Saturday 17 March 2018

St Andrew, Northborough I

     Mid-week and a trip to that intriguing looking church at Northborough.
 
     Northborough is, or rather, was a small one street village of stone-built houses on the vast gravelly floodplain of the river Welland, one of the most continuously settled areas in Britain, just before it fades out into the vast fenland to the east. And it is in one of these old cottages that line the street that the poet John Clare lived in for some ten years.  In common with virtually all the villages on the fen edge here the street runs west to east, and it is at the west end of the street is the Manor House - a rare and rather grand example of an early 14th century manor.  All in all quite pretty, but the original village has paid the price of its proximity to Peterborough with a vast extension of red brick houses and bungalows to the north, and from the fact that for far too many years the A15 thundered its way between Norman Cross and the Humber through the western edge of the village.
     And so to the church, and a complicated story to unravel.  Firstly there is the small, humble village church of limestone rubble.  Not even a tower, just a bellcote.  Possibly the only one I can think in this part of the Welland valley. All the others have towers. A small, possibly poor village, in the Middle Ages. Or at least one without a wealthy patron.  Except that at one time it did.  Look at that monumental south transept constructed of neat ashlar masonry which from certain angles dwarfs the older structure.  A curious design too (willful or incompetent, I'm not sure which) - odd tracery, massive corbel table and strangely set back battlements.  What is the explanation for the lopsided positioning of those mighty octagonal turrets? And why does it look as though the work was abandoned? Pevsner offers no explanation for the latter but does say the transept was the work of the Delameres, one of whom was 'Forester of Kesteven', which is a rather nice title to have. I wonder if the duties were onerous or not? 
     Alas and alack, the church was locked and there was no notice as to where you could borrow the key. So I couldn't find out more or take pictures of the interior.  For now anyway.












Wednesday 14 March 2018

Twelve Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos


     Culturally we live in uneasy times.  Difficult times, perhaps, and I am, at times, not at all optimistic.  Our Late Modern/Post-Modern culture seems moribund, flaccid. Mediocre. Unsure. We nihilistic and cynical. Distrustful. Atomised. Our institutions often appear riven and weak, incoherent and lacking in self-confidence. Much of what is presented to us as having merit in contemporary art is at best mediocre; so many times I am reminded of what Peggy Lee once sang, 'Is that all there is? If that's all there is my friend then let's keep dancing.'  This is a world explored by the French novelist Michel Houellebecq in such works as 'Les Particules Elementaires' and, lately, 'Soumission'.
     In the last few years we have increasingly witness to the commodification of virtue (or morality, if you prefer) by Hollywood. We've kind of got used to the parading of wealth and status on the red carpet by the conspicuous consumption and display of 'designer' clothes and accessories - 'commodity fetishism' to borrow a phrase and concept from Marx - but now, in addition, there is a concerted display of morality to supplement and re-inforce that superiority.  Late Capitalism has a tendency to commodify things over time, (and why shouldn't that happen when we've lost everything else to believe in?) - strange then that so many Hollywood liberals are so quick to do Capitalism's dirty work.  What has emerged in this last couple of years or so is a culture that is both deeply censorious and deeply sexualised; a very clever feat of Hegelian dialectics to be sure but one that so riven with internal contradictions as to be incredibly unstable. It's no surprise, then, to see things begin to fray at the edges, 'things fall apart' - yet again. (More of that later.) Indeed in the past two hundred years or so we have witness any number of attempts to overcome the crisis of the 'Death of God', to find something to fill the 'God-shaped hole'. And that essentially is the great underlying problem of our cultural malaise - the 'collapse' of the West's great Narrative of redemption, the meta-narrative of our culture.  Post Modernism, however says that there is no problem
     And all the time, on a more prosaic level, there are the 'Culture Wars' raging across the Atlantic and that are slowly overwhelming us here There has to be more than this.  Where in all of this is the authentic?  Is there, indeed, any room for it at all, when Modernity has been fobbing us off with the shoddy, the second rate and downright false for too many years now?
     And then into to our unhappy, confused and indeed chaotic culture drops a timely book: 'Twelve Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos'. The author is the Canadian academic and clinical psychologist Jordan B Peterson.  A controversialist too, it appears; a bête noir to so called 'progressives' and a rallying point for their opponents of various shades in the Culture Wars.  A brave man, who is willing to speak out on various issues.  Certainly braver than I.  As Peterson explains in his Prelude the origins of  'Twelve Rules' lie in his earlier, ground-breaking 'Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of Belief', Routlege, 1999, in which Peterson proposed that the religious and mythic stories of Western Civilization - some incredibly ancient and oral in origin - are ways of positioning the reader in a moral drama that is the world, 'being' itself.  'Twelve Rules' is an exploration of the implications of that.  Each of the rules is the starting point for a discursive exploration, and Peterson, we soon discover, is deeply interested in Existentialism, particularly Dostoyevsky and Nietzsche, and Evolutionary Biology, Neuroscience and Psychology. His also cites Freud and Jung among his influences. A heady brew, but the outcome is very interesting, very intriguing, and I think very important. Speaking personally, on a purely practical level it has already helped me order my life.  As Tolkien wrote once: 'Life is above the measure of us all (save for a very few perhaps)', and this book is an attempt to help us get its measure.  So part 'self-help' and part philosophical & cultural exploration, this book also provides narrative in a culture that is both shy of narrative and anti-foundational.  In some respects it is a call to arms.
     To give one practical example, Rule 6 is: 'Set your house in perfect order before you criticise the world''.  On the surface that strikes the reader as very hard. Hard, as in unsympathetic and difficult to achieve. He is asking a lot of the Reader there.  But then many of the New Testament injunctions are hard, but I attempt and very often fail to live by them. Let me give you an example that may I hope shed some light on what I believe he means, and takes us back to the fraying and falling apart I talked about before. You may have seen nipping about the internet a video of a clash that took place in the bookshop Barnes and Noble (in New York?) between a relatively well known American actress and a trans activist.  It is a car crash. Touching, heart rending even. But still a car crash.  A little research on the net quickly showed that perhaps neither of them should have been pursuing an activist role, that neither were emotionally strong enough for that role and perhaps their activity, dare I say, was a form of displacement activity.  Neither of them, we may surmise, had looked to themselves first and neither of them had followed Rule 2 either 'Treat yourself like Somebody you are responsible for'.
     In researching this piece I've been reminded of a number 19th century English public intellectuals; Arnold, Jowlet, Pater and to some extent Morris.  All were involved in a search for a cultural alternative to a faith they saw as essentially empty, that is they were looking for something that would re-anchor morality, that as de Sade pointed out had been cut adrift in the de-throning of the Divine. 'The service of philosophy, of speculative culture, towards the human spirit, is to rouse, to startle it to a life of constant and eager observation", wrote Walter Pater in his famous Preface to his 'Studies in the History of the Renaissance' of 1873.  I'm not so sure about that - Peterson argues elsewhere, cogently I think, that that is the role of art. He doesn't necessarily believe, like Arnold, say, in the higher moral calling of art, again as that substitute for the absent God. Be that as it may, both Pater and Peterson are calling for action, for in that action is the correct response to the problem of 'Being' or more accurately 'Being' after 'the Death of God'. For Pater it is to fill every moment with pleasure.  Peterson is too rigorous for that essentially hedonistic, 'Lotus-eater', approach to 'Being'.  Indeed one can justifiably ask just how serious or practical did Pater consider his philosophy to be. I could even go so far as to suggest that all of the above, Pater, Jowlett, Arnold and Morris, were at times and to varying degree naïve, if not deliberately blind. Can there me anything so astoundingly, breathtakingly naïve, for instance, than William Morris's 'News from Nowhere'?    
     Peterson's muse is sterner and more demanding. (He is also, I suspect, a pretty intense guy.)  No, for Peterson the correct response to 'being' is action, is 'becoming'. There meaning is to be found. However as a Christian I believe that Higher Truth is to be found in 'process' but outside of the person.  Regardless of any other niggles I may have, this, however, does not mean that this book hasn't value. I think it's value is very great.  It may even have begun to chart the escape route for our culture out of the morass of Post Modernism.  The trick will, of course, to retain those positive social changes that have happened since the Sixties (in which I have an interest!) and restore the ideas of value and meaning. It will be interesting to see where he will go next.

Sunday 11 March 2018

Charles I at The Royal Academy


God gives not his kings the stile of Gods in vaine:
For on his throne his sceptre do they sway....

The Basilike Doron, King James I & VI

....."when it comes to fine pictures by the hands of first-rate masters, I have never seen such a large number in one place as in the Royal palace." These are the words of Rubens written in 1629 after a visit to the Palace of Whitehall, the locus of Charles I's astounding art collection. At the Royal Academy that collection, which was dispersed after the king's execution, has been re-assembled and the effect is almost overwhelming in both its scale and the intensity of its vision.  Indeed Charles's political and cultural vision was bold.  Centred, fatally perhaps, on his court rather than the larger (and inherently riskier) theatre of the public realm - he undertook no progresses like his predecessor Elizabeth I had done so successfully - it combined Neo-Platonism and Aristotelian theory of spectacle, manifested in a cultural, political and religious gesamtkunstwerk, that attempted to symbolize and embody an arcadian vision of Britain drawing on ancient myth and history.  Britain reunited under the Stuarts for the first time since its ancient mythic past, was once again an Empire.  And Charles, appointed by God, ruled as his image on earth.

     "No other English monarch was so intensely concerned with his own image, and in the splendid series of masques that [Inigo] Jones created for him in the 1630s, we may see the royal imagination fashion through the art of his master Surveyor as with Van Dyck and Rubens an ideal realm and ideal self."* 

     Except, as we know, it all fell apart into rancour and Civil War and the eventual execution of the king. This, therefore, is the sort of exhibition that brings with all sorts of cultural and political baggage and the reign of Charles I still has the power to excite political debate here in the United Kingdom and Ireland.

     All that said, Charles was the greatest Royal art collector (yet) in our history.  Not only did he secure the great Gonzaga collection from Mantua, and send out his agents to scour the Continent for art coming on to the market, he was also a major patron of contemporary art.  All of this drew artists to Britain; Le Sueur, Honthorst, Jordeans and most importantly Orazio Gentilische (and later, briefly, his daughter Artmesia); Rubens and, most importantly of them all, Van Dyck. All three produced work on a monumental scale for Charles and his wife Henrietta Maria.
     It fell to Van Dyck, however, who I've long admired, to capture both the culture, and define the image of the king, that we most associate with Charles's reign. And it is perhaps the most striking of Van Dyck's images of the King, 'Charles I in three Positions', that confronts the visitor in the first gallery. Painted in order to provide an image of the King for the Baroque sculptor Gianlorenzo Bernini in Rome to sculpt a bust from. Iconic is a far too heavily used term in our culture at this moment (it's just bloody lazy), however in this instance I think Van Dyck has created an equivalent to an icon, a Neo-Platonic ideal image of translucent beauty, and flickering, sensual paint surface.  That same calm poise of the sensuous and the spiritual is present in Van Dyck's other, monumental, paintings of the king, as though in his body all things can find their resolution, their sublimation.
     There is however nothing half-hearted about Charles I's taste, which was mainly interested in Northern Renaissance, and Late Renaissance and Baroque art from Italy, particularly the Veneto. These are full-bloodied, intense and at times transcendent works of art. Nothing 'nice'.  I'm thinking in particular here of Rubens' swirling, overwhelming Baroque painting 'Minerva protects Pax from Mars' or 'Peace and War'.  An immense tour-de-force. In the foreground is a satyr proffering the bounties of nature to some bewildered, if not downright frightened children. Right to be frightened too of a satyr, a nature spirit for neither the spiritual or natural are 'nice', but fraught with the unpredictable and the transformative (which itself brings danger). Nothing could be further from Matthew Arnold's idea of culture as 'sweetness and light', tempting as that sounds. Anyway, to be honest 'War and peace' is not the sort of work I like; I was much happier, I have to confess, looking at the Northern Renaissance masters such as Holbein, and although the exhibition did not change my views in that regard it did give me an increased appreciation of the achievement of men such as Rubens.  It is an art not at all to be doubted.
     In contrast to those large works that in my memory dominate the exhibition, the penultimate gallery explores the contents of the king's cabinet.  This is a schatzkammer of delight, a crowding of miniature treasures, and for me the culmination of the exhibition, except that the final room held for me one last, absolute delight: a late self portrait by van Dyck.
     The culminative effect, as I have said, was pretty overwhelming and an hour so in the crowded, darkened galleries left us reeling, I for one possibly suffering from Stendhal Syndrome, and we staggered out into the courtyard for fresh air.

* 'The King's Arcadia: Inigo Jones and the Stuart Court' John Harris, Stephen Orgel & Roy Strong (Arts Council Exhibition catalogue) 1973

Monday 5 March 2018

House & Garden Guide to Interior Decoration

     Another lucky charity shop find here.  'The House & Garden Guide to Interior Decoration' dates from 1967 (my copy is a 2nd edition from 1969) when the multi-talented Robert Harling was editor. (I really must do a post about him.)  Anyway the book is a wonderful period gem, marvellous in every way, full of strong, confident designs and colours such a contrast to today's bland, safe interiors. Clever and witty too. Below is a small selection - favourites, yes - of a vast array images this fascinating book contains.