Review: Henry Moore

Yesterday I went to see the Henry Moore exhibition at the Tate (which continues until August 8th). This is a fantastic collection of the artist's sculptures and drawings that takes us through a journey from his early luxurious works through his development into a harder edged style which seems to be heavily influenced by his experiences during the war.

Moore's voluptuous works beg to be fondled and licked. Their curves seem perfectly molded for the hand as well as the eye.

Indeed you might be fooled by the galleries constant signs saying that we were not to touch the objects that Moore thought his work should be regarded from afar as some sort of aesthetic wonders. In fact he felt it was essential to touch his work and he'd hoped that people would sit on and lounge across his work.

I've not been to Harlow for a while but certainly it used to be the case that his priceless art works were open to all in the public squares where young people were frequently seen perched atop these multi-million pound objects. I've heard the council has moved them out of sight which, if true, is a real shame as Moore saw his art as something that should physically interact with the community, not stand aloof from it.

Moore's easy abstract style feels like it has welled out of his subconscious conjuring up images both dark, erotic and strong. He once said that he'd refused all psychoanalysis because he'd feared it might disarm his artistic urges rooted as they were below the surface of his mind.

What I hadn't realised is that how clearly influenced by the war his development was. His drawings in the bomb shelters are deeply moving and quite unexpected. After delving into the depths of fear of those days his work moves away from obsessions of maternal and onto darker and more violent themes.

This is certainly an exhibition that's well worth visiting if you're in London over the next few months. Moore's place as one of the UK's most highly regarded British artists is well earned and here we see a wonderful snap shot of his work.

John Hicklenton: Be Pure! Be Vigilant! Behave!

I was sad to see that John Hicklenton (wikipedia) the creator of the likes of Judge Dredd has taken his own life after a long battle with illness.

Hicklenton was part of a team that helped create a bleak, if artistic, form of social criticism.


As a teenager I was particularly fond of the Nemisis / Torquemada episodes where an alien freedom fighter battles the religious zealotry of a human militaristic empire that sought to exterminate everything not like itself.

It played into my growing awareness of racism, religious dogma and political violence - although whether it really helped my understanding is another matter. Whatever its utilitarian value the stories were glorious.

By placing the focus on the psychology of discipline and order Hicklenton and others teased out how the desire for perfection was intrinsically linked to the desire for death.

Where change and chaos occur it is the product of life, which is naturally ambiguous, complex and difficult. By attempting to wipe out those ambiguities the forces of law and order become forces for death itself.

Makes sense to me anyway.

Torquemada in particular relied upon the artificiality of 'the other'. Those elements that seem alien are often only different because of the conditions we have placed upon them because of their alienness.

Years before I started thinking about these things possible I began to understand how creating enemies can serve a purpose quite at odds with the propaganda that supports conflict and hate. I'd like to thank John Hicklenton - he'll be missed.

Review: Frida Kahlo Viva La Vida

Wednesday night I went to see Frida Kahlo; Viva La Vida a one woman show at the Oval House, opposite the famous cricket ground. Despite the fact I had to 'play' Rockerfeller getting shot as part of some light audience participation I have to say it was blindingly good.

Ga禱l Le Cornec was mesmerising as the Mexican painter whose tempestuous passions burn a hole through her life. Whether it's her politics, her lovers, her art or the tragic accident that shapes much of her story Le Cornec overwhelms by force of personality.

Told from the end of Kahlo's life during the day of the dead celebrations you might have thought the show would be maudlin or full of nostalgia for good and bad times past. Far from it. Kahlo is portrayed as full of life, still railing against the injustices of the world and her failing body, experiencing the past with as much vivid emotion as any of her paintings.

But it is not simply the performance that made this such a exceptional show. The direction and set are used exquisitely to summon up the past. I found the inventive use of colours and music to be particularly striking in a way I've never quite seen before, although I could have done without the smoke machine.

One interesting aspect of the play is that although it revolves around Kahlo's reminiscences it does not feel like a historical tour of her life. For me that was a strength, although I wonder what it would have felt like to those who know nothing of the painter's life. I suspect the play would still be immensly enjoyable, although possibly a little more surreal and confusing - which is not necessarily a bad thing if it leads more people to discovering Kahlo's life and works.

Plays like this, in small theatres with small casts (in this case of one), can so often be a disappointment, this was not one of those occasions. In fact if small productions were always just half as good as this it would be a wonderful thing. Frida Kahlo Viva La Vida runs until 7th November.

My little pony - of justice!

The stupendous Kate Smurthwaite has been flaunting herself on the Fourth Plinth. Obviously I'm jealous as anything because I didn't get picked but it turned out she's a dirty little cheat and actually posed as someone else! Well, normally I'd say this wasn't on but it was all in a good cause.

Now and forever dubbed 'the fake plinther' she filled in for Goretti Horgan, a pro-choice campaigner from the North of Ireland. Kate explained that "it would take a lot of effort and cost a lot of money for Goretti to come over to be on the fourth plinth (just like the effort and expense incurred by women from Northern Ireland who are forced to travel to England, Wales and Scotland to access abortion services) so we decided instead that I would go along and impersonate her. Goretti sent me her passport and a utility bill and luckily they were busy in the office and didn't check the photo too closely (I am also 20 years younger than Goretti so lucky they didn't check that either)."

Riding a pony and bearing a huge banner that read "extend the abortion act to N. Ireland" Kate did a sterling job and it's good to see people calling for an extension of our rights rather than simply defending what we already have the whole time.

Sadly there are no photos without copyright labels all over them and the One and Other site has purged the footage from history so in the meanwhile please enjoy this image in celebration of the occasion.

Guest Post: Rupert Mallin's birthday wishes

The first of this week's guest posts is from friend, artist, poet and political firebrand Rupert Mallin. I'll start with the birthday wishes and throughout the week we'll be having posts on a number of topics political, organisational and philosophical.

I bought an old frame at a car boot sale yesterday for a few pounds believing it to be 19th Century, because of its size and weight, despite it being covered in layers of white paint. The dealer cared nothing for the frame but the price. Back in my Norwich studio I've removed the first layers of white paint and, wow, it's a three tier hand cut and turned gold leaf frame, possibly 150 years old! So, beneath the surface I've discovered the frame maker's incredible craftsmanship and a nugget of history. If I'd not looked beneath the surface the frame would have gone to a skip or a bonfire.

The two things I really appreciate about The Daily (Maybe) is that it looks beneath the surface and is hand made. Though Jim is active in the Green Party, The Daily is hand made - a pleasure and endurance I expect - and thereby looks beneath the surface at a myriad of political issues, events, campaigns and debates. That is, because The Daily has independence and is not directly an organ of an organisation or party, this blog is imbued with a sense of freedom day to day.

If Jim wasn't an active campaigner with driving humanitarian concern The Daily (Maybe) would be just the Maybe. Mr Jay has created an amazing network of links - local, national and international - and this rich soup just couldn't be mixed together by following a 'line.' Jim is a master blogger.

I'm mentioning the obvious here for I run an arty blog and The Daily (Maybe) is the only political link I feel happy to have. My passing visitors aren't going to fall into a political chat room or a ranting cell if they click on the link. Rather, they'll engage with a radical newspaper style blog which is incredibly informative and carries a wealth of debate on diverse issues. The secret, I think, is in maintaining individual control. I've attempted group blogs, both political and artistic, and they've had a tendency to melt down or implode.

To think The Daily (Maybe) was to be a one month project and now it's celebrating its second birthday, well, big congratulations are due. Always look at the shape of things in the light of history and keep scratching the surface to get under the skin. You may not find gold but truth is worth its weight in the stuff.

Best wishes for the next two years!

Rupert

Public art

There's been a bit of a rumble recently about the number (and quality) of statues in the UK's public places. Some in the art establishment have been suggesting that there are too many pieces of public art - and that they are mostly rubbish - I'm afraid I don't agree.

Firstly, there seems to be a bit of a myth floating about that the statues of generations gone by were somehow superior to the current generation. Loathe as I am to voice criticism of the pug faced Churchill in Parliament Square or the Nelson who no one can see because he's on top of a very tall pillar but what's so special about them *as statues* - not much as far as I can see.

London in particular is littered with life sized statues of generals on their horses. There's loads of them - but no one seems worried about these rather creepy, un-inspiring hangovers from the colonial era. My personal vision is that after the revolution we'll keep them all in place, but simply rename them - after the horses. "Mr Snibs, with rider" for instance.

It's interesting that those putting this idea forward have focused on Mandela and the Unknown Construction Worker which are derided as "sentimental" rather than the host of Colonel Sir what's-his-name-darkie-slayers which should be smashed up with hammers on account of being vile. Why on Earth we should be honouring those who organised the killing rather than those who refused to take part is beyond me.

The common thread appears to be not a rejection of public art but a rejection of new public art and modern liberal values. If a policy that removed these pieces was adopted it would lead to an enormous deteriation in the quality of our public spaces.

Take Harlow, even it's greatest fans tend not to describe it as a humanist utopia - but rather a concrete cess pit unfit for human habitation... and that's the posh bit. Anyway, Harlow is littered with Henry Moore statues, not tucked away into art galleries cum ghettos but out in the main squares and plazas, seemingly designed for the "yoof" to lounge on them whilst waiting to happy-slap their friends or eating their foul MacDonalds.

These statues are universally loved because they fit into the living spaces and are a seamless part of Harlow's public areas. They don't conform to the reactionary desire for art to simply replicate convincingly what already exists, or honour some bloated plutocrat whose contempt for the masses was matched only by their insistence that they be worshipped by them. Moore's pieces flow with the essence of life and demonstrate that "high art" can be understood and loved by more than a tiny critique clique.

If we leave public art to the advertisers it may drive up the prices of elite's art collections but it wont do anything for those of us who like to see some organic quality to our cultural life, free from the commercialism and profit motives of those who demand control over every aspect of our lives. Pop cideos are often slick and well produced - but I want something different from modern culture than vehicles for product placement.

Take graffiti. There seems to be a near consensus now that, properly done, spray can art in illicit places improves rather than degrades its surroundings. Stripped of these "informal" art works most cities are collections of concrete surfaces. Without beautiful buildings (both old and new) public art and illegal graffiti - along with fly posted material too I'd argue - there's nothing to take the unrelentingly inhuman edge off of the living spaces we've constructed for ourselves.

Instead of building expectations that every new piece of art has to be up there with the best of Picasso we should encourage open minds with innovation and hands on ownership of spaces by the people who live there, not just the people with the deeds to the land. Part of claiming ownership over our lives is the feeling that place where we live belongs to us, together.

There's plenty of old art that modernists can appreciate (see Mike Marqusee on CiF) but that doesn't mean we have to reject a sense of playfulness in public space, as this can be far more influential over our consciousness than the "great works of art" we see but rarely in our day to day lives, tucked away as they are in these special places called galleries that are designed to intimidate and exclude as many working class people as possible.

As I saw on the poetry on the tube the other day "But play, you must, a tone beyond us, yet ourselves." Let's keep the best of the old but celebrate the modern where ever we can. These calls to reject statues to ordinary people, or the great symbols of a changing world like Mandela, are really calls to reject the best of the modern world - not the worst.

Catching up: four things I haven't posted about

I'm on a blog go slow at the moment. I don't know what about but I'm sure it's a worthy cause. Over the last couple of weeks I've intended to blog on the following four stories... so I'll present them here as stubs, otherwise it will never happen.

Venezuela:

I attended the excellent Hands Off Venezuela conference a couple of weeks ago and even started writing a report on it. Oh well. I think there were about 150 to 200 people and the speakers were almost without exception excellent. In particular Matt Wrack of the Fire Brigades Union was on fire over the needs of international solidarity.

As you might expect there were some caustic comments about the King of Spain. I think the two key points that stand out were that ex-colonial masters don't get to tell the independent nations to shut up and that Chavez was elected by the people and the monarch was appointed by Franco so it seems a little odd for the King to become a symbol for democracy.

The other key discussion was on the (then) up and coming referendum. Personally I found this very useful as I'd been quite sketchy on what the actual proposed amendments to the constitution were. Obviously the mainstream media had just banged on about the fact that one proposal was to allow the Venezuelan head of state to stand for election more than twice (or become indefinite dictator if you are of a dishonest inclination) but there was a whole raft of decentralising amendments that just don't get a mention - like the fact that 5% of the national budget was to go to the new community organisations. Alas it was not to be although the narrow margin of the defeat should not be a cause for derailing the entire process.

Liam has his report up too so you can read what he has to say, and there is also a report on the HOV site which includes details of the motions passed, etc..

Turner Prize:

Then we have the fact that the Turner Prize was won by a man who wandered about in a bear suit. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of chutzpah, and if you can get away with it please do. However, it did not escape my attention that the winner was also responsible for the reprehensible piece of rubbish in the Tate where he piled up placards from Brian Haw's long standing protest outside Parliament and sent in the invoice for one piece of art. I've mentioned this before I believe.

I also caught the announcement live on Chanel Four news which was hilarious as the first thing they did when they called him up to the stage was to give him the cheque. No little statue, no certificate, not even a huge symbolic cheque - just a cheque. Nothing says more about the art world than this for me - they don't even hide the fact that it's all about the cash - even journalism isn't that crass.

What was particularly notable was when the artist tried to explain his work in interview. Like many of his generation of artists he was completely unable to utter even one coherent sentence about what he'd done. I can't help feeling that if artists appeared to have more idea about what their work meant the public would be more receptive to it. For my money only Anthony Gormley is able to produce decent work and give a cogent explanation of what he's produced.

Islamophobia

Talking of bears we have the horrific tale of the woman jailed for allowing a teddy to be named after the prophet. I think everyone agrees that this was a bonkers decision on the part of the Sudanese authorities and was, no doubt, part of the negotiations surrounding UN troop displacements to the Darfur region.

It does raise other issues for all of us who oppose Islamophobia as it provides yet more ammunition for all those who are unable to distinguish between the specific actions of a particular regime and Muslims more generally.

What's frustrating for many on the left in this country is there seems to be little middle ground between out and out Islam baiting and simply turning a blind eye to oppressive practices where they exist. As internationalists we should not be concerned whether a homophobic execution takes place on this side or that side of a line on a map - but we need to be aware of the political realities surrounding these debates and the purposes towards which they are put.

Clearly it serves the neo-con "let's bomb Iran" elements in the West to demonise and vilify the Iranian government, for instance, to make it all the more easy to bomb the people into submission - but does that mean we should refuse to show solidarity with those who are victims of reactionary legislation in that country? I don't think it can, not least because it discredits us to oppose one injustice whilst ignoring others that do not serve our purposes. I think that kind of thing is the hall mark of machine politics not genuine political principal.

Golden Compass

Went to see the Golden Compass this week and have been really torn as to what to say about the film. I'm a big fan of the books and the Daily Mail had essentially described the film as a manifesto for atheism, which of course builds up expectations rather.

However, as manifestos go it's rather underplayed, which is all to the good, but it's never good to go into the cinema expecting a great film because it is likely to fail to live up to expectations.

There are lots of good things about the film. The fact that it doesn't talk down to the audience despite the fact that many watching will be children. It has enormous bears and some shocking moments of violence too, excellent. But I couldn't escape the feeling that it was a little, well, clunky - possibly due to the fact that they seemed in quite a rush to squeeze everything in. That doesn't explain the clonking music throughout though which, in particular, spoiled what could have been a really chilling moment near the end.

I'll just quickly mention three little things to represent my generalised feeling of clunkitude. Firstly the film kicks off with an extended voice over explanation of the world we are about to step into. I'm pretty sure we could have been shown this information in the process of the film without being given an info sheet at the start.

Secondly, Christopher Lee *again* in an almost identical role as the one he always plays, how lazy. Sometimes I wasn't sure if I was watching the Golden Compass or Star Wars such was the unoriginal way that the Magisterium was portrayed. The uniforms, the lighting, the hushed secretive tones - it was all too painting by numbers for me, when in the book it feels far more nuanced.

Thirdly, I think they didn't quite catch the intimacy of the pairing of each character with their daemon (soul) which meant that when Lyra's daemon was seized there was no fission of social rules broken and the whole process of intercission didn't seem quite horrific enough (I'm trying desperately not to give anything away here for those who don't know the plot so forgive me if I'm a little oblique).

In essence I felt there was something missing, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it - perhaps I wasn't in the mood as others who've seen it seem to be quite taken with the Golden Compass. Anyway, I shall await with enthusiasm unabated for the sequel - let's see shall we.

Louise Whittle: Why have there been no great women artists?

I'd like to thank Louise Whittle for writing this excellent guest post for The Daily (Maybe) on the place of women in the art world. It's longer than the posts you'd normally see here, but in my view it's well worth reproducing in full, rather than splitting into sections.

Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?

Rodin, Monet, Renoir, Manet, Degas, Cezanne, Millais, Holman-Hunt, Rossetti, Van Gogh, Turner.... These are popular male artists from the 19th century who are still revered and exhibited around the world today. Elizabeth Siddal, Barbara Bodichon, Anna Mary Howitt, Camille Claudel, Mary Cassatt... who they?

Many of these women have drifted into obscurity. Siddal (1829-1862) committed suicide after drinking a bottle of laudanum (the Victorian's cure all) probably due to experiencing a miscarriage. She is renowned as the model of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (PRB). She is most famous for Millais's Ophelia (1852). Her melancholic gentle expressive face comes alive as she floats silently down the river clutching flowers. To appreciate this stunning and vibrant painting visit the Tate Britain and gaze at Millais's attention to detail.

Lizzie was a painter in her own right encouraged by her lover Rossetti and Ruskin. She painted along the same themes of the PRB and shows an aptitude for painting and experimenting with different mediums she gave up painting when her depression became too intense. Clerk Saunders (1857), Pippa Passing (1854, pictured right), The Lady of Shalott (1853). A peer of Siddal's was Anna May Howitt a contemporary of Rossetti and Millais at the Royal Academy "pre" school, Sass. Unfortunately, she wasn't allowed in the RA as she was a woman unlike Rossetti and Millais. Others includes Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon.

These women weren't conventional in the least and strove for independence, Siddal risked being disowned by her family and loss of reputation if it was known she lived with Rossetti out of wedlock the double-standards and morality dictated to women.

Victorian women were emotionally, socially, physically and politically constricted. If they painted it was meant to be a past time, dainty landscapes certainly not passionate bold experimental art. Camille Claudel (1864-1943) defied the Victorian woman role model she was very transgressive for her time. Over time her work has been forgotten and her status was reduced to mistress/muse of Rodin (the excellent film Camille Claudel (1988) rehabilitated her work). Her neo-classical influenced style sculptures were eclipsed by Rodin and her work languished in the shadows at the Musee Rodin. And it is only recently her influence has been recognised in the work of Rodin.

Compare Rodin's The Kiss (1887) to Claudel's understated Sakuntala (1888) both marble (though Claudel's marble version of Sakuntala came about in 1905). The Kiss is a piece of erotic and bold sculpture (you used to be able to view it at the Tate Britain though now moved to the Tate in Liverpool). Claudel's projects passion yet tenderness. The poignancy of Prince Dushyanta collapsing to his knees when he is confronted with his true love Sakuntala. The same with L'Age Mur (The Age of Maturity) produced in 1894 that represents her personal and emotional turmoil she experienced with Rodin and his commitment to his wife, Rose Beuret. It is a tragic, intimate and soulful piece which encapsulates her relationship with Rodin. Her examples of her fine beautifully carved work include The Implorer (1899, pictured right), The Waltz (1891-1893) and The Flute Player (1904).

Her work deserves equal praise as it is modern, the narrative flows, passionate, bold, stark and has veracity. Unfortunately, because Claudel wouldn't follow the respectable lifestyle of a Victorian her brother, writer Paul Claudel, got her sectioned under the french mental health act in 1913, she was kept in the asylum until her death. Even doctors said she wasn't "mad" but her family refused to acknowledge that diagnosis and her brother forbade his mother and sister to visit her.

Mary Cassatt (1844-1926) was more fortunate than Claudel but her work has fallen into relative obscurity and she is not as recognised as other Impressionists (Impressionism gave birth to modern art). Cassett was heavily influenced by Degas (as Boating Party, right clearly shows) unfortunately they fell out over the Dreyfus Affair during the 1890s. Incidentally the Dreyfus Affair split the Impressionists with Monet, Pisarro and Cassatt vocal in their support for Dreyfus and attacking anti-Jewish racism while Renoir, Rodin, Degas and Cezanne (Cezanne and Zola had a friendship since childhood yet it was destroyed over Dreyfus) were virulently anti-Dreyfus.

By the late 1880s Cassett became more experimental in style. Her earlier work is inspired by impressionism, everyday life scenes that explores the relationship between light and colour. Her later post-Impressionist work, is much more graphic and less painterly, an example being The Boating Party (1893-1894). And the realism of The Bath (1891-1892).

Victorian women had to contend with the rigid and constricted norms of patriarchy. But with the shifts and changes within society the dynamic of social uprisings and heightened class struggle gains were women by women. In 1971 the art historian Linda Nochlin wrote, during the height of the 2nd wave of feminism, in her ground breaking essay, Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists:

"There are no equivalents for Michelangelo or Rembrandt Delacroix or Cezanne, Picasso or Matisse, or in our redent times, for de Kooning or Warhol".

She argues that the reason for this is due to patronage, social/political structures and what I would also argue class dynamics and the power relationships in society. Nochlin, in early 2001, wrote a follow-up essay questioning whether the structures had opened up for women and whether her arguments had remained valid in discussing and challenging the discourse of art. The 20th century saw the sculptures Barbara Hepworth, paintings of Georgia O'Keeffe, and Frida Kahlo. Nochlin believes that are beginning to occupy spaces in art and making a name for themselves. Louise Bourgeois was the first artist to exhibit at the opening of the Tate Modern in 2000 and one of the main memorable pieces was the gigantic spider.

There are a rich eclectic variety of women artists who work in different mediums. Sam Taylor-Wood's video art, installation art of Tracey Emin, Sarah Lucas, photography of Nan Goldin and Cindy Sherman. The feminist artist Linder (her work was exhibited recently as part of Panic Attack) created the collage Pretty Girl No. 1 (1977) that explores gender roles and their contradictions. It echoes Dadaist Hannah Hoch's Das Schone Madchen - The Beautiful Girl (1919-1920) where Hoch uses collage to explore sexism and the position of women in society.

Hoch also experienced the very male behaviour within the art world. There's the political installation and conceptual art of Adrian Piper that explores sexism and racism. Feminist performance art of Hannah Wilke, text art of Barbara Kruger, Op Art of Bridget Riley, pop installation work of Pipilotti Rist, Shirin Neshat, an Iranian artist who explores the how religion and gender intersects in Iran by using video and photography.

One of my favourite artists is Aussie Hazel Dooney (right) who deconstructs gender and sexuality by transgressing against the usual norms foisted upon women. Though there has been a shift in her work and change of medium. Her latest work Kelly, the first time (Sex Tourist collection) the use of inks, watercolours and pencil creates bold and powerful line drawings that convey graphic sexual encounters but unfortunately Art Melbourne 2007 didn't appreciate her work and was censored because:

"content of the exhibit being accessible to minors and wanted the work re-arranged so that the sexually explicit images would be invisible to the visiting throngs."

There may have been radical shifts in society but women are still subject to patriarchal norms under capitalism in all aspects of life. The symbiotic relationship between patriarchy and capitalism. There are still the contradictions inherent within capitalism and the power relationships between men. The filters may be different but the oppression is still the same added with a class dynamic. Women may have progressed with the art world but who will be more famous in 30 years times, Damien Hirst or Tracey Emin? Who will be seen in an equal light? Obviously I can't project myself forward by 30 years but how will women artists be perceived.

The agitprop DIY feminists, Guerrilla Girls argue in their poster regarding Met. Museum, New York : "Less than 5% of the artists in the Modern Art sections are women but 85% of the nudes are female."

Would you drink tea made by a paedophile?

Just reading an interesting piece on the BBC magazine section on the call to withdraw music books written by a convicted sex offender. Brian Davey was a music teacher convicted last year of a string of sexual assaults against children.

The BBC says that he "wrote books on the recorder that many tutors regard as among the best textbooks for children" but that one victim of of abuse claims, quite feasibly, that "they were written with one aim - to get to children" and therefore should be withdrawn.

I suppose there are a number of questions to be asked here. Is Davey still in a position to profit from these books, either sexually or financially? The former seems unlikely, the latter appears quite possible.

Can the product of a person be seen as something completely separate from them once it is produced? Is it necessarily tainted by the hand of the producer? Heidegger wrote some very fine philosophy and was simultaneously a card carrying Nazi. Not only that but he was not above using his position as a university professor to undermine and expel Jewish academics.

It's possible to draw parallels with Heidegger's existentialism and fascism - but you have to go out of your way to do so. I think it's worth reading Heidegger and trying to crowbar some sense out him - it's difficult but rewarding no matter what the crimes of the man himself.

It seems unlikely to me that there is any subliminal abusive content in Davey's books on playing recorder. In fact it appears we are meant to turn away from these books because of their association with someone of the most reprehensible character. I'm not sure that this is entirely appropriate.

I'm assuming we're not calling for the work of Leonardo da Vinci to be withdrawn nor the works of Andre Gide, Walt Whitman, Michelangelo, or Byron. Yet all of these figures were known to engage in sexual relations with children. Where are we to draw the line? Is it the fact that these were recent offences that should make the books beyond the pail? If so can we reprint them in thirty, forty or fifty years time?

The article points towards the artist Eric Gill (pictured, right) who, it appears, was a truly vile human being - but produced wonderful works of art, many of which were for the Catholic Church. Whilst the church refused to remove Gill's work from their buildings many worshippers found the idea of praying in front of works he had produced highly abhorrent. i find both sides understandable, although in this case because of the specifically "moral" nature of the works I'd certainly side with the worshippers against the Cardinals.

For me the case would be cut and dried (the works stand on their own) but for one thing. The feelings of the victim who described the banning of the books as a "marker of his abuse, a tangible, public statement that we find what he has done horrendous". This is a difficult statement to ignore but one I think we should resist, as sensitively as we can.

Currently we have a set of useful, educational books. Not the greatest contribution to world culture for sure, but a step forward none the less. We can burn these books as a public statement against the author (who is in jail for his crimes) or try to understand that whatever monstrous acts individuals commit they are still complex human beings for all that. Good, evil, interesting and banal by turns - not devils who can taint everything they touch with evil.

(See August last year for more thoughts on this)

Raucous silence

In our modern, hectic lives we rarely create space for silence. There is a growing tendency to plug ourselves into the TV, Internet, film - even on the way to work we cut ourselves off, immerse ourselves in a multi-media half sleep.

Often the glimpses of silence are accidental, as we happen to find ourselves in a quiet spot and can, therefore, often be experienced in a profoundly intense way - if we give ourselves the time to notice them. Setting aside time to be quiet is something most of recognise would be a very good thing to do, and yet we don't do it.

One misconception of silence, in my view, is that it is simple absence of sound. One piece of installation art, running as part of Cambridge's Enter_Unknown Territories festival. Rachel Gomme's Audience : Hearing at the infamous Taxi Gallery (now known as Abbey Taxi), is an impressive attempt to deconstruct and examine silence.

Last year I was one of over a hundred particpants that took part in a "silent interview" which consisted of the subject and Rachel sitting together, in silence, for ten minutes - in this case at the Taxi Gallery. Now, regardless of how that sounds in theory, in practice it is an astonishingly stressful and hectic experience to take part in.

Some of the most common observations from participants have been on how *noisy* silence is - and how much seems to be going on that, in our normal day to day lives, is usually covered and hidden in the background. When you strip away activity and interaction and are forced to listen for a change, without filling that space with your own hustle and bustle, you begin to become aware of the creaking, bird song, distant car doors, planes, breathing and occasional passers-by all add up to something that can feel quite frantic.

But more than this there is an interesting dynamic at work during the interview. In everyday life we co-exist, side by side, with strangers all the time without a seconds thought - at the bus stop, in the street, in the pub - but the intentionality of making an appointment to sit with someone you've never met before, in silence, has a quite different social meaning, and one that we find ourselves having to define on the hoof.

This crisis of expectation, where people don't know if they are "doing the interview right" was another recurring theme. Should you stare at the interviewer? Well, it's polite to look, but for ten minutes straight? The alternative is to look away - but not looking at someone can be as intense as staring, and as socially improper. I found myself sharing a space with Rachel for ten minutes and never got a proper look at her, lost in a confusion of unmarked social boundaries.

Are you sharing space or the subject of an experiment? Are you really bound by an arbitrary convention not to speak? What would happen if you felt unable to constraint yourself any longer and burst out "I'm going crazy!" or find yourself overcome with a burning carnal rage? Is that going to be judged, or left hanging in the air. Can it be wrong, can it be useful, can it test your ideas about silence and shared space? Do you want it to?

We're not used to having a stranger stare at us for ten minutes refusing to speak and, no matter how neutral an air they put on, it was impossible for me to interpret it as anything but hostility. Others felt something quite different - and here is where the silence really was an interview, intimate, personal and unique. It draws information out of the subject and challenges them in a way that they could not predict beforehand. Yet unlike other interviews this information is not received by the interviewer, who is undergoing their own experiences, nor passed on to the outside world but kept private to the subject, more closely guarded than even a session of therapy.

This weekend the pieces had been stitched together, the highlights of the silences placed in a well-structured surround sound zone which did indeed recreate the feeling of the hub hub that exists within silence. As a consumer the social tensions were less challenging, although when sharing the space with others it's interesting how self conscious people become when confronted with art that you absolutely have to engage with if you want to get anything from it - but to be seen to engage with something like this might be seen as silly or perhaps people worry that they might be judged and thought a philistine if they got bored, didn't "understand" or simply wanted to stay for just a minute. Thankfully, I'm above any such plebeian worries.

The effect of others on your own appreciation of art (in the gallery, public space or where ever) is something rarely discussed but is heightened by this installation which, in itself, is about the effect others have upon your own silences. The creation of new boundaries that you may not understand can be difficult for anyone and, for those like me who have a strong sense of manners and what may be socially appropriate in any given situation (down to the finest, most painful detail on occasion) that unmarked space does not simply signify absence but also confronts where my own boundaries lie - and I suppose that means challenges, in a limited way, who I might be, how I might define myself.

When we take away the frenzy of talk and music and generalised "stuff" we're left with the frenzy of our own minds, that refuse to be still, refuse to lie down and enjoy space. Those who meditate know how hard it can be to empty your mind of its natural inclination to fill the vacuum with a tidal wave of thoughts, ideas and the kind of absent-minded ridiculous notions that have a tendency to creep in to empty nooks and crannies.

Silence isn't uniform - it's uniquely personal, defined by what's there and what is absent. The edges of a person are not simply physical boundaries marked by skin, they are above all social and in some ways less tangible but more profound. When we play with the way we relate to others, we explore who we are.

We are the moderns

Currently at Kettle's Yard there is a great exhibition "We are the moderns" which is launching their 50th anniversary celebrations. Although Kettle's Yard often has some top notch stuff in it, this exhibition is really going the extra mile and is packed full of some "names" that you'd often only see if you went to the big smoke.

I wandered in half-accidentally the other day and was momentarily shocked when I realised I was standing in front of Matisse, Rodin, Gauguin, Picasso and others. In fact it's difficult to explain exactly the level of pleasure I felt when I realised that both Jacob Epstein and Modigliani was represented too.

They've used a really interesting device of taking one lesser known artist, Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, and placing his work alongside contemporaries from the same pre-WWI period. This allows for the exploration of art poised at a crucial juncture. Whilst many school kids in this country have the poetry of the period drummed into them, the sculpture and paintings of the time exhibit exactly the same tensions.

This moment where pure tangental abstraction is emerging but it's still caught inside the more figurative, representative art of the impressionists and before is, for me at least, absolutely fascinating. I often feel when looking at certain artists of the period that a kind of anti-birthing process is going on, moving from sensuous life into geometric, quantifiable, measurable, angular mechanisms.

I'm a great fan of sculpture, although it's something that's far more difficult to convey on the page photographically, which has limitted the level of reproduction in comparison to painting. However, even paintings which are obviously two dimensional, in a way, lose something in their reproduction. I remember going to see Ophelia in the Tate (as was) and being completely blown away. I had a little postcard of the painting on my bedroom wall and simply was not prepared for the massive, wall sized art work that entirely captured the senses.

What I also enjoyed in Kettle's Yard was some of the really lovely stuff I'd never come across before. I'm sure this reveals the depths of my philistine ignorance but I found the pieces by Archipenko really cool, and I need to explore this gap in my knowledge in more depth.

This period where artists are trying to go beyond simply representing the physical shape of objects in an aestetically pleasing way but using abstract concepts to try to dig beneath the surface appearance is the basis for all modern art, even when it has retreated back into more 'realist' forms.

Trying to express the social and psychological consequences of the modern era was impossible without straying from previous styles and the use of lines, angles and rigid shapes to represent our bodies frees up the imagination and opens up the possiblities of portraying grief, love and a tired alienation in a far deeper way.

One War Poet said that it was impossible to accurately portray the experience of the trenches without telling lies. I think this sums up for me exactly the essence of this period of art. It is impossible to convey the experience of life under modern capitalism without stretching and distorting the human form - because this is exactly what it does to us inside.

The exhibition is on until March 18th at Kettle's Yard (Castle St. Cambridge) - check it out

Ozymandias (by Shelley)

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
"Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.