Thursday, June 26, 2008
Disgusted of Epsom
Moved to keyboard by two items in this morning's DT. First, we have a very senior diverse policeman complaining because he is not an even more senior policeman. I suppose, being diverse, one gets paranoid, and assume that every blip on the ascent up the slippery pole is down to discrimination. Whereas I believe that at his level there are relatively few opportunities further up the pole and progression is in large part a matter of luck. But I am sorry that someone who has been so successful is still pulling the diversity card. Like those lady bankers that annoy me so much. Second, we have the tawdry tale of a luvvy and the failure of her mother's lover (another lady) to leave her her house. Not bothered by the luvvy and her failure to manage her affairs better, but am I bothered by the house, not exactly a stately home, being left for poster(ior)ity to some heritage gang called the Landmark Trust. What on earth is the point? The house is not grand enough to attract visitors and is only any use to live in. So why not leave the free market and our heritage planning laws (which, to my mind, are well OTT anyway) to look after it? Do we really need to encourage yet another bunch of trusties and nannies to look after things?
On a more cheerful note, I am pleased to see that Poldy shares my puzzlement about sea fish not tasting salty. Or to be less obscure, Bloom somewhere in the first third of my shiny new copy of Ulysses. I had thought the reference was page 71 but that seems to be firmly in the middle of the kidney episode. Annoying that I can't reliably remember a page number overnight. I will have to see if I can find one of those electronic copies on which to catch it.
One of the highpoints of the visit West, was a visit to Winchester Cathedral. Being the Lord's Day we only had to stump up a suggested donation, rather than an equivalent entry charge. As a cemetary, an interesting mix. Six Jacobean treasure chests - rather like the relic container we came across in Paris last year - containing the remains of ancient kings - chaps like Canute and Ethelbert - sitting on top of a wall at the East end. One of those under the wall was a younger son of William the Conqueror, duke of somewhere which I couldn't quite decipher. Apart from that, the cathedral seemed to be the place to erect elaborate memorials - chapels even - for the more eminent bishops. They clearly did very well for themselves. BH tells me that the see was one of the most wealthy, if not the most wealthy, in the country. Couldn't have done too badly having run to their own prison (the clink) somewhere near the London Dungeon. Plus the odd knight among the clutter of the North transcept.
Oddly, the choir occupied the crossing. I can't think of any other cathedral which does this. Perhaps the bishops were ashamed of their ancient Norman transcepts and wanting to take the eye away from them, blocked the crossing with an elaborate choir. Huge altar piece - from the same stable as that at Ilmister but hugely bigger and, sadly, unpainted. Quite a lot of old stone carving, but completely lacking the exuberance of that at Ely. No monsters and no green men. Perhaps the bishops, being pompous and wealthy, were too strict to allow their carvers license of that sort. But the nave roof was spectacular. An excellent example of my Ely-fuelled notion of cathedrals being inside-out sculpture. That is to say that sculpture (not the performance and conceptual rubbish variety) usually sits on a plinth and you look at it from the outside in. And there is not usually very much inside on view. In the case of a cathedral you are inside the sculpture and the way it carves out space is much more varied and vivid. It also contained the only second hand bookshop I have come across in a cathedral. Bucket loads of unsorted books from which we failed to find anything of interest. Tempted by three stray volumes of Saint Simon translated into English but put off by their size and state.
Sculpture reminds me of that other bete noire Sir Dame Emin (see 10 November 2007 above. Can't believe it is so long since I have had a pop at her). She popped up as a member - perhaps acamedician or academission - of the Royal Academy if you please, hanging an exhibition of erotica. I think she said something about needing to shock people out of their complacence. I suspect her trouble is that she hasn't got any.
What is it about us that we are so terrified of being thought old, old-fashioned, or stuffy or of failing to back a winner, that we back anything young and noisy? Just in case it turns out to be memorable and we want to be listed on the role of honour of those who backed it before the herd turned out. Then there is the degree of wish fulfillment. If enough of us believe something is memorable, even a something without objective merit (my belief in which I cling onto, just about. Despite all those post structuralists or antedecon structuralists or whatever), it will become so.
On a more cheerful note, I am pleased to see that Poldy shares my puzzlement about sea fish not tasting salty. Or to be less obscure, Bloom somewhere in the first third of my shiny new copy of Ulysses. I had thought the reference was page 71 but that seems to be firmly in the middle of the kidney episode. Annoying that I can't reliably remember a page number overnight. I will have to see if I can find one of those electronic copies on which to catch it.
One of the highpoints of the visit West, was a visit to Winchester Cathedral. Being the Lord's Day we only had to stump up a suggested donation, rather than an equivalent entry charge. As a cemetary, an interesting mix. Six Jacobean treasure chests - rather like the relic container we came across in Paris last year - containing the remains of ancient kings - chaps like Canute and Ethelbert - sitting on top of a wall at the East end. One of those under the wall was a younger son of William the Conqueror, duke of somewhere which I couldn't quite decipher. Apart from that, the cathedral seemed to be the place to erect elaborate memorials - chapels even - for the more eminent bishops. They clearly did very well for themselves. BH tells me that the see was one of the most wealthy, if not the most wealthy, in the country. Couldn't have done too badly having run to their own prison (the clink) somewhere near the London Dungeon. Plus the odd knight among the clutter of the North transcept.
Oddly, the choir occupied the crossing. I can't think of any other cathedral which does this. Perhaps the bishops were ashamed of their ancient Norman transcepts and wanting to take the eye away from them, blocked the crossing with an elaborate choir. Huge altar piece - from the same stable as that at Ilmister but hugely bigger and, sadly, unpainted. Quite a lot of old stone carving, but completely lacking the exuberance of that at Ely. No monsters and no green men. Perhaps the bishops, being pompous and wealthy, were too strict to allow their carvers license of that sort. But the nave roof was spectacular. An excellent example of my Ely-fuelled notion of cathedrals being inside-out sculpture. That is to say that sculpture (not the performance and conceptual rubbish variety) usually sits on a plinth and you look at it from the outside in. And there is not usually very much inside on view. In the case of a cathedral you are inside the sculpture and the way it carves out space is much more varied and vivid. It also contained the only second hand bookshop I have come across in a cathedral. Bucket loads of unsorted books from which we failed to find anything of interest. Tempted by three stray volumes of Saint Simon translated into English but put off by their size and state.
Sculpture reminds me of that other bete noire Sir Dame Emin (see 10 November 2007 above. Can't believe it is so long since I have had a pop at her). She popped up as a member - perhaps acamedician or academission - of the Royal Academy if you please, hanging an exhibition of erotica. I think she said something about needing to shock people out of their complacence. I suspect her trouble is that she hasn't got any.
What is it about us that we are so terrified of being thought old, old-fashioned, or stuffy or of failing to back a winner, that we back anything young and noisy? Just in case it turns out to be memorable and we want to be listed on the role of honour of those who backed it before the herd turned out. Then there is the degree of wish fulfillment. If enough of us believe something is memorable, even a something without objective merit (my belief in which I cling onto, just about. Despite all those post structuralists or antedecon structuralists or whatever), it will become so.
# posted by Jim @ 12:36 AM 
