beguiling Capriol Suite.

Sewell counted among his friends Anthony Blunt, Roy Strong, Francis Bacon and Lucien Freud  and he was a seriously accomplished and respected art historian and critic.   And it is in this area that he is perhaps remembered as being harshly critical, often waspish but unfailingly honest as a judge of artists and their work.  He lampooned the choice of Liverpool as European Capital of Culture in 2008;  he thought that Tracey Emin was `the Jade Goody of art;` and Banksy was ` a complete clown.`

He loved dogs and motor cars in equal measure but for me his greatest gift to the modern world was to condemn pretty much everything about modern art as pretentious tosh, not worthy of a second glance.   Maybe there was much about Brian Sewell to disagree with or to find uncomfortable, but in his rejection of modern art and `artists` he was not only spot on in his assessment but also voicing the feelings of a large section of the population, especially those provincials, like me, who want no truck with any form of metropolitan affectation.

He will be missed.

A CULTURAL PUZZLE ...

The history of erecting statues as memorials to those who have passed on is mixed.   Examples range from the entirely justified, the traditionally classic to the frankly absurd and although it hurts me to recall an embarrassing episode in the history of Southampton FC,  I have to admit that the first effort to honour former player, manager and club President, Ted Bates, took the form of a lifelike representation of Jimmy Krankie clutching a ball whilst perched on his plinth outside St. Mary`s Stadium.   

The ensuing outcry, however, demanded that that dismal failure be removed, the `sculptor` criticised, the committee who sanctioned it chastised and a more worthy second attempt commissioned.   As a result, a dignified and genuine representation of Ted Bates` true character emerged from the chaos.  Here are the `before and after` versions:-

So eventually all was well that ended well, but it was the realisation that a statue was entirely appropriate to honour someone who had given his life to the club that was the most important consideration.   And I guess that in the history of statue commissioning, a number of criteria are used before deciding to go ahead, including such things as the status of the subject, their contribution to the locality, the country or the world in general, the example they have set for others to follow and the respect which they have earned in their lifetime.

So I`m puzzled as to what criteria may have been used in the People`s Republic of Camden where a statue has been commissioned and will be unveiled shortly in memory of Amy Winehouse. 

STATUESQUE..

I see they`re going to unveil a statue of `Sir` Alex Ferguson at Old Trafford to mark his 26 years as Manchester United manager.   At first glance, marking 26 years seems an odd number but, as is well known, 26 is indeed unique and deserves to be remembered.   Now, in all the limitless world of number-land,  26 is the only number that lies between a squared number (5x5) and a cubed number (3x3x3.)  So it`s special.

I`m sure the powers that be at Old Trafford were well aware of this when they decided on the statue wheeze.....either that or Ferguson might at last be on his way and give us something to celebrate?   Anyway, they should be careful, for the experience of statues in my own club has been more than a little chequered.   Shortly after his sad passing it was decided to erect a statue to Southampton stalwart Ted Bates.  

The first one which was revealed (pictured above) bore little resemblance to the Ted Bates we all knew and admired.   Instead, it turned out to be a very fair representation of Jimmy Krankie and thus attracted some well deserved ridicule.  So a second one (pictured left) was commissioned and does Ted Bates well, standing outside the main entrance to St. Mary`a Stadium.  

So I hope Manchester United don`t suffer the same problems but then there really is only one image that captures the restraint and dignity of  the knight of the realm that is Ferguson and on which the statue must surely be based.  It`s this one:-

Or perhaps Ferguson, in a sneak preview, has caught a glimpse of what his statue looks like and is offering his considered critique?   And maybe we`ll finally discover what became of the Jimmy Krankie statue after all.

THE VERY LAST RESORT..

Tracey Emin`s been in the news again.   This time she`s making an exhibition of herself in her home town of Margate where, in the Turner Contemporary - the art gallery she opened a year ago - she has an exhibition of `new work.`   She Lay Down Deep Beneath the Sea is her first exhibition there and has been `conceived especially for the town.`


The Director of the Turner Contemporary, one Victoria Pomery, said that most of the work had been produced by Emin in the last eight months and was completely unseen.   So, now we know.   Most of the stuff on show has been knocked up in quick time and if the example shown above is anything to go by, I`m not surprised and it shows.   Where`s a three year old when you need one?


Of course, the art luvvies will love it, as it is a prime example of a load of complete tat masquerading as something deeply meaningful and will thus doubtless fetch a good price among those with more money than sense.   It`s just the latest in a career that has seen Emin produce endless streams of rubbish by which she has amassed an indecent fortune and a  reputation as a `character,` a `personality,` even a `celebrity.`   And all achieved with a charmless persona which of itself could do well in the Turner Prize, for which Emin was astonishingly nominated some time ago.


And now to add insult to injury we learn that Emin is to carry the Olympic Torch through the streets of her beloved Margate, presumably on the basis that she might be the town`s best known product.   Although, in fairness, there is something artistic, almost touching, in the twin imitations of Emin, with her modest skills, and The Torch, with its trumpeted pointlessness, coming together in what must surely be the last resort on the Kent coast.

A HANGING OFFENCE...

I was sorry to learn that Prime Minister David Cameron thought it necessary to cut short his holiday in Cornwall and return to Downing Street.   We`re told that he did so in order to chair a meeting to discuss the present situation in Libya.   Whilst that sounds plausible, I suspect that he was more anxious to be seen taking whatever credit he can for Britain`s part in the toppling of Gadaffi, rather than staying in Cornwall and letting his Deputy Nick Clegg hog the limelight.

But, once a PR man, always a PR man I guess.   I have to be honest and say that if I were in Cameron`s shoes (Heaven forbid) wild horses would never drag me away from Trebetherick simply to have a pose in front of the cameras.   And in any case, I would most definitely think twice about entering No. 10 now that the frightful Tracey Emin has responded to Cameron`s request for one of her `works` to become part of the Government Art Collection.

And here it is, pictured above.   It`s just a neon sign saying `More Passion` and is apparently hanging just outside the Terracotta Room in No.10.   It would, I suspect, be more at home in Al`s Diner or that Transport Cafe on the A2 which alleges that it is frequented by `the rich and famous.`

But what is really alarming is that Emin`s `work` has an estimated value of £250,000, which instantly recalls one of Harry Enfield`s sketches whereby dimwitted airhead young ladies enter his affected bijou shop and quite happily buy bits of rubbish for exhorbitant prices.   But at least I have now discovered that there is a `Government Art Collection,` which I take to mean that it`s ours really as the collection, including Emin`s pretensious mediocrity, has been built up using taxpayers` money.   I`m surprised there wasn`t a consultation period or even a referendum to decide whether we really wanted to be saddled with such tosh.

It all reminds me of Christmas, as for years now I have long suspected that the Christmas cards sent out from the Prime Minister, Government Departments, Quangos, Councils and the rest of the public sector panoply are all paid for by us taxpayers too.   In which case, it`s about time I received one.

TURNERING IN HIS GRAVE ?

I`ve never really understood why the annual Turner Prize is named for JMW Turner, one of the country`s greatest artists and recipient of the recently opened Turner Contemporary Gallery in downtown Margate.   Maybe someone can enlighten my philistine approach to matters concerning modern `art,` as I grapple with the shortlist of entries for this year`s Turner Prize which has now been published.

It includes Karla Black’s `What To Ask For Others` - pictured above, which has been fairly accurately described as `a skinned dog suspended in a shopping bag` - and  which apparently typifies the ‘vulnerable beauty’ of her art, according to judges.   Black creates her works from a variety of unusual materials, including lipstick, flour, bath salts, plaster, petroleum jelly and soil.  

Hilary Lloyd’s work is described as ‘slightly voyeuristic’ and features video screens and projectors showing images of building sites, highway bridges and other eerie urban scenes, while George Shaw paints suburban scenes of ‘foreboding and danger’ using Humbrol enamel paints, of the kind often used by model makers.  Martin Boyce, meanwhile, specialises in installations inspired by Modernism, which have included items such as fences, chairs, rubbish bins and neon lights.

Now just up the road from me, a neighbour is embarking on an extension to his house.   As a result, he has a skip in his front garden which contains the soil from digging out the footings and assorted material from a discarded conservatory.   As I passed the skip yesterday, it struck me as symbolising the essential conflict between past and present, reaffirming the truism that the only constant thing in life - and, indeed, the here and now - is change, whilst at the same time accentuating the sharp difference between the spartan minimalism of yesterday and the heroic materialism of today. 
 

The point is, of course, that my neighbour`s skip has as much artistic relevance as all the smug pretension of anything you will find in Tate Modern come November, when the verdict is announced.   It seems entirely logical and deliciously appropriate for the £40,000 Turner Prize money to be stumped up by Gordon`s Gin, as maybe the only way to appreciate the entries is through the vague mist of an alcoholic stupor.   As for the great JMW, he must surely be turning in his grave, for to be associated with Margate is one thing but to be associated with the establishment equivilent of my neighbour`s skip might just be a commission too far.

BEYOND PRETENSION ?

So, this year`s £25,000 Turner Prize has been awarded to some Scottish bint playing recordings of a 16th century Scottish dirge in a scruffy looking room at Tate Modern.   This year`s effort is obviously up there in weirdness terms with past winners - Tracey Emin`s bed, Rachel Whiteread`s concrete house, etc - but it`s a weird competition anyway, as it is restricted to `modern art` and to `artists` only under the age of 50.   I`m surprised they haven`t been done for ageism.

It really is the most awful nonsense, beyond pretension, and I think what makes it even more so is the fact that it is taken oh so seriously by the  gang of pretender art critics who heap praise on such mediocrity.   How JMW Turner must be spinning in his grave.

But, I have been heartened by the discovery of the alternative Turner Prize - the Turnip Prize - which is held annually in the Somerset village of Wedmore.   This year`s Turnip Prize has gone to Doug Pitt who produced a plate depicting the Chilli `n` minors - a big chilli with some smaller ones - and as daft as it sounds, this winning entry and the whole concept of the alternative prize turns out to be more meaningful, more legitimate and much more enjoyable than anything that goes on in Tate Modern.  In the name of reason, common sense and the rejection of artistic pretension, have a look at:-
 http://www.thisisthewestcountry.co.uk/news/8723166.The_Turnip_Prize__The_results_are_in/

....and a history of the Turnips and a list of past entrants can be found at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turnip_Prize

A SURPRISING DISCOVERY..

In September 2008, I wrote a piece on here about the landscape artist Rowland Hilder. Rather than repeat it all again, you can find it by typing `Rowland Hilder` in the search box at top left of this page and it tells something of his life and his association with the area where I live.

This afternoon, Barney and I went for our walkies around the village of Birling, just a couple of miles away. I parked the car behind the church and we set off for an hour`s ramble across the fields and lanes which are beginning to look a bit bleak at this time of the year. Barney enjoyed frightening the life out of squawking pheasants and scampering rabbits and I enjoyed the peace and quiet of a truly rural area. It reminded me of Rowland Hilder`s own description of Birling - "....miles from anywhere. Even people in the next village of Ryarsh were considered foreigners."

Our route back to the car took us through the churchyard and I discovered that Rowland Hilder was buried there along with his wife Edith, herself an accomplished flower artist. In an article appearing in The Countryman in April 1980, Hilder wrote that although born of English parents in Great Neck, Long Island, the family returned to England each summer to stay at Birling with his grandparents. It was during those early years that he fell in love with the Kent countryside and especially the area between Shoreham eastwards towards Maidstone, so often depicted in much of his work.

Looking back on the obituaries for Hilder, it becomes apparent that he was very highly thought of in the world of watercolours. Denis Thomas`s notes in The Independant following Hilder`s death in April 1993, recalled that this particular area of Kent had become known as `Rowland Hilder Country` evoking as much significance as the `Constable Country` of the Suffolk Stour. Rich praise indeed.

So my surprising discovery now becomes twofold, for it is one thing to have admired the artist for so many years and to have discovered his resting place in Birling churchyard, but quite another to be reminded that this part of Kent is indeed `Rowland Hilder Country.` I suspect that `label` is far better known outside the area than it is in it and I do wonder whether Kent County Council, in their endless quest for `marketing opportunities,` might perhaps be making more of this cultural heritage right on their doorstep. After all, it`s not every county that can boast associations not only with JMW Turner but also a landscape artist of such distinction that he became known as `the Turner of his generation.`

For More about Rowland Hilder, please see http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/theartofwar/artists/hilder_rowland.htm

EASING THE PAIN....

Touching again on my `art` theme for this week, I have been much taken by the reports today that to see good works of art - especially paintings - not only helps to relieve stress but also can actually reduce any levels of physical pain one might be suffering.

Apart from artists like David Inshaw, I have long admired the work of local Kent artist Rowland Hilder. Years and years ago, when I was leaving a job in Maidstone to seek my fortune (which I didn`t) in the stockbroker belt of Surrey, I was asked what I might like for a leaving present. I chose a framed print of one of Rowland Hilder`s scenes of Kent. Like Inshaw, Hilder`s work, such as the one shown above, does not pretend to say anything other than `look and enjoy.` And there`s no doubt that one can get lost in the landscape, the atmosphere, the peace and tranquility of works like this.

Rowland Hilder was born in 1905 in Great Neck, Long Island of English parents. When he was 10, the family moved permanently back to England so his father could do his patriotic duty and join the forces fighting in World War 1. The family settled with Rowland`s grandparents in the small Kent village of Birling - a mile or so from where I live - which Rowland described as "miles from anywhere. Even the people in the next village of Ryarsh were considered foreigners."

After his father returned safely from the war, the family moved to New Cross in south east London and Rowland`s skill at drawing eventually saw him admitted to nearby Goldsmiths College where, in later life, he was to become the college`s Professor of Drawing.

although Hilder also produced work depicting other parts of Britain, he is perhaps best remembered for his scenes of the landscapes and seasons of his adopted county of Kent, such as this one:-

Now, paintings like these may not be `masterpieces` in the accepted meaning of the word, but they do exactly what it says on the tin - `look and enjoy.`

A THOUSAND WORDS...

Damien Hirst`s The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, pictured above, was originally commissioned by Charles Saatchi in 1991 at a cost of £50,000. In 1994, it was sold to New York hedge fund manager Steve Cohen for about £5million. I don`t like it much and it seems the formaldehyde is already going murky and will cost a six-figure sum to put right.

Yesterday was the first of two days of sales of Hirst`s work at Sotheby`s and the total sale value was over £70million, which on a day when the world`s stock markets were in freefall says much about the price of things and their value. I guess if Cohen falls on hard times he can always try and sell it.

I don`t like `modern art.` I quite admire the experimental nature of some of it and the statements made by Hirst, Emin, Whitehorn and the rest. But to pretend they represent real art doesn`t wash with me. A lot of it is pretentious, ugly, temporary and overpriced.

Now here, in my humble opinion, is what `modern art` should look like:-

David Inshaw was a founder member of the Brotherhood of Ruralists, which was formed "in opposition to the scholarly nature of contemporary art which believed that paintings were only really valid if they addressed social questions. Our aims are the continuation of a certain kind of English painting. We admire Samuel Palmer, Stanley Spencer, Thomas Hardy, Elgar, cricket, the English landscape and the Pre-Raphaelites."

They`re talking my language. For me at least, Inshaw`s painting of the cricket match at Little Bredy in Dorset represents what I look for in art. It may be `simple,` it may not challenge, but when I`m gazing wistfully at my walls, I`m pretty sure I would rather be confronted by Inshaw`s work than anything more `modern,` as it paints a thousand words more than Hirst`s ever could .

LES TRES RICHES HEURES D`ALFRED WALLIS

A visit to St. Ives in Cornwall last week turned out to be, on the whole, a bit of a mistake. It`s a wonderful place of course - all sun, sea, picturesque scenery and startling light - but last Tuesday it was thronged with visitors crowding the narrow streets and, what made it worse, crowded too with cars being driven around and around seeking somewhere to park.

However, the visit was enriched by the discovery of a rather small, inconspicuous terraced cottage, bearing a plaque.

I always find plaques intriguing and I can`t resist checking them out and, on this occasion, I was not to be disappointed, for it turned out to be the cottage where Alfred Wallis had lived.

(click to enlarge)

Wallis was born in Devonport on 18 August 1855. Living from childhood along the south-western coast of England, he started life as a fisherman at sea from the young age of nine. It was only on retirement from the sea, around 1925, that Wallis began to paint. His chosen subject matter reflected his profession and surroundings and was limited to views of shipping and the sea. Wallis's poverty prompted him to work on whatever materials came to hand, including driftwood and cardboard



(This one - `Sailing off St. Ives` - is in oil on card laid on board: click to enlarge)

Wallis's complete lack of formal training meant that his vision remained fresh and untainted by traditional preconceptions of 'correct' draughtsmanship and perspective. This quality of immediacy and truth aroused the interest of progressive artists, in particular Ben Nicholson (1894–1982) and Christopher Wood (1901–30), both being members of the artistic colony who chose to work in the crisp light of St Ives. Despite recognition and admiration from artistic circles, Wallis's work did not capture the public's imagination during his lifetime and he died in poverty in Madron Workhouse near Penzance on 29 August 1942.

Since then, of course, his works are considered to be priceless....oh, yes, and his cottage can be rented for holidays (at the right price, I imagine.)

(click to enlarge)

Given the traffic and the crowds, I doubt I will ever return to St. Ives in late summer...but at least I have caught up with an artist of singular character.

(click to enlarge)

AN INCIVILISED COMMENT.....

There have been very few occasions when I have genuinely been awestruck . Seeing the interior of St. Paul`s and Winchester Cathedrals are two examples but the world of the visual arts provided another.

A few years ago, on an impulsive Sunday morning, my eldest son, David and I visitied the National Gallery in London for the first time. It`s a wondeful place - all the usual suspects are there to be seen, the great and the good throughout the history of visual art. But however long you might reel off the familiar names, it`s a matter of some doubt that you will utter the name of Joseph Wright of Derby.

Now, the National Gallery has countless `rooms` and on a Sunday morning they all tend to be well populated, people going round them in an orderly fashion, seldom forming what you might call a crowd around any particular exhibit. Until, that it, you come to `An Experiment on a bird in the Air Pump.` On the Sunday morning of our visit, we went into the room and there were the people crowded round this quite stunning work. It is Joseph Wright`s crowning masterpiece - and it`s huge, 183 x 244cm - and it shows a travelling scientist demonstrating the formation of a vacuum by the withdrawal of air from a flask containing a white cockatoo.

The point of the painting is not so much to demontrate the science but more to show the human emotion which the experiment brings to the onlookers. The little girl is worried whether the bird will die - Wright leaves the question unanswered; the young lovers on the left seem only to be concerned about themselves. The painting also demonstrates Wright`s mastery of light - the whole scene is lit by the one candle on the table. There is so much to admire, so much to contemplate - small wonder the Sunday morning crowd were as much in awe as I was.

Years ago, the BBC produced a groundbreaking series by the then Sir Kenneth (later Lord) Clark - `Civilisation` which tracked the growth of civilisation as seen through the arts, music and architecture of the ages. In it he dismisses Wright as `a mediocrity.` If the visual arts are about anything, they are about lifting the spirit, which Wright`s painting surely did on that Sunday morning. Much as I admired Lord Clark`s intellect, I fear he has misjudged one of the finest artists of the 18th century by his uncivilised comment.

More information can be found at http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/cgi-bin/WebObjects.dll/CollectionPublisher.woa/wa/work?workNumber=ng725)