Penelope Curtis Leaves Tate Britain
I’ve been rather taken aback at the vehemence with which the Guardian critics, Jones or Searle or both, have attacked the regime of this person at TB; you would think the place was devoid of visitors, who have taken their business elsewhere, alienated by a succession of misconceived, dull or just plain bad exhibitions. In fact, it’s always busy, thronged with school parties, parents with buggies and kids called Oliver and Rosie, and old gits in jeans with white hair and day bags (like me). Like most visitors, no doubt, I’d never heard of Penelope Curtis – I love Tate Britain, however, and much prefer the light, white galleries to the stuffiness of the Royal Academy and the gloom of the V&A. I sort of resent the slagging off that the critics feel entitled to dish out; I hope no-one takes any notice of it.
Recent good or great things at Tate Britain – Deller’s Folk Art; the Turner exhibition; the Paolozzi and Henderson stuff; the fabulous Auerbachs of the Freud bequest; the Phyllida Barlow thing in the main hall; the Frank Bowling pictures; the life drawings in the Archive Room; the permanent collection, of course. I think the Sculpture Victorious exhibition is interesting and funny, although not necessarily stuffed with great art. I suppose a punter is satisfied if there’s something good to look at – s/he is not always worried if the focus isn’t sharp enough, or it’s got too much or too little stuff in it, etc., etc….
Salt and Silver, Tate Britain
Early photos, on now. In the architectural ones and some of the landscapes, a little figure present, presumably for scale or maybe it wasn’t a proper picture without a human presence. By 1860s, that seemed to have changed. I was surprised to see an Indian rowing team, apparently about to plunge their oars simultaneously into the water; I thought you needed a long exposure. Then it was pointed out to me that the surface of the water was unbroken – they must have been frozen in the pose. Some treasures here – but rather a lot of buildings and ruins…
Nick Waplington and Alexander McQueen, Working Process, Tate Britain
Third TB exhibition; the fashions are extreme and interesting – some of the dresses recall Dubuffet – but for me, the real interest lies in Waplington’s huge, sharply focused rubbish photographs (i.e. photos of rubbish). From the distance of the next room, they look to me just like de Koonings; go and see.
I’m in the Mood for Love, Wong Kar -wai
The real interest of this hypnotic film is threefold: first, the seemingly endless series of high necked dresses Maggie Cheung wears – I think she only wears one twice; second, the torrential rain storms that beat down on the dark alleys; third, and most important, the haunting theme tune.
Strangeways: Britain’s Toughest Prison Riot (BBC2)
There was some fascinating film here of the rioting prisoners on the smashed up roof, wearing balaclavas, captured prison officers’ caps and various pieces of fancy dress, dancing to a loudspeaker and waving wooden clubs at the helicopter buzzing them: the footage reminded me of film of the miners’ strike (no, I’m not equating the miners with the prisoners, neither with regard to the cause or the behaviour – just the carnival atmosphere and the defiance). There were chilling accounts from one of the prisoners of assaults and near-murders of sex offenders, who were dragged from their cells and injuries inflicted on guards with scaffold poles and slates hurled from the roof.
It was instructive to hear from the reforming governor of the prison, Brendan O’Friel, who seemed an enlightened soul (he introduced women prison officers to the Strangeways, stopped the officers wearing racist golliwog badges and actually spoke to the prisoners informally on occasion). He recognised the acute problem of overcrowding in the prison; yet when the riot broke out and the occupation of the prison by the rioters became prolonged – I think it lasted 25 days – he seemed to lose his liberal attitude; he described it as “pure evil”. This sounds a bit extreme to me, in the era of Islamic State and al-Shabaab and Boko Haram…
John Renbourn
Hero 60s guitarist, up there with Davy and Bert and Roy Harper. I have a tape somewhere of him backing Doris Henderson on TV, doing “the Leaves that are Green” – trouble is, I haven’t got a tape recorder any more. RIP.
Albert Irvin
One of the greatest, and an untimely death – he was only in his early 90s.
One of mine, to finish:
Burnt Norton
Blackpaint
4.04.15
Blackpaint's Blog 