Psychogeography on holiday

We’ve had some nice weather in Essex lately; I requested it for my ‘Summer holiday’; and no-one says no to this face! I’ve been using the lovely weather to explore local landscapes in new ways.

London and Love Lane

Psychogeography has enjoyed a long and fruitful relationship with England’s capital city; I have long enjoyed merely walking round  a part of London, with no cause but interest.

During some temp work in London I have been engaged in some urban wandering and it has got me seeing London from a completely different angle. Leather Lane, for example, is hidden just off Holborn Circus and is profuse with leather and lots of wonderful little coffee shops. Little Essex Road is in the middle of the law quarter; I’ve never seen a road that shared so little with Essex!
 Love Lane was a road I discovered by accident wandering towards East London. When I walked it, it seemed one of the least ‘Love’ filled roads in all of London; there are no front facing businesses on the road and there were very few people using the road. The only thing that seemed vaguely love related was Shakespeare’s Garden at the end of the lane. Traditionally  road names reflected usage; you can find examples of this all over London; you would have found chickens on Poultry, pork at Swinegate and so maybe traditionally people found love, of a kind on ‘Love Lane’. A little research suggested that historically ‘Love Lane’ was a hotbed of prostitution ; today the road plays host to a City of London HIV and Chlamydia clinic. Maybe I was looking for the wrong kind of love down ‘Love Lane’?

Cambridge, Maldon, St Andrews, Ely.

In the last few weeks I’ve had the opportunity to get out and about in the local (and not so local) area. I have been really indulging my early Medievalist; getting my hands on modern day settlements that retain their three-road Medieval structure. 

Cambridge, Maldon and St Andrews all qualify as ‘quaint little English towns’ and are based around three main streets. Such a simple settlement pattern not only makes it easy to get home if you are a drunken fresher; but also makes it much easier to direct tourists to the church/ river/ ice cream shop (delete as appropriate). It never ceases to amaze me, that a settlement system introduced over a thousand years ago can still provide the essentials for a modern town; even if we are no longer trying to hide our swine in the back streets (or are we?).  On the subject of settlements has anyone else realised that even though Ely has a Cathedral and Cambridge does not; Ely is in Cambridgeshire, why is that?

One day I drove the car out and around north Essex. I stopped off for some proper East Saxon jam in Maldon. Maldon is the scene of a semi-famous Saxon epic poem, the Battle of Maldon (that’s the one where Byrtnoth showed some fatal ofermod – whatever that turned out to be!); its got the three-street structure and some pretty, old buildings. I later enjoyed my East Saxon roots with another Essex girl in Cambridge; but I also drove through many other evocative Saxon settlements; Essex is full of them – Tillingham, Dengie (after the Dæningas, awesome name), Althorne, Osea Island.  Driving around rural Essex you could almost be forgiven for believing no one had arrived since those vicious Vikings of 991 (who arrived during the Battle of Maldon); its thoroughly unspoilt with lots of wiggly-roads and old field boundaries.

Essex is home to one of the best places in the world; Bradwell on Sea. It has been a Roman fort, a Saxon monastic community and now a nature reserve and hamlet on the shores of the Blackwater Estuary, where it meets the North Sea. This space has been a special place for me since before I can remember. Just to sit on the beach (in snow or sunshine) and watch the Thames barges/ windmills/ birds tumble in the breeze (delete as appropriate) is magical. It is a place I feel automatically more peaceful, able to notice even the drifting bird flying on the air current and the barge passing silently past.
What is it about this landscape that is so capable of making me stop and notice passing birds, to be peaceful? Which places are special to you? What is it about that space or landscapes that makes it special? Why don’t you share your special place with someone?!

Southend; walls, barges and berries.

One of the aims of the psychogeographer is to get people (including themselves) to see familiar places in a new light. Armed with only a camera, and with a whole afternoon to spare, I set out for Old Leigh; another special coastal place. I tried to essentialise the landscape in a few key images which took my eye; the images that epitomised ‘Leigh’. I tried to frame the images naturally and resist the urge to edit my photos; instead I wanted to focus on taking good photos, first time round, like we used to before digital. You can see how I got on here.

Leigh: sea wall, coast and blackberries

Looking for images made my other senses somewhat heightened; to the sounds of spinnakers flapping in the wind and the water lapping the shore; the crunch of sand in my trainers and of salt on my lips. Experiencing the environment holistically got me thinking not only about the beauty of the environment but, as ever, different perspectives on space and ideas.  I’ve never really seen myself as an arty-creative before, but looking at textures in my environment even got me thinking about bigger ideas; looking at a bench being engulfed by a hedge I started to think about what we let engulf us; and more to the point, why? 

Bench on the seafront, Leigh

What environments do you live in or pass through every day? How do you feel about them? How might you engage with your environment in ways that help you perceive it differently? And what about your special places? What connects meaning to space to make it place? Would you share that space with someone you care about? Would you share it with the internet?

Enjoy getting out into your communities this weekend and take great photos!

Luke Leighfield and Jose Vanders: Live at The Borderline

The astute amongst you will notice that I haven’t got any better at blogging weekly. I am really sorry. All I can say is that London is full of lots of bright lights and I am easily distracted...oh look shiny thing! One of the wonderful distractions of the big smoke is gig venues. Last Tuesday I went to The Borderline to watch Luke Leighfield and Jose Vanders; here’s what I thought.

I first saw Jose play at Jesus College May Ball in Summer 2008. My feet had been really hurting from wearing stupidly high heels for an all-night party; and come midnight I was resting my feet in the bar. In the bar a petite singer with a much larger voice was playing her original tunes about waiting at railway stations and going to the fair with a boy she loved. The combination of beautiful melody and silly lyrics about ordinary events reminded me of the songs my best friend Lizzie used to write when we were teenagers. Although the most memorable part of Jose's gig was her begging for a pint before the end of her set, I enjoyed it enough to buy her EP (Transactional Language) several days later.

So three years later she offered her fans cheap tickets to see her at a London venue, on a day I could do and I was there! The Borderline is a basement venue in Soho that is well suited to bands with few performers (the stage is quite small) and for intimate gigs (I reckon there were 150 -200 of us there). Playing a small venue was actually really beneficial for the audience as we could see all the facial expressions and the little details Leighfield and Vanders throw in. It provided quite a different atmosphere to other gigs that I've attended.

I actually went to this gig on my own but it really wasn’t a problem. They’re a nice crowd at The Borderline and Vanders’ voice quickly picks you up and wheels you away far beyond the venue. She played a great set with a combination of the old greats, ‘Puppets’ and ‘Faces Going Places’; the latter, where she played piano and provided the ‘clap’ percussion simultaneously, being very impressive. She also played the playlist from her Blue Notes EP and ‘Man on Wire’. It was really interesting to see how Vanders’ music has developed; she still writes about break ups, romance and other frivolity, but she’s also developing a more mature edge to her lyrics which deal with big issues; I liked that. The poetic language is still there too, ‘I’m like the sun without the shine, a long road without any signs’ (Me Without a You) and you know how I enjoy unusual similes! (cf my post on Mornings in Jenin). She also owned the night really well; the personal touch of understanding the context of her lyrics gave them a new depth of meaning.

Jose was the reason I went to the gig but she was well complemented by both Luke Leighfield and Marcel Legan. Jose and Luke have just released a split EP which is the basis for their tour. I’ll admit I had not researched either of the other artists before I went; but Luke’s music was really uplifting. He played the set preceding Jose’s which I caught almost by accident. He sounds a bit like Get Cape Wear Cape Fly crossed with the Rend Collective (make up your own mind here) both in his love for brass to complement more traditional instruments and big chorus lines; all used to address everything from romance to loneliness, hope and despair.

I bought Luke's latest album and the EP of Marcel Legan. On the night Marcel provided backing vocals and guitar for both artists but he is also an artist in his own right. I bought his EP because his vocal on the other artists’ tracks (such as Metal Detector) was sensational. His voice sent shivers down my spine; and I was unsurprised to find that several of my friends, of both genders, had serious crushes on him; that voice is magic! Real Gone reviewed his EP and said ‘those great moments only really present themselves after two or three listens’. I agree that the EP is not ‘instant gratification’ but as it has played on my MP3 this last week it has grown exponentially on me.

All three artists write about lying in bed, amongst other things, anyone would think they were students (!). They also do a good line in quirky videos (see: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slBDsoQH9kM and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USUhT1sDvJs for reference). Their coming together for the split EP has definitely been good for the UK music scene. If you remain unconvinced can I encourage you to check out their cover of Bon Iver, Blindsided. It is hauntingly beautiful, and has a gorgeous backdrop of London at night; a very fitting tribute to another great band. Jose and Luke are currently touring Europe with their split EP but you can still check ‘em out online!http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCN5yxFI7wc

Mornings in Jenin

Any of you who know me personally will know what a hectic month it has been! But in the midst of all that activity, I have found the time to read three great books. C.S. Lewis’ autobiography, Surprised by Joy which I made reference to last week, made great travel reading (on the slowest train to London ever!). The second great book was Pete Greig’s, God on Mute which provided a theology on suffering and unanswered prayer that I could get my head around. But the subject of today’s post is the third book I read, S. Abulhawa’s Mornings in Jenin.

Afternoons in Southend

I did not go purposefully looking for this book. It was a rainy afternoon in Southend (Essex, where I live at the moment) and I was looking for research material for my MA dissertation. When I remembered that I was to have some holiday soon (what a mythical resonance that little word, ‘holiday’, has!) I allowed myself to be drawn towards the library’s ‘new additions’ section. The copy of Mornings in Jenin that I borrowed features a little girl in an Oriental doorway on the front cover and it reminded me of the cover of Hosseini’s, Kite Runner. The reference to an ‘International Bestseller’ also encouraged me to take a look inside.

Image credits to: spiderednews.com <---- and mergingreflections.blogspot.com ---->

David or Yousef

‘Mornings in Jenin’ tells the life story of a girl called Amal who is born into a Palestinian refugee camp in 1955; but the story begins before her birth in 1941 and carries right through to her death. The content engages with several intense political themes; investigating the nature of Israeli/ Palestinian relationships, cases of mistaken identity, terrorism and the impact of dislocation. It is only fair to tell you that there is quite a lot of violence and disaster in this novel; such that the Daily Mail called it; ‘Disquieting, discomforting’. I beg you not to let the political undercurrent prevent you from reading the book; it is about so much more than a well-written polemic; this is a story about what it means to be family, the definition of a ‘good mother’, love and loss and a good dose of friendship.

‘No soldiers here’ (page 179)

Not only does this novel have interesting content but it is so well written. From the start, I was wrapped up in the safe Mediterranean world of 1941; ‘a small village east of Haifa lived quietly on figs and olives, open frontiers and sunshine. It was still dark, only the babies sleeping, when the villagers of Ein Hod prepared to perform the morning salat’ (page 1). The description of landscapes reminded me of Steinbeck’s work particularly Grapes of Wrath;  ‘Along the dusty road, the land rose in sylvan silence, charmed with the scents of citrus blooms and wild camphires’ (8)  The attention to detail is also reminiscent of Steinbeck; ‘There was some oil, but mostly almonds, figs, a variety of citrus, and vegetables. Hasan put the grapes on top so they would not be crushed’ (7). Abulhawa creates evocative scenery through her creative use of poetic language; one image that has stuck in the two weeks since I read the book is that of Amal being read to by her father, ‘My life before the war returns to me now in memories bracketed by Baba’s arms and scented with the tobacco of his olive-wood pipe....I never knew a playground nor swam in the ocean, but my childhood was magical, enchanted by poetry and the dawn’ (page 60). The Palestine at the beginning of the book was a wonderful place to escape to as a reader.

Rupture: ‘I think of those years with nostalgia’ (page. 164)

This poetic, charming world and style of narrative, however, does not last. As the novel continues, the reality of the 1960’s encroaches on the lives of the characters and that is the end of peace for the rest of the novel. The sentences get shorter in recognition of the reality of Amal’s later life. The prose gets grittier, like life in the present has not got the nostalgic rosy hue of childhood (see page 164); if you could stomach the second half of A Thousand Splendid Suns (Hosseini) then you should be ok. I will admit I did not enjoy the second half of the book as much; but that is mainly because Abulhawa denies any more access to that glorious, contented landscape. And maybe it would be wrong to describe atrocity in gentle, poetic terms?

Biographic ‘Amal’

I did not realise that Mornings in Jenin drew from some of the life-experience of the author until I got to the end (I know, not so quick on the uptake). Maybe the biographic link is what makes Abulhawa’s work so authentic; the reality of life experience fuels the passion in her writing. I also did not discover the dictionary of unfamiliar terms until I got to the end. Abulhawa could have replaced those words with English synonyms but the use of terms in their original language contributed to the authenticity of the atmosphere created. One of the other things that really impressed me, once I realised the story was biographically influenced, was the storyline of the novel. Its compassionate portrayal of the Jewish community is surprising when Abulhawa's identity as a Palestinian refugee is recognised.

Novels from beyond the familiar

Writing this blog post has got me thinking about novels written beyond the European context. There seems to be a growing number of novels written by authors from the Middle East who move to English speaking countries and then publish on their homeland. Neither Hosseini nor Abulhawa moved to America as novelists but as science students. The later development into writing is interesting, I wonder what motivated it? Is novel writing acting as a therapeutic reaction to migration and dislocation? And what impact does writing novels through an Anglo-culture have? Both Hosseini and Abulhawa have also created charitable foundations for their countries of origin, as if introducing the world to their native cultures through highly successful prose was not enough.

I’ve also been thinking about why I enjoy books written by such authors. It is not only that I love the writing style, the rich descriptions and poetic language. I think it is also that they provide a window onto the unfamiliar, a world to escape to, where I have never been before and that is quite attractive.

It was a great read!

I really did enjoy this novel, I doubt this review does it justice but it was so good I just might buy it when I return my library copy. Mornings in Jenin is a conversation-starter; as recognised by the publishers who include a discussion section at the back of the book. Have you read this book? What did you think? Have you read anything else lately that was particularly good? And have you considered sharing it with a friend?

Have a great week folks!

Uncivil Rest and Education

Good afternoon! I’m back, and like many school boys ‘towards school with heavy looks’ I have realised; the Summer holidays are over and term has begun (that said, I’m still in my PJ’s and midday was a while ago!). In recognition of these facts, and to neatly complete my discussions on the recent civil unrest, I present: Uncivil Rest and Education.

Uncivil Rest
On 27th August I had the great pleasure of working alongside the Buffalo Tank Crew in bringing a small part of comic South America to Colchester’s Castle Park. The Buffalo Tank are an independent arts collective who produced 16 installations in the park; taking a light hearted look at recycling and the carbon footprint for the Colchester Free festival.

My job was to man the ‘Uncivil Rest area’ which featured crockery smashing (of political figures faces) and a water gun area complete with riot shields, helmets and protestor signs (all whilst wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and a fake moustache!). The area was conceptualised several months ago and way before the riots in London took place; but in the current political climate it produced some interesting results.

The children were straight into the fray; perhaps unaware of the connotations of wearing a riot helmet, or recognising that the world is chaotic. The adults on the other hand were more reluctant to throw sponges at one another. Not only because that would risk infringing rules of decent behaviour in a park; but maybe also because it would involve confronting bigger issues like equality of access to resources. One particularly interesting case was that of the security guards who were patrolling the site. Like any man presented with the opportunity to soak his best mate the men were keen to play with us; but their role, as security guards and  figures of authority they could not join in whilst in uniform. They promised they’d return later and join in, I don’t know if they ever did!

Recycle? Image: Buffalo Tank 

Whilst running the 'Uncivil Rest Area' I happened to notice an unassuming little monument right next to me, within the compound. The monument read, ‘This stone marks the spot where on August 28th 1648, after the surrender of the town, the two royalist captains Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle, were shot by order of Sir Thomas Fairfax, the Parliamentarian General’. The Buffalo Tank were getting people to think about politics (and soaking one another to the skin) in a politically significant place; surely the location and topic weren't coincidental.

The number of people who had completely missed this little monument reminded me of all the research into how futile memorialising in concrete or stone can be. The memorial itself was a Victorian construction; I wondered what context made that pro-Royalist-recognition suitable for that time and am fascinated that the people of Colchester deem it still suitable for exhibition. Given its location, in the shadow of a large Norman castle, maybe it has simply been forgotten? In 1648 two men were killed by the authority of the time in shame and haste, but later their lives were celebrated; I wonder how the conflicts of today will be reinterpreted at the same distance (200 years); whether the monuments will be to the royalists or parliamentarians?

Uncivil Rest Area. Images: Buffalo Tank 

Education, Education, Education
During the riots there was plenty of rhetoric about the role of education in the creation of a peaceful society. I recently had two German couch surfers to stay who had attended a Waldorf School. For those of you who don’t know what one of those is, (I’ll be honest I didn’t until Wikipedia provided the answers) Waldorf schools are based on the humanist educational approach of Steiner (that famous Austrian philosopher). The schools favour variety and holistic learning to the more traditional basic key skills, they lean towards the encouragement of creativity and uniqueness in each child. My German guests and I had great fun comparing the systems; when Dad perceptively asked if the girls would send their children to a Waldorf the answer was ‘yes, but not our one’. ‘Yes’ because the Waldorf mark has a good reputation for CVs and Uni places, but ‘no’ because they weren’t great fans of their teachers.

 In C.S. Lewis’ autobiography ‘Surprised by Joy’ he describes at least 4 different schooling systems which influenced him as he grew up. They had varying degrees of interest in the right answers, discipline, cultivating his mind, ability to argue, the importance of religion or sports, and whether eating or ‘fagging’ were sins or virtues. These opinions created different school ‘cultures’ or societies in which he was more or less successful depending on his ability to fit the model. It is not the systems, societies and cultures, however, that loom largest on C.S. Lewis’ narrative; it is the teachers themselves, the lilting of their voices, their individual characters and the authors who they introduced to Lewis.

In both cases, for the Waldorf girls and for Lewis, it was not the ‘system’ which made a difference but the individual teachers. Perhaps there is something to be learned from this when educational reform is under consideration; of the importance not of systems but of encouraging teachers to be at their best, creating positive relationships with pupils and cultivating their unique interests. These contexts might in turn produce school cultures which produce happy, rounded young adults. I am not suggesting that education on its own produces happy, peaceful young adults but transformed school environments would be a good start.

If you teach, or are still at school, have a great start to the term! Don’t forget to pack your smiles in your satchels! I’ll be back next week to chat about a book I read recently, it was good :)

Social digital media – root of all evil?

Several weeks before the riots were even rumbling there was a hubbub all over my internet streams about the joys, and more noticeably ills, of social media.

Bad for breakfast

The first place I came across these concerns was on BBC Breakfast, they were discussing the impact of smart phones on family meal times. An academic report had noted a correlation between words spoken between family members at the dinner table and the number of smart devices present. The argument being made was that smart devices are detrimental to conversation and relationships between the family members who are so engrossed ‘LOL’ing at someone else’s video.

I am lucky enough to live in a family none of whom own a smart phone or tablet device; but I have had conversations with people who do own this equipment, and they have spoken of the need to ban the devices from the dinner table and the bedroom. The influence of these devices are so often associated with a rhetoric of corrosion; but what is it about these devices that makes them so potently destructive as opposed to, a newspaper or any other older technology? Surely the problem of families failing to engage with one another is deeper than the technology they bring to the table (which I agree might (or may not) reflect their commitment to developing these nuclear family relationships)? The questions concern time, commitment, and ways of expressing love for other people as much as the technology in use; that allows people to be ‘elsewhere’ whilst being ‘here’ with us.

I check my private messages at lunch, I've no time to eat!

Following the release of what I presume was some form of government/ thinktank report there was a huge spate of blogs and facebook posts on the subject of digital communications and the ways in which they might damage both our individual and collective identities. I have seen social media blamed for a self-obsessed generation; allegedly pretentious enough to believe that other people will find what they have to say interesting enough to read (http://phil-blogs.blogspot.com/2009/06/facebook-is.html). The self-esteems of a nation misplaced in the number of wallposts achieved or how many people ‘like’d a profile picture.

On occasion these sites are linked to other perceived evils, tweeting to our ‘culture’ of self-aggrandisement; private messaging to the growth of illicit or ‘immoral’ activity. But again I make the point that the blame is misplaced. Sure, the technology is successful because people demand it and it may make evil easier to carry out, but for millennia people have found ways to feel insecure and to have illicit liaisons, without the internet. And whilst digital media might have provided the language with which we talk about these things; relationships being ‘facebook official’ as code for legitimate; saying ‘LOL’ instead of actually laughing, the insecurity, the grandstanding and the independent journalism also happens outside of the internet. So which came first? Its a bit of a chicken and egg situation.

Rioting Raspberries

One of the most frequently discussed things this week both in my real world and in my ‘internet community’ is the link between the recent riots in London and use of the Blackberry smartphone, used for its untraceability. Its funny how law and morality step in and make some hacking decidedly unethical (News of the World anyone?) and other hacking as legitimate...
I’m going to sit and ponder that for a bit...
Anyway, there has been plenty of discussion about how evil digital technology must be because of its usage in terrorism and rioting. Again I don’t think the technology is the problem, if you have a problem with its usage then you must address the ideas and the people behind the usage, merely restricting access to the technology will not help.


I agree that digital technology can be used to facilitate ‘bad’ things; but so can paper and pen, leaving a voicemail (that you regret in the morning) or meeting up for coffee with someone (who may, or may not be as trustworthy as you thought). None of these things are intrinsically bad, in fact they can be used to great ends; to maintain relationships over long distances, to introduce two of your friends who could be great business partners/ spouses/ just friends, to let the important people know that you love them. And the same is true for social digital media; its just a new medium for human interaction.

And now you’ve massaged my ego by reading my self-aggrandised drivel, I can happily take a few weeks off, basking in my own reflected glory and some Somerset/Scottish sunshine. See you all in a few weeks.

'Time Passes' part II

And so I find myself yet again apologising for the tardiness of this blog. I have a great excuse though! I’ve been doing lots of other writing and thinking this week and even designing this cute little venn diagram! But I haven’t forgotten to think about time.

Flying high

Last weekend I had the pleasure of going on a flight in a little aeroplane big enough for just four including the pilot. We flew a round trip to the south coast; right over the cliffs of Dover, Canterbury Cathedral and Dover Castle. Flying over our little town, the Thames Estuary and all of Kent, in a matter of minutes, provided me with quite a different perspective on life. It got me thinking about how reliant we are on our pyschogeography in our everyday life.

Canterbury Cathedral from the plane.

I took my digital camera on the flight and even ten years ago my photographs of England from the air would have impressed people. It is not every day you get to see England so well from above! But with the rise of digital technologies anyone can look on google maps at what England looks like from the air. So although for me this photograph of Canterbury will forever be special; to the rest of you time and technology has probably robbed you of its specialness. So, instead of trying to capture once in a lifetime shots of the county from above, I took other ‘arty’ photos expressing something a little more abstract.

Sunset over the river

One Bright Spot
The Kursaal of Southend on Sea is the subject of my dissertation. It used to be called ‘One Bright Spot’ although it had lots of illuminations it was also a beacon of fun for the working classes with a large amusement park. There were loads of rides and side shows to experience and people from Essex and London would take a day-trip to the seaside. Many of the people I’ve interviewed for my work have spoken about the attachment they have to the 'bright spot', romantic nights at the ballroom or the Tunnel of Love. This got me thinking about how the ‘Kursaal’ space has changed function over time; from field to trotting park, amusement park to housing estate. Although with the passing years people no longer dance at the ballroom (it was demolished and sold, much to the chagrin of Southend’s over 70s); it is still an important place to the local community because of what it represents.

There have been other elements of Southend culture that time has been unable to steal. People still visit Southend for the amusement park, its just on the other side of the road; and the 1930’s arcades have been replaced by illuminated ‘grabber’ games. East Londoners might do different things in Southend, but the majority of our visitors are still East Londoners down for a day at the seaside. All is not lost; ice cream and spades still sell!

Not much changed over 60 years - seaside amusements.

‘I’m fine! I’m fine!’
Was what I said when I came round from a faint at a BBQ recently. After that I was rushed to A & E and spent the evening lying on a bed in the department, I'm fine by the way. I was helpfully positioned in front of the staff desk so I could watch all the comings and goings. Hospital departments can be quite interesting to watch when you aren’t on death’s door or worrying about someone. When I first came round in the house I moved from one room to a stairwell, through another room and I actually don’t remember it. My brain has failed to store that memory. Although in the main I’m not bothered ; a part of me wonders where those few minutes went, who stole my time and what they did with it (and me!) in the meantime?

I predict a riot!
I couldn’t write a blog post this week without passing comment on the recent riots this week. I’ve enjoyed reading the vast amount of e-comment on the subject and the growing number of acceptable reactions. When I first heard about the riots it reminded me of the work I did on the Miners’ Strike of the 1980’s; of the multi-vocality of the time and what happens when you put cuts on public spending. When I did my research on the Miner’s Strike I had the benefit of hindsight to see the build-up, the strikes and the aftermath, including the effect ten years on. I’ll have still made a partisan judgement but it will at least be a little detached. What is so interesting about the riot reportage today is the immediacy of the comment; academics are able to publish journal length articles online within hours of incidents taking place. I will watch with interest to see what the generation twenty years behind me makes of all this when they consider it all with ‘academic detachment’.

p.s. I hope you noticed my reference to Under Milk Wood in the title, I'm going on holiday a bit over the next few weeks so expect my blogging to be even more sporadic! And I'll be back soon to talk about digital tech, its pros and cons for life and the universe!

'Time Passes. Listen. Time passes' - part I

This week I’ve been thinking about the passage of time, a small subject for discussion(!). And a little ironic given how late this post is this week.

Baby Love: House Clearance as Heritage
I have been clearing my great uncle’s house with some relatives. He was born in 1920 and lived in a world where sealing wax, the Britannica Encyclopaedia and a record player were everyday items in life. This 1950s kitchen cabinet with inbuilt pastry board represented a thoroughly efficient and necessary part of the kitchen.  Even just a few photographs show how life has moved on since he was my age!

Text from a really old first aid handbook!

The house-clearers represented three generations of family with three different perspectives on what we were doing.  For the oldest generation the objects we were sorting did not represent anything exotic or unfamiliar; they were quite everyday and not worth keeping. For the middle generation also, objects were not valuable due to their aesthetic or tangible worth. The objects the middle generation chose to keep were based on intangible, emotional connections bundled up in the physical object - the record he used to play as they danced around the front room (Baby Love), the tea towels from exotic holidays, the hat he always wore. For this generation salvage was communing with (the memories of) their uncle; as was the upkeep of his garden, one of his favourite pastimes.

For the younger generation, at one more remove from 1920, many of the objects seemed exotic by way of their unfamiliarity. The stamp album with the old fashioned spellings and all sorts of kitchen implements which looked almost alien they were so unfamiliar. The distance from the emotional connection for this generation also made room for experimentation. I took the china collection for a friend’s wedding where the cups became one off candle-holders; several other kitchen items went to form the staple objects in my cousin’s new home. The writing desk joined my collection of wooden furniture in my room and now happily holds, amongst other things, a laptop. For this younger generation objects from the house were not viewed as objects for veneration but candidates for reinvention, of use in the future world.

One of the objects that had us all intrigued was my uncle’s wartime diaries. The subject of what he did in the war was always kept hidden; deemed too painful to be on public display and discussed in public. But it transpired that throughout his very busy period of active service he kept diaries; detailing every film he saw, the towns he visited and the situations he found himself in. Some of the entries were funny; ‘Italian dies from drinking antifreeze’, ‘won a cow, milked it’ and others were profound in their simplicity, ‘Our Wedding Day’. The detail provided enough information to trace his steps across Europe and beyond. Something felt a little bit transgressive in reading that which was always deliberately kept hidden; it is morally ambiguous to read the diary of a dead man; akin to clearing out his underwear draw! I still wonder whether it would it have been more honouring to burn them on sight?

I’m not sure, but they made some jolly good yarns and explained why he’d kept a copy of ‘Algiers to Austria’ on his bookshelf.

Wedding Day, 1945

All of this reminded me of some of the things we’ve been thinking about on the course for my MA. Lowenthal’s attitudes towards the obligations and behaviours of family and legacies; Pearce’s On Collecting; the many philosophical musings on the necessity of treasuring the past for our present mental health. Does collecting/ curating /saving things from the past inhibit our moving on in the future? And how do we keep our memories of our own pasts without the objects? What happens when we run out of space in the (family) archive? What filters can we put on that collecting process? I don’t have that many answers...yet!

In part II I will discuss the impact of time on what is impressive digitally, our own aging and some more insights into my current work. For now, have lovely weekends everybody!