rashbre central

Sunday, 10 February 2019

keep on truckin'


A quick look at the transport, which should be rugged enough for the planned journey. I'm told that GMC only make trucks nowadays, although this vehicle purports to be of a 2019 vintage.

I'll probably make some more observations about it later, but for now, I'll note that the factory fitted satellite navigation doesn't include maps and will not let you save a current location for future use.

It is, instead, voice operated although it has difficulties handling my variety of English, causing the system to go into frequent loops of incomprehension. I think it is called OnStar. Maybe that should be One Star?

a room with a view


It is always good to have a room with a view. I might prefer seascapes or mountains, but this urban masterpiece is also one-of-a-kind.

Saturday, 9 February 2019

filling in between the lines

This time we've headed along a long corridor ahead of our next trip.

Part way along, the floor pattern changed, just like it would in any good spy novel.

In our case it moved from heavily patterned to a light colour with occasional lines.

I suppose it was a hint of the need to fill in the grey areas between the lines?

Anyway.

Part one accomplished.

Next time we should be somewhere different.

Thursday, 7 February 2019

time takes a cigarette

Nothing has changed with that flight to Brussels. The 585 page Withdrawal Agreement remains the same as it ever was.

As a face-saver, the Political Declaration can be modified, but let's face it, it's still the equivalent of 30 pages of PowerPoint designed to be vague until after the one-way valve of the Withdrawal Agreement has closed.

What's the old quote "Everything works in PowerPoint."

Meanwhile, our stony-faced knight of the absurd continues to chase the existential ironic.

This other quote is from Albert Camus, talking about Sisyphus: "Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

circle line?


"Immobilise" - my pop art reference to "Release", by Richard Hamilton

As Mrs May continues her Sysiphean route around Europe the next meeting with Donald Tusk should be particularly interesting. I decided that the Botticelli painting of Dante's Inferno might be a little too complicated to represent the recent sentiments expressed.

Instead I was torn between a simplified 8-bit model of the 9 rings, complete with its own railway station or the upstart Onion version from 1998 with its 'special place' extra ring.

I decided that the railway station added an extra border control issue such that, despite its extra level, the expanded 10 level inferno was a better TL;DR* version and could still form the basis of a 'Place the politician' game.

Tempting as it might be, I won't fill in the gaps. After all, it could be seen as falling into a very deep pit.

*TL;DR - Too Long;Don't Read

Wednesday, 6 February 2019

magic realism


This time I've visited an excellent (and free) exhibition at the Tate Modern. Not a new show, it runs for a year, finishing in July 2019.

Magic Realism explores the aspects of Weimar Republic culture between two devastating world wars. There's themed rooms displaying the art of the period and Germany's search for cultural identity. Sometimes referred to as Neue Sachlichkeit / New Objectivity, it was defined by Franz Roh as a return to order after modern or avant-garde art (Nach Expressionismus: Magischer Realismus).

I knew my German classes would come in handy.

There's a series of rooms, with titles like 'The interior figure of the exterior world', 'The Circus/Abnormal situations', 'Pleasurable Abundance', 'Cabaret' and more. Each space is not overloaded giving a good chance to examine and think upon the themes displayed. By the end we can see an inexorable spiral towards further darkness.

The trauma of the First World War, and subsequent political uncertainty, is echoed by many Weimar artists. There's grotesque and crude pictures and no shortage of ironies. One of the first pictures is by Georg Grosz, stark in its matter-of-factness whilst portraying multiple disturbing scenes.

There's a contrast with the Pleasurable Abundance of the next section. The fuller title would be 'Pleasurable abundance - by means of new technology' - Werner Gräff illustrated modern life with a list of contemporary pastimes: "the amusement park, pleasure flying, jazz bands, elegance, Chaplin, snow-shoeing, world travel now-and-then and, if need be, spas.

However, a picture from this section by Rudolf Schlichter illustrates the contrast. Click that link to see an abundance of his work.
Speedy with the Moon/Frauenportrait(Speedy) 1933.

A careful portrait of his wife, but look behind, not just at the moon. A torn landscape, maybe more representative of the emerging environment than a direct reference to the previous war? Schlichter was one of the many artists later condemned as degenerate by the terrifying politics of mid 30s Germany.

There's a detailing in the above picture not so representative of the general style of magic realism. More often the paintings use an economy of lines and vibrant tones to convey the effect. This crop from Conrad Felixmüller's Portrait of Ernst Buchholz might be more typical.

As an aside, in my ongoing use of iPhone photography I'm noticing reflections and white balance questions, which I'd more routinely fix in raw, but can't so easily on jpegs.

The circus collection provide licence to satirise moral degradations and anxieties. This picture in the Cabaret/Adventure section is by the only woman artist, Jeanne Mammen, and illustrates a shooting range. The foreground plainly dressed woman is handing a gun to the punter at contrast with the voluptuous women targets.

There's so much more. This small exhibition is packed with interesting and thought-provoking pictures. Day-drinking unemployed military veterans. The cage of decadence. Towards Isherwood and the Cabaret movie.

For already heavy back-packing reasons I didn't buy the catalogue at the time, but subsequently ordered a copy to be delivered home.

For now, by way of a bonus track, click anywhere on August Sander's photograph of Bohemians [Willi Bongard, Gottfried Brockmann] c.1922–5, to be transported to a Tate-curated spotify playlist of over 100 Weimar Republic tunes from between 1919-1933.

Tuesday, 5 February 2019

Michelangelo and the enormous Viola video screens


I've been to several 'two works' exhibitions around various galleries, including some delightful juxtapositions at the Tate. This time it was 'Life, Death, Rebirth' featuring Michelangelo and Bill Viola, at the Royal Academy. I'll admit I was somewhat baffled.

The introduction runs that Bill Viola looked at some interesting works by Michelangelo Buonarroti, owned by the Queen and on show a couple of years ago in Windsor. It evolved into a show based upon the inspiration they provided.

I can understand the pitch to the Royal Academy, to put the results together with the original inspirations, but I don't think it really works for me. Who is this show about? One or both artists? Maybe I should have twigged it from the billing on the poster?

Many of the Michelangelo drawings are small chalk sketches, immaculately executed and often at sub A4 size requiring close scrutiny to admire their beauty and precision.

Bill Viola's works are mainly huge flat screen video installations, hung in darkened rooms. They frequently deploy slow motion capture of the human form, often linked with water. An early piece in the show is that of a male form, initially submerged and then slowly moving to the surface of water before once again sinking. It's called The Messenger. I think I understand it, and its link with the theme of life and death.

Viola is world renowned. He's been producing video artworks for 40 years, often with contemplative life learning themes, frequently with slow motion water and/or fire in the mix. In a way, the modern world has caught up, or even overtaken, some of his means of production. Drive into London along the elevated section of the A4 and there's plenty of eye catching large, flat screen television to examine. Oh yes, it's advertising, but with huge marketing budgets. Shouting out - yes you are stuck in traffic so why not look at this glittering new mobile phone/airline/ikea flat pack.

It makes this show something of a problem for me. I can't help thinking that Michelangelo's genius gets hijacked by the brashness of the American television. I want to know whether Viola is trading on fame by association. "Look, I'm here with Michelangelo."

There must be more to it than that, surely?

As an example, there's a darkened room with a three screen installation of birth, swimming through life and death. It's called the Nantes Tryptych. For Viola, it is presumably both personal and voyeuristic.

I watched the busy room and the people's faces. They almost all faced towards the birth frames. Almost no-one noticed that the same room also featured on the opposite wall behind the viewers is Michelangelo's Taddei Tondo, a marble sculpture depiction of a baby Christ avoiding the delicate goldfinch offered by John the Baptist. Perhaps that siting creates a form of performance art in itself?

Maybe I'm not giving the Viola works their due. Perhaps I should dwell longer on each piece. That's also a problem because the exhibition becomes about the 12 Viola works at the expense of the 15 Michelangelos. I can't help wondering whether this is the wrong way around, although perhaps that is what the curator wants? To show us that we need to think about big themes in a modern idiom.

Another work that gave me a challenge is called The Veiling and uses old-school Barco projectors to shoot a couple of scenes through multiple layers of a translucent cloth. The curation makes it difficult to see directly through the layers, to see where the images collide and the effects introduced. This idea (from 1996) might be a clever, but it is difficult to tell. But, ahah, is this the essence of consciousness?

Viewing this, my head went to another altogether different installation, by Fabrice Hyber, which I saw at the Baltic a few years ago. Simply called Raw Materials, as a small section of a much larger show, it used a large series of hung sheets to give early representations for new work.

That's when something occurred to me about this RA exhibition. It felt as if Michelangelo had explored and created ideas. Viola had captured a few and was replaying them in a modern and somewhat repetitive way through 20th Century technology. Michelangelo and - dare I say - Fabrice Hyber both have many more ideas per exhibit than I felt I was getting from Viola.

It was to the extent that I wondered what it would be like to simply project some of the small Michelangelo chalk sketches onto the big screens?

I wondered too about whether the Viola pieces would work better alone or in a different setting?

I'd seen one of the pieces before at the National Portrait Gallery, a few years ago. Called The Dreamers, it was seven big screen hyperreal closeups of fully clothed people under water. With closed eyes they are calm, rather than anxious with occasional (slow motion?) bubbles escaping from their faces as evidence of life. The first time I saw it, it made an impact, maybe because it was unexpected in a run of other artists' work.

I hope from this description it can be construed that I've been trying to understand the show. Take the still above, a frame of another body moving slowly through a tank of well-lit water. I'll admit that this one was quite impactful for me. Above head height, it initially looked like something you wouldn't believe.

Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, or c-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. Riding test boats off the black galaxies then seeing them burn like a match and disappear. Moments lost in time, like tears in rain.

There's a TV show about Bill Viola that I recorded a yesterday but haven't watched yet. Perhaps when I do things will become clearer.

Monday, 4 February 2019

a red queen, strangling in the solitude she prefers


It takes a really ruthless politician to ignore every warning sign, spin every story and offer bribes to attempt to get their way.

"Off with their heads," as the red Queen of Hearts from Alice might say.

The current gang know they have messed up and are using levels of Lewis Carroll reality distortion to attempt to wriggle free.

There's plenty would fancy a chance with the shiny crown, although everyone except the jester knows it too dangerous to attempt to wear at present.

And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall
Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call
And call Alice, when she was just small


The first sweetener was some time ago, when the Conservatives offered £2 billion to the DUP in order to create a majority government. It set the pricing at around £100 million a vote, although the current pork barrel for the Withdrawal Agreement appears to be less.

It's not called corruption though, it's simply "National Renewal" at a time when swathes of British industry are being damaged by self-imposed threats of instability brought about with the uncontrolled lurches of the current incumbents.


When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know


I can't call these people leaders, managers or supervisors. Despite claims of taking back control, they use increasingly desperate measures to hold their fractured party together running a 'plucky UK against the world' narrative.

When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead
And the white knight is talking backwards
And the red queen's off her head




These servants of the people have forgotten their place as elected representatives positioned to do the right thing for the people, whilst self-righteously claiming they are enacting the will of the people.

As for the promises, they are uncannily linked to post-Brexit. Promises as secure as the lies from that red bus two years ago. The same bus they are shoving Britain underneath.

If the monster was a drunk driver, we'd have dealt with the situation by now.

Talked to her in a quiet, private environment. Kept a light tone, calm and non-confrontational.

Remind ourselves that we are talking with someone under a toxic influence.

Explain to her that we are concerned about what she is doing and the need for preventative action.

Above all, we'd take her keys away.

But we don't seem able, such that this particular Red Queen race has degenerated to simple survival pitted against ever-evolving opposing organisms in a constantly changing environment.

One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all
Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall


Sunday, 3 February 2019

i taut i taw ipad-keyboard


Instead of a laptop, I took just an iPad when I was away recently. It was part of my experiment with travelling lighter, like using the iPhone as a main camera.

It should be no big deal, but I've written before about the iPad being mainly a "consume" device rather than for "origination". I've used iPads for work and play but usually end up frustrated because it isn't so good for lengthy input.

I took a seldom-used Mini 3, which has the smallest form factor, albeit with the same screen resolution as the prior generation "full size" iPad.

Whilst away, I wanted to be able to enter text and edit it. Not so unreasonable, yet surprisingly difficult when any precision was required. I gave up and instead used the iPad to watch downloaded episodes of Killing Eve.

Enter an inexpensive keyboard. It's a slightly bulky Logitech Canvas reminiscent of something ruggedised that a CIA operative would set up in the middle of a Jason Bourne movie.

However, it does provide typing and screen editing from the keyboard so maybe this will actually work.


Saturday, 2 February 2019

we're going to need a bigger contract

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This picture is of that well-known clock tower housing Big Ben.

Once a world-famous landmark, now an example of the most highly specified scaffolders' craft. Why, there is scarcely room to insert a further scaffold pole into the structure.

I idly think of it as a metaphor for some of what is happening at the moment. Like Battersea Power Station had to keep a complete chimney during the restoration works, Big Ben must keep a clock face visible at all times.

Some might think of the scaffolding as expensive at £3.5 million. There's certainly a lot more scaffolding than back in 1984, maybe because of new regulations?

Then there is the cost of the actual conservation work, in 2016 estimated at some £29 million. Some 18 months later, it has moved to £61 million.

I suppose Parliament may have been distracted with other matters, whilst this single PCSA project right outside of its own offices casts its own lofty spending profile.

Friday, 1 February 2019

South Bank stroll with the Lightroom CC Ecosystem

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Still trying out my 'iPhone only' for pictures, this time around Borough Market and a short part of the South Bank.

My picture of the fancy Paul Smith shop shows the buildings used in the movie Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The whole area is used frequently in TV dramas too. Here's a picture (not mine) from the movie.

Next the well-known Market Porter pub, on the outskirts of the market. It is close to one of my old offices and a useful source of refreshment. It always had an exceptionally quick service even on massively busy days, sourced from a largely Australian bar-staff.
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In terms of the picture, I've left in the wide angle effect although the framing is a bit off. It kind of reflects the angles used in the movie shot above it. I'll need to get more used to taking photographs with a screen instead of a viewfinder for this to work and to know when to tip the camera/phone slightly. Yes, that's the Shard in the background.
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We're still very close to the River. Here's one showing the continued development around the City. Personally I think the view from the Walkie-Talkie (in this picture) is better than that from the Shard nowadays. I had to crop this to remove excessive sky and water.
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Next stop, The Old Thameside, which is close to The Golden Hind. This wasn't ever much of an office drinking pub, more one for the tourists, although I did spot a couple of suits emerging from what looked like a coffee session.
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I'd better include the Golden Hind, for completeness. Sitting in dry dock, usually it is being climbed over by parties of school children, but I managed to get there just before two groups each of around 20 arrived.
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A short stroll further and we are at The Anchor, which is a fun pub to sit outside in sunny weather. Famously used in the first Mission Impossible.

A few photography notes
In terms of the iPhone pictures, they are not too bad, at least if they can be used whole. I miss not having access to raw files and I can see the some of my framing is a bit off, but that's the reason for some practice.

Now I've switched the Lightroom CC copying on, the photos are automatically loading themselves into the Adobe named 'Lightroom CC Ecosystem' on my iMac, which makes cataloguing them a little more straightforward.

For this to work properly, I still need to figure out how to remove synced duplicates, sync errors and to move CC Ecosystem photos safely to their correct catalogue locations.

Thursday, 31 January 2019

up and over the Thames


I've been sleeping in the docks for a couple of days with this view and decided it was a good opportunity to continue trialling my 'Use iPhone only' photography. This little sequence was taken as I crossed the Thames via the 'Airline'. For a while it was my short daily commute across the Thames by cablecar.

The system is slightly different now. It used to be a special punchable ticket valid for 10 journeys. Now the journeys can be loaded directly on to my Oyster card, which costs less than simply using the Oyster as a touch-in/touch-out.

It was as easy as ever to get a complete cablecar to myself, and the TV system in the car had a commentary about the views from the ride. As a Londoner, I knew most of it, but there were still some interesting sections, particularly when it involved direct commentary from Londoners, such as a tugboat captain or someone working in one of the revamped dock areas.

Here's a serviceable picture of Canary Wharf and of the Dome, although I had to use the zoom obliquely across the glass bubble of my cablecar to take this one, hence the strange reflections and interference.

Then a picture towards Greenwich Peninsular, which also illustrates the growth of buildings - including several new apartment blocks with what will be a very quick commute into the centre.

Then there's the Thames Clipper dock, accompanied by Anthony Gormley's Quantum Cloud sculpture. It is reputedly taller than the Angel of the North in Gateshead, although doesn't somehow look it, maybe because of its foreshortened outline nature. Look at it from the right angle and there's still a residual figure inside it, based upon Anthony Gormley's body, which is something of his signature approach to public sculptures.

Then, above, my final snap from this leg of the journey. I should have taken a couple of steps further back to get the whole building in, although there was also some tricky road signage, which made it difficult to cover the building, cable cars and first mast all at once.