Tuesday, September 25
Reading: Third Chimpanzee
Actually, I've nearly finished it.
It's pretty good - again, as with a lot of books I read these days, it suffers from not being written by the same person who wrote the previous one, which is totally unfair, especially when they are completely different. But it is interesting, and thought provoking, although it covers a lot of farily familiar ground. I've read most of it in more detail in two of Jared Diamond's other books, Collapse and Guns, Germs and Steel, and the rest of it is a coverage of evolution both by natural and sexual selection, which I have seen in Matt Ridley and The Dawk-meister books too.
So the main thing that stands out is the bleak nihilism and almost total conviction that we're going to kill ourselves: he's studied a lot of human societies, found the explanations mechanisms behind their rise and ultimate fall, and applied that to our current behaviour. And we're going the same way as most of them, and faster and harder. Yay! We're all going back to the stone age.
It's pretty good - again, as with a lot of books I read these days, it suffers from not being written by the same person who wrote the previous one, which is totally unfair, especially when they are completely different. But it is interesting, and thought provoking, although it covers a lot of farily familiar ground. I've read most of it in more detail in two of Jared Diamond's other books, Collapse and Guns, Germs and Steel, and the rest of it is a coverage of evolution both by natural and sexual selection, which I have seen in Matt Ridley and The Dawk-meister books too.
So the main thing that stands out is the bleak nihilism and almost total conviction that we're going to kill ourselves: he's studied a lot of human societies, found the explanations mechanisms behind their rise and ultimate fall, and applied that to our current behaviour. And we're going the same way as most of them, and faster and harder. Yay! We're all going back to the stone age.
Friday, September 21
New Art
I should also mention that while I was eating my lunch on Trafalgar Square and musing on the drastic reduction in pigeon numbers (good work, Ken) I was fortunate to see some guy working on an incredibly detailed biro sketch of the square and its environs, apparently from the perspective of the top of St Martins in the Fields (which isn't really accessible right now due to scaffolding). He must have been working on it for days, because his rate of progress was infintesimal, and he'd filled 2/3 of a sheet of A3 sketch paper. I'd love to see the finished article, but I doubt I will.
Also, I saw a rather lost looking tern, trying to figure out what the pigeons were doing and where all his mates had got to. Good luck, tern dude.
Also, I saw a rather lost looking tern, trying to figure out what the pigeons were doing and where all his mates had got to. Good luck, tern dude.
Labels: biro sketch, london, terns, trafalgar square
National Gallery and Trafalgar Square
Trafalgar Square - distractions in a tourist spot
To continue my holiday in London, I travelled on Wednesday to the National Gallery. I was somewhat surprised on emerging from Charing Cross tube station (a) to be on Trafalgar Square itself, and not in Charing Cross station (I'm not very good at subterranean navigation and I never really know where I'm going to pop up) and (b) for Trafalgar Square to be covered in a photographic maze in the name of "Lomography".
However, there was nothing to explain it that made any sense. I guess if it was all translated from Austrian then that might go some way to explain why. Anyway, the result was a mildly diverting patchwork maze of photographs of all sorts of things that was aesthetically pleasing if utterly devoid of relevance. I didn't spend very long there.
Then at the top end of the square was something that might have been connected (I still didn't know what Lomography was) but probably wasn't - a Tom Dixon light bulb amnesty where people were handing out free energy saving lightbulbs along with the means to post an old lightbulb back to Tom, whoever he is. Since all the lightbulbs in the flat are energy saving anyway, I walked past. The display was complemented by a very low hanging outdoor chandelier of giant energy saving bulbs which looked unusual but was fairly pointless, as it was lunchtime and relatively sunny.
National Gallery I - in which the gallery leaves a visitor awestruck
So I went into the National Gallery, having negotiated these diversions successfully. As the desks were rather crowded, I decided to wander in aimlessly and see what I could see. I think I ended up in the 1500s-1600s section, and jolly good it was. It's often an overwhelming experience, unless you are very focussed on what you're looking for/at, and this was no different. So many pretty pictures, with helpful notes that link the contents of each room. There isn't really (or I couldn't find) a route that links all of the rooms of the display in any thematic or "history of art" sense. I guess I need to do that research outside of the gallery and then go and find the illustrative paintings. Although they might be in different rooms and require a lot of criss-crossing. After an hour or so, I felt suitably awed by the use of light and space of the renaissance lads, so I went for a wander to find some lunch in nearby Covent Garden.
National Gallery II - in which the gallery fails to explain things properly
After lunch, I picked up a map so that I could make sure I didn't go back into any of the rooms I had already visited. (Another feature of my random walk was that I had visited a lot of rooms in a weird order.) I decided to go through the 1700s-1900s rooms and see how art had progressed. To be honest, a lot of it was crap. For some reason, faces didn't seem to be attached to the heads they were painted on. Several paintings were unfinished - Gainsborough seems to have had an aversion to painting hands (I can't blame him, but he was supposed to have been one of the Great British Painters). Also, the "helpful" notes displayed beside each painting were often ridiculous. There was one painting (don't remember the artist, date, nationality or anything) which showed a fight in a tavern, where a soldier in armour was being assualted from behind by a dude with a knife in the act of drawing his sword. There were several other characters in the painting. One was falling away in shock, but two were engrossed in a game of cards (and probably drunk) and another soldier was ignoring the whole thing. Now, I don't claim to be an art expert, but it seems that this is quite likely to be an allegory, and the characters represent states. I'm fucked if I know which ones, and I can't work them out because I don't know any of the circumstances. But I would be amazed if the story wasn't that there was or would soon be a peasant uprising in one country (France?) that caught the army off guard, and the two other countries (England and Netherlands, as a guess) had better stop arsing about playing cards (stock markets) and watch out for peasants behind them. But the note beside the painting said something like "for some reason, the other figures seem not to notice". I can see that. Explain it to me!
Epilogue - in which the hero departs somewhat deflated
And there were others like that, so I grew slightly disillusioned with the whole experience. I was going to stick around, but there were a series of room closures due to "industrial action" (what industry? All the employees do is make sure people don't steal the paintings and direct them back to the street through the ridiculous maze) including some of the rooms I hadn't visited in the 1700s-1900s, so I left. By which time the lights on the Tom Dixon energy-saving candelabra were on. It still didn't make much sense.
To continue my holiday in London, I travelled on Wednesday to the National Gallery. I was somewhat surprised on emerging from Charing Cross tube station (a) to be on Trafalgar Square itself, and not in Charing Cross station (I'm not very good at subterranean navigation and I never really know where I'm going to pop up) and (b) for Trafalgar Square to be covered in a photographic maze in the name of "Lomography".
However, there was nothing to explain it that made any sense. I guess if it was all translated from Austrian then that might go some way to explain why. Anyway, the result was a mildly diverting patchwork maze of photographs of all sorts of things that was aesthetically pleasing if utterly devoid of relevance. I didn't spend very long there.
Then at the top end of the square was something that might have been connected (I still didn't know what Lomography was) but probably wasn't - a Tom Dixon light bulb amnesty where people were handing out free energy saving lightbulbs along with the means to post an old lightbulb back to Tom, whoever he is. Since all the lightbulbs in the flat are energy saving anyway, I walked past. The display was complemented by a very low hanging outdoor chandelier of giant energy saving bulbs which looked unusual but was fairly pointless, as it was lunchtime and relatively sunny.
National Gallery I - in which the gallery leaves a visitor awestruck
So I went into the National Gallery, having negotiated these diversions successfully. As the desks were rather crowded, I decided to wander in aimlessly and see what I could see. I think I ended up in the 1500s-1600s section, and jolly good it was. It's often an overwhelming experience, unless you are very focussed on what you're looking for/at, and this was no different. So many pretty pictures, with helpful notes that link the contents of each room. There isn't really (or I couldn't find) a route that links all of the rooms of the display in any thematic or "history of art" sense. I guess I need to do that research outside of the gallery and then go and find the illustrative paintings. Although they might be in different rooms and require a lot of criss-crossing. After an hour or so, I felt suitably awed by the use of light and space of the renaissance lads, so I went for a wander to find some lunch in nearby Covent Garden.
National Gallery II - in which the gallery fails to explain things properly
After lunch, I picked up a map so that I could make sure I didn't go back into any of the rooms I had already visited. (Another feature of my random walk was that I had visited a lot of rooms in a weird order.) I decided to go through the 1700s-1900s rooms and see how art had progressed. To be honest, a lot of it was crap. For some reason, faces didn't seem to be attached to the heads they were painted on. Several paintings were unfinished - Gainsborough seems to have had an aversion to painting hands (I can't blame him, but he was supposed to have been one of the Great British Painters). Also, the "helpful" notes displayed beside each painting were often ridiculous. There was one painting (don't remember the artist, date, nationality or anything) which showed a fight in a tavern, where a soldier in armour was being assualted from behind by a dude with a knife in the act of drawing his sword. There were several other characters in the painting. One was falling away in shock, but two were engrossed in a game of cards (and probably drunk) and another soldier was ignoring the whole thing. Now, I don't claim to be an art expert, but it seems that this is quite likely to be an allegory, and the characters represent states. I'm fucked if I know which ones, and I can't work them out because I don't know any of the circumstances. But I would be amazed if the story wasn't that there was or would soon be a peasant uprising in one country (France?) that caught the army off guard, and the two other countries (England and Netherlands, as a guess) had better stop arsing about playing cards (stock markets) and watch out for peasants behind them. But the note beside the painting said something like "for some reason, the other figures seem not to notice". I can see that. Explain it to me!
Epilogue - in which the hero departs somewhat deflated
And there were others like that, so I grew slightly disillusioned with the whole experience. I was going to stick around, but there were a series of room closures due to "industrial action" (what industry? All the employees do is make sure people don't steal the paintings and direct them back to the street through the ridiculous maze) including some of the rooms I hadn't visited in the 1700s-1900s, so I left. By which time the lights on the Tom Dixon energy-saving candelabra were on. It still didn't make much sense.
Labels: industrial action, london, national gallery
Wednesday, September 19
First Emperor
The exhibition at the British Museum which started a week ago. I figured, they've gone to the trouble (quite a lot of trouble) to ship these fellas over, I'm not at work, I might as well go.
Oh my god, you guys, you have to go.
Image from the British Museum website. Where you can get tickets from.
Seriously. This shit will blow your mind. You've got about six months to see it, the exhibition closes in April, but don't delay. You may want to go more than once. I do.
OK, so what is the deal?
I guess you've heard of the Terracotta Army, buried to protect the First Emperor of China's final resting place. Which consists of 7,000 mass-produced (but individual) warriors, chariots, horses etc. It took thirty years to create and lay undiscovered until some farmer was digging a well in 1974. It's over 2,000 years old.
I don't think any of it has ever been out of China before. Even if you do go to Xi'an and see the site with the warriors in place, you have to stand well back from the pits, and can't get anywhere near the actual troops. In London, you can get to within touching distance of them. (Although actually touching them would probably land you in serious trouble).
I had heard there were 4 warriors on display (don't know where from). There are, I think, twenty characters in total. The first one you see is in a little glass case. He's a kneeling archer. You can see the plaits in his hair and the detailing on his armour. (Which was made of lacquered squares of leather stitched together with cord, and modelled in terracotta). Then you wander around some other exhibits showing coins, swords, arrowheads, roof tiles, model palaces and other sundry contextual items, before going through a small door and seeing a small formation of troops.
It's almost breathtaking - I mean, everyone has seen photos of them, and you know they're there, but to actually see them, lined up and ready for battle - it's astonishing. (And then there's the headspinning moment when you realise that these things were made before the birth of christ and the whole western european civilisation thing).
As well as that, there are dozens of new discoveries - a pit full of acrobats was found in 1999. There are clerks to administer this nether empire, also made of terracotta. There was an artificial river system built, with bronze birds and terracotta musicians. There were rooms full of stone armour, that no one really knows what it's for. Protection from spirits? It's a theory. And no one has ever opened the tomb itself. Based on a relatively contemporary account (still 2,000 years old) the current theory is that the lad had himself built a replica of his empire, with the seas and rivers represented by streams of mercury and the stars above picked out in pearls. Scientists claim to have found a lot of mercury in the burial site, so it's possible.
This is an absolutely unmissable opportunity for anyone who has ever been interested in history. There is no excuse not to go. If you fail to go to it, you just fail.
Oh my god, you guys, you have to go.
Image from the British Museum website. Where you can get tickets from.
Seriously. This shit will blow your mind. You've got about six months to see it, the exhibition closes in April, but don't delay. You may want to go more than once. I do.
OK, so what is the deal?
I guess you've heard of the Terracotta Army, buried to protect the First Emperor of China's final resting place. Which consists of 7,000 mass-produced (but individual) warriors, chariots, horses etc. It took thirty years to create and lay undiscovered until some farmer was digging a well in 1974. It's over 2,000 years old.
I don't think any of it has ever been out of China before. Even if you do go to Xi'an and see the site with the warriors in place, you have to stand well back from the pits, and can't get anywhere near the actual troops. In London, you can get to within touching distance of them. (Although actually touching them would probably land you in serious trouble).
I had heard there were 4 warriors on display (don't know where from). There are, I think, twenty characters in total. The first one you see is in a little glass case. He's a kneeling archer. You can see the plaits in his hair and the detailing on his armour. (Which was made of lacquered squares of leather stitched together with cord, and modelled in terracotta). Then you wander around some other exhibits showing coins, swords, arrowheads, roof tiles, model palaces and other sundry contextual items, before going through a small door and seeing a small formation of troops.
It's almost breathtaking - I mean, everyone has seen photos of them, and you know they're there, but to actually see them, lined up and ready for battle - it's astonishing. (And then there's the headspinning moment when you realise that these things were made before the birth of christ and the whole western european civilisation thing).
As well as that, there are dozens of new discoveries - a pit full of acrobats was found in 1999. There are clerks to administer this nether empire, also made of terracotta. There was an artificial river system built, with bronze birds and terracotta musicians. There were rooms full of stone armour, that no one really knows what it's for. Protection from spirits? It's a theory. And no one has ever opened the tomb itself. Based on a relatively contemporary account (still 2,000 years old) the current theory is that the lad had himself built a replica of his empire, with the seas and rivers represented by streams of mercury and the stars above picked out in pearls. Scientists claim to have found a lot of mercury in the burial site, so it's possible.
This is an absolutely unmissable opportunity for anyone who has ever been interested in history. There is no excuse not to go. If you fail to go to it, you just fail.
Announcement at Waterloo
"Customers please note the train approaching platform 15 will not stop at this station"
Not entirely convincing, since the track does stop at this station.
Not entirely convincing, since the track does stop at this station.
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