As viewers of BBC documentaries will know, only one thing happened in the history of art. It happened in France in the second half of the 19th century, and it's called Impressionism. BBC2 was back on the subject yet again last night, with shouty Waldemar Januszczak's new three-parter, The Impressionists: Painting and Revolution. The thesis - Impressionists as dangerous revolutionaries - can be deduced from the title, and it's the very same line every 'new look' at the Impressionists takes. It's fair enough, if tired, but plays down the fact that a lot of Impressionist art is, inescapably, very very pretty - which is why it's so hugely popular - and quite a lot of it is little more than pretty (and some of it really rather bad). The presentation is lively, and Waldemar is interesting on the technical side of things - the paint tube, the ferrule, the portable easel. He tells the (mostly) familiar story well enough, but surely BBC2 viewers could handle something other than the Impressionists from time to time.
Looking back at the story now, what amazes is the dominance of the Salon system, the popularity and prestige of what now looks like hideously bad art. But hasn't it pretty much always been the case that what looks to one generation to be self-evidently the best (and therefore most expensive) art to the next generation seems jaw-droppingly awful? This is some consolation as we look at the current art market, dominated by the Saatchi-Serota axis, and the approved big-money stars of the art firmament. Here, surely, is the Salon art of our time - but of course the BBC doesn't see it that way, sedulously plugging the official line through its yartz mouthpiece, our old friend Will. I trust that when the story of 21st-century art is being told at some future time, viewers will enjoy watching Gompertz excitedly describing the Emperor's magnificent new clothes.
Sunday, 17 July 2011
Thursday, 14 July 2011
Watching the Conductors
When the 117th season of that grand musical institution The Proms kicks off tomorrow, TV viewers will be able to avail themselves of a remarkable 'red button' feature called Maestrocam. This trains the camera relentlessly on the conductor, whose work is analysed in an expert running commentary. Hmm. I'm not sure that even watching the concert itself on TV adds anything to the musical experience; in fact it mostly distracts the attention. Nobody looks at their best while performing classical music, let alone conducting it. Many conductors grimace and gurn, emote and make extravagant interpretative gestures - which might be fine in the wide open spaces of the Royal Albert Hall, but will surely look pretty horrific under the pitiless gaze of Maestrocam. My late father always reckoned conducting was a racket. He would point to the behaviour of dance band leaders, who didn't even bother to face their musicians but turned the other way and spent their time smiling ingratiatingly at the audience while making vaguely rhythmic gestures of encouragement. In vain did we protest that dance bands and orchestras - and their respective repertoires - are rather different kettles of fish; there was no shifting him. How he would have relished Maestrocam!
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
And...
In recent years there's been a lot of talk of butterflies as ultra-sensitive indicators of the impact of climate change - canaries in the climate change coalmine, if you like - so it's good to see that the Big Butterfly Count website (see below) emphasises environmental change in general, mentioning climate change almost as an afterthought. This might be another straw in the wind that's beginning to blow the warmists' agenda off course - largely because people are waking up to what the projected 'green energy' and 'carbon reduction' initiatives are going to cost us all. If you're going to clobber the economy and the taxpayer that hard, you need to be absolutely certain your projections are rock solid - and even then the taxpayers might refuse to play ball... But to return to butterflies, if climate change were to take the predicted effect of warming this none-too-torrid country, the general effect on butterfly numbers would surely be beneficial - every hot summer demonstrates this (as does every journey into warmer climes) and every cool damp spring/summer hits butterfly numbers hard. But what has hit them hardest over the postwar decades has been man-made environmental change that has nothing to do with carbon emissions. Intensive arable farming with attendant wholesale loss of habitat, the 'improvement' of grassland and the draining of marshes and fens have had a catastrophic impact on many species. Conversely, the relaxation (to put it politely) of woodland management and the withdrawal of grazing animals from downlands have hammered many other species. The efforts of Butterfly Conservation and others to reverse these environmental changes have often had spectacular local effects - but our butterflies still need a good run of warm, dry weather from spring well into summer if they're to prosper. And that we haven't had in years - climate change or no climate change.
A Strange Piece of Synchronicity
It was grey, cool and overcast this morning - anything but butterfly weather - and yet, as I stepped out of my front door, I brushed against the ivy-grown fence and inadvertently flushed a roosting Holly Blue, which fluttered off sleepily down the garden path. This was a strange piece of synchronicity, as I'd just been listening on the Today programme to a rather stilted chat about butterflies between the great David Attenborough and 'Jim' Naughtie, who at one point asked Sir David, What are those little blue ones I see flying around? Are they moths? No no, Attenborough assured him - not moths. Common Blues... Hmm. More likely Holly Blues surely, in a North London garden at this time of year? There was also a lot of loose talk about 'cabbage whites' and the still more mythical 'common white' - but never mind; this was all in a good cause, publicising Butterfly Conservation's Big Butterfly Count, which begins on Saturday. I might be returning to this later...
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
Philosophy And Me
As I've often remarked to Mrs Nige - who does like it and finds it very interesting - I don't really like philosophy or find it very interesting. This is largely because I'm not up to it - it's too hard for my broad-brush gadabout mind to get to grips with. In this field, titanic intellectual exertions on my part tend to yield little if any reward, and I'm quite happy to maintain my dogmatic slumber. Nice pithy aphorisms I can enjoy, even understand - and with the likes of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, I can cling on long enough to enjoy the ride - but real, solid philosophy, the close questioning of reality, that's too much for me. It would take me too long to understand - in the unlikely event I ever did - and really I'd sooner be spending the precious time reading a good book or listening to music - or even, as a last resort, living (if, that is, I exist). My philosophical limitations were brought home to me just now when I stumbled on this. Anyone out there got any idea what it's about?
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