Warhol's Blue Queen

Betty Blue

Andy Warhol was nothing if not resilient. Throughout his life, he faced many challenges, from a childhood marred by extreme poverty and mystery illnesses to widespread criticism of his work in adulthood. Warhol, however, managed to overcome it all thanks to an unshakeable (some would say deluded) self-confidence and an astounding commercial insight. Love him or loathe him, his tenacity cannot but be admired. And now, almost 25 years after death, the work he left behind is proving to be just as resilient …

Amid much speculation about how the bleak economic outlook is impacting on art sales, Warhol’s work continues to hold its value. At a recent sale by Bonham’s auctioneers, Warhol’s 1985 screen-print of a young Queen Elizabeth II, sold for a better-than-expected £37,500. The print, which shows HMQ resplendent in blue and purple hues, her tiara twinkling with a liberal sprinkling of diamond dust, was part of Warhol’s Reigning Queens collection, which included the monarchs of Netherlands, Denmark and Swaziland.

The sale of this portrait, which interestingly is the only one The Queen has neither commissioned nor sat for, is evidence that the pop artist’s appeal remains strong. 

His notoriety, which has lasted for considerably longer than fifteen minutes, continues unabated.

The Gatsby House - Beautiful and Damned?

Overlooking Long Island Sound in New York stands an imposing white mansion called Land’s End. Built in 1902, in the Colonial Revival style popular at the turn of the 20th century, the 25-room house was one of many built in the area by wealthy families keen to escape the demands of city life. (In the early 1900s, New York’s urban sprawl had not yet engulfed the Long Island area, making it an attractive destination for those wishing to flee the hustle and bustle of the city.)

Over a century later, it is obvious that the passage of time has not been kind to these once-magnificent buildings. Most have disappeared, while the few that remain have fallen into a state of chronic disrepair. Land’s End is no exception – now virtually abandoned, the dilapidated house is a weak reflection of its former brilliance, its faded grandeur only vaguely hinting at the halcyon period of its glory days during the 1920s.

It came as no surprise, then, when it was announced that the present

owner plans to demolish the crumbling house, and in its place build five new mini-mansions, expected to be worth about $10 million each. Land’s End, one of the last remaining vestiges of a by-gone era, looks set to become yet another victim of the unrelenting march of ‘progress’…

This in itself is hardly newsworthy. After all, it is a story that has played out many times before. Yet, the impending demise of Land’s End has been making headlines all over the United States. Why? Well, it seems this particular house has some quite unexpected literary connections …

According to local legend, Land’s End was the inspiration for one of the greatest novels in American literature - F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. It is widely believed that the author was so enamoured with the house that he used it as a model for Daisy Buchanan’s mansion in his seminal 1925 novel. The fact that Fitzgerald was a regular guest at the property when it was owned by his friend Herbert Bayard Swope adds credibility to this urban legend.

Unsurprisingly, the current owner has attracted much criticism for his plan to raze such an important cultural landmark. Both conservationists and literary buffs alike are outraged at the prospect. In response, the beleaguered owner argues that he is left with no choice. In an attempt to avoid demolishing Land’s End, he tried to sell the property - but potential buyers baulked at the $30 million price tag. It seems that the house is something of a money-pit, costing the owner an astonishing $4,500 per day for maintenance and security – an unsustainable amount even for the wealthiest of property developers.

So, how is this story to end? Is the beautiful house doomed, like the characters in Gatsby, to a tragic and ignominious demise … or will a deep-pocketed benefactor materialise to bestow on the house an eleventh hour reprieve from its date with the demolition ball?

Let’s hope for the latter …

Update: On April 16, 2011, Lands End was indeed demolished - a great loss for literary history. See a report on the demolition from CBS:
http://www.tinyurl.com/4yxsdw4

Frankenstein Looms Large in the West End

London’s West End is enjoying something of a resurgence in popularity of late. I’m not talking about box office sales figures here, although certainly there has been an increase in takings in recent years, despite the economic slump. No, what I’m referring to is the number of big-name Hollywood actors and directors who have been beating a path to the stage doors of the capital’s renowned theatre district. Once the stomping ground of bohemian and impoverished thespians, the West End has now become the destination of choice for screen actors as diverse as Jeff Goldblum and David Hyde Pierce – and in their rush to thread the hallowed boards, many agree to work for a fraction of their normal salaries.

When asked about the reasoning behind their decision to forsake the bright, sunny climes of LA, in favour of a gruelling three month run in front of unforgiving London audiences in equally unforgiving weather, many of these actors respond with the usual platitudes – a desire to return to their ‘acting roots’, a yearning to get in touch with real audiences, a longing for the credibility reserved only for stage actors …. All of these explanations may be to a greater or lesser extent true, but one can’t help but feel that the real reason for this mass exodus to London lies squarely with one man – Kevin Spacey.

Back in 2003, when Spacey, a hugely successful Oscar-winning actor, all but abandoned his glittering Hollywood career to take up the position of Artistic Director at the Old Vic,

his express intention was to re-invigorate the British theatre industry by coaxing British and American acting talent back to the stage. And sure enough, thanks to a bulging contact list, a massive media blitz, and a liberal sprinkling of Spacey star-dust, the big names soon came flocking to our shores. A mere trickle at first, quickly grew to a tsunami: before long, London stages were groaning under the weight of movie stars … because, as we all know, if there’s one thing Hollywood can’t resist, it’s a craze.

And so, a new golden age of theatre was born – and 2011 is proving to be its best year yet…

Currently, dotted around the West End, celebrities such as Keira Knightley, Elizabeth Moss, Matthew Fox and Sienna Miller are busy trying to prove their theatre-acting chops. However, the most exciting of all the current batch of big name productions has to be Frankenstein, the National Theatre’s blockbuster dramatisation of Mary Shelley’s classic gothic novel.

Directed by none other than Danny Boyle (who brought us Slumdog Millionaire, 127 Hours and Trainspotting), it also stars Jonny Lee Miller (another Trainspotting alumnus and ex-husband of Angelina Jolie) and Benedict Cumberbatch (fresh from his success playing Sherlock Holmes in the BBC’s eponymous drama). With such a cast of characters on board, this show could not fail to hit the mark. In fact, even before the show was previewed, whispers abounded that this would be a show not to be missed - a prediction that proved to be true.

Thanks mainly to Boyle’s unique re-imagining of a now-familiar tale, and the astonishingly visceral acting of his leading men(Cumberbatch and Miller alternate between the roles of Victor and Creature), the show has proved to be an astounding success.

Having recently opened to rave reviews, with critics falling over themselves to heap praise the production, the run is completely sold out. Demand is such that the National Theatre has agreed to the unprecedented move of beaming two performances of the show live to cinemas around the world. (Whether this massive demand is due to the inspired direction and stellar acting, or to a legion of women desirous to see the leading men naked in their role as Creature, I cannot say.)

The outstanding success the production has, in accordance with Spacey’s vision, proved to be a boon for British theatre.

Frankenstein has attracted unparalleled media coverage, drawing the world’s attention to the London stage and re-igniting interest in the theatre. This will ultimately benefit everyone – actors, theatre-goers, theatre owners alike. Everyone wins. If this is the result of the unlikely blending of new Hollywood with the old British theatre tradition, long may it continue.

All hail the genius that is Kevin Spacey.

For further information on cinema screenings of Frankenstein, see the National Theatre's website:
http://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/62808/productions/frankenstein.html

Picasso’s Nude Grabs the Spotlight

Today’s art world is replete with big personalities – and even bigger egos. It goes with the territory in our celebrity-obsessed society. Fame, and occasionally notoriety, have become a by-product of artistic success: remember how Tracey Emin became front-page news when the most reclusive of art dealers, Charles Saatchi, plucked her and her unmade bed from relative obscurity?

Unfortunately, the cult of personality that springs up around successful artists often has a diminishing effect on the work they produce. The art is left to languish in the shade, while the artist soaks up the spotlight: the artist outshines the art. One only has to look to artists such as Damien Hirst and Banksy for proof - they are classic examples of those who have built a brand around their legendary name rather than their actual work.

This is not a new phenomenon. In fact, it is a trend that can be traced all the way back to the early 20th century, past Warhol and even Dalí, to the granddaddy of infamous artists – Pablo Picasso.

Let’s think about this for a minute. Picasso was a huge celebrity during his lifetime, famous not just for his ground-breaking work in Cubism, but also for the unorthodox life he led, his tangled love-life and the bohemian company he kept. (Picasso forged friendships with the likes of Chanel, Serge Diaghilev, Jean Cocteau and Stravinsky, and courted controversy by joining the Communist Party in 1944.) Eventually, inevitably, the Picasso legend surpassed the Picasso art, and this has remained true right up to the present day. Most people have heard of Pablo Picasso, but how many have seen his work?

Admittedly, there have been a couple of works by the Spanish cubist master that have emerged from the shadow of their creator, most notably Guernica. The artist’s harrowing and haunting depiction of the brutal bombing of a small rural town during the Spanish Civil War inspires an immense depth of feeling among those who see it, with the result that the painting has become legendary in its own right. This is a work that stands alone, unburdened by the infamy of its creator, but laden down with the terrible legacy of a cruel war.

Guernica

But now, another Picasso creation has been grabbing the headlines, albeit for entirely different reasons. Nude, Green Leaves and Bust, a 1932 painting of Picasso’s sometime mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter, is fast gaining an infamy to rival that of the master himself. Having been hidden away from public view by a private collector for many years (it was only exhibited once, in 1961, to commemorate the artist’s 80th birthday), the painting resurfaced recently after the death of its owner. Understandably, the resulting auction (at Christies New York) attracted much attention, with a projected sale price of $80 million. After a bidding frenzy, the gavel finally came down on a bid of $106 million (£65 million) and Nude, Green Leaves and Bust entered the history books as the most expensive painting ever sold at auction.

When it transpired that the deep-pocketed buyer was an anonymous bidder, the most expensive painting in the world seemed fated to languish in a private collection yet again, to be viewed only by the privileged few. And so, it is hardly surprising that the painting once again garnered headlines this week when Tate Modern announced, with much fanfare, that the work had been given on loan to the gallery by the mysterious owner.

Nude, Green Leaves and Bust

No doubt, Nude, Green Leaves and Bust will attract countless visitors, keen to see the world's most expensive painting. But will it fall victim to it's own success? The heavy price-tag will carry with it a heavy burden of expectation. Undoubtedly, the painting is a wonderful example of Picasso's genius, but as we all know, being the most expensive does not necessarily equate to being the best ...

The painting’s infamy means it has emerged from the shadow of it’s equally famous creator … but will it ever escape the spectre of it’s gigantic price-tag? Ultimately, it will be up to the viewing public to decide ...

"Nude, Green Leaves and Bust" can be viewed in the Poetry and Dream wing of the Tate Modern, London. Admission free.

Bringing Back the Food!

When I first conceived the idea for this blog, it was my express intention to write about all the passions in my life, namely art, music, literature and food - the blog’s title is something of a giveaway in this regard! However, as regular readers will attest (I’m sure there are a couple of you out there …), the focus of the blog has become skewed towards arty musings and book reviews, leaving the subject of food to languish desultorily in the doldrums. Aside from a few measly restaurant reviews and the obligatory article waxing lyrical on the ubiquitous Jamie O, the food factor has been largely ignored.

Why is this? Why have I all but abandoned the topic of food in this blog? Perhaps it is reflective of the fact that I have a lot less time to devote to the kitchen since I began this writing lark. Or maybe, subconsciously, I believed that foodie topics seemed slightly incongruous when pitted against the more lofty reflections on art, music and literature. Whatever the reason, this writer has garnered her resolve and is now making a concerted effort to Bring Back The Food … and what better day to do this than Pancake Tuesday?

First, a bit of history …

Pancake Tuesday is traditionally celebrated by Christians, who refer to the day as Shrove Tuesday. It marks the last day before the commencement of Lent, a period of forty days prior to Easter Sunday, during which Christians engage in some form of fasting. This abstemiousness customarily took the form of denying oneself rich foods, such as butter, sugar and fat. The tradition of making pancakes was borne out of the desire to use up all the offending ingredients before Lent began. And the rest, as they say, is history.

However, for the more secular-minded or non-Christian among my legion of followers (all 19 of you!), Pancake Tuesday is simply a great excuse to luxuriate in a little guilt-free foodie indulgence (after all, it’s only one day a year – what harm could it possibly do?)

After a seemingly unending search, I have finally settled on what I believe to be the perfect recipe for pancake batter. It is, of course, a recipe by the doyenne of British cooking, the unparalleled Ms Delia Smith.

The recipe can be found here: http://tinyurl.com/yehootd

Serve with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, a generous sprinkling of vanilla-infused sugar - or for the more intrepid among you, a generous slathering of Nutella!

So, what are you waiting for? Get flipping, y’all!

And finally, one last Pancake Day factoid ...

Did you know that the term ‘Mardi Gras’ (meaning a period of celebration) comes from the French for Shrove Tuesday (translated literally as 'Fat Tuesday')?

You do now.

Vivaldi's 'Lost' Flute Concerto

First Enid Blyton, now Vivaldi – there must be something in the air!

Tomorrow morning (March 4), Classic FM will be airing Vivaldi’s ‘lost’ flute concerto, Il Gran Mogol, which was recently discovered in Edinburgh at the National Archives of Scotland.

This will be a world premiére for Classic FM – and an appropriate tribute to the Italian composer on his 333rd birthday.

Tune in to John Suchet’s programme tomorrow from 9am to hear the piece!

http://www.classicfm.co.uk/

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-edinburgh-east-fife-11491307

World Book Night - The Debate

With the inaugural World Book Night happening in just a few days time on March 5, debate is raging in the media as to the relative merits of the scheme (or lack thereof). To date, I am still undecided as to whether World Book Night will prove to be a massive boon to publishing or the death knell for the industry.

For those of you who may be unaware of the scheme, here’s a brief outline: In a bid to introduce more people to the joys of reading,World Book Night with the support of various publishing, booksellers and library associations is planning to give away one million books to lucky recipients all over the UK and Ireland – free, gratis and for nothing. The organisers have chosen 25 titles to be part of the world’s first en-masse book giveaway, including works from authors as diverse as Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Alan Bennett, John le Carré, Margaret Atwood and Carol Ann Duffy, to name but a few.

The logistics of such an operation are not to be inconsiderable. Probably the biggest task confronting the organisers has been the recruitment of an army of 20,000 volunteer givers, who will each give away 48 books to people and organisations as they see fit on March 5. (Another 40,000 copies will be offloaded by the event planners.) Add to this the need to co-ordinate the printing, boxing and distribution of one million books to pick-up locations the length and breath of the UK, and you begin to understand the size of the task confronting the organisers.

Despite the audacious nature of this undertaking, the scheme was greeted with almost universal enthusiasm when it was first proposed.

Commentators were quick to heap praise on the project, declaring it a bold move in the battle to revive the ailing fortunes of the humble book in our new multi-media world. Big-name publishers soon clambered onto the growing bandwagon. The project soon attracted some high profile and deep-pocketed sponsors – the list of patrons includes such illustrious names as Nigella Lawson, JK Rowling, Tilda Swinton, Dominic West, Damien Hirst and Richard Branson. The BBC and RTĖ (Ireland’s national broadcaster) responded in kind, announcing a raft of bookish programmes to coincide with the giveaway on March 5.

However, the barrage of positive publicity was not to last. As the World Book Night project gathered steam, faint rumblings of discord were heard on the horizon from various splinter groups in the publishing and bookselling industries. Small publishing houses, independent booksellers and struggling writers, who individually lacked the clout necessary to challenge the big hitters, joined forces to voice their concerns. And, as it turned out, they raised some valid points.

The crux of their argument centred around the belief that flooding an already struggling market with one million free books will have a hugely detrimental effect on the smaller players in the industry. How can booksellers hope to sell any of the 25 titles involved with the project when readers are getting them for free elsewhere? Why buy a book when it is given away for free from another source?

Another argument put forward by World Book Night detractors centres on the fact that money spent by publishers in support of the scheme (estimated to be as much as £40,000 each) is money that could be spent publishing a new author.

Adding to the quagmire of negative publicity is the fact that WBN organisers are struggling to cope with the aforementioned organisational nightmare of bringing this project to fruition. High volunteer drop-out rates are resulted in a frenzied, last-minute flurry of activity in a bid to recruit a large group of ‘reserves’, and a plague of computer glitches has seen a number of emails sent to participants with confusing or incorrect information.

So, will World Book Night be an unqualified success, or will its critics' worst fears be realised? Search me! I’m still oscillating, with my loyalties divided between the two opposing sides. Let’s just wait and see how it all comes out in the wash …

Caught in a Bad Romance

Hate, A Romance, by the emergent French novelist Tristan Garcia, is a difficult book to read. It is difficult - not because of the writing, or the language, or even the complex socio-political themes - but because, at the heart of the book, is the idea that the human condition is an inherently lonely, isolated state.

Revolving around a close-knit group of friends and lovers (Willie, Dominique, Jean-Michel and Liz), the novel explores the theory that all human relationships are fluid and impermanent. It is unsettling for the reader to consider the possibility that, despite being part of a complex social structure, eventually all human bonds break down. Whether this happens as a result of disloyalty, envy, hate or death is irrelevant – the point is: it happens.

The novel spans the period from the early seventies to the late noughties, with much of the action set against the backdrop of the explosive homosexual revolution of the early eighties. Willie and Dominique are in an apparently loving gay relationship, while Liz and Jean-Michel (Leibo) embark on a decades-long affair. Willie is introduced to Paris’s gay scene by the older and more experienced Dominique, and together they explore and enjoy the burgeoning sexual liberation afforded to homosexuals during that period.

But, nothing lasts forever. Everything changes. A newcomer arrives on the scene intent on spoiling the party; the arrival of AIDS causes the euphoria of the period to give way to fear and suspicion.

Dominique is HIV positive and eventually Willie contracts the virus as well. Not content with eating away their weakening bodies, the disease also consumes all that is good in their relationship. (It remains unclear whether Dominique infected Willie – certainly accusations are bandied about, but the reader remains unsure.) In this insidious atmosphere, we witness the breakdown of friendships and love affairs. Connections that once seemed inextricably linked become disentangled. The bonds between all four protagonists eventually come undone: love turns to hate, loyalty to betrayal, friends become enemies, life gives way to death. Ultimately, as the title suggests, familiarity will always breed contempt in the end.

This novel is not for the faint-hearted. It is complex, multi-layered and challenging, dealing with a wide range of philosophical and political themes. A story of life, love and loss, the novel forces the reader to confront issues that we generally prefer to ignore. The author’s remarkable philosophical insight and brilliant command of narrative makes this a highly readable, if somewhat harrowing, piece of work.

This debut offering has thrust Tristan Garcia to the forefront of the French literary scene. He is undoubtedly the most exciting novelist to come out of France since Michel Houellebecq. One to watch.

Hate, A Romance is published by Faber and Faber.

Enid Blyton - A Forgotten Treasure Unearthed

Enid Blyton, the celebrated children’s author, was nothing if not prolific. The creator of such revered characters as Noddy and The Famous Five published approximately 800 books during a career spanning 45 years - a figure which equates to an astonishing average of 18 books a year, or one-and-a-half books a month!

So prodigious was her output that many refused to believe that Blyton herself wrote every book that bore her name. Her response to this accusation was predictably indignant. Vigorously denying any association with the controversial business of ghost-writing, she insisted that, at the height of her career, she would often punch out 10,000 words a day. A word-count such as this would be beyond the reach of most authors, but in Blyton’s case, it is likely to be an accurate estimate; no ghost-writer has ever come forward to claim authorship of any of Blyton’s books, despite the fact that Blyton herself died in 1968.

The seemingly inexhaustible productivity of Ms Blyton’s pen is all the more remarkable when one considers the effect each and every one of her books had on her legions of fans.

Her books were, and still are, loved by millions. She was constantly in demand; in fact, one could hazard a guess that her boundless productivity was fed by the unrelenting adoration afforded to her by her followers. The immense output of the author was matched only by the voracious appetite of the readers. Take a look at the statistics: Blyton’s books have sold in excess of 600 million copies, over a million Famous Five books continue to be sold each year, and her books have been translated into 90 languages. The numbers speak for themselves, and point to one inarguable fact - Enid Blyton was one of the world’s best-loved and most successful children’s authors.

Despite this success, Enid Blyton was not without her critics. There have been some who have questioned the quality of her writing – for a period of almost thirty years, the BBC steadfastly refused to dramatise her books for radio, declaring her work to be “long-winded and stilted … and really not very good".

Blyton also came under fire for her views on corporal punishment and the vaguely xenophobic themes in her work. (The latter criticism stemmed from her habit of depicting suspicious characters as ‘foreign’.) Indeed, many of her books have undergone some vigorous editing to make them more palatable to new generations of readers; most notably, golliwogs have been replaced by altogether more inoffensive characters like teddy-bears. However, when considering the criticism levelled at Blyton, it is important to bear in mind that her books were very much a product of their time. The quintessentially English world she depicts, of the countryside, picnics and “lashings of ginger beer”, are as outdated as the Golliwogs and the close-minded suspicion of foreigners.

Undeniably, Enid Blyton was a polarizing figure, but love her or hate her, most agree that she was a force to be reckoned with. It is hardly surprising, then, that news of the discovery of a previously unpublished Blyton manuscript has made the headlines in recent days. The document, thought to date from early in her career, was unearthed by a cataloguer

who has been examining a cache of the author’s papers which were sold at auction by her daughter in 2007. The title of the manuscript, “Mr Tumpy’s Caravan” was originally thought to be an illustrated version of a published story, the similarly titled “Mr Tumpy and his Caravan”. Closer inspection by the archivist revealed that the two are very different – the new story, which stretched to 180 pages, is a fantastical tale about a magical caravan which sprouts feet and has a mind of its own. It is believed that the story may have been originally rejected by a publisher. This may or may not be the case, but for whatever the reason, the manuscript has lain forgotten, in ignominious anonymity for over 70 years. No doubt the controllers of Blyton’s estate will waste no time in getting this story into print. After all, a late publication is better than no publication at all …

Chopin's Visions

These days, ‘visionary’ is an overused word. In a world characterised by an ever-decreasing vocabulary, it is a platitude universally adopted to describe any artistic work of merit. From musicians to artists, to writers and film-makers, anybody deemed to make the grade is thought to be ‘visionary’. Along with ‘genius’, another grossly overused word, ‘visionary’ is a term that has seen its currency greatly devalued of late; it has been reduced to a tired cliché, a banal inanity with little meaning.

However, when taken in the pure and unadulterated sense of the word, there have been some groundbreaking artists who merit the description. Leonardo da Vinci, Caravaggio, Beethoven, Mozart can all be accurately described as visionary: they are artists and musicians who have produced far-sighted, innovative pieces of work, which have immeasurably impacted the way we perceive music, art and the world in general.

Frederick Chopin, despite being one of the aforementioned pioneering musicians, has been called ‘visionary’ for entirely different reasons. During his short life, the Polish composer, famous for his piano sonatas,

became notorious for habitually lapsing in and out of consciousness while composing or playing a piece of music. During these episodes, he experienced vivid visual hallucinations, many of them very frightening. In her memoirs, Chopin's lover, George Sand, told how the hallucinations suffered by the composer were “full of terror and ghosts for him”. In fact, Chopin himself described the nature of his visions in numerous letters to family and friends. In one such letter to George Sand’s daughter, Chopin describes how, when performing a piano sonata in London, he was obliged to abruptly leave the room because he could clearly see creatures crawling out of the piano while he played.

It was widely believed at the time that these episodes were a by-product of the composer’s immense musical ability. This was a conviction perpetuated by Sand, who wrote that the visions were “manifestations of a genius full of sentiment and expression.” During the early 19th century, very little was known about what we now refer to as neuroscience, so it is hardly surprising such a conclusion was reached, no matter how ridiculous it may seem to the modern observer.

So, with the benefit of hindsight and the advance of medical science, can we discover the cause of Chopin’s terrifying hallucinations? A recent study by a team of Spanish doctors has come up with a convincing theory – it seems very likely that the composer suffered from a form of epilepsy, temporal lobe epilepsy to be exact. The reasons for this diagnosis are numerous: the type of hallucinations described by Chopin are common with this form of epilepsy; the composer suffered bouts of severe melancholy, which is also a symptom of this condition; and perhaps most significantly, Chopin did not hear voices, which rules out schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and most other forms of psychosis.

Unfortunately, Chopin’s medical problems were not confined to hallucinations – his short life was marked by ill-health. From an early age, he suffered from a variety of respiratory problems which were to plague him all his life. He died in 1849, at the age of 39, from some form of pulmonary disease, or possibly from cystic fibrosis. It was, nevertheless, his infamous visions which still ignite the interest of medical experts today. We may have discovered the reasons behind his legendary hallucinations, but we will never know if they in any way impacted the nature of, or the development of, his astounding musical ability.

Watercolour as an Art Form

Tate Britain is about to embark on a major new exhibition of watercolours, with an express aim to push an often overlooked creative medium to the forefront of artistic debate. Judging by the lively discussion which has already erupted in the art world, it would appear that Tate is well on the way to succeeding in this ambition.

The debate centres on the merits of watercolours as an art form, or indeed their lack thereof. It is fair to say that, up to now at least, conventional thinking has often dismissed watercolour as the poor anaemic cousin of oil painting. This is mainly due to the pale, translucent quality of watercolours which are sometimes regarded as insipid, bland, even feeble when compared to the vibrancy of oils. Indeed, the dream-like, ephemeral nature of watercolours promotes an image of transient impermanence, while the opposite is true of the stronger, energetic oil paintings. In short, the general consensus seems to be that while oils pack a punch, watercolours whimper softly in the background.

The Tate exhibition challenges this status quo. Featuring a wide array of works which date from the 13th century to the present day, including early maps by a Benedictine monk to miniature portraits of Henry VIII, the show highlights how watercolours have played an important part in witnessing and recording our long and varied history. This broad collection of subjects also deftly contradicts the notion that watercolour is merely a medium favoured by novice painters who like to dabble in nature scenes. The perception that watercolours depict a limp representation of real life is also challenged. Eric Taylor’s 1945 painting, Human Wreckage at Belsen, proves that watercolour can portray disturbing and harrowing scenes every bit as effectively as oils.

So, will watercolour shake off the shackles of a long-standing dubious reputation to emerge as a respected medium in its own right? Why not go along to the exhibition and decide for yourself?

Linbury Galleries, Tate Britain
16 February – 21 August 2011
Entry Fee £12.50 (Concessions £10.50)
Free to Tate Members and Tate Patrons
http://www.tate.org.uk/britain/

Evelyn Waugh's 'Scoop' - A Review

By the time Evelyn Waugh published Scoop in 1938, he had already gained quite a reputation as a biting social satirist. His previous novels, Vile Bodies and Decline and Fall, had mercilessly lampooned various aspects of British society in the 1920s. With Scoop, Waugh had another target in his sights – the journalism industry, or more precisely, the tabloid newspapers which habitually engaged in sensationalist reporting.

The novel revolves around William Boot, a bumbling, unassuming nature writer who, through a case of mistaken identity, finds himself plucked from the obscurity of his country home and shipped off to the fictional African country of Ishmaelia by the editor of The Daily Beast. As the Beast’s man in Ishmaelia, Boot is charged with the task of reporting on the impending civil war, which is expected to erupt at any moment. A raucous comedy of errors ensues, which ultimately sees Boot, despite his breathtaking incompetence, eventually land the scoop of the decade.

Loosely based on Waugh’s own experiences as a special correspondent reporting on Mussolini’s invasion of Abyssinia, the novel deftly paints a vivid portrait of Fleet Street as an ineffectual, bloated, egotistical monster, more concerned with newspaper sales than reporting the truth. (Sound familiar?) It becomes apparent that journalism, with its pervasive expenses-claiming culture, was the poster-boy of excess long before today’s bankers and politicians took over this dubious mantle.

The novel’s cast of characters is a thinly disguised who’s who of Britain’s newspaper industry during the interwar years. The Daily Beast and its rival The Daily Brute are parodies of the Daily Mail and the Daily Express. Lord Copper and Lord Zinc are both recognizable as the real-life newspaper magnates, Lord Beaverbrook and Lord Northcliffe (owners of the Express and Mail respectively). The obsequious and inept foreign editor, Mr Salter, can, one imagines, be taken to symbolise any number of Fleet Street editors of the time. Even Mussolini gets a mention, in the guise of Dr Benito, the would-be dictator of Ishmaelia.

A quick glance at today’s tabloid headlines is enough to convince the reader that not much has changed in the intervening years since Waugh wrote his illuminating, if cynical, parody of tabloid reporting. As such, it is essential reading for anybody interested in a career in journalism. In fact, why not avoid extortionate university fees altogether; invest in Scoop instead– it’s the only textbook an aspiring journalist will need!