Out There

No, not a gay rights protest piece, but an exhibition on modern public art, or more particularly post-war public sculpture. This was at Somerset House and sounded interesting. It was but not quite for the reasons I expected. It featured some photos and a lot of models for various works of art planted in our cities, especially new towns like Harlow and Milton Keynes in the Fifties and Sixties.

I can't say a lot of the stuff particularly impressed me, except that it was "of its time". But what did interest was the little video pieces that went with it. One featured a vox pop piece from the Fifties of posh BBC bloke interviewing local cockneys about a modern sculpture that had been commissioned for their housing estate. What the locals wanted was a kid's play site, rather than a bronze of a naked dumpy looking woman playing with a young child. The locals understandably commented reasonably favourably on the child as it looked passably like a representation of a child, and not so much of the woman who was either an interesting modern representation of motherhood or just not very well modelled, depending on your viewpoint. The locals were made to look a bit thick by the middle-class interviewee for not appreciating the cutting edge fine art thrust upon them. And of course the sculpture did become a bit of a kiddie's climbing frame anyway.

However, a little further on there was a piece especially commissioned for the exhibition interviewing a number of artists and art historians about public art which was remarkably similar to that 1950's piece in attitude, without seeing any irony. It bemoaned the lack of modern commissions and the lack of care shown to these various works from the Fifties, some of which had indeed been covered up by subsequent generations unaware of how "important" they were. Now no-one defines "important". Its just a word bandied about which as far as I can see merely means fashionable amongst a select band of middle-class arts professionals. It is not difficult to see why these rather ugly lumps of concrete and bronze have been so unloved. And society is rather taken to task for being so philistine as not to to realise how much these works enrich the lives of the working classes. If only they could realise it. Far more than the children's play area they would rather have.

Boar by Elizabeth Frink

Tottenham Court Road tube murals by Edouardo Paolozzi

Winged Figure by Barbara Hepworth

Water Gardens by William Mitchell

Old Flo by Henry Moore

The Meat Porters  by  Ralph Brown

Harlequinade/All on her own

I had actually seen this double bill a while ago, but been too busy to write it up. Which is a pity as it was very good indeed. It was one of the Kenneth Branagh productions at the Garrick, and I have booked up to see another soon.

Th connection between these two short plays is they were both written by Terrence Rattigan. The connection stops there really. All On Her Own is essentially a monologue. Just Zoe Wannamaker as a widow hitting the bottle and talking to her dead husband. Not a barrel of laughs, but a quite compelling performance by one of our greatest stage actresses.

IS By contrast, Harlequinade IS a barrel of laughs. Its about a theatrical couple who are the ultimate lovies, who have no interest in the real world but only for the stage. And putting on their performances whether the public is interested or not. the plot borders on farce. But what made it such a wonderful evening, as well as the fact that it was well-written, was that it was perfectly performed. Zoe Wannamaker features again, but this one is really all Kenneth Branagh as the ageing impresario. These plays in the West End are not cheap, but at least you feel you really are seeing the very best talent out there.

The Father

This was not at all times an easy watch, but it was a thoroughly rewarding one. Sometimes you have to look past subject matter. I have a colleague who just doesn't want to see depressing plays, only uplifting ones. And this portrayal of an old man's descent into dementia isn't uplifting. Far from it. But it did feel very real.

Kenneth Cranham in the lead role is fantastic, but this was a clever one act play, superbly presented. We start with a somewhat cantankerous old man being chastised by his daughter for having annoyed his carer so much that she has walked out of the job. At this point he is merely forgetful. But gets more and more confused as the scenes change, but then so are we. Because there are two sets of actors playing hi daughter and son-in-law, so we too don't know fact from fiction. Is the daughter about to move to London (this is  a French play)? In some scenes she is, in some she isn't.

Corresponding to his descent into dementia, the set becomes barer and barer as he moves from his flat, to the minimalist flat of his daughter to his eventual hospital bed. Anyone who has ever looked after someone who is very elderly will spot the traits that make this dialogue so true - the annoyance at loved ones, the moments of lucidity matched immediately by those of confusion. And finishing off with the terror of being totally confused by the world and desperately needing comfort, which cannot come. The look on Kenneth Cranham's face as the final curtain comes down will haunt you. But be haunted, It's worth it.

Jeremy Vine and a cycling lesson

You will laugh at this (luckily no photos or video footage) but I went on my first ever cycling lesson on Sunday with my lodger and an old university friend in Regents Park. We hired Boris Bikes at Regents Park and headed up and down the Broad Walk. I ached in so many places the next day, and find that a skill 5 year olds can manage is still out of my reach. I suffered from a number of disadvantages, not least that Boris bike saddles don't go low enough for me to put my feet on the ground. I spent much of the time barely balanced on the end of the seat on my scrotum. As I say, I ached in so many places, some rather unexpected...

I got invited to a dinner where the guest speaker was the TV presenter Jeremy Vine. But I found not only was he guest speaker but also seated next to me, so I had dinner with the great man. Needless to say an interesting experience, and we did get a bit of an insight to election coverage. I got the feeling, especially listening to the talk, that the man is a bit of a frustrated stand-up comic (and of course his younger brother, Jeremy Vine, is just that). Best line however came from on of his callers on his radio 2 phone-in, referring to Ed Milliband as being "as much use as a boil on your scrotum." (See above for how painful that could be...)

Interesting subject we discussed was between fact and opinion. His view from many years of broadcasting was that its all opinion, hence the BBC obsession with balance. But I still maintain there is much fact that can be disseminated. True, one cannot predict the future, but one can put claims as to what is going to happen to the test by looking at past performance. Which seemed particularly relevant at an event hosted by investment managers. They don't know what is going to happen either (or they would be a lot more successful in managing my money that they are), but they can show what has happened in the past and so put matters into context, and so show what is LIKELY to happen, or at least what is unlikely. And I feel the BBC often fails to do that, because if something was put in context it would show it up as unlikely and then that would appear to be bias. Any objectivity is taken as being bias. Only fence sitting is allowed, and so they put out two people with opposing views to rant at each other in the name of balance. But we (I) then don't believe either side as they both seem biased. Because they are. Sometimes I know enough to judge who is talking nonsense, but sometimes I don't. At which point the debate is just pointless, or at least only serves to advance the better presenter. I don't want to vote to stay in or leave the EU based solely on who is a better debater.

Was a good evening but with lots to drink. And as it was hosted by my investment manager, had a fairly elderly clientèle. One woman of a certain age, and the only woman on our table, came up to me after dinner and asked if there was a Mrs K. On my reply in the negative she then followed with "So do you like boys or porn?" What happened to small talk and pleasantries about the weather? She then opened up a conversation about breakfast TV with "Well I am a bit racist anyway..." on which I guess she should be congratulated for candour, and it's certainly a variation on "I am not a racist but..." Nevertheless it is a little offputting and makes you wonder what is coming next. What this was leading top was a critique of breakfast TV and a complaint that all the presenters are either black, Indian or Northern. I am afraid it was the northerner that came in for the most stick (although I am not convinced that Geordie is a race...). Still a change from my very politically correct younger friends. Not a refreshing change, but a change.

Green Park, St James' Park and Delacroix exhibition.

I went on an unexpected walk on my day off. How do you go on an unexpected walk? Well I expected to go to the exhibitions at the Royal Academy, but on getting there was informed the wait to enter was about an hour and a half. At my age that's just too high a proportion of my remaining lifespan to spend in a queue on a nice day.

So instead I headed off into Green Park.

 Then onto Queen Victoria's statue

Then across St James' Park, in my opinion the finest of all the Royal Parks

 An unexpected sight, not one jogger but a whole army squadron, with look outs in front to0 clear the way.

The old cottage, with its resident pelicans, is truly picturesque.

And a grey heron came to join his more exotic cousins.

Thence I walked back to the National Gallery to see the Delacroix Exhibition. This was very much part Delacroix and part people who either influenced him or were influenced by him, especially the Impressionists. Only problem I felt going through the exhibition was that all the people he influenced seemed to be a lot better painters than he was.