Category Archives: arts

amusements, arts

Speaking Out about Dumbing Down

In an interview by Michael Hogan in yesterday’s Guardian, acerbic art critic Brian Sewell has denounced most factual TV as disgracefully dumbed-down — particularly on the BBC.


I love Brian Sewell. OK, he’s made a career out of being opinionated and often downright rude, but I love the way he isn’t afraid to speak his mind. And so often he is right, too, just as in this interview. For example:

I’m not really talking about the entertaining things. Hateful though I find them, the BBC does those perfectly well. But anything they tackle that is intellectual, historical, biographical, cultural … It all turns into a travelogue of some kind. Whether it’s Andrew Graham-Dixon on the Italian Renaissance or that rat-faced young man [Simon Reeve] wandering round Australia, it’s the same, because this is what the BBC asks for. The channel controllers are of little education and no background. The editors are very technically clever but know nothing about the topic, so they fit everything to this comfortable format. We deserve better. It’s patronising rubbish.

[…]

All those Simon Schama and David Starkey programmes inevitably turn into walking about and arm-waving. Poor Mary Beard, trundling around the ruins of Rome on a bicycle. Why? These devices even creep into news bulletins: some wretched reporter suddenly emerges from behind a car or tree and walks towards the camera. For God’s sake, you have news to communicate. Stand still and tell us what it is. I don’t want to be entertained, I want to be informed.

[…]

Attenborough does very well because he is just there, talking as the omnipotent voice. He’s good at that. That’s infinitely more convincing than Brian Cox with his sibilant delivery, trying to be the sex symbol of science.

[…]

[The BBC is] terrified of being too intellectual. There’s no debate, no critical discourse or differing viewpoints. The BBC has forgotten the tradition of the Third Programme, which was introduced on radio in 1946. It was fundamentally serious: we didn’t talk down to you, we talked to each other as we normally would and you’d better hurry along behind. I taught history of art in Brixton jail for 10 years and one lesson I learnt very quickly is never talk down to people. If you treat them as equals, you’ve got them, they’re with you. But talk down, they smell it a mile off and hate it. That’s what the BBC does all the time.

[…]

I see [Top Gear] as three clowns enjoying themselves and nothing whatsoever to do with motor cars. They never talk about the aesthetic beauty of cars, their history or future. They’re just overgrown schoolboys.

And there’s a lot more in that vein.

The other evening we watched the BBC Horizon programme on the doings of domestic cats in a Surrey village. It actually told you nothing that wasn’t known 25 years ago; there were no new discoveries, no real research and actually little information — basically just a load of Oooo’s and Ah’s backed up by a bit of new-ish technology and a load of waffle. And this despite the programme being better than most of what Horizon pushes out.

Do read the Sewell interview. Whether you agree with him or not (and I have to admit, I do agree) it is a hoot!

arts, books, people

Book Review

Michael Barber
Brief Lives: Evelyn Waugh
(Hesperus; 2013)

When Michael Barber first told me he had a biography of Evelyn Waugh being published, my first reaction was “Why?”. Why do we need another biography of Waugh?

But then when I got a copy I realised this isn’t really a biography but more a dozen or so quick sketches of the man, for what Hesperus are doing is creating a series of “short, authoritative biographies of the greatest figures in literary history; written by experts in their fields to appeal to general readers and academics alike”.

Given that this is the aim, then Barber and Hesperus have largely succeeded. This is a short work which is well and amusingly written, while remaining interesting, light, accessible and, I found, quite hard to put down.

Yes, the book lacks detail — but what does one really expect in 120 pages? However, although I am no expert on Waugh, it did seem to encapsulate the essence of the man and his life: idiosyncratic, snob, arriviste, poseur, spendthrift, drunk, intransigent bore and grumpy old man (even when quite young); but also both an excellent novelist (I’ll except Brideshead Revisited which never worked for me) and often highly amusing.

As a bonus, at least for me, Anthony Powell gets quite a few mentions. Powell and Waugh, although in some ways rival writers, were friends and admired each others’ work — both publicly and privately — often writing to say how much they had enjoyed the other’s latest volume. Waugh always wanted to live to see Powell complete Dance, but sadly he died halfway through. Wouldn’t it have been interesting to have heard his views on the second half of Dance? How the war trilogy compared with his Sword of Honour? And what would he have made of the denouements of Temporary Kings and Hearing Secret Harmonies?

As Anthony Powell so often did I shall conclude this review with two gripes. While understanding that publishers need to keep costs down, such awful cheap paper is horrid to handle and isn’t going to stand the rigours of time; I would happy to pay an extra 50p to £1 on the price of a book if it meant more aesthetically pleasing paper.

Finally I deplore the lack of an index. I know this is a short work, but any non-fiction book without an index becomes unusable as a reference source. And that, to my mind, is inexcusable in an environment where we must do everything we can to encourage the use of books as a resource. Again I have to lay the blame on cost-cutting publishers, rather than the authors, most of whom I suspect would (privately, at least) agree.

An excellent introduction to the man and a highly enjoyable and interesting read.

Overall rating: ★★★★☆

arts, ramblings, words

National Stationery Week

Monday 22 to Sunday 28 April is National Stationery Week. Yes, that’s “stationery” with an “e” as in “envelope”.

The aim of National Stationery Week is to get people writing. It is a celebration of the written word and all things stationery. The idea is to get more people putting pen to paper and writing by hand more often, especially children. Oh and to get them spelling stationery correctly with an “e”!


Some would have us believe that, in this digital age, letter writing and writing by hand is dead in the water and no longer matters. But in truth technology has merely distracted us from the joy and importance of writing, it hasn’t replaced it — we still have to write note, postcards, posters and exam papers; and many still enjoy writing letters and even novels by hand. Indeed there remains something special about receiving a handwritten letter or card.


There’s a whole website devoted to National Stationery Week at nationalstationeryweek.com including a page which focuses on children and schools.

amusements, arts, ramblings

Morpeth Northumbrian Gathering

Being Eastertide here is a lot on this week and Friday 5 to Sunday 7 April sees the Morpeth Northumbrian Gathering. As their website says:

In September 1966 a modest concert of Northumbrian music and song was held to raise funds for Morpeth Antiquarian Society. It was the inspiration for a one-day Northumbrian festival in March 1968 which evolved into the Morpeth Gathering.

The festival includes a vast array of competitions including crafts, performance and writing. Events of local interest have been added to the programme of concerts, singarounds, barn dance, storytelling, theatre and street performance which includes a young people’s pageant as part of the Border Cavalcade.

The emphasis of the Gathering is firmly upon the native traditions of Northumberland and, whilst there is plenty of scope for traditional music from all over the British Isles within the festival, the wealth of local culture is well to the fore.

For the curious the guy on the left, playing the pipes, is my godfather!
More information at www.northumbriana.org.uk/gathering/index.htm.

amusements, arts

Auction Amusements

Time for another sale at our local auction house. This time round it is a huge sale with over 1000 lots. And as usual it is a curious mix of some “wow!” stuff and the exceedingly strange.

Let’s start with the star of the show, Lot 600:

An important Chinese gilt bronze figure of Amitayus, the Buddha of Infinite Life, Qing dynasty, Kangxi period, seated in shawl and dhoti with engraved floral borders, wearing elaborate diadem and other jewellery, retaining numerous inset coral, turquoise and lapiz cabochons, the exposed flesh retaining brown lacquer colouring, the eyebrows and hair coloured black, on double lotus petal base, 35.5cm high.

Note: this figure belongs to a select group made in the Imperial foundry, one of which was cast on the orders of the Kangxi emperor for his devoutly Buddhist grandmother’s birthday in 1686 and is illustrated in Cultural Relics of Tibetan Buddhism Collected in the Qing Palace, Hong Kong, 1992, pls 1-2. It is likely that the other examples were made for the many Tibetan Buddhist temples in Beijing.


Should you desire this magnificent piece you’ll need to arrange a mortgage before you even consider bidding.

So after that it has to be all down hill into the oddities …

A set of Guinness buttons on original card.
How do you sew buttons on Guinness?

3 silver-gilt jewels of the Royal Antediluvian Order of Buffaloes, early 20th century, in cases, each for Lodge 181 (Prince Victor Lodge, Isle of Wight), together with the order’s certificate for … and an old photograph of a tailor’s shop; also a German Iron Cross, Second World War 1939-45 War Medal and the 1939-45 Defence Medal, and the George V and Queen Mary medal by Elect Cocoa.

An original cartoon by Willie Rushton and a 1930s map of Berlin.
Does anyone else find this slightly surreal?

An interesting collection of 20 buttonhooks and other implements, some silver, mainly circa. 1900.

An extensive collection of old horse decorations mounted on leather, a collection of graded buckles mounted on leather, a carved furniture decoration, a fire trivet, a letter stamp, etc.

An old milk churn inscribed: ‘S. Jackman, Buckingham’, a Bakelite record player by Columbia, an old coat hanger in the form of a doll, a similar doll, a brush with a doll handle, a bed pan … an old trunk, purple glass vase, etc.

A large well presented light brown sawfish rostrum, 130cm.

A large early Victorian neo-gothic burr walnut chiming mantel clock, by Daniel Desbois, the signed painted arched dial with strike/silent indicator below the chapter ring, with gilt hands, quarter chiming on eight bells and hour striking and with pull-cord repeat, the back plate signed … the case with outset cluster columns with obelisk finials flanking the arched cresting, 24″ high.
They make it sound a mess, but from the photo (right) it’s actually rather nice in it’s way. You’d need an enormous mantelpiece to put it on though.

A pull-along papier mache French Bulldog with nodding head, glass eyes, opening mouth and barking when chain pulled, fitted with coir and red fabric collar, early 20th century.

A probably tribal or theatrical musket.

A pair of William IV neo rococo ormolu candlesticks, each with a heron by a foliate scroll stem on rocaille base, complete with nozzles.
Yes, they are a complete mess!

A wax profile of Catherine the Great, said to be by G Dupre after Wyon, under glass in Georgian ebonised frame.

A broken stained glass roundel, probably 16th century, of St John the Baptist.

The skull and horns of a bison mounted on a shield and stand.

Seventeen terracotta, wood and pottery garden pots, and contents, and a linen box of rope sisal construction.

Two unusual mirrors incorporating the grille from a Rover 75 motor car, and another, a tennis racquet mirror, also a ship’s wheel nutcracker, water flask, wooden tool box with tools and a leather document case.

Four fire extinguishers.

A large quantity of artist’s equipment: pads, paints, an easel, also decorative lamps, birds under glass domes, resin bird figures …

A pair of occasional reproduction tables, each with a galleried centre section and two hinged ends, on moulded tapering legs.
But what are they at the times they aren’t reproduction tables?

As with so much of it, you just have to ask “Why?”.

arts, pleasures

Wallace Collection

Earlier today I had a meeting at The Wallace Collection in central London, which is just off Oxford Street near Bond Street tube station. While there we took the opportunity for a quick look at a couple of our favourite things.

The Wallace is a mine of all sorts of art eccentricities from paintings (famous and not so famous), through Sèvres porcelain and French furniture, to bronzes, metalware and armour. It describes itself on its website as a national museum in an historic London town house. In 25 galleries are unsurpassed displays of French 18th century painting, furniture and porcelain with superb Old Master paintings and a world class armoury. Their description used to be A Family Collection, A National Museum, An International Treasure House — and that is precisely what it is!

Apart from my meeting and the inevitable coffee and cake, we stopped to look specifically at three things: the current exhibition, Poussin’s painting A Dance to the Music of Time (of course!) and some of the Dutch naval paintings.

The current exhibition is The Noble Art of the Sword: Fashion and Fencing in Renaissance Europe. It contains some delightful examples of both functional and ceremonial rapiers from around 16th and 17th century Europe, together with a few artefacts and numerous contemporary illustrations.

Some of the metal work is stunning, but for me the highlight was the Parade costume of Christian II, Elector of Saxony which dates from the first decade of the 17th century. Costume from that date is rare, and something of this quality and in such good condition is just fabulous! With it was the Elector’s (ceremonial) rapier, the hilt inset with blue enamel and lapis to match the costume.

Having seen the swords, we made our way up to the first floor, past paintings by Rembrandt, Gainsborough and Canaletto for a quick look at Poussin’s painting A Dance to the Music of Time, inspiration for Anthony Powell‘s 12 volume magnus opus of the same title. Whenever I see the painting, which is always hung nicely at about eye-level, I am surprised by how small it is at just 82 x 104 cm.

On the wall opposite the Poussin is Frans Hals’s (wrongly named) The Laughing Cavalier, which today was amusing for having, left nearby on the floor, a reproduction lace collar complete with ye olde press studs.

Click these images for larger versions on Flickr
cav1 collar1

Finally we went to the newly transformed and restored Dutch Galleries, which look stunning. They contain some of my favourite paintings: the Dutch sea scenes of Willem Van De Velde (1633-1707). Many of these paintings, two of which are below, would have been done at a time when England was at war with Holland and Samuel Pepys (another of my “heroes”) was in charge of the British Navy.

Van De Velde
Calm: Fishing Boats under Sail		 Van De Velde
The Embarkation of Charles II at Scheveningen
This was the Restoration in 1660; Samuel Pepys was there

If you’re in central London and have some time The Wallace Collection is well worth a visit. You may not like everything it contains — personally I dislike the Sèvres porcelain and the ornate French furniture — but you’re almost bound to find something you like. The Collections are a nice size: worth seeing but not too huge. While to do it all in detail would take a lot of time you could absorb and enjoy the highlights in an hour or so.

The restaurant is definitely up-market, if not a little pretentious; the food is always good, although the service can be slightly tardy; our slices of coffee cake were gargantuan! There is the usual shop. Visitor information is here, and entrance is free.

All images except the two of the Frans Hals are © The Wallace Collection.

arts, pleasures, ramblings, topographical

Fast Break in Somerset

We’ve just come back from a flying overnight visit to Frome in Somerset.

The trip was to attend a lecture (put on by the Frome Society for Local Study as part of the Frome Festival) by biographer Hilary Spurling on Anthony Powell and his house The Chantry, which is just outside Frome.

Hilary, who knew the Powell well, is currently working on his official biography and her lecture delved around in some of her preliminary thoughts about Powell’s relationship with the early 19th century house he occupied for the second half of his life. That was a relationship, she suggested, which was one factor in making Powell’s magnum opus A Dance to the Music of Time the novel it is; without the country solitude Powell would likely not have been able to write Dance in the way he did. This made for a hugely interesting lecture, although as Hilary commented these were early thoughts and she had been reluctant to expose them to public view so early in her writing process. (This also explains why there will not be a text made available.) If they are a sample of the depth and perceptiveness of her finished biography it will be just brilliant.

Following the lecture Noreen and I went, with Anthony Powell Society Chairman Paul Nutley, to La Bisalta, Frome’s most superb Italian restaurant for a delicious late dinner. This is a small family-run restaurant in a converted house on the edge of the town centre — and actually a restaurant Powell knew but under its previous owners. Despite arriving, unannounced, after 9pm we were warmly welcomed and magnificently fed and watered; so magnificently that none of us could manage a pudding! I had a really delicious hot Antipasto Caldo, which came to the table literally sizzling on the plate, followed by a wonderfully rich Tagliolini with porcini mushrooms in a cream sauce, washed down with some well-chilled Peroni. Paul and Noreen both had duck breast as a main course, which they reported to be equally excellent. We staggered off to our respective dormitories not much before 11.30! ★★★★★

Room 1

Noreen and I were staying in the Archangel. According to Paul, who knows Frome well, this was until a few years ago a very scruffy back-street pub. But it has now been heavily refurbished as a small, contemporary hotel, bar and restaurant. The style is a fusion of the old rustic (stripped stone walls) with the contemporary (stainless steel, dark woodwork, bare pipework, strange-shaped sinks and sumptuous sofas which it is impossible to climb out of). Our room (above) was a strange fusion of Goth with dark purple paintwork and soft furnishings, mostly bare (old) plaster walls, and a huge photographic mural of Fra Angelico’s Angel of the Annunciation. The bathroom was the size of most people’s sitting room with a steel bath the size of the Titanic! The bed was heavenly soft, especially after what had been a tiring day. Breakfast was excellent, everyone was extremely friendly and although not cheap it wasn’t unreasonably expensive either at £125 for a double room including breakfast. The owners deserve to make a success of what has clearly been a huge investment. ★★★★★

The return train journey from London Paddington to Westbury was painless and on time despite getting drowned by a torrential rain-shower boarding the train on the return journey. Paul kindly conveyed us to and from the station. ★★★★★ again.

We were away from home for just 27 hours, but it felt more as if we had been gone the best part of a week! An all-round super trip despite not having any real time to explore Frome itself.