By the time we got there the red bikini was off. But the naked body in the water was discreetly half hidden by foliage. A couple pass by not quite sure what to make of it, “Look,” says the woman, “there’s someone in the water.” Which would Gormley prefer, I wonder, the innocent reaction of passers by or the red bikini cover up?
It was a pity we missed the bikini. Apparently the Metro managed to snap it and I am not sure which is funnier: the thought of someone going to the trouble to attach a bikini to Antony Gormley’s (obviously masculine) work of art, or the effort someone else took to remove it. Would that be the new art wardens of Edinburgh?
Whatever. Gormley’s six pieces are a gift. As blogged by Raya few weeks ago they stretch from the Modern Art Gallery down to Leith Docks, marking the rise and fall of the water. It is a treat to discover them one by one – our Sunday morning walk through cyclists and gently strolling families on the Water of Leith Walkway had a sense of purpose and a real feeling of discovery when we spotted them. Just standing there, gently rusting in the sunshine.
I think my favourite definition of art is Ian Hamilton Findlay’s: “Art is a small adjustment.” It fits Gormley’s figures beautifully. He casts the figure and leaves nature to make the small adjustment. The rust is a touch of genius. And maybe the bikini was too.
Rust in peace near the Modern Art Gallery: thanks to Tommyand Ray for the pictures. And Tommy for the heading too.
“If you think we are rubbish,” says Ziggy, “you can always go upstairs and listen to Cybraphon.” Actually he put it stronger than that but this is a family blog (sort of) and however he put it, Ziggy knew there was a risk people might just do that. Found has created a formidable cyber celebrity with their emotional robot bandin the wardrobe.
It’s no secret that Cybraphon has more Facebook fans than the guys who assembled last year’s BAFTA winner from an odd mix of musical instruments and (let’s face it) old junk. When Simon switched the emotional wardrobe on again earlier this month, reconnecting all those vital circuits in the social media network, it was just a matter of hours before the Twittering and tweeting began. Cybraphon was back.
But Frankenstein is not yet redundant. Robots need electricity as well as noise in cyberspace. Tommy picked up a disturbing text on the way to Cybraphon launch gig at the start of Glasgow Arts Festival on Saturday. Cybraphon not working, bring some tools, said the text, or words to that effect.
Oh dear, said Tommy, or maybe he put it stronger than that. But old style rock bands have their priorities too. While Cybraphon sulked silently on the second floor of the wonderfulStudio Warehouse SWG3 (what a place!), Found soundchecked for their own gig on the floor below where they were booked to rock the room with OnTheFly and Radio Magnetic Sound System.
It could have been a very disappointing start to the exhibition. All those Facebook fans and Twitterers have expectations to meet. After an hour or so of nervous checking someone had an old fashioned thought. A fuse was all it took for Cybraphon to light up again.
So the crowds on the second floor were not disappointed. Any more than the crowds downstairs. Seemed to me no-one felt drawn upstairs once Found began to play. As you can maybe see from the admittedly very murky video clip.
The autonomous robot band is playing at Studio Warehouse SWG3(and constantly scanning the internet for references) until 3 May.
Poor old house. I can almost hear it groaning through the adjoining walls as the banging and drilling, the sawing and sanding, the breaking down and tearing up begin all over again. Yet another new neighbour means new paint, new carpets, new bathroom suite and, of course, a brand new kitchen. Even though the one being ripped out was put in just three years ago. White units, so very 2007!
The house next door has changed owners six times since we moved into the terrace. Admittedly we have been here a very long time – so long Abba was topping the charts with Dancing Queen (or so it says here) the month we were moving in. Come to think of it that doesn’t seem so long ago but the same year Concorde made its first trans Atlantic commercial flight and Apple launched their first computer.
Those were the days … building societies insisted on deposits before lending money to young couples, people bought records and a computer was so big it would fill an ensuite bathroom (though no-one had ensuite). Just about every other house in the street was a B&B and the one next door was pretty rough.
Now there are no B&B’s, even the upmarket guest houses have turned into stylish private houses and only two other families have lived here longer than us. Why do some houses seem to hold on to their occupants? Our house has changed hands only four times since it was built in 1860. Next door, people come and go with increasing regularity and with them come and go their kitchens and ensuite bathrooms.
We never intended to stay in one place for so long but I like the feeling of continuity (if not the decades of clutter). Thanks to our lovely neighbour on the other side I know a little bit about the previous owners who had lived here for more than 50 years. Very intriguingly, they held bathroom parties to which guests arrived by climbing the drainpipe on the back wall – sadly the building society made us replace the old cast iron bath with claw feet but in a cupboard in the bathroom there is still a fragment of the original wallpaper. And the family left their handsome clock in the hall because it had been there so long they didn’t think it right to remove it.
So our house has always been a home though property prices round us go through the roof. It was a stretch for us to buy the place during the recession of the 70s (1970s I mean); even more sobering to think that if we wanted to move into the street now we wouldn’t be able to afford our own house.
I like to think that the next owners might also be looking for a home. Maybe like us they would live with the old kitchen for a year or two. In our case that included a distinctly dodgy museum piece of a gas cooker. In fact we didn’t get round to a fancy fitted kitchen until 2000. By that time Madonna topped the charts, Concorde had only three years to go. Apple of course is still going strong, even as I type. And so is the kitchen.
I left a message on Tom’s mobile suggesting we might take a rain check. Or even a snow check. But the Guardian’s new beatblogger is made of strong stuff and how could I refuse? He wanted to follow up my blog about Tesco by interviewing real shopkeepers in Broughton Street and he wasn’t going to let horizontal rain put him off.
Or, to be honest, he says, he didn’t know how bad it was until he was on his bike and heading for Broughton.
This is Tom Allan’s first month as the Guardian’s first Edinburgh beatbloggersetting out to cover the stories that other parts of the media too often do not reach.
Take a look at his blog. It’s a promising mix of community activism, politics, poetry and personal whims (I particularly like the piece on the young film makers at Pilton Video, including the nerdy comment from a reader correcting Tom’s spelling: for goodness sake this is the Grauniad!).
And of course I like the fact that he wanted to follow up my story even if it does mean traipsing up and down Broughton Street in rain that feels very much like snow. Over quick lunch in the Broughton Delicatessen Tom speaks to someone at Tesco who confirms they are indeed committed to opening an Express Store in Picardy Place.
Outside in the street, shopkeepers are welcoming and surprisingly ready to talk to a man with a microphone. I haven’t had so much fun for a long time – takes me back 35 years, when St Cuthberts Co0perative was the closest you could get to a supermarket, and my first freelance story for the Scotsman (those were the days when it was a real newspaper) involved being photographed among fish heads (don’t ask!) in a friendly fishmongers.
Some things don’t change. The fish shop puts on a star performance: “They’re gutted,” says the newish owner of Something Fishy, pointing to the pile of filleted fish on the slab. “That comment is going in the podcast,” says a grinning Tom alternating between mic, camera and mobile phone.
I leave him editing the podcast in the warmth of Nom de Plum cafe. He hopes to get the story, just one of his three or four posts a day, up on the Guardian’s new Edinburgh website by tonight or first thing tomorrow. That’s new media for you (with just a little old media assistance).
There was sparkling water for the MSPs and glasses of wine for the rest of us. A book launch in Edinburgh is a nice night out, especially when the book has been written by a friend. Even when that book is a serious and sobering deconstruction of Glasgow.
The Tears that Made the Clyde by Carol Craig has the subtitle Well-Being in Glasgow but no-one is in any doubt what that really means. I haven’t read it yet but judging from last night’s speeches this is a devastating look at the causes and effects of generations of chronic ill health – and the chronic inequality at the root of it all. But there is no room for any Edinburgh complacency. As Carol points out, while Glasgow’s health statistics are the worst in Europe, there are parts of Edinburgh, Inverness, Aberdeen, Dundee Stirling and even Perth which are no better. This is a story for the whole of Scotland.
Which of course is why there were MSPs at the launch in the very elegant Birlinnbuilding in Newington Road. I should point out that the MSPs were allowed to have wine if they wanted. It was Birlinn publisher, Hugh Andrew, who noted that politicians opt for sparkling water when they are working next day, while the rest of us are free to fill our glasses (which most of us did). And I should also add that Tears that Made the Clyde is published by Argyll Publishing. It just so happens Hugh Andrew is a pal of Argyll publisher Derek Rodger so he offered his house (which is also the Birlinn office) for the Edinburgh launch.
The point is worth making because both publishers seem to share not just a passion for books but a mission to save Scotland’s soul by publishing them. Given the title and subject matter of Carol’s book there was a fair amount of serious discussion about the state Glasgow is in. But everyone was looking for a message of hope.
For Carol, hope is only possible if we accept we must reduce inequality by investing in the future’s of Scotland’s children. For Harry Reid, former editor of the Herald and proudly Glaswegian (if living in Edinburgh) there is a nice natural justice in the fact that the Necropoliscemetery – the last resting place of Glasgow’s wealthiest merchant princes – is now the happy drinking ground of the city’s dispossessed.
For Hugh Andrew and Derek Rodger salvation lies in publishing books that enlighten. I drank to that last night. Now I will read the book.
An environmental message in the Eurostar waiting room at Brussels
We’re waiting for the eco-friendly Eurostar to take us home and I am looking forward to the ride. It’s a nice cheery scene. The multicultural mix of folk ready to board the train has managed to get past the daft, defensive UK Border. Unfortunately the border guards have let through a home-grown threat. Even worse he is in our carriage.
Until now I have never knowingly been within spitting distance of the BNP. We are not quite close enough to hear everything he had to say, but Richard Barnbrook, the first far right member of the London Assembly, does his best to let everyone in the carriage know who he is and what he believes in. (He is easily identified by the light coloured linen suit he often wears). During a loud mobile phone conversation he pokes racist fun at a Chinese exhibition he has seen in Brussels. Then he treats the poor people sitting next to him to a lecture on how Labour, Tories and LibDem have “got so far up themselves” they have lost touch with voters and that’s why the BNP will win Dagenham and Barking next May. “Oh believe me, I know what I am talking about.”
This is sad, sick and slightly scary after a few days enjoying the best of European culture. First a sparkly weekend in Stockholm with waterways reflecting red and gold buildings in the winter sun, then a stimulating start to Scotland week in Brussels. The night before we heard Tom Devine giving a brilliant explanation of why the Enlightenment came, seemingly against all odds, to dour, dark Scotland when it had barely stopped burning witches and hanging heretics. And just an hour before catching the train, we heard Alex Salmond celebrating Burns the internationalist and quoting the Ode to a Louse as a moral inspiration for all politicians.
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
Spotted on the way to the new Magritte Museum in Brussels
Brussels and Stockholm were bright and full of Christmas light, a kaleidoscope of international shops and restaurants proving that nations flourish best when people move, mix and mingle the colours and flavours of different cultural traditions. To me somehow that sense of community is compounded by the fact that we don’t have to show our passports travelling from Stockholm to Brussels because, as good members of the EU, both countries are signatories of the Schengen agreementwhich allows the removal of frontier controls between the 22 participating nations.
And, guess what, little Britain is not one of them. While the rest of Europe opens up we seem to be closing minds as well as borders, fostering fears instead of challenging the monstrous fantasies of the BNP. So we not only have to go through the shame of the ridiculous ‘UK border’ at Brussels but back in St Pancras a line of security guards watches us file obediently through the barriers. One young man is singled out for passport inspection. Perhaps you won’t be surprised to hear that he is black.
Despite all that the ride home on the sleeper is blissfully comfortable and at 7.30 am Edinburgh looks bright with Christmas and first light breaking the dour darkness. Almost European. (Maybe not the way Alex Salmond means it).
If I can, anyone can. Admittedly it was with a little help from Dougal and Tommy, but I have uploaded my first YouTube video, shot (in case you want to know) on my Nokia N95 when I peered through a hole in the wall enjoying the experience of seeing the National Portrait gallery covered in graffiti. Here is the John Knox Sex Club – yes, I went for the name but stayed for the music – and a glimpse of Edinburgh the way I like it best, when it is not afraid to take a risk…
Millions of people make all kinds of little films every day – weird, wonderful, daft and life-changing stuff, it’s all freely available for the world to see on YouTube. But it is a new experience for me and a great feeling to have managed it. Dougal came up with a great one-liner when I said I might need a little help uploading the video. “If you can’t work it out from the YouTube website, YouTube has failed.” It really is as simple as that. And next time I should be able to get the video off YouTube and on to my blog without help from Tommy either.
It’s been another good year for Health and Safety myths. If you have five minutes to spare take a look at the Myth of the Month on the HSE website, it is a cracking good read. In September they did not stop school kids wearing ties. In October they did not ban graduates from playing frisbee with mortar boards (eh?)and in November they did not stop school science experiments – in fact earlier this year HSE Chair Judith Hackitt set her hands alight to prove it.
Must admit, I’m struggling a bit with the image of a health and safety supremo setting fire to her hands ’safely’ (to make a point about ’sensible risk management’ in the science lab) but I am all for busting a few myths. To be honest there is something slightly prissy about the HSE website – they do have to keep reminding us that common sense prevents accidents (and after all 180 people died at work last year, most of them in agriculture, manufacturing and construction). But I have always suspected there is a great lack of common sense in the way most public organisations react to supposed Health and Safety rules.
Isn’t it interesting to see how many of the myths relate to schools? Which makes me wonder about the possible mixed motives of parents, teachers and the newspapers that report these mythical bans. When I was at school I would have loved someone to ban ties (or maths and hockey sticks come to think of it). But no, HSE says they have no objection to ties – “if the concern is about kids fighting, although clip-on ties may help, the real issue is discipline.” And they don’t want to stop kids having fun in adventure playgrounds either, as long as the local authorities take sensible risk assessments to make sure the equipment is safe.
Jacqui assess Wind and Bamboo risks
So, no they don’t ban hanging baskets, bonfires, or flip-flops at work – and they don’t say all concert-goers must wear earplugs though they do say that employers in noisy places should ensure workers have protection against going deaf.
Perhaps, just perhaps, people like to hide behind Health and Safety rules to save themselves the bother of carrying out a risk assessment. When I was involved in organising the Wind and Bamboo event at the Botanics last year we carried out a fairly rigorous assessment (thank you Jacqui!) and probably indulged in a few myths in the process. I don’t think it is Health and Safety that stops people serving hot tea on a cold night, it is the fear that someone will sue if they get burned. (We served hot tea anyway!)
However, it is good to see that HSE statistics show fewer people are getting killed and injured at work. We just need to bust the myths that give people an excuse to stop having fun. Don’t be surprised if you get the 2010 Myth of the Month calendar for Christmas, I am going to send off for a bulk order very soon.
In the end there was nothing we could do about the biggest risk of all – but despite appalling weather it was a good show all the same and no-one slipped, poked their eye out with an umbrella or got burnt with hot tea.
Not Monet’s garden, these lilies are at Taynish on the west coast of Scotland.
What’s happened to living in the here and now? When we were in Paris last week I was amazed to discover art gallery attendants now allow people to take mobile phone pictures of paintings. The rooms are full of happy snappers reducing life to a small screen.
Last time we went to the Orangerie, probably about 10 years ago, Bobby was shouted at for venturing too close to Monet’s water lillies ( he wanted to feel them for himself so maybe it was longer ago than that). Anyway, this time the room is full of folk filming themselves in front of the work without actually looking at what’s on the walls let alone trying to feel it. And not a peep from the uniforms except the occasional, ‘pas de flash madame’.
All those gorgeous colours, two rooms of curving walls encouraging you to immerse yourself in the changing light and shade, yet so many people filtering the experience through a tiny screen in the palm of their hands. No flash though.
It was the same in Rodin’s garden, a treat of dappled light and solid gut wrenching sculptures on a scorching September day. And in the National Gallery in London two days later when Ray and I spent a happy hour or two before we caught the train back to Edinburgh.
All this time, my Nokia was nestling in my pocket – it often feels an indispensable part of my life but there are times when I am more than happy to switch if off. I can go further than that. The dictator in me thinks that if people can’t switch off, mobile phones should be deposited in lockers on the way in to places full of works which can open our hearts and minds – or, at the very least, our eyes.
As Christine said after our trip to the Orangerie, “People are so busy recording the moment they are not actually living it.”
Emmanuel Jal, author and hip hop artist, will be talking about his book War Child at Edinburgh Book Festival. It is likely to be an unforgettable experience.
Thanks to Bobby I have a short audio clip of an extraordinary conversation between Emmanuel Jal, the Sudanese ‘war child’ and two young Somali refugees living in Glasgow. It comes from a longer podcast produced for the Aye Wright festival earlier this year but I think it deserves another hearing as Emmanuel Jal is about to speak at Edinburgh Book Festival. Writing is never easy but it is hard to imagine other authors in this year’s programme have gone through so much to get words on paper. Just listen to this…
Writing was physically painful for Emmanuel Jal. Reliving his experience of being a child soldier was so traumatic he had a nose bleed every morning before he started work. He kept going because he believes his story can help to build a school in his hometown in Sudan.
The book, War Child: a boy soldier’s story, is now printed and published (along with the movie and the album). Words can be weapons but the hip hop artist uses them to make peace and mend wounds. The result is a message of hope for all young refugees. Listen to this short clip here and you get some idea of what awaits the audience at this year’s Edinburgh Book Festival on Saturday 15 August.
Then listen to the longer podcast on RadioMagnetic . I think what gets me most of all is the humanity, hope and humour of a young man who lost his childhood in a war that destroyed human kindness in almost everyone he met. He calls it a jungle where circumstance forced people “to do things they would normally consider barbaric”. This jungle also provided him with what it takes to survive as a refugee in a strange land.
The boy who became a soldier when he was six or seven owes his survival and education to a British aid worker, Emma McCune, who tragically died not long after rescuing Jal and giving him a new home in Kenya.
Jal’s big mission now is to build the Emma Academy in Leer, Sudan, funded by his music, his book and a campaign called “Lose to Win” – he promises to eat no more than one meal a day until he has raised enough money to build the school.
“Education” he says, “is the only way to change things.” Perhaps most movingly of all he advises the two young Somalis who interviewed him for the podcast to make the most of their opportunities. “Be thankful. Learn as much as you can.” They have what it takes to change the world. “We have stories to tell that people have to hear.
In Emmanuel Jal’s case the story is literally written in blood.
Listen to the full podcast on RadioMagnetic – recorded during the Aye Write Festival in Glasgow in March 2009 when Emmanuel Jal was taking to Muhammad Ali and Muhammad Ibrahim, students at the Bridges Programme in Glasgow. The photograph was taken by another student.
A slightly edited version of this story also appears on Leith Open Space.
A new dawn, a new neighbour, a new kitchen
