The countdown to Christmas has begun.
Well, actually it has been going on for a while if you believe the shop windows and the television adverts. The street decorations were going up in Barcelona when Roland and I were there recently. And here in Liverpool and in the homes and shops the metamorphosis is happening.
Why, I wonder, is it always the least salubrious areas which become festooned with lights the first? Actually, I don't wonder at all. It is to do with bringing light into the drab at all costs.
First weekend of Advent I was down in London seeing Ross. This had long been on our agenda. However, it turned out to be fortuitous as he returned with me to Merseyside on the train as he has several meetings during this week to do with the project he starts in January. We worked it out that he only has another 5 nights sleeping in London before he leaves for good.
We went down to Tate Britain to take in some exhibitions. None were satisfactory. The Medieval Church Architecture was a good idea but there wasn't enough information to draw me in. The Victorian Nude exhibition again didn't offer many new insights. The most fascinating exhibit was from Turner's sketch books and showed a tiny sketch of a couple copulating. Apparently, there's quite a bit of this sort of stuff in his sketch books and there was a lot more but Ruskin destroyed it for fear that it would tarnish the great man's reputation.
There was also a section on the influence of new technologies on the portrayal of the naked human form including the introduction of the moving image. Here were peep shows of women undressing. This was interesting not for the flesh that wasn't shown but rather for the insight into the layering of a middle class Victorian woman's garments. It was a reference point for any BBC producer thinking of doing the next Dickens adaptation.
The final exhibition was of the Turner Prize contestants. We liked Isaac Julien's films very much. They are witty and accessible. They play with narrative and perspective and, in a total of 15 minutes, said more about male sexuality and the socio/economics of slavery than many lengthier and weightier tomes. So, he's not going to win.
We didn't like Richard Billingham's photographs particularly. Martin Creed's
room with the light going on and off may well have a whole bunch of theory
sitting behind it but, at the end of the day, it is just a room with a light
going on and off in it. Which leaves Mike Nelson's installation, which I missed
because I thought it was a locked door beyond which I should not go and which
Ross didn't like because he thinks that installations are a bit passé.
Which means that it is a sure fire winner.
The Sunday brought a pleasant lunch with son Robert and his girlfriend, Rachel. There are some of photographs to be viewed here, here, here and here.
I do like Robert. This may sound like a strange thing for me to say about my son but, to be honest, as he was growing up, I didn't really like him him very much. Surly and cussed are words that spring to mind. Now, he is bright, challenging, passionate, intelligent and quite delightful. Ross thinks that we share the same shaped nose and that our eyes pick up colour in a similar manner.
After the meal, we travelled north. Incidentally the journey took seven hours door to door. Roland and I took the same sort of time travelling door to door from Barcelona recently.
Just a couple of concerts to mention - I've attended more live music in the past twelve months than I have for many a year. Beethoven's 4th piano concerto was given a big, modernistic performance by John Lill - which was a pity because I think that it should be more like Mozart's 28th rather than Brahms' 3rd. The orchestra under Gerard Schwarz produced a big, fat sound as they also did in Schreker's chamber symphony, completely obliterating the fine detail of the inner voices of the part writing. Then, after the interval, it was a though someone had lifted a gauze and we heard a performance of Dvorak's 8th symphony of enormous sensitivity and power. Mr Schwarz still likes to pull the tempi around a lot though.
And finally, a lunchtime concert that should have included Shostakovich but, because of a cancellation, presented two Mozart string quartets instead. Perfectly serviceable but not what I had wanted to hear.
