The Shocking Voice of Barbara Hepworth

The introduction to BBC2's 'The Culture Show' held sufficient promise that I wanted to see all the pieces in the show. A feature on Hepworth at Wakefield included some b&w footage with the artist talking over it in shocking tones of received pronunciation. An interesting sound to emanate from a face not considerably different to that of Tracy Emin. Even more interesting then to see (and hear) Emin herself later in the same programme; a calming and articulate voice emerging from the familiar, barely handsome, features. Another feature on London's much evolved 'ring of steel' shocked too, by revealing security in urban architecture well beyond buildings and in to the detail of planters and seating.

Rather more prosaically, we took my Mum to the newly opened branch of Dunelm Mill at Titchfield. A homeware heaven no doubt but I decided to soothe my shopping allergy in the car with James Patterson while Mum & Greg negotiated the opening day crowds in what is a rather cramped shop. [The space is large but the displays are a bit tightly packed]. We went to complete more paperwork on our new car and will welcome it to the driveway on Thursday of next week. We are very pleased with our choice and the service we have recieved (so far). The evolution of the car industry pleases me less. For many years it has been the practice to launch models, albeit in their different variants, with as little specification as possible. The various levels then gain accessories and upgrades as the model ages. Our own experience shows us the cynical fashion of today. We have chosen the top specification Meriva (SE) but it still lacks several things we would like but can obtain only as extra-cost options. This then I call the Ryanair model of car sales although it is by no means confined to Vauxhall (GM). The customer is sucked into a vortex (good Vauxhall model name I would say) wherein headline or even OTR prices fail to reflect the more probable price.

I was very thrilled when my cousin drew my attention to this evening's (Portsmouth) Evening News which has published in full a recent letter of mine on QA parking charges. This is the text of that letter:

I was disturbed and angered to read the lead story in The News (9 May) on forthcoming increases to parking charges at QA Hospital. Whilst reluctantly accepting that Carillion is acting within the PFI contract, I want to highlight the following cynicism within what they do on the ground. This I hope will add weight to any protest movement as it inevitably gathers support.

The number and style of warning notices around the site - of a type now increasingly common around the country - are not conducive to the well being of patients, their carers or visitors; they are inappropriate to a hospital environment. I can confirm from personal experience that Carillion are far more enthusiastic about (potential) enforcement of penalties than they are about servicing or repairing broken machines which force people to traipse unnecessary distances around a large site in order to comply with payment regulations.

Ticket machines do not give change or accept cards. However, the tariffs are consistently set in 'odd' amounts. This is a carefully calculated strategy to take advantage of the many people who will not have the right change and will be forced to overpay. This is particularly unfair in the A & E area which probably sees mostly unplanned visits by people who are already distracted and distressed. Machines which accept cards should be introduced immediately and/or a simplified tariff structure designed to optimise payment opportunities and not Carillion's undisclosed profits.

Regardless of the above, Carillion should be compelled to reveal their profits, justify them in terms of costs and overheads and, if necessary, adjust charges to fair levels. Their comparisons with other area car parks are irrelevant and unfair as a hospital is a uniquely stressful environment usually visited not by choice but of necessity.

Redundant Hyperbole

After an hour of effusive commentary by the undoubtedly incisive and usually relevant Simon Schama, I am left as unconvinced of the worth of Mark Rothko's work as I was ignorant of it prior to tonights programme on Sky Arts 2. Comparisons with Rembrandt and Turner, especially Turner, master of light, were frivolous and misguided. In another age, with another presenter, I might have imagined Schama's stream of redundant hyperbole to be born of a cannabis or LSD haze. How else would one see in Rothko's repetitive repertoire that which is not obviously there.

Perhaps it is a reflection of my own darkness which only occasionally (I hope) reaches the surface that the artist's later works, produced as alcohol and tobaccco drained his life, were the ones which gave me pause where earlier pieces including the series intended for (but never shown at) The Four Seasons did not.

I feel I could sit in the Houston Chapel and think something without becoming a fan. There is always room for doubt in any life. Doubt is one of many paths to compromise.

A Visit Marred, A Spirit Scarred

Legal Questions and Philosophical Matters

My visit to Palm Springs Art Museum was as delightful as today's was crushing to the spirit. I had returned with Greg to immerse ourselves in what is, even after this morning's setback, a cultural oasis. It became clear that the photography policy is not as straightforward as had seemed to be the case. Today, restrictions which were not apparent on my earlier visit, were placed upon me. I cannot say much about museum policy which is already more liberal than many but I was greatly worried that photographs I had taken on Wednesday and posted innocently might now contravene their regulations. This is no trivial matter in a nation which thrives on litigation. It was impossible to get a clear answer on my visit and I await a reply to an e-mail as it was suggested I write. Since my original alarm I am somewhat placated to see that there already more than 1000 images on Flickr alone.

Whilst I entirely respect the copyright of the artist I feel deeply conflicted. In any portrayal of a work of art, I always detail that work and fully attribute the artist. In creating an image of my own I am creating a new work rather than infringing a copyright. This is very much the case in the light of my preferred techniques. I am acutely conscious that it is difficult, to say the least, to be original in photography especially where a subject is seen in real life by many thousands or even millions of people. Often then, I strive to create a new viewpoint or unusual composition. I love close-ups, tight crops and the use of objects as frames. In a sculpture garden for instance, it is possible to frame a work with part of another. I feel entitled to create these new images as my own and, with proper credit to the original artist(s), why should I not? Copyright is a sensitive issue but all too often it seems to serve only to protect and maximise the income stream of an artist. They don't mind selling postcards and $200 books but, publicly, will protest art over money. I make no money from my creations nor do I, at this stage, want to. I enjoy recognition as of greater value.

I felt criminalised from even the inadvertent risk of copyright infringement and creatively oppressed from the (widespread) enforcement of related rules.

Solo and Savoury

For those waiting for something a bit more salacious, those who imagine an Inndulge far removed from the rather sedate reality, I can only say I am immersed in nothing more seamy then culture and climate. The most stimulated part of my body after my brain is my shutter finger. The temperatures, I think, even for here, have been high for the time of year. This requires care outside and limits ones stamina; well, mine anyway. We did the laundry and went to Michael's to buy an item for a cousin.

I had some photographic ideas around the area and left Greg at the resort whilst I drove to fulfil them. My first destination was Desert Memorial Park, resting place of Frank Sinatra amongst others. I have been before but it was not at all as I remembered it quite apart from having, presumably, more occupants. I could have sworn that some markers had standing stones but today there was none so I had to consult the office to find Francis Albert. I also enjoyed the Veteran's Chapel and associated memorials. It is a beautiful cemetery but a bit bare on a Wednesday when flowers are removed and the grounds tended.

From there I drove to the airport intending to revisit the Air Museum but lingering instead in the present day and near the Atlantic ramp for its biz-jets. There was again no sign of imminent arrest or indeed being shot. I though this just as well; if a tetanus jab costs $160, I imagine treating a bullet wound could be quite expensive. However, photography can be difficult because of the available angles and the sun. I found a gem in the form of The Loft Airport Cafe where I ate lunch early in the form of an excellent Asian salad. In the event, with the temperature probably touching 30 again, I drove past the Museum and on to another, the Palm Springs Art Museum. I was there to see a specific piece by Antony Gormley

Apart X, 2002 Antony Gormley

but the excellent collection had much more in addition to offer. I was conscious of being there without Greg and of the need to return with him espcially to the Richard Avedon exhibition. His work left me perplexed. My regular readers will both know that I am no fan of b&w and this did not make me one. I could clearly see the technical brilliance of many of the pictures but the point of none. They were for all their clarity just portraits and very few for me captured a person or their moment as presumably intended.

You might think I have no soul but you should know me better. I had soul enough to be shocked by 'Ryuanji', a cast bronze of 2006 by Deborah Butterfield. I don't really want to get involved with lawyers but I can only say that the resemblance to the works at Torre Abbey by Heather Jansch which I viewed on 12 July this year was striking. I should say that Ms. Butterfield's work appears to be the earlier. It appears that both artists use similar techniques and it can be little surprise that both, as artists, are drawn to horses. Perhaps this indicates that many works in many genres are necessarily and inevitably derivative solely because of the limitations of being human.

We shall probably visit the museum on Friday after tomorrow's excursion to the beautiful city of San Diego.

Goodwood

My friend, colleague and furtive aesthete Mike Turner was the inspiration for today's visit to Goodwood. On a day (or at least half a day) of glorious weather sandwiched between what is more usual at this time of year and has, as I recall, been usual for much of this year to date. 'Make haste while the sun shines' may well be the correct version of something misheard hundreds of years ago in a more agrarian age to which my wanderings seemed to return me today. The whole Goodwood area is absolutely beautiful and all that I saw whether of this age or not, uplifted me although I was to be deflated later.

I went first to the aerodrome and received a warm welcome which facilitated photography. I was particularly interested to see the number of aircraft from the Manx registry there. With a Mum and a boyfriend waiting in the car I promised myself a more lingering visit in the future.

Our main objective was the Cass Sculpture Foundation http://www.sculpture.org.uk/ and I was excited before I even reached its gates. It has outlying displays at The Goodwood Hotel and one can hardly imagine a sculpture more exciting than Diane Maclean's 'Encampment' - especially in this morning's light.

The park setting of the Cass is stunning and, although lighting can appear difficult for some pieces, the sylvan setting serves to provide different lights at different times of the year and ignites more in the photographer than it defeats. Unfortunately the paths do not lend themselves to the pushing of a wheelchair and Mum was again in the car as my recovering Gregory joined me on a surprisingly physical culture trail. I became culturally and physically exhausted and we had covered only half of the park to which we must return in its next season. I can  not praise it enough and, as if there were not enough within its boundaries, the views across the Sussex countryside were wonderful. At the time of writing I have to complete my latest Flickr set 'Cass Sculpture Foundation' but it is already well worth a visit at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram . I have produced a body of work worthy of that in the collection.

Sadly it was a bit downhill from there. Goodwood House, an edifice of great beauty, has limited opening times and today was not one. We had hoped to eat there but landed instead in a Chichester Harvester where the food was value for money but the prices were low. Our waitress was quite charming in a thronged restaurant but we all felt let down by the mass produced fare. It appeared to me that tomorrow's weather - certainly the cloud part of it - arrived prematurely and there was an early end to the sunshine. With Mum safely at home our last stop was at the site of Bus Rapid Transit - also extensively documented on my Flickr - but my latest photography was curtailed by rain. It was nearly curtailed rather more dramatically when I discoverd that wearing my hi-vi jacket did not stop me walking into a (rapidly) moving car.

As I was not actually run over I shall be at work on Saturday.

The Lost Symbol - Dan Brown

However much I want a book I rarely fail to wait for the paperback so I started reading The Lost Symbol only recently. The hardback launch was amusing enough for me to photograph it at the time - I think I was in Vancouver, maybe Palm Springs. It is important to remember that a large part of Brown's output reached best seller status only after the phenomenal success of The DaVinci Code.

By the time Lost Symbol reached the shops in a welter of apparent over supply, the snipers were ready. I observed the reviews and decided to reserve judgement for my eventual and inevitable purchase. I am reminded that criticism, negative or otherwise and across the cultural spectrum is best validated, or moderated by personal, first hand experience.

I am glad then that I ignored the literary snobbery and opened the pages of this new volume for myself. I am now only on page 118 - nearly 119 - and I am gripped. It was described as silly and worse but it is no sillier than von Daeniken and flows considerably better. It is entertainment and it works for me. In my busy (if unimportant) life, it is worth setting aside a few minutes here and there to rejoin what Michael Palin might call a "ripping yarn". I am enjoying it and I think you would too.

Scotland Holiday - Day 3

There was indeed sunshine on Leith but it did not survive our visit to The Royal Yacht Britannia. The rain when it came was torrential and the worst we have had on this holiday. It was too late to spoil an excellent day which made me tired and happy in equal measure. I ended up with a huge number of photographs and, consequently, a huge task to name them and, where relevant, to upload them.

The Heart of Scotland services on the M8 leaves a lot to be desired in many ways but its Wild Bean Cafe served adequate food and I noted the availability of free Wi-Fi which we did not use. It was there too that I once again received a favourable impression of Scottish service and could not help feeling in the back of my mind that it would not be so warm in many places down south. The Wild Bean girl was very helpful in pointing out a beakfast special offer which reduced my bill. On my first night the ticket office man at Glasgow Central photocopied the Roundabout map for me - I don't think information services extend that far where I live. Only this morning, our concierge was extremely helpful (pivotal as it turned out in the success of my day) in providing directions to a subway station. Later, in our Edinburgh hotel a coach driver offered to move his vehicle to get me a better photograph. All these actions I have recorded were sincere and their warmth leaves a lasting impression.


Armed only with a small illustrated article in the August edition of Buses magazine, I set out to find two murals (of buses). Instinct and the limited information in the article told me that they would be near Kelvinbridge subway station but to cover my bets I went first to another West End location on the River Kelvin. It proved almost to be a convincing red herring being outside the now closed Transport Museum but consultation with some local walkers pointed me at the Kelvinbridge location of my original surmise. I entered Kelvingrove Park uncertain of where exactly to look but was soon overwhelmed by the scale of what I found. Far beyond the two bus images were a vast series of beautifully executed murals covering a wide array of modes of transport. The quality of the art by street artist Sam Bates is stunning and appears in full at my Flickr photostream http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram/. In some images motorcycles appear to leap from the local greenery; others recall bygone eras in a highly evocative fashion. I just kept on clicking - thank goodness for digital and no need to change films.
I left Glasgow very happy indeed and the subdued weather yielded to some decent sunshine. This enhanced to the fullest effect Water of Leith which is one of the most beautiful stretches of water I have seen. We saw it first in the environs of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art where we had parked to begin our pursuit of the six figures in Antony Gormley's '6 Times'. Figure one, partially buried, is easy to find and the second in a setting of impossible beauty below and behind the gallery. The venue held us for a while longer for an outstanding lunch and the Gilbert & George in Room 20. The hunger and thirst satisfied in the Gallery Cafe were very different from those in the works of the artists. I had the vegetarian dish which was just excellent and Greg enjoyed his soup of fennel and sweet potato.


It was evidently going to be physically demanding to pursue the figures in Gormley's work but number three did not elude us. It was a different story though at the ostensible site of figure 4 besides St Mark's Park. Our puzzlement at its apparent absence was dispelled by a local who revealed that the figure was submerged due in part to a design fault in its base. We returned to its location and could barely discern its form but no meaningful photograph could be taken. We learned that figure 5 is similarly submerged and decided to proceed directly to Leith Docks.

Our timing allowed us to photograph the melancholic figure 6 and visit the Royal Yacht Britannia. The sunshine was now struggling and furious skies formed the background to my pictures at the visitor centre. The historic ship is extremely interesting and beautifully presented but during our tea break in the elegant Royal Deck Tea Room the rain set in so heavily as to cause us to discontinue our visit in favour of a return at a later date.











In the evening a 40 minute wait at Toby seemed unreasonable so we walked a little further to the rather low-key St John's Curry Club at 100 St John's Road, Corstorphine, Edinburgh. The food was very good but served slowly and inaccurately. Poppadums did not arrive and Greg's main course was completely different to what he had ordered. The rain continued and I returned to my laptop.