blimey, new years eve is upon us!
its 23.15 and i'm off to sandbar to see in 2008...
best wishes everyone, lets hope it's a peaceful and propitious one for us all....
Monday 31 December 2007
cynical civic celebrations…
christmas in the city can be overwhelming, even daunting, a smorgasbord of festive delights laid on with military precision by the people who bring you everything else – marketing manchester.
with gluwein and supersized santas on every corner, glittering lights and giant baubles haemorrhaging electricity from the national grid, street traders and artisans proffering gifts from around the globe, ice skating or the big wheel for the more determined thrill seeker, it seems positively churlish not to throw caution to the wind and revel in the festive spirit.
as a triumph of the city over the looming threat of the out of town shopping mall with its corporate piped-in consumerism, a remembrance of a bygone ‘authentic’ christmas as our grandparents enjoyed them, its hard to criticise - the village fayre, the frozen duck pond providing impromptu skating for joyful families, midnight mass and the holy manger at the centre of the festivities, carol singing - the whole white Christmas of our collective imagining. surely its preferable for christmas to remain part of our communities than be farmed out of town altogether like some branch of ikea or diy outlet?
but in reality this is something of a hobson’s choice. for all its bonhomie and lively charms christmas in the city is a beguiling hall of mirrors; a distraction from the baleful truth that we barely celebrate christmas in any genuine sense - merely a hollow sham of a festival disguising the economic necessity nay duty behind the tinsel.
it is practically impossible to miss christmas in manchester, it rolls in early with a military campaign of activities, events and entertainments laid on to create the perfect seasonal backdrop to the actual meaning of yuletide – that of spending vast amounts of cash in the shops. if manchester is the year long capital of consumerism, then december is the culmination of its ambition and raison d’etre.
since the emergence of the monstrous trafford centre out of the stench-filled sewage outflow of dumplington, a weatherproof, family oriented shopping and entertainment complex, manchester has reinvented itself as the family oriented traditional ‘authentic’ experience for all occasions, all festivals, all seasons…
come christmas it reveals a dickensian picture postcard version of the season, crammed to bursting with readymade yuletide memories. the town hall becomes a ‘european market’ of foods, crafts and gifts from northern europe, the epitome of celtic credibility. here for 4 whole weeks locals and visitors alike can gather up all their festive essentials from independent retailers and specialists, avoiding the corporate machine in a reassuring simulacrum of christmas past, of a sustainable fair traded christmas.
or maybe you prefer piccadilly, home base for another nordic fantasy, the white christmas, where families dust off their skates, toboggans and sledges and take a turn around the ice covered lakes and waters of the village square!! recreated for snow hungry mancunians via the magic of an ice machine, for only a tenner a turn in repeat-hired odour eaten plastic shoes…
…meanwhile in st anne’s square a different myth is re-enacted with a simple log cabin housing the 3 wise men et al and the picturesque, historic church playing host to yet more ‘authenticity’, more alternatives to the consumerist nightmare, with more crafts, mulled wine and stollen on tap just in case the sight of the holy family brings on in an unseasonal moment of clarity or an unseemly fit of abstinence! yet all this is just a smokescreen, a diversion from the unholy trafford centre, presented to support the major players and investors who remained loyal to the city; the corporate and multinational big names on the high street. for anyone remembering the city pre bomb, it hardly feels like manchester any more.
yet for all this humbug of mine, there are still pleasures to enjoy that do not depend entirely on the patronage of consumerism, still a few things that can remind one of a time before rampant spending was the order of the day, when fun and festivities didn’t have to break the bank.
here are just a few credit card-lite ways to enjoy or rediscover the city around the madness of the holiday season…
northern quarter still harbours many local gems – oxfam for a great selection of fair trade treats and chocolates and weird and wonderful pre-loved books and vinyl; tib street revitalised and packed with tiny shops including independent florists to decorate your home or say it with flowers; upmarket and down market sex emporiums for the saucy at heart; vintage goldmine 'rags to bitches' for the dandy or glamourpuss in your life; the ever dependable berwicks for all your fairy lights; john greys for string, twine and labels of every size for wrapping those well chosen gifts; love saves the day and oklahoma for decent coffee, cake or delicious toast and jam in between festive foraging…
back in the heart of repackaged manchester, don’t forget the royal exchange theatre for civilised coffee stops and a reliable and beautifully made selection of jewellery, ceramics, artworks, handbags, and artisan knits for those hard to buy for…
or for a reminder of the original message of christmas why not pop into manchester cathedral, a vision of victorian grandeur and the face of anglican moderation; or at the other end of deansgate, the delectable and wonderfully restored rylands library for truly inspiring surroundings, beautiful exhibitions and rare books or just some afternoon tea and scones and secular spirituality in this cathedral to enlightenment. and both these triumphs handily have gift shops so all isn’t lost if presents are still high on the agenda.
for those with more catholic requirements, respite can always be found in the aptly named 'hidden gem', a favourite of my own childhood, the exact opposite of the cathedral in both size and style, a little bit of popery in this most reformist city; or st anne’s church in the heart of shopping city for a more austere aesthetic, which cheerfully plays genial host to daily recitals, tea and biscuit sessions, carol singing and exhausted shoppers alike….our own village vicarage in the heart of the metropolis!
make sure you enjoy what remains of this ‘season to be jolly’ in whatever way you think fit, ‘sale madness’ currently encouraging yet more needless spending, but remember that beneath the smokescreen of the spectacle there are, as always, many other manchesters awaiting your discovery, guaranteed to offer sanctuary, respite or wonder for the tired, cynical, despondent or simply wallet sore!!
Seasons greetings one and all…
with gluwein and supersized santas on every corner, glittering lights and giant baubles haemorrhaging electricity from the national grid, street traders and artisans proffering gifts from around the globe, ice skating or the big wheel for the more determined thrill seeker, it seems positively churlish not to throw caution to the wind and revel in the festive spirit.
as a triumph of the city over the looming threat of the out of town shopping mall with its corporate piped-in consumerism, a remembrance of a bygone ‘authentic’ christmas as our grandparents enjoyed them, its hard to criticise - the village fayre, the frozen duck pond providing impromptu skating for joyful families, midnight mass and the holy manger at the centre of the festivities, carol singing - the whole white Christmas of our collective imagining. surely its preferable for christmas to remain part of our communities than be farmed out of town altogether like some branch of ikea or diy outlet?
but in reality this is something of a hobson’s choice. for all its bonhomie and lively charms christmas in the city is a beguiling hall of mirrors; a distraction from the baleful truth that we barely celebrate christmas in any genuine sense - merely a hollow sham of a festival disguising the economic necessity nay duty behind the tinsel.
it is practically impossible to miss christmas in manchester, it rolls in early with a military campaign of activities, events and entertainments laid on to create the perfect seasonal backdrop to the actual meaning of yuletide – that of spending vast amounts of cash in the shops. if manchester is the year long capital of consumerism, then december is the culmination of its ambition and raison d’etre.
since the emergence of the monstrous trafford centre out of the stench-filled sewage outflow of dumplington, a weatherproof, family oriented shopping and entertainment complex, manchester has reinvented itself as the family oriented traditional ‘authentic’ experience for all occasions, all festivals, all seasons…
come christmas it reveals a dickensian picture postcard version of the season, crammed to bursting with readymade yuletide memories. the town hall becomes a ‘european market’ of foods, crafts and gifts from northern europe, the epitome of celtic credibility. here for 4 whole weeks locals and visitors alike can gather up all their festive essentials from independent retailers and specialists, avoiding the corporate machine in a reassuring simulacrum of christmas past, of a sustainable fair traded christmas.
or maybe you prefer piccadilly, home base for another nordic fantasy, the white christmas, where families dust off their skates, toboggans and sledges and take a turn around the ice covered lakes and waters of the village square!! recreated for snow hungry mancunians via the magic of an ice machine, for only a tenner a turn in repeat-hired odour eaten plastic shoes…
…meanwhile in st anne’s square a different myth is re-enacted with a simple log cabin housing the 3 wise men et al and the picturesque, historic church playing host to yet more ‘authenticity’, more alternatives to the consumerist nightmare, with more crafts, mulled wine and stollen on tap just in case the sight of the holy family brings on in an unseasonal moment of clarity or an unseemly fit of abstinence! yet all this is just a smokescreen, a diversion from the unholy trafford centre, presented to support the major players and investors who remained loyal to the city; the corporate and multinational big names on the high street. for anyone remembering the city pre bomb, it hardly feels like manchester any more.
yet for all this humbug of mine, there are still pleasures to enjoy that do not depend entirely on the patronage of consumerism, still a few things that can remind one of a time before rampant spending was the order of the day, when fun and festivities didn’t have to break the bank.
here are just a few credit card-lite ways to enjoy or rediscover the city around the madness of the holiday season…
northern quarter still harbours many local gems – oxfam for a great selection of fair trade treats and chocolates and weird and wonderful pre-loved books and vinyl; tib street revitalised and packed with tiny shops including independent florists to decorate your home or say it with flowers; upmarket and down market sex emporiums for the saucy at heart; vintage goldmine 'rags to bitches' for the dandy or glamourpuss in your life; the ever dependable berwicks for all your fairy lights; john greys for string, twine and labels of every size for wrapping those well chosen gifts; love saves the day and oklahoma for decent coffee, cake or delicious toast and jam in between festive foraging…
back in the heart of repackaged manchester, don’t forget the royal exchange theatre for civilised coffee stops and a reliable and beautifully made selection of jewellery, ceramics, artworks, handbags, and artisan knits for those hard to buy for…
or for a reminder of the original message of christmas why not pop into manchester cathedral, a vision of victorian grandeur and the face of anglican moderation; or at the other end of deansgate, the delectable and wonderfully restored rylands library for truly inspiring surroundings, beautiful exhibitions and rare books or just some afternoon tea and scones and secular spirituality in this cathedral to enlightenment. and both these triumphs handily have gift shops so all isn’t lost if presents are still high on the agenda.
for those with more catholic requirements, respite can always be found in the aptly named 'hidden gem', a favourite of my own childhood, the exact opposite of the cathedral in both size and style, a little bit of popery in this most reformist city; or st anne’s church in the heart of shopping city for a more austere aesthetic, which cheerfully plays genial host to daily recitals, tea and biscuit sessions, carol singing and exhausted shoppers alike….our own village vicarage in the heart of the metropolis!
make sure you enjoy what remains of this ‘season to be jolly’ in whatever way you think fit, ‘sale madness’ currently encouraging yet more needless spending, but remember that beneath the smokescreen of the spectacle there are, as always, many other manchesters awaiting your discovery, guaranteed to offer sanctuary, respite or wonder for the tired, cynical, despondent or simply wallet sore!!
Seasons greetings one and all…
Wednesday 5 December 2007
turner prize liverpool - the greatest show on earth!
mark wallinger predictably but probably deservedly won the turner prize on monday night.
the turner prize is a bit of a hamstrung beast, a victim of its own success and reputation, with detractors on all sides: a circus freakshow of dubious content to outsiders and a spectacle of trumpet blowing hype to many insiders. despised and abused from all sides, the poor thing cant win, but as a snapshot of where art and visual culture are today and within the public domain, it remains invaluable.
as usual the predicable debate about art and its ‘relevance’, as well as the inevitable media circus surrounding this annual contemporary art prize, threatened to overshadow the actual work and merit of the artists and the aims of the exhibition as a whole - to explore, examine and evaluate the world we inhabit through the lens of the contemporary visual artist.
the turner prize is awarded to a british artist, or an artist from another country working in britain, under the age of fifty 'for an outstanding exhibition or other presentation of their work in the previous twelve months. it is intended to promote public discussion of new developments in contemporary british art and is widely recognised as one of the most important and prestigious awards for the visual arts in europe.'
http://www.tate.org.uk/liverpool/exhibitions/turnerprize2007/
the turner prize was hosted outside london for the first time in its history this year, at tate Liverpool, to mark the countdown to the city's status as european capital of culture for 2008. this in itself made the headlines. how on earth were the great and the good expected to get to a venue outside the capital to view the short listed artists? even worse, i cant help thinking, how were they supposed to enjoy the parties, the wine and the canapés, if they were being held somewhere up north in the middle of nowhere...liverpool, for god's sake!
the controversy about location exhausted, there followed the usual rantings and bleatings about the shortlisted artists, mark wallinger in particular; at 48 the oldest recipient of the prize so far, and only just elegible. previously he was perhaps best known for ecce homo, his resin sculpture of a very human Christ crowned with thorns, a veritable everyman, commissioned for the 4th plinth in trafalgar square - a visit to the following guardian slideshow places his Christ in the context of other 4th plinth artists: http://arts.guardian.co.uk/pictures/image/0,8543,-10204720077,00.html
but it is his most recent work, 'state britain', the work for which he was nominated, that raised the usual gamut of misunderstandings about the nature of contemporary art today, even though due to the specific rules of the turner prize, the piece actually exhibited would be the 2004 'sleeper', better known as 'the dancing bear'. a 2 and a half hour film of the artist wandering around the empty berlin nationalgalerie by night dressed in a bear suit, it is exactly the sort of modern art that exasperates and bewilders the archetypal daily mail reader, egged on by the paper’s ‘sensible man in the street’ style editorials.
a glimpse at a recent daily mail column is typical of their irritatingly simplistic cultural worldview, complaining contradictorily of both its ridiculousness and ordinariness! it also offers a review of sorts of all the short listed artists for 2007, and manages to miss the assorted beauty, poignancy and irony offered by the works of bhimji, nelson and coley, preferring to reduce them to the usual tiresome and predictable clichés. regardless or not of whether a artwork is to one’s personal taste, it is surely not beyond the intellect or imagination to encourage or engage in actual deliberation about the issues surrounding and inspiring visual artists today, rather than endlessly rehash the ‘but is this art’ question?
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=488278&in_page_id=1770
all this bear talk notwithstanding, it is for 'state britain', shown at tate britain at the start of the year, that wallinger won the turner prize - a 40-metre long representation, complete with banners and tarpaulin shelter, of brian haws mini-peace camp and protest opposite the houses of parliament from june 2001 until it was demolished by the police in may 2006 under new powers banning protests within one kilometre of westminster. the following telegraph article attempts to disguise its little britain attitude with a defence by its own arts critic, richard dormant, but its description of a previous winner, grayson perry, as a ‘cross-dresser who makes pornographic pottery’ says it all! http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2007/12/03/baturner104.xml&DCMP=ILC-traffdrv07053100
of course the turner prize is a spectacle that courts controversy – it is the flag bearer of modern art, the top of the pops of the visual art world, the ‘lifetime achievement’ section of the Oscars, i suppose. it is a whistle stop tour of who’s who and what’s what in art today and as such an indication of and glimpse into our collective preoccupations and anxieties. for the first time in its history, the prize, and therefore in many respects contemporary art practice itself, is readily available to everyone who lives outside London. go and see it; support the idea of world class art premiering outside of London. you never know, it might become routine – the provinces could become the centre of culture, rather than the after thought…
the exhibition continues until january 13: the work is funny, annoying, melancholic, haunting, inspiring, and some of it a little predictable – just like life itself. if none of it moves you simply nip round the corner to the marvellous ‘taxi project’ by the café, for a touch of Liverpool wit and wisdom in a real black cab. bizarre but brilliant…
the turner prize is a bit of a hamstrung beast, a victim of its own success and reputation, with detractors on all sides: a circus freakshow of dubious content to outsiders and a spectacle of trumpet blowing hype to many insiders. despised and abused from all sides, the poor thing cant win, but as a snapshot of where art and visual culture are today and within the public domain, it remains invaluable.
as usual the predicable debate about art and its ‘relevance’, as well as the inevitable media circus surrounding this annual contemporary art prize, threatened to overshadow the actual work and merit of the artists and the aims of the exhibition as a whole - to explore, examine and evaluate the world we inhabit through the lens of the contemporary visual artist.
the turner prize is awarded to a british artist, or an artist from another country working in britain, under the age of fifty 'for an outstanding exhibition or other presentation of their work in the previous twelve months. it is intended to promote public discussion of new developments in contemporary british art and is widely recognised as one of the most important and prestigious awards for the visual arts in europe.'
http://www.tate.org.uk/liverpool/exhibitions/turnerprize2007/
the turner prize was hosted outside london for the first time in its history this year, at tate Liverpool, to mark the countdown to the city's status as european capital of culture for 2008. this in itself made the headlines. how on earth were the great and the good expected to get to a venue outside the capital to view the short listed artists? even worse, i cant help thinking, how were they supposed to enjoy the parties, the wine and the canapés, if they were being held somewhere up north in the middle of nowhere...liverpool, for god's sake!
the controversy about location exhausted, there followed the usual rantings and bleatings about the shortlisted artists, mark wallinger in particular; at 48 the oldest recipient of the prize so far, and only just elegible. previously he was perhaps best known for ecce homo, his resin sculpture of a very human Christ crowned with thorns, a veritable everyman, commissioned for the 4th plinth in trafalgar square - a visit to the following guardian slideshow places his Christ in the context of other 4th plinth artists: http://arts.guardian.co.uk/pictures/image/0,8543,-10204720077,00.html
but it is his most recent work, 'state britain', the work for which he was nominated, that raised the usual gamut of misunderstandings about the nature of contemporary art today, even though due to the specific rules of the turner prize, the piece actually exhibited would be the 2004 'sleeper', better known as 'the dancing bear'. a 2 and a half hour film of the artist wandering around the empty berlin nationalgalerie by night dressed in a bear suit, it is exactly the sort of modern art that exasperates and bewilders the archetypal daily mail reader, egged on by the paper’s ‘sensible man in the street’ style editorials.
a glimpse at a recent daily mail column is typical of their irritatingly simplistic cultural worldview, complaining contradictorily of both its ridiculousness and ordinariness! it also offers a review of sorts of all the short listed artists for 2007, and manages to miss the assorted beauty, poignancy and irony offered by the works of bhimji, nelson and coley, preferring to reduce them to the usual tiresome and predictable clichés. regardless or not of whether a artwork is to one’s personal taste, it is surely not beyond the intellect or imagination to encourage or engage in actual deliberation about the issues surrounding and inspiring visual artists today, rather than endlessly rehash the ‘but is this art’ question?
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=488278&in_page_id=1770
all this bear talk notwithstanding, it is for 'state britain', shown at tate britain at the start of the year, that wallinger won the turner prize - a 40-metre long representation, complete with banners and tarpaulin shelter, of brian haws mini-peace camp and protest opposite the houses of parliament from june 2001 until it was demolished by the police in may 2006 under new powers banning protests within one kilometre of westminster. the following telegraph article attempts to disguise its little britain attitude with a defence by its own arts critic, richard dormant, but its description of a previous winner, grayson perry, as a ‘cross-dresser who makes pornographic pottery’ says it all! http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2007/12/03/baturner104.xml&DCMP=ILC-traffdrv07053100
of course the turner prize is a spectacle that courts controversy – it is the flag bearer of modern art, the top of the pops of the visual art world, the ‘lifetime achievement’ section of the Oscars, i suppose. it is a whistle stop tour of who’s who and what’s what in art today and as such an indication of and glimpse into our collective preoccupations and anxieties. for the first time in its history, the prize, and therefore in many respects contemporary art practice itself, is readily available to everyone who lives outside London. go and see it; support the idea of world class art premiering outside of London. you never know, it might become routine – the provinces could become the centre of culture, rather than the after thought…
the exhibition continues until january 13: the work is funny, annoying, melancholic, haunting, inspiring, and some of it a little predictable – just like life itself. if none of it moves you simply nip round the corner to the marvellous ‘taxi project’ by the café, for a touch of Liverpool wit and wisdom in a real black cab. bizarre but brilliant…
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