Defining Beauty, British Museum

 

The new exhibition at the British Museum considers the depiction of beauty in Ancient Greek art.

I marvel at the sophistication of the works that are to be on show and I’m so glad I re-joined as a member. I’m very much looking forward to visiting.

As a teaser, the museum, via their social media platforms, has been sharing various photos of artefacts and artworks to be displayed as part of this exhibition. Today, as part of a focus on International Women’s Day, a beautiful bronze figurine of a Spartan woman running was shared.

Ironically the birthplace of democracy, Athens, kept their women like property, locked up, covered up and having no function in society other than marriage and child bearing. Unlike their Athenian sisters, Spartan girls did sports, had a good education, owned land and performed important civic duties as Spartan men were almost to the man, full time soldiers. Other Greek city states, or rather the men in those states, who provided the contemporary anecdotal soundbites we draw upon, looked down upon the Spartan women, snootily calling them "thigh showers" for their unashamed prowess in athletic pursuits. There was even an athletics meeting for women, in honour of the goddess Hera (Goddess of Women), which took place every four years at Olympia, although this was separate from the Olympic games.

So, here's the lovely figurine of a beautiful Spartan runner showing her athletic thighs, lifting her skirt to maximise her ability to accelerate. It dates from around 500BC, there is a dynamism in this work of art, it really is lovely, she’s so elegant. And where was she running to? I’d guess she was going to kick an Athenian in the balls.

Defining Beauty, From March 26th, British Museum.

PJ Harvey, Recording in Progress, Somerset House, 5th February 2015

 

After a lengthy morning at the Russian Consulate, submitting my business visa request, I decided to take an early lunch and make the relatively short walk through the sleet to Somerset House, to see if there were any returns of the sold out run for PJ Harvey’s Recording in Progress.

(photocredit © Seamus Murphy)

I didn’t hold much hope, they seemed to be the hottest tickets in town, more an interactive art installation than a gig as such.

© photocredit – Me! (Mel Melis)

It’s totally pot luck, the artists are working, the glass is one way, they cannot see you, they are recording their new album, not putting on a show for you, you might get to hear polished songs, you might just get some discussion, tuning of instruments, jamming, drinking of coffee. So when I asked the security guard in hope, his eyebrow raised itself and he announced with a giant grin. “I think this is your lucky day!” he then led me to a side room in Somerset House’s New Wing, introduced me to another staff member who confirmed that yes, this was the first time they’d ever had a no show and I would be welcome to join the session in progress. I had missed the first fifteen minutes or so, but I didn’t care! The planets and stars had aligned and the gods favoured me! I was going to get to see PJ Harvey recording her new album!

He requested that I deposit any recording equipment (no photos, recording or filming - it was strictly prohibited*) for safe keeping, allowed me to hang up my coat and then led me to the lift to drop me into the stony depths of the catacombs under Somerset House where I was led into the viewing area.

A devoted huddle of acolytes, a tiny number (between 20-30) for an act who can fill massive venues, were politely gathered around the big window spaces looking into the white room, the former inland revenue staff gymnasium that constituted the recording studio in the basement of the historic Somerset House on the Strand. Like me, most of the people there were little. Perhaps our fragility delivers us to the lyrics and powerful themes of PJ Harvey’s work, perhaps I just made a massive generalisation, but I didn’t care, there was plenty of room to see! Peej herself was wearing all black, headphones on, her black hair cascading down in waves, either side of her face. She was testing her vocals on one of the new songs, which turned out to be the “The Revolving Wheel” I believe. Her long time collaborator John Parish listening intently, brow furrowed in concentration as she played the chords she wanted him to reproduce on his acoustic guitar. Flood the producer bounced energetically around the room alternately clutching a cup of coffee and a red moleskine notebook, occasionally scribbling something down, occasionally offering sage advice. “You could bring in the instruments one by one” he suggested on one such foray from his two seater sofa, a statement more than a question. “No” remarked Polly laconically, with a smile. Perhaps a polite reminder that this was her album and vision. Flood didn’t argue, he smiled back. This seemed like a team without friction, a professional but easy going atmosphere to work in. A photographer, I’m guessing Seamus Murphy who created the wonderful films accompanying PJ Harvey’s brilliant last album “Let England Shake” duelled with Flood for centre stage, taking shots of the artists. Also in the room (I think) were the drummer Kenrick Rowe and Terry Edwards, who was ready with his saxophone as well as another unidentified musician with a wondrous beard. A couple of sound engineers dipped in and out at times too. Mick Harvey was also there, sitting next to John Parish, he seemed in a quietly jovial mood, perhaps because the onus was on Parish for the next few minutes. And then some magic happened, Parish played on an acoustic guitar and Polly sang. It was beautiful. We heard the whole of “The Revolving Wheel” from the new album. At the end, I, like many other people in the audience resisted the desire to clap. I saw the two girls in front of me clasp each others hands more tightly. I saw other people smiling in loving appreciation, me too.

The band then seemed to be building up to play a more complete, multi-instrument version of the song, perhaps a version which would end up on the album. The anticipation was building as they tuned up and jammed little elements of it. Mick Harvey’s guitar delivered some pounding bluesy derivatives of the main chord structures but unfortunately our time was up. We were asked to leave the viewing area.

I got perhaps twenty-five minutes of the forty-five minute allocation and I was chuffed to bits. I feel fortunate to have struck lucky. And I can’t wait for the new album. I walked away, the sleet had stopped, the sun was threatening to show its face and I returned to work a happy guy! Best lunchbreak ever!

Big thanks to the very friendly and accommodating staff at Somerset House.

*Fear not! Although recording was prohibited, I did make an “artist’s impression” from memory. Up to my usual excellent standard as usual I’m sure you’ll agree :). I’m not sure there were any big tape reels whirring away, seeing as we are now in the digital age… I think I kind of merged it with an episode of Hawaii-Five-O in one of the police computer rooms. But it kind of works right?

©Mel Melis (not that anyone would steal this….!)

The allure of travel, a tribute to London and Paris

 

In the guts of London, forgotten verges,

Detritus, piling up, centuries of it,

the train rocks slowly through grime town,

Black bricks loved with painted colour,

Before sinking into the depths,

Of the dark ant tunnels,

And emerging in the bright new place,

The hollowed hull of the beautiful whale,

hedgehog smothered in chimney spines,

St Pancras,

I could go upstairs,

Jonah the explorer,

walk past Betjeman, tip my hat,

Bid him good day as he’s frozen, looking up,

At the cathedral ribs of this place,

Whilst the plonking tinker of amateurs,

on pianos, rattles, in my ears,

But instead,

I look longingly at the snaking jabberers,

Excitable, planning trips, or returning,

To Paris, From Paris,

I pause, I want to be there too,

To fall in love, to drink red wine,

Puff on a cheroot, write bad poetry,

I’m Wilde, Hemmingway, that other guy,

Some dude in a cravat,

A wit, a dandy, someone you want to beat up,

Spilled absinthe,

Looking louche as I watch to Seine, the people,

But work calls, more tunnels,

Then Marylebone, I love you too,

Perhaps tomorrow.

©Mel Melis 2015

The Squirrel, the Magpie and William Blake

 

I looked out of the window this morning and rather than the usual gang of squirrels hanging around at the bottom of the bird feeder picking up scattered nuts, seeds and titbits there was only one.

(They can’t climb the bird feeder due to the ingenious “baffle” we’ve installed – otherwise they’d scoff everything and bully the birds away).

This one squirrel was busy burying items on the lawn, no doubt to eat and savour at a later date when the weather wouldn’t be so mild. He or she was totally oblivious to the Magpie, trotting along behind it, so when the squirrel moved on, the magpie would dig up whatever was buried and eat it.

Now squirrels are undoubtedly intelligent, their problem solving skills are second to none, but the magpie had street smarts. It was fascinating and had I not been ill and slow moving this morning, I might have been distracted and missed the little drama.

That, the sunset this evening and a walk on the moors the earlier this week where I got some beautiful photos of barren winter trees against the backdrop of the burning sunset reminded me of a quote by William Blake.

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all Ridicule and Deformity, and by these I shall not regulate my proportions; and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the Eyes of the Man of Imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.

Which leads on to the “William Blake, Apprentice and Master” exhibition I visited with my friend Mike a couple of weekends ago at the Ashmolean in Oxford.

I’ve always been fascinated with Blake, I’m no expert by any means, but like many people and subjects I know enough to keep me captivated and wanting to read and witness more.

He was a strange, radical, revolutionary, spiritual figure, devoted and excelling in many mediums, the written word, art, craft. Paradoxically loved and admired by people of both left and right (the hymn Jerusalem being used as the anthem for the labour movement and owned by the Suffragette cause), and by those with faith and those without.

The exhibition concentrated, as you would expect from the title on Blake’s growth as an artist and poet, from childhood to death, his influences and loves and how he honed his craft. It also focuses on the techniques he used, and innovations he created especially in printmaking (the video in the link above gives an insight). It has many beautiful examples of his work as well as a narrative on his life. My favourite items are his work illustrating Dante’s Inferno, so effortless and beautiful. One example below.

Dante and Virgil Penetrating the Forest - Picture Credit (Tate)

And the recreation of his studio in Lambeth was revelatory too, his hand printing press was a brute of a thing. As well as his delicate touch, and exquisite eye for detail, Blake was strong and stocky, he himself was able to turn the wheel, time after time after the intense labour time of applying ink when it needed to be dabbed on with a leather hoof type thing, before the invention of a handy roller. It is a disastrous shame that many of his works were destroyed or toned down (defaced) after his death, e.g. to remove genitals, for fears of upsetting the sensibilities of society. Who knows what further wonders of Blake have been lost to history. Definitely a great exhibition to visit. It’s on till the 1st March 2015. Ashmolean, Oxford.

Winter Walk at Dusk

Flitton and Flitwick moor, today. (all photos © Mel Melis)

 

The peat bog caresses,

with sticky tarred fingers,

exploring the flesh,

and drinking the droplets,

of hot breath falling,

tasting,

understanding the strangers,

the night waking,

as the day sinks in fading red,

 

life stands still,

bar one last laugh,

from the woodpecker,

the birds are silent,

invisible, cold hardened,

watching the mottled clouds,

and listening

as the moor starts to converse,

quietly at first,

 

the river swelled, giggling,

creaking trees sway,

straight backed callow alders,

golden haired willows,

cowed and bashful,

squat crab apples,

and stern oaks,

dark and bold,

against the sunset.

 

Borneo wildlife

The nature in Borneo has not only been diverse, but also abundant. It's often cited that tropical rainforests, which are only located in south east Asia, the amazon and Central Africa, account for 6% of the total land mass (or 2% of the planet's surface) but sustain approximately 50% of the worlds plants and animals.

In addition to the beneficial carbon offsetting work they do of course.

In that regard I've been fortunate to see some amazing species. Especially when I caught the short flight to Mulu, the unesco world heritage sight.

Before I talk about Mulu, a quick word on orangutans. On our last day of the fujitsu tour we overnighted at the Shangri-la rasa ria which houses a sanctuary for orphaned orangutans. This is all part of a complex rehabilitation programme, after the rasa-ria they are moved to the east of Sabah where they are slowly weaned off their dependence on humans so they can then be released into the wild and hopefully continue to sustain the dwindling population.

Both the resort and seeing the orangutans was a great reward for us 60 volunteers!

I also saw this wide gaited geezer of a monitor lizard. He was strutting along without a care in the world.

And a cute snake outside my room (there were several members of staff keeping a safe distance)

Interestingly I also saw these amazing crab patterns on the beach, where they dig out sand from their burrows and deposit it in incredible patterns. It made me think of Alan Turings theory of morphogenesis. I'm no scientist but strictly this phenomenon probably doesn't sit under that theory as it's more to do with how animals adapt and evolve chemically, e.g. To get stripes or spots, but still, he did some fascinating work after the war before he cruelly died so young.

They are like little cities with carriageways and open spaces. Why does each crab choose a different design or approach?

As for Mulu, what an incredible place, a friend who had been there before told me to close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the jungle at night. However on the first night the restaurant just outside the national park's perimeter had karaoke on, so all I could hear was the horrible drunk wails of Homo Sapiens singing "I will always love you" - had to laugh!

Below -On the way to Mulu.

But when it only the jungle you could hear, there is an overwhelming variety of sounds. The yelps of geckos, cicadas chirruping, frogs, the weird leaf cricket who rubs its wings so it sounds like a six year old having their first violin lesson. And also disconcerting sounds I didn't get a chance to ask a guides advice on. An unearthly booming echoing call, like two huge pieces of bamboo being whacked together for instance.

I did a night walk,a canopy walk, and various cave walks. I asked our guide what the best way to get rid of leeches was. He said to use a credit card, I made a joke about leeches charging, but nobody laughed. Wasted wit :).

But...My best memory though has to be my last day.

I saw the famous bat exodus. It wasn't the millions promised but at dusk the caves belched big clouds and beautiful ribbons of bats into the fading light. Bat hawks circled and dived into the mass, snaring the tiny bats, truly a wonder. Here's a terrible photo of a "bat ribbon" - morphogenesis again? (Or not!)

Earlier in the day I went to racer cave, which isn't lit like the other tourist caves. So there's an eerie quality as you gingerly step through, shining your torch in the pitch black. The click click of swiftlets and the shrill calls of bats the first clue to the unique Eco system. We saw massive huntsman spiders which feed on bird eggs. Huge crickets with enormous antenna, compensating for their blindness and the racer snake, the alpha predator. 

Planting trees, Borneo

The fujitsu tour itself involved a number of activities and team events. I was made a team leader of 8, and from that moment I was crushed under the expectant weight of responsibility.

Occasionally I would forget to count my team back onto the bus, but a good officer knows that if you invest responsibility in your soldiers, they will always be accountable. I guess it was their loyalty to me that always brought them home ;)

For each event there was also a different randomised group, which maximised our ability to meet new people. Everyone on the tour was great, they were a focused and decent bunch and it's wonderful to meet so many people from around the world.

The first two days were quite gentle, with a trek round Gaya Island, two river cruises, a line census of wildlife, visits to a sustainable palm oil plantation, some orientation and lectures as well as our first bit of hard work, girdling. Non rainforest trees are planted to protect and provide shelter for the rainforest saplings. When those saplings are strong enough to survive without those trees above them we perform girdling, that is to cut away a section of bark all the way around the bigger tree, such that it will die slowly (the flow of nutrients stops when this happens), this means further protection for the sapling, as the tree dies. Using a machete was fun, but I will be working on my upper body strength for next year!

Then on day three, Planting!

This was hard, after our demonstrations (which looked easy when delivered by professionals) we were put in our groups, given our long handled shovels, our saplings and set to work. When the notes accompanying the tour said the slopes would be steep, I didn't realise that meant almost 75 degree inclines at times! The guides cajoled and helped us, with our "soft keyboard hands". Working in that heat (around 36C) and humidity drenches you in sweat in seconds. We had two students from Sabah university in our group, they were amazing. As part of their civil engineering course they had this as as one of their environmental module activities and we had a real camaraderie amongst our Japanese/uk/Malaysian team. I ended up filthy, exhausted, but very happy. Between all the groups we planted 1400 trees out of our 1500 target.

You could argue (rightly) that the professionals could have done this in less than half the time, that we didn't need to fly half way round the globe to support the project. but this isn't the reason for Fujitsu's contribution, it is to build relationships, to show we care but also to take the message back to our own teams, colleagues, families and friends, to try to make a difference. The rainforest is a key eco system to reverse the threat of global warning. There's plenty all of us could do to make a difference.

Some general advice for those thinking of doing this next year - We were warned / advised

1) not to pee in the forest, as your private parts would become swollen

2) not to disrespect the forest as it can hear you and will curse you

3) not to take anything from the forest (curse. Again)

4) to give compliments to the forest

I though I was doing well, but I inadvertently succumbed to no 2). I flung my safety helmet away exclaiming I didn't need it, I was so hot, what could possibly happen? Well, within two minutes I walked into a heavy branch which clumped me just above the left eye. Let that be a warning to all of you!

 

Another Poem (sorry) (c) Mel melis November 2014

A rainforest in miniature,

babes in arms,

We carry them,

Down steep banks,

and through ravines,

Cross streams, 

And whilst we are scratched,

Mud splattered, 

We protect them,

The forest is watching,

Making sure our kindness,

Imbues their fortitude,

They are expectant, 

Arcing their flexible callow bodies,

So their leaves feel the sun,

Waiting for the chance for their roots,

To unfurl and feed,

We tuck them into their dug earth beds,

Then cover the bed with 

blankets of detritus and leaves,

The dead forest nurturing the newly born

With sweat pouring,

The jungle judges us,

on words and intention,

As if it so decided,

It could close in and kill us,

So, a kiss,

Good luck little sapling,

Grow straight, grow true,

Grow beautiful.