Into the Third Dimension

 We have acquired a new dimension to our printing...

Tour: Foster

Opposite the Temple in Nimes, the Maison Carrée, is a gallery given over to contemporary art, the Carré d'Art.

As can easily be seen, the gallery has been designed (by Norman Foster) as Architecture with a capital A, intending to echo the Roman temple opposite.And as the modest poster indicates, they were mounting a retrospective on Foster's architecture and Art (another big A) while we were there.

We didn't like the building.   To us it came across as the worst kind of sub-modernism; rather old-fashioned in the same way that a 1960s municipal civic centre is now old-fashioned.  Lots of glass and concrete and cantilevered stairs over voids.  A focus on Spaces (capital S) but with little real joy.  We would hate to work there.

This wasn't the only Foster gallery we encountered on the Tour.  We also visited the Museum of Prehistory of the Gorges du Verdun, in Quinson.  This had the great virtue of having real content, of course.

However, and again, the much vaunted Foster architecture, all sweeping concrete curved walls, did little for us at TANH.  It reminded us of some of those parts of Foster's Great Court, in the British Museum, that are somewhat behind the scenes and less-commonly seen.  The Education Centre in the basement beneath the main courtyard, for example, has the same love of roughened concrete and transitioning curves.  Exciting in theory perhaps, but cold and inhuman in practice.

The weekend before the Great Court was due to be opened by the Queen, we were working on some final IT stuff, and spotted some of the Foster's staff on one of the balconies.  They got some workmen together, and set them to work breaking up the stone slabs in front of the Reading Room.  They were quickly stopped by Museum senior management of course, before too much damage was done, but some slabs were broken and had to be replaced.

Their reasons were aesthetic, and about the look of things: the slabs they wanted to remove were a slightly different colour from the others, and they needed replacing with stone which was a better match.  The offending slabs were damaged, of course, before the workmen were stopped, so we suspect they got their way.  Apocryphally, we heard that the underflow heating and ducting systems were also damaged and never repaired, as a result of the designers focus on surfaces, but we don't know the truth of that.

It did amuse us, however, to see this just outside Foster's Carré d'Art:

Maybe it has become his new signature?  Along with the brutalist concrete, that is...

Finally, one other apocryphal story.
We heard that when the Chairman of the British Museum (a pompous title for a pompous man at that time) attempted to enter the British Museum for the grand opening of the Great Court by the Queen, with the then Sir Norman Foster, the latter was stopped by the gate guard.

'Do you know who this is?', asked the Chairman.
'Yes', came the reply. 'But he can't come in without a pass.  Temporary passes round the back, tradesmen's entrance.'
'But he's with me!'
'Temporary passes round the back, tradesmen's entrance. But you can come in, sir, you've got your pass.'

So the Chairman rang the duty security manager and complained about the 'jobsworth on the gate'.

'Sorry sir, but he's right.  He's doing his job. Temporary passes round the back, tradesmen's entrance.'
'But he's the architect of the whole scheme!'
'Exactly, sir.  Just a supplier.  Not even a member of staff. Temporary passes round the back, tradesmen's entrance.'

So Sir Norman went round the back to the tradesmen's entrance, and got a temporary pass.

And a couple of people from the Security team got bought free drinks on the strength of the story for weeks afterwards.....

Bank Manager up on the Wall

Well, after its Fitting, the print of a Flying Machine to Escape the Bank Manager finally is on my office wall.

It arrived, was unwrapped, carted in to work, and now there it is...

Of course, it is hard to see the scale like that - so here it is parked on a comfy chair...

A Fitting Experience

Well, after its Odyssey, I had a look at the print and it seemed fine so I took it to be framed.

I went along to Thames Gallery on the East Dulwich Road - which for the sake of argument I will count as outer Nunhead, and had a very enjoyable experience.

The shop wasn't very busy and I didn't have to wait very long - and then I got personal attention.  We (the person serving and I) laid the print out on the floor and tried various colours of framing card (is that what you call it?) and wooden frame, to see what would work best together, and with the print.  It was a complex, long and wholly pleasurable aesthetic process, involving quite personal choices. 

I have to admit that it reminded me most of having a made-to-measure suit chosen and fitted.  Anyway, the print is away being framed now - it will take a couple of weeks.

After a Long Odyssey...

My Print appears to have arrived!

(I haven't yet dared to open the packaging...)

First World Problems

Following a promotion a few months ago at work, I thought I'd like something original for my new office wall (my predecessor quite rightly took all his prints with him when he left). 

So after some thought, I thought I'd buy a print of a piece by Martin Herbert.  I was at college with Martin many years ago, and at home we have one of his original pieces ('Small Dragon on the Rye'), so this seemed a natural choice.

Anyway, I decided I'd like a copy of "Design for a Flying Machine to Escape the Bank Manager" - the original of which Martin put on sale for a price which was exactly the size of his overdraft at the time...

Martin and his artist wife are based in the middle of Wales, so I originally thought it might be nice to go up and see them, and pick up the print that way, rather than use an online service.  Also, that way he could keep the handling, shipping fees etc for himself.  Cut out the middle man, kinda thing.

However, Martin told me that I really had to buy the print from Saatchi, where he currently has it placed  - but he would upload a higher-resolution image, to allow a better range of sizes.  So I went online and placed my order. 

The shipping costs added 39% to the price, which was marginally underwhelming.   What was even more underwhelming was that the shipping number they emailed to me (a UPS parcel tracking number) provided a link that told me my package had been delivered over a year ago! 

Eventually, after a complaint and email exchange this was sorted out (it seems it was all to do with UPS re-using their tracking numbers, which does appear on the face of it to be abominally stupid).

And I discovered the print was being shipped from California.  Well, that does mean it will take a little longer, I thought, but at least it is some kind of reason for the high shipping costs.  Although, why a print from a Welsh artist delivered via theWeb site of a company owned by a Brit has to be shipped from the US is beyond me.

And then a couple of days ago I received a letter from ParcelForce - who now seem to be responsible for delivery.  Those shipping costs hadn't included UK import duty.  So my new print was being held at customs until the import duties were paid.  

I must stress again, this image originated in Wales.

Anyway, it isn't so much the amount of the duty (it doesn't amount to all that much although it does cause the total delivery costs to increase to over half the cost of the print itself) - but why was there no mention of this, that I could see, on the Saatchi site?  More to the point, why wasn't it just invoiced for when I bought the print?

So with a heavy heart I went online again, to pay the duty, only to find the ParcelForce site was abominably slow.  But at least, after three attempts, it seemed to work.

They say it will arrive Tuesday.

Oh, and when I last spoke to Martin, he still hadn't had any indication from Saatchi that one of his prints had been sold.... nor any deposit in his bank.  So, strictly seen as a 'machine to escape the bank manager', this online stuff isn't working.

You know, perhaps it would have been better to nip up to Wales, have a pint with the artist, and pick up the print after all...

Poem of the Week

In a Station of the Metro
Ezra Pound

The apparition of these faces in the crowd ;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

Porcelain seeds closed

The Tate Modern installation whose review I was amused by in The Guardian last week has been closed, it appears, due to health concerns (dust from the seeds).  Or at least it can only be seen from afar, and no longer walked upon.  I have to admit to a quiet pleasure at the news...

We didn't know it did this...

The new sign outside Nunhead station..

It glows in the dark!

(Well, a bit of it does....)

You Look Away for Just a Second...

... and look what they do! Local artist Randy Klein  has installed this archway/gateway/piece of art at the entrance to Nunhead station.  Well really, he could have asked first...

That being said it is a quite pleasant view from the platform down the tracks.  And I gather it lights up at night.  We shall see.

Holiday

Yesterday, I decided to go on holiday in London.

This is a place miles away from Nunhead, you understand, and very, very different. There is a river there, and boats and fiefdoms, cathedrals and castles.

and very silly, wonderful bridges...

Shad Thames. A dark narrow street between converted warehouses. I love the crisscrossing overhead bridges.
Jokes about City Hall leaning to the left on a postcard, please. But it isn't true any more with the rotter in charge...
Splendiferous view
This is inside Hay's Galleria. A strange metal sculpture inside moves and surprises...

Southwark Cathedral...
The replica Golden Hind. I stopped here for a much needed cappucino and Panini (thank you Mr C Nero). The ruins of medieval Winchester Palace on Clink St.
Where the Thames path goes beneath Southward Bridge, there is a mural about the Frost Fairs that were held on the Thames long ago.
The reconstructed, heritage, Globe.
Across the River, another Cathedral.
And I believe Christopher Wren lived here, on the South bank, and was rowed across to work on St Paul's each day. Or maybe not...
And this is what will forever be known as Norman Foster's Bouncing Bridge, even though it doesn't any more since Arup have fixed it.
Now, imagine someone made the decision to take all of the famous art in London that I don't particularly like and put it all together in a converted power station so I wouldn't have to see it. I personally think that that would be a very helpful and pleasant thing to do.

But imagine that they didn't quite get it right, so that there are maybe half a dozen works that I quite like, that have been put in the power station by accident. And one I adore. So sometimes I have to go there anyway.

I give you: Tate Modern.

Full of people looking seriously at arbitrary splashes of abstract colour; discussing 'masses' and 'form'; bandying '-isms' around. Lots of them dressed like arts students (you know what I mean) - including the obligatory stupid haircut.

But because this is abstract, modern, contemporary art - and therefore quite old-fashioned - there are a number of elderly stalwarts circulating around as well, who've been 'into' (I think they would say) this stuff for years.

I went midweek, so there was also the depressing sight of primary school children being forced to comment on and be impressed by painting than which they themselves could do much better. 'Look at these red swirly paintings: who likes them because they're red? Hands up. Good. And who likes them because they're swirly? Great. Now hands up who likes them because they're red and swirly?' I kid you not. This in a room of red swirly paintings, as you may have guessed. Not once were the class asked 'Who thinks these are a bit rubbish, and not worth wasting wall space on? Hands up. Higher. Goood...'

Now, having got that off my chest, I'm going to try to be positive (I had, after all, chosen to go in the place).

This is the current Turbine Hall installation. A huge metal box, several stories tall, lined with black felt. You enter at one end and struggle in growing darkness to find the back wall.

Despite its pretension, this does kind of sum up the feeling of being inside the crate:
Elsewhere, this is a gallery you can take quite quickly. The organisation is to a scheme I don't really understand, and the material on display does not excite (well, me, anyway).

Mostly, little arrested me apart from works I already knew from other contexts - like Rodin's The Kiss, some Georges Braque, Roy Lichtenstein's Whaam!, Dali's Narcissus.

And the one work I sat and enjoyed and revelled in for around twenty minutes: one of Monet's Water-Lillies (on loan from the National Gallery).

The gallery does at least offer a smashing view. Everyone takes the same picture:

Like I did:
Outside, this gorgeous stand of trees helpfully obscures the gallery.

... and as if in some spirit of dogged, hold out, figurative recidivism, the Royal Watercolour Society is right next door...
Because of all of the building works around Blackfriars Station and Bridge, the Thames path cuts briefly inland. Past this odd building
... and this building site.
... which was handily reflected in the shiny plaques for the offices opposite: Titan Books and Forbidden Planet?
Crikey.

Back past Dogget's, the River view is marvellous.
I really like these buildings. The middle one, with the steep roof and tower, was originally built for the City of London Boys School, although they have since moved and I think it is now occupied by J P Morgan. I'm still trying to find out about the brown building on the left.
The building on the right - and better seen in the picture below, beside Blackfriars - is Unilever House, 100 Victoria St, currently undergoing a major internal reconstruction while retaining its marvellous facade.

I continued on to the National Theatre (nice coffee and sandwich, browsed the bookshop, hung around, and then mooched at the NFT (they've messed around with the cafe again!).

And away.