Good idea provided the political class in the whole of the UK take an allegiance to
Not act on self interest
Not spend public money for their own advancement
Not cynically state that their aim is to eradicate poverty and then charge the cost of their mortgages to the taxpayers
Not say how green we should all be then jet of on some freebie to the Carribean in the interests of basically themselves
Not make moral statements about the people of this country then go off shag their secretary behind their wife's/husband's backs
And as for former Attorney Generals not support war that is clearly illegal in international law
And not stand in the way of the legal process on behalf of a bunch of self-interested Arab businessmen
Only then I might consider it a good idea
HD
Smallest distance between objects
Question posed today elsewhere:
'…What's the smallest distance between two objects before they touch?…'
HD's proposition:
It's a really good question Jim!
If you assume that the smallest distance between two objects is a straight line and the line is made up of infinitesimal 'bits' and where these 'bits' are the smallest particles that can exist in the universe it might be stated that they are not touching when the line's bits=2 between the objects. Therefore if you measure each bit in terms of length and multiply by 2 that is the smallest measurable length between the objects. It cannot be reduced to 1 bit only, since one bit cannot be a line, it can only be the smallest bit of a line.
Theoretically, it might be stated as the width of the smallest particle that makes up the atomic structure since atoms are in fact transparent to some particles. I.e radiation. Measuring that may be difficult unless you place two objects that do not appear transparent to these particles next to each other and wait till the particles cannot transmit across the gap.
Practically not possible. Read about Schrödinger's Cat where it is either alive or dead, but is only one or the other when one can actually measure it. At all other times it is either alive or dead but remains hidden.
The assumption that the smallest distance between two points, however, is also not provable outside of mathematics. It might be that the smallest distance is in fact measured by some other entity which may not be straight in the ordinary sense of the word. Lines are assumed to be straight but it may not be the case. If they are made up of 'bits' as stated above, there is a reliance on the 'bits' being adjacent to each other at all times and that there is no 'gap' between bit ends.
The question that could be asked is are there distinct objects or are all objects just transient, transferable and fusible with other objects?
It may also be that the distance between two objects may be different in space than as measured on earth!
HD
White Boys, Geno Washington and the Class of ’66
This week we heard '…White British boys from poorer backgrounds are more likely than other social groups to perform badly at school…' That was according to a report by the Joseph Rowntree Foundation. A disturbing announcement I feel but something I knew already. In fact I have been anticipating this for nearly 40 years.
The only reason why more than 40 years ago the subject would not have hit the headlines is because there would have been no discrimination between the colour of skin in an educational report of the time. There would be no need, the predominant skin colour of our schoolchildren in the 1950s and early 1960s would have been white anyway.
In 2007, the fact that 'White Boys' as they put it, are falling behind in the educational stakes is a overt sign of the truisms of our society; a British society that has not been able to cope with itself as it has tended towards the formation of multi-cultural roots. Our lives have been enriched by this move, but many among us seem not to be able to either see that or indeed accept the fact that Britain has changed forever.
This development has been exacerbated by the metropolitan/provincial differences within society. The fact that most cities have developed their social mix across different cultural roots has left behind the provincial towns and especially the villages, to come to terms with multiculturalism all by themselves. Or, in most cases, to ignore it and to even defend against it. Racial tension never starts in the villages, but it is their inhabitants that become the cheer leaders for their white majority populations
So what has all this to do with Geno Washington and the Class of '66?
As I stated above, I have anticipated this divide within our educational system for many years now and have been pondering my own experiences and the experiences of some of my old class mates that left our school in 1966. The proof as they say is in the eating
The first problem I faced was finding some of my class mates to compare notes! Having travelled widely within the UK for the last forty years I have not kept in touch with many other than two girls I have remained very good friends.
'Friends United' was the obvious choice and it proved fruitful once you got beyond the obvious lies some people put against their names as their status. The high proportion of my contacts of '66 that claim to be IT Managers is wildly beyond any reasonable statistic for IT managers in the UK. After all, 50% of the population are not IT managers are they? To even the score, I insisted on putting myself down as 'a dosser living on handouts and discarded M&S sandwiches'. Having completed my social levelling act I was then taken by one boy that I was quite close to at the time. If his 'cv' was to be believed he actually rose to the dizzy heights of the music business and I was both sceptical and impressed at the same time.
So I set out to trace this friend of old and to catch up on the truth as we both saw it. If what I had read was true, it confirmed my suspicion the 'white boy' of old was more than able and willing to succeed in the world. Now it may not seem out of the ordinary to you, the reader, but what I have not told you so far is that the school we both attended was a secondary modern for 11+ failures and we were not supposed to achieve great heights having been discarded onto the scrap heap of the UK's educational system.
I eventually made contact through the email system and it turned out to be true. My friend had made good and had lived his dream. You see, we had when we were both about 15 or so, got the bug of black music and by our later teens we were both attending Geno Washington and other black music gigs in our hometown and in the murky atmosphere of the Soho all-nighter. The difference between us was that my friend went on to become a highly regarded DJ of black music and a record producer to boot. For myself, blues & soul remained within my heart and serves me to this day in a more metaphorical sort of way.
We conversed on email for several days, being several hundred miles apart, and it served to uncover yet another one of our '66 days, and yet another highly recognised DJ, though with tendencies towards heavy rock and currently working for an off-shoot of Virgin Radio. It takes all sorts I suppose.
Now I had the notion that if 50% of the class of '66 were IT mangers and the other half all became DJ's and it was I that was the odd one out. After all, all I had achieved was follow a career in science and introduce a prize-winning range of environmental monitors, becoming managing director of two companies and, in a later incarnation, rose to what I thought were the dizzy heights of the IT industry in the city of London. (hence the dosser story to complete the balancing act and to avoid the accusation of being a liar!!).
Some of class '66 'white boys' had bulked the system then. They had made good and achieved their dreams. Against all odds it seems, and as 'white boys' we did it with more than a little assistance from our black cousins, cousins that worked with us directly in the recording studios, provided the music that held us together it times of need and informed our music for generations to come. Now those 'cousins' live amongst us and it appears achieve better educational results than some 'white boys'.
Well good luck to them I say and may they too achieve their dreams and look back in forty years time and consider their roots as so important and inspirational as I do mine.
If the report in forty years time states '..some boys..' have failed, leaving out colour of skin, then I, looking down from one of heaven's 'all-nighter' dance floors, will be able to say, we eventually got it right and integrated. After all, blue and yellow make green
Everyone has their Itchycoo Park…
It's been building up in me this year. First it was the sight of that great wrinkly old twit sniffing the monarch’s arse for favours and complaining how poor he might get if they didn't extend performing rights royalties from 50 to 75 years in Europe. One 'Rift Pilchard', sorry Sir Cliff Richards no less. That 'Bermondsey boy' of old. Yeah right! Richards has as much in common with south London as does Tony Blair. I.e. Jack shit!
I said it was building up!
Secondly it was all those so-called new TV series like 'New Tricks' where equally old and wrinkly has beens like Denis Waterman and yes sorry, as much as I adore her, Amanda Redman, pretend they are not beyond redemption and can still hack a 20 hour day in the office or in their cases a two hour stint in makeup before solving the unsolvable crimes of TV drama.
…and did you see George Cole in that one-off 'Diamond Geezer'? and David Attenborough in that global warming thingy on the BBC? I don’t know which of them looks most walking dead! Tooth decay and old age do not flatter let me tell you! Try radio boys, where 'it don't matter no more'.
Building, building….
And now when I thought it could not get any worse, I'm going round humming the tune to the M&S TV advert and bloggy types are asking each other 'who's that tune by old boy? It's super what!'.
So now Marks and Sparks have their 'Itchycoo Park' advert playing incessantly it seems appealing for customers to 'come buy me' their rags. It's even made YouTube no less! It's a highly successful format following on from the Cockney Rebel one they did last year 'Make Me Smile'.
I don’t mind success, I love success! I don’t really mind out of work actors making a buck or two. I wish I was one and more importantly, making a bob or two. What I have to object to is not knowing the reality behind these ads or this one in particular.
I ask the question therefore of who's making the bucks from this tune 'Itchycoo Park'? (Small Faces, Immedite 1967). It's definitely not Stevie Marriot or Ronnie Lane the two former members of the band that died young and are undoubtedly sadly missed by many. They are also the writers of ' Itchycoo Park' and their estates according to Rift the Pilchard above, should be filling the coffers to overflow on this advert's TV minute mileage. We ain't no dead poet society though. What's worse we ain't no live poet society either!
I bet my next benefit cheque that none of the Small Faces alive or dead are making dosh from this ad. They never made any when they were alive and kicking so why should I believe they are making anything now. The reality of the Small Faces is they were well screwed, along with countless other good bands in the 60's, by the management and the record companies they were foolish enough to sign away their lives with in those heady pre-Itchycoo days.
Now Stuart Rose (CEO) and his band of rag trade strutters have put together a lineup of clothes (Per Una) and market them with what can only be described as typical music industry tactics of ripping off the band and banking the proceeds no questions asked guv! Small Faces, who are they anyway? Some grubby bunch of oiks from the East End I'll be bound I can hear the M&S bean counters say, as they count the profit from every dress sold under the aegis of this TV advertising campaign.
Well let me tell you Mr Rose, you and your advertising agency are still ripping off the likes of Lane and Marriot. Think hard about your dress sales. Would you be prepared to lose money on every one you sell just because you got it wrong on the contract or you didn't understand legal ease and all you ever wanted was to write songs and make good music. Get yourself high on that fact Mr Rose. For every dress you sell you get fatter and somewhere in the rag trade someone stays poor. For every record the Small Faces sold some Arden-like management and DECCA-like record co's. got obese and the rest stayed poor. 'Itchycoo Park' of course was an Immediate records release but I still wager that cheque the band or the estates get nothing from M&S's success.
Where has that happened before you may ask? It equates to the same thing that happens every day in the rag trade. Indian and other Asian suppliers of these rags for M&S. A double whammy then. Both music and rag trade bosses get rich and for that to happen others stay poor. The way of the world.
So maybe Cliff Richards has a point after all. Extending performing rights to 75 years is a good thing. Not to protect the rich and famous like Richards of course, although I do suspect his motives here. Owning an island in the Carribbean must be expensive for the poor lad! What better way to keep the status quo of 'them n us' going than relying on the law to keep us 'East End Herbert' types out of their lives forever.
After all, oiks don’t get knighthoods do they?
Was Thatcher’s Cabinet Anti-semetic?
On the eve of the Holocaust Memorial Day, Italy calls for Holocaust denial to be treated as a crime. Almost at the very same moment the United Nations adopts a resolution against denial. Read down the current news lists a little further and German prosecutors call for a five year sentence against Ernst Zundel, the alleged high profile Holocaust denier. In a statement to mark Holocaust Memorial Day, Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams has said that the day should be marked for future generations.
Where though is the stance of the British Government in all this debate? Could we see Holocaust denial outlawed here? The UN adoption was achieved without a vote. What would Britain have done if it had been put to a vote? Hypothetical questions maybe, but much of our apathy to the Holocaust lies in some of our history since World War II. The attached essay is based on records held at the National Archives, Kew and elsewhere and tells the story of two events that highlight the anxiety that the British state has in dealing with Holocaust events.
Sometimes comical sometimes 'jaw-dropping', the events that unfold in this story of Britain's 'National Holocaust Memorial' are a telling revelation of inter-departmental stalling and downright interference by the state. Papers released at Kew indicate the possibility of overt prejudice by some cabinet ministers determined to see this memorial 'buried' at arms length to Whitehall and the state.
The essay is a lengthy text, fully referenced and is released in full without changes from its original form. It was an attempt at a Foucauldian analysis of events since WWII relating to the idea of Holocaust.
Other side of Hogarth
As I look forward to the William Hogarth (1697-1764) temporary exhibition at Tate Britain this spring, I also reflect on the side of Hogarth that has been little applauded.
Hogarth, best known for his prolific output on London life, sexuality and even patriotism, had a more serious side to his nature which unfolded in some of his artistic creations. In fact Hogarth aspired to being a serious history painter. That is nothing out of the ordinary of course, since all artists followed an established pattern of training and execution on the well-established hierarchy of painting genres with history painting at the very pinnacle. Hogarth would want, especially in the early years of production, to eventually reach this summit. It is considered by many to be a summit that he never conquered, but nevertheless his output of history paintings is a body of works that is worthy of discussion.
Probably the most famous of these are the works that Hogarth donated to his friend Thomas Coram for The Thomas Coram Foundation for Children, originally in a building in Lamb's Conduit Street, Bloomsbury. 'Moses brought before Pharaoh's Daughter', and other history subjects painted for the Foundling Hospital (1747) now adorns the walls of The Foundling Museum adjacent to the old hospital near Brunswick Square.
There are two other sets of Hogarth paintings though, that tend to get only a cursory glance
in discussions of Hogarth's work. One set of works can be found at St. Bartholomew Hospital in West Smithfield, London. Generally locked away from public gaze can be found on the original hospital entrance stairway, two stunning murals by Hogarth. 'Pool of Bethesda' and 'The Good Samaritan' (1736-37). In fact Hogarth provided these murals free of charge on the basis that it was British art, thus preventing the hospital from commissioning an Italian artist to fulfil their wishes.
The murals can be seen by arrangement on Friday afternoons only I believe, and I recommend a visit to see these elaborate murals.
Much lesser known that even these is the triptych (not a true triptych since the central painting was positioned high over the alter) that Hogarth completed for St Marys Redcliffe, Bristol in 1756. In fact if you ask an art historian about these paintings ('Ascension' flanked by 'The Sealing of the Sepulchre' and the 'Three Marys at the Tomb') you will generally get some head scratching and looks of disbelief! Try it out on your favourite historian and tell me I am wrong here.
It is nigh impossible to even find an image on the world wide web on any of these paintings! The closest one gets to it is a 'missing image' announcement on the St Nicholas Church Museum referenced site at artfund.org. Bristol Museums and Galleries have the paintings in their charge and also hold the copyright to photographs. I am indebted to Michael Liversidge, Bristol University History of Art Department, for sending me a copy of his 1980 paper (reference supplied on application) which provides some information about the history of the altarpiece.
What strikes me greatest after seeing the images is a certain resonance with the 'Italian Baroque' painters Claude and especially Poussin. Both were masters at painting in pairs (Pendant). Since the main altarpiece is positioned high above the other two, I surmise that Hogarth was treating the other two as a Pendant.
Whatever the case, it is well worth the visit to Bristol to see these paintings. Not great masterpieces as such but nevertheless a valuable asset to the history of art in Britain. Hogarth enthusiasts should make the effort during the exhibition in London.
Being a critic and the blogger’s revenge
In the Guardian Unlimited blog today (8th January 2007), Dorian Lynskey, the Guardian music writer, hits out at the 'web sphere' and the amateur critic that answers back in the blogs. Although Lynskey agrees that '…there is an appetite for genuine debate on the web…' he is obviously not at all comfortable with the majority of bloggers he encounters after each report hits the newspaper or its web equivalent.
Apparently, the '…howling of people who seem to regard the very existence of professional critics as an outrageous affront..' disturbs him. I agree entirely.
I do not visit the Gaurdian blog regularly and I certainly know little about music, but I thought I would put my two penneth in anyway. That is my right as Citizen editor and not as a '…weary, condescending sneer…' which he claims he receives after each of his articles.
Lynskey is generalising of course, but that may be understandable if he really thinks he is being '…put in the stocks…' by his blogger's comments. Feedback is nothing new My Lynskey, but it is just a lot quicker via the web. You will just have to put up with the Hitlerite echoes in the hope you will find those '…nuanced posts that broadened and enriched the discussion…' you crave. An alternative would be to introduce an edited version, whereby you could remove all the negative feedback, thereby ensuring your integrity remains intact. Perish the day we return to those days of censored or non-existent feedback! I pointed out yesterday on my 'Art Brit' page at TTS, that the image of Manet's 'Execution of Maximilian' was inverted on the page. That is a gross mis-representation of the facts. I'm sure it was not your fault Mr Lynskey, but it does not assist one in defending his/her position when the editors get it so wrong!
Queen sees the end to the Remembrance Service at the Cenotaph
That is what a document from the Royal Household, Buckingham Palace to HM Government suggests. Released recently into the public domain at the National Archives, was later stated as not being the Queen's personal view but the view of the Palace writer only. In fact, other documents within the file stress that the Queen had a wish to continue the ceremony. The Palace is reported as also stating that the time might come when it no longer command adequate public interest. In these circumstances, so the HM Home Office file continues '…it might be well to consider abandoning it altogether…'.
All this occurred during the mid-1970s, this apparent reflection being brought about by the move out of Whitehall of the Home Office to new premises close by. The Home Office had 'owned' the Remembrance ceremony and due to its impending departure was instigating moves to transfer this 'ownership' to whichever government department was to transfer to Whitehall in their place. It was even muted at one point that the Cenotaph be relocated so as to facilitate the Home Office to continue in their duties of ownership.
The Remembrance ceremony at the Cenotaph seems to me to be as relevant as ever and although some changes have been established in the ensuing years the service in November remains today the solemn act of remembering the fallen that I would remember attending in my hometown as a child albeit not in so grand an environment as Whitehall. Today, if I wished to attend the Cenotaph ceremony, I would have quite a task convincing those that make the decisions on who should attend to allow me to do so. Due to the threats of terrorism and other factors the annual ceremony is now by invitation only and restricted in the main to those communities associated with the Royal British Legion.
Whereas that is to be expected in today's society, these restrictions echo a previous regime of restrictions which were in force during the 1920s when Sir Edwin Lutyen’s Cenotaph was first unveiled to the public in its temporary and later permanent form. During these early ceremonies, attendance was restricted to officer only members of English regiments and no sign of former Scottish, Welsh or even Commonwealth servicemen would be seen in attendance.
The annual Cenotaph service is by far the most important and visible signs of Remembrance this nation exercises during November each year. There are but a handful of World War One veterans that can attend such ceremonies today. Eventually this will diminish to zero. Maybe it was the Palace view back in 1974 that had foreseen such circumstances occurring and were planning for change whether that might be rapid or gradual. The extent of conflicts that engage our servicemen today with the accompanying loss of life we have witnessed and are still witnessing, has surely prevented any thought of ending this service in the near term.
Back in the 1970s, the authorities proposals for change were motivated by the need to '…make the ceremony more meaningful and relevant for [the then] present day society…' something which I feel has happened to an extent. Today our motivation should be consistent with the same principles of Remembrance that guided society and Lutyens in the 1920s to establish the near monolithic Cenotaph and the service of Remembrance as it has evolved.
On any other day of the year as you walk the length of Whitehall, it is doubtful whether the Cenotaph makes anything other than a small impression on one’s mind. Even its being or ‘thingness’ in Kantian terms, is transparent to the majority of tourists that frequent this part of the capital. It remains silent and unassuming. For the Remembrance service though, the Cenotaph is transformed into a place of community and collective thought. Thought for those that fell on our behalf and never grew old and for remembrance of those that still choose to do so and risk that outcome. It is not a place for politics despite its proximity to the state apparatus. It and the annual service of Remembrance remain an enduring monument and a structure to which British society can teach itself its own belonging in this rapidly changing world. If anyone knew this feeling better than most it was Sir Christopher Wren: Si monumentum requiris circumspice – if you seek his monument look around you.
Roll Up! All the fun of the Art?
I guess the question was obvious. Is this art? A question that appears as old as recorded civilisation itself. In this case it was being deliberated by reporters and critics at the opening in London's Tate Modern gallery of Carsten Höller's 'Test Site' 2006. The work though, has also been described as the hottest ticket in town. A complex of shiny stainless steel and polycarbomate tubes descending from the various levels of Tate's galleries to the ground level in the somewhat stark turbine hall.
One in a line of sometimes challenging and thought provoking art installations, 'Test Site' takes none of the fun out of art. On the contrary, on the opening night and as the public started to appear, it seemed to put a lot of fun back into art. Indeed, so much 'white knuckle ride fun' was had by all that the question was asked was it really art or just a funfair helter-skelter? 'The Times' correspondent, Sean O'Neill even asked the question was it also an accident waiting to happen? So art can be dangerous then can it Mr O'Neill? I would never have guessed.
I note that most people, young and old, got off at the end of their 'turn' and remarked at the speed or the G-force they had just experienced. I don’t recollect hearing anyone declare it as a beautiful artwork combining function and form in an aesthetically pleasing combination.
So what if they didn't. It's not wrong to have fun from modern art. Conversely, I have always expected that art should make a statement, contain a message. 'Test Site' is no exception. You can of course just stand back and observe its place in the overly large turbine hall and watch its curving forms break up the original rectangular forms of the building. You can also get a ticket, queue up and eventually participate the inside of each of the forms as you hurtle to earth again. For a few seconds it takes you over and surrenders you to its gravitational power.
Either way you will experience the message of the installation. Like the 'Weather Project', Tate Modern 2003 it will encompass you in a way that is comfortable to yourself, whether as a 'doer' or an onlooker. In 2003, you could lay on your back on the cold hard concrete floor and observe yourself in the mirrors of the false ceiling. Alternatively, you could simply watch others doing just that. The choice was yours and in 2006 the choice is the same.
Tate Modern have again challenged the concept of what modern art is about and its place in society. Barriers of class, race, gender, age all fall apart, like they did in 'Weather' and a Post-impressionist Georges Seurat style of social intermingling ensues. I congratulate Tate Modern on this occasion.
Madonna and Child
Well Mrs Ritchie, it looks as though you have had your way so far. A small black child named David Banda arrived in a Johannesburg airport today destined for an onward journey to one of your UK homes no doubt. Your overnight package has arrived Ma'am. Sign here please. Did no-one tell you slavery was outlawed in the late 18th century and that England finally abolished it in the early 1800's?
What were you thinking of that day last week when a fragile young Malawian orphan was presented to you on your visit to an orphanage? Did you think you had the right to play with the lives of children just because you have money to spend? That's how you bought your art isn't it Mrs Ritchie? You just paid more than anyone else because you had it to spend. Then you stopped buying art? Something clicked inside you then. You suddenly realised that the accumulation of artefacts for artefacts sake was not such a good thing after all. That you were still an empty person, despite your wealth. You got bored didn't you Mrs Ritchie. Is that how this will end? Will you get bored and move on to something else that will guarantee your place in the media headlines?
You have clearly attempted to bypass the authorities with your bribes of cash. You have flaunted highly regarded charity’s objections against this attempted adoption. This is not a decaying oil painting by Picasso Mrs Ritchie. There is no eventual resale value and no wall on which to hang your spoils. This is the priceless life of an orphaned child with which you bargain Mrs Ritchie. African flesh and blood.
Maybe you have been away from post-colonial America too long. Maybe this is just another scheme in your long list of blasphemous stage depictions. Will we be subjected to a 'Madonna and black child' as you strut the stage of some football stadium? Is that your ploy Mrs Ritchie? Have you been visiting the English National Galleries and getting ideas from the ageing Catholic iconography that adorns the walls of the Trafalgar Square building? Are those spoils of pre-colonial self-enrichment your goals too Mrs Ritchie?
Is this your 'next big thing' Mrs Ritchie?