Archive for the ‘travels’ Category

Coincidences No.s 435 & 436

No. 435 Shrouded in mystery

Turin Shroud Face

I am on the Eurostar to Paris sitting next to a group of men travelling together who turn out to be tax inspectors (I get talking to them through the bloke next to me reading Dante’s Divine Comedy). They are off to Italy, to Florence, via Turin where they are due to overnight this evening. I ask them if they will have time to see the Turin Shroud.

I am in the Sacre Coeur this same evening. I stop to light a candle in one of the side chapels. On the wall for some reason is an image of the Turin Shroud.

No. 436 Chicago

360-chicago-observation

I am on the phone on the street in Passy, Paris 16e, greenlighting the latest Real Stories Original, a documentary set in Chicago.

I come off the phone and glance across the road – there’s a vintage clothing store called Chicago.

 

Advertisements

Art Deco Sussex

Bexhill-on-Sea to Brighton, east to west 23.vii.18

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - interior staircase

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - exterior seaside

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - exterior staircase

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - interior staircase

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - interior staircase

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - exterior artist painter

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - exterior staircase landside

Staircase, landside

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - interior staircase landside

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - exterior

De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex - exterior staircase

58 South Cliff, Bexhill

58 South Cliff, Bexhill

58 South Cliff, Bexhill

58 South Cliff, Bexhill

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex art deco house

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex art deco house

from the beach

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex art deco house

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex art deco house

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex art deco house

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex art deco house

The Sandcastle, Pevensey, East Sussex art deco house

Embassy Court Brighton flats apartments

Embassy Court, Brighton

 

Triangulating History

22.vii.18

The river ouse at rodmell sussex virgina woolf

This I reckon is the spot (River Ouse, Rodmell)

I went to visit Monk’s House, Virginia & Leonard Woolf’s cottage in the quiet East Sussex village of Rodmell. I was here years ago with Una and it left an impression, I was happy to return. Because I arrived before opening time (the cottage is now looked after by the National Trust) I sat reading for an hour in the nearby local churchyard, St Peter’s. At noon I had a look around the gardens with its view of the South Downs and then had a look around Virginia’s bedroom, with its monk-like single bed and set of Shakespeare beautifully bound by her, and a wander through the ground floor rooms of the cottage, with paintings by Leonard’s shared woman (post-Virginia), Trekkie Parsons, who split her week between Leonard and her husband at the marital home nearby. All par for the Bloomsbury course.

st peters church rodmell east sussex

St Peter’s churchyard, Rodmell

Of course Bloomsbury is rich in colourful tales, none less fascinating than the one the National Trust volunteer at the entrance to the cottage reminded me of, the way she eventually killed herself by walking from the cottage to the river Ouse, just beyond Monk’s House’s grounds, put stones in her pockets and walked in, drowning in what a local told me is a river with strong tidal currents. Not that day – in the midst of a heatwave there was barely enough water to immerse yourself in, the level less than half-way to the line marked by green vestiges of the high water mark.

IMG_4340 garden of monks house rodmell virginia woolf

Leonard & Virginia’s beloved garden, Monk’s House, Rodmell – St Peter’s in the background

I decided to go find the spot, mainly because I wanted to walk by the river which I really love, rather than for ghoulish motivations. That no-one seemed to know where the actual spot was was more of a prompt.

view from St Peters church rodmell sussex

view from Rodmell (St Peter’s churchyard)

I’ve done this kind of triangulation of history before. Two memorable ones include figuring out where Patrick Pearse read the Proclamation of Irish Independence in 1916 and standing there exactly 100 years to the minute after that momentous event. And working out where Tony Visconti and his lover kissed by the Berlin Wall, a moment immortalised in David Bowie’s Heroes. In the latter case, my estimation was subsequently confirmed as correct.

thistles at southease east sussex by river ouse

The start of the river path at Southease

For this one I went down to Southease, the adjacent hamlet, and walked down to the river under the blazing summer sun. I walked along the raised embankment back in the direction of Rodmell. By using the spire of St Peter’s I was able to align myself with the garden of Monk’s House and there is only one natural path to that spot along the edge of a field which must have been pretty much adjoining the Woolf’s land. On the basis that Virginia would have wanted to just get to the river and do the deed the place where she walked into the river is the spot shown in the first picture above.

A very resonant and tragic act in a very beautiful and peaceful place.

river ouse at rodmell sussex southease

Simple Pleasures from Inverness

zoe graham glasgow singer

Zoe Graham

Two rabbits by the botanic gardens. Sunset from Inverness Castle (reading Forever and a Day). Watching the City of Inverness Pipe Band practising – the stirring sound of the bagpipes. Walking along the River Ness to the Ness Islands – siesta on the bank near where the anglers hang out. Two herons. The calling of seagulls. Watching the coloured lights on the bridge with Josh R. Highland gin & tonic. Leakie’s bookshop (in an old church) – finding a 1950s hardback copy of The 39 Steps. Watching bees in the botanic garden. Eating local mussels with lemongrass and chilli. The sound of the fast-flowing river. A snooze to Kind of Blue. A cheese platter. Watching the last ep of 13 Reasons Why. Doing a good job of a careers talk at Xpo North (with a ceramicist and a writer). Catching a bit of Zoe Graham playing her solo looped music. Doing a great panel on 21st Century Storytelling with Michael, Nick, other Nick and Paul. Paul’s classic Scottish lunch – a chocolate eclair and a can of Coke. Michael’s speaking style. Schadenfreude of Germany getting knocked out the World Cup. A pint of lime and sparkling Highland water after a long riverside walk.

Inverness

On the trail of Egon Schiele

I first heard of the Austrian artist Egon Schiele in a radio interview with David Bowie when I was at school. At university I got a travel scholarship to do some research on him in Austria. I stayed a short train ride outside of Vienna (Payerbach-Reichenau) and, beside going into the city, I travelled out to Neulengbach (under an hour from the city centre) to where Schiele lived and had his studio at one of the most productive times of his life. When I went there that time (1984) there was no sign of Schiele in the town. When I went to ask the way to his studio I was told people didn’t talk about him.

Last summer I was working at ORF in Vienna and took the opportunity to revisit Neulengbach and various other Schiele-related places. In the intervening 33 years much has changed. Schiele has a strong presence in Neulengbach and in his nearby birthplace, Tulln, and is widely celebrated. There are posters across Vienna and galleries of various sizes.

In my eyes he’s one of the great artists of the 20th century and since this year is the centenary of his early death (at the age of just 28 from the Spanish flu epidemic in the wake of the Great War) I’m publishing this photo-post to mark the occasion. The day of his death was 31st October 1918 (his birth was 12th June, the same day as my other half).

egon schiele weg tulln austria

On the trail of Schiele in Tulln, Austria

egon schiele's birthplace - the station at Tulln, Austria

Schiele’s birthplace – upstairs in the station at Tulln

Schiele's birthplace - upstairs in the station at Tulln

The artist whose name dare not be spoken three decades ago is now celebrated and signed

Schiele's birthplace - plaque in the station at Tulln

The plaque at his birthplace

Schiele's birthplace - the station at Tulln

The station where his father was station master (before he set fire to it in his madness)

Schiele's school - Tulln, Austria

Schiele’s school, Tulln

egon schiele tulln austria

A presence in the streets of Tulln

gates of the egon schiele museum tulln austria

The Egon Schiele Museum – Tulln. Opened on the centenary of his birth (12th June 1990).

The Egon Schiele Museum - Tulln

The museum is housed in what was formerly the gaol. Schiele was imprisoned here in 1912.

statue of Egon Schiele outside the Egon Schiele Museum Tulln Austria

Statue of Schiele outside the Egon Schiele Museum, overlooking the Danube

advertisement poster for leopold museum schiele klimt august 2017

Schiele’s presence around Vienna – advertising the Leopold Museum

the atrium of the leopold museum vienna

The atrium of the Leopold Museum, Vienna – opened 2001

Leopold Museum, Vienna

Leopold Museum, Vienna – the world’s largest collection of Schiele’s paintings and drawings

atrium Leopold Museum, Vienna egon schiele

Leopold Museum, Vienna egon schiele poster

egon schiele sign neulengbach austria

Neulengbach where Schiele lived with his girlfriend/model Wally

egon schiele bust neulengbach austria 2016

Bust of Schiele in the centre of Neulengbach – erected in 2016

egon schiele platz neulengbach austria

Once invisible, he even has his own Platz now

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

The courthouse in Neulengbach where Schiele was confined and sentenced

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

The courthouse now contains a small museum

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

The orange on the cell bed (brought by Wally to paint and eat)

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

Orange on cell bed

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

gaol guitar door

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

Schiele’s cell

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

I had a moment in here – the whole place was empty

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

Death mask in a cell

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

Schiele in cell (he’s on a plastic bag)

courthouse neulengbach austria bezirksgericht egon schiele

egon schiele strasse neulengbach austria

He’s now got a Place and a Street

egon schiele strasse neulengbach austria

on the way to his studio

egon schiele neuzilgasse neulengbach austria

And Wally’s even got her own lane

egon schiele neulengbach austria Schiele's road - Au

Schiele’s road – Au

egon schiele neulengbach austria Schiele's road - Au

A neighbouring house of the same period

egon schiele neulengbach austria Schiele's road - Au

Site of Schiele’s house & studio – it was torn down in the 60s(?)

egon schiele neulengbach austria Schiele's road - Au

Schiele & Wally’s place (photographed 1963)

egon schiele neulengbach austria Schiele's road - Au

Schiele’s house/studio

egon schiele neulengbach austria Schiele's road - Au

Captured for posterity by art historian Alessandra Comini

IMG_1956 egon schiele neulengbach austria prison museum

After the cell experience, Schiele left Neulengbach

egon schiele studio Hietzing, 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

In 1912 he moved to a studio in suburban Vienna (Hietzing) at 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

egon schiele studio Hietzing, 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

I happened to be staying in Hietzing by chance on this visit – beschert

egon schiele studio Hietzing, 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

Schiele’s studio is on the top floor

egon schiele studio Hietzing, 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

egon schiele studio Hietzing, 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

egon schiele studio Hietzing, 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

Treading in the great man’s footsteps

egon schiele studio Hietzing, 101 Hietzinger Hauptstraße

He spotted his future wife (Edith) in the building opposite where she lived with her parents and sister

egon schiele Hietzing, Hietzinger Hauptstraße edith harms

The Harms’ apartment – 114 Hietzinger Hauptstraße, Vienna

egon schiele Hietzing, 114 Hietzinger Hauptstraße edith harms

Both Edith and Egon died in this building in 1918

egon schiele Hietzing, 114 Hietzinger Hauptstraße edith harms

Edith & Adele’s view of Egon’s place

Egon Schiele letter to Edith and Adele Harms 1914

A letter from Egon to sisters Edith and Adele Harms 1914

egon schiele Hietzing, 114 Hietzinger Hauptstraße edith harms

Klimt's grave Hietzing Josef Hoffmann: Grave of Gustav Klimt, Vienna Cemetery Hietzing, Vienna, Group 5, Grave # 194

Schiele’s mentor, Gustav Klimt, is buried nearby in Hietzing Cemetery

Klimt's grave Hietzing Josef Hoffmann: Grave of Gustav Klimt, Vienna Cemetery Hietzing, Vienna, Group 5, Grave # 194

Headstone designed by Josef Hoffmann – Cemetery Hietzing, Vienna, Group 5, Grave #194

Klimt's The Kiss in Schloss Belvedere, Vienna

Klimt’s The Kiss in Schloss Belvedere, Vienna

Klimt's The Kiss in Schloss Belvedere, Vienna

Truly magical

 

The Fetishisation of Storytelling

I’ve noticed the increasing fetishisation of the terms ‘storytelling’ and ‘stories’ in the last couple of years, especially in commercial media. Everyone’s a storyteller now, even if your ‘story’ is about baked beans. Many indie producers’ websites single out skill in storytelling as their USP. When I see the word “storytelling” now I view it with scepticism and take a moment to assess if what’s being said is meaningful or fashionable hype.

This morning on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme the Thought for The Day was about the need to rehabilitate the children of Isis extremists by introducing them to new stories. They have lost their innocence to one perverted story.

On a brighter note, today was a good day for being reminded the rich weave of stories that thread through daily life. My day began chatting to a taxi driver cum news cameraman, half-Korean half-Russian, born in the bit of Russia nearest Alaska; grew up in Tashkent, Uzbekistan; studied in St Petersburg; moved to Helsinki sixteen years ago. It ended chatting to a roast chestnut seller from Innsbruck. I’ve spent a total of €12 in a week in Helsinki – on two bags of chestnuts.

Between these bookends I received this text exchange – ‘Osama Loves’ is a multiplatform documentary project I commissioned a few years ago at Channel 4, some months before the Big Bad O, ObL, got terminated.

text exchange about osama loves

Great story…

 

channel 4 osama loves website screenshot detail

detail from ‘Osama Loves’ website

Cycle of Life

Anglia Television TV Norwich

Norwich

I heard one of those stories the day before yesterday that makes you despair of mankind. I was in Norwich to deliver a lecture on online video at NUA (Norwich University of the Arts). Actor John Hurt served proudly as its first Chancellor until his sad passing at the beginning of the year. The course leader (Film & Moving Image Production) who lead me through the charming city was telling me about the new yellow bikes that have appeared in the city recently as one crossed our path outside the lecture hall building. It is a city scheme which the students are testing out enthusiastically. He told me a new bank of bikes had appeared outside his house the day before. But when he came down that morning they were gone. He found them soon submerged in the river, chucked over the wall. Why would anyone do that?

As it happens, I’m working on a documentary about cycling, cyclists & bikes at Little Dot Studios which includes the story of a university cycle scheme. With a bit of luck the tapestry of stories will be nearer the uplifting end of the scale.

I’m writing this at Venue No.2 of the Aesthetica Short Film Festival in York (a multistorey bar), killing time before Evensong at York Minster. I went yesterday afternoon too – it’s pretty uplifting even if religion is not particularly your bag.

I served on the jury of this year’s festival, judging the Documentary category among others. I’m just out of one of the Docs screenings which concluded with a short entitled Dial-a-Ride about a minibus service for the elderly and remote of Brecon. It was the other side of the human coin, propelled by a caring driver who appreciated the rich mix of stories of his mainly elderly passengers.

And so the wheels of life turn…

York Minster cathedral

York Minster

Coincidence No. 403 – Flamingo Club

17/5/17 Parque natural de las Lagunas de La Mata y Torrevieja, Spain

My Other Half & I were watching flamingoes from a hide. They were white apart from under their wings which had the intense pink we know and love.

17/5/17 La Mata village, Costa Blanca, Spain

I was reading outside a cafe after our walk in the nature reserve. The book was Evelyn Waugh’s novella ‘The Loved One’. I came across this sentence (on p.78), not the most likely of sentences:

Now was the time to watch the flamingoes and meditate…

natural-park-of-las-lagunas-de-la-mata-torrevieja

Story Snippet No. 400 – walking backwards

We are sitting as a family at a spontaneous lunch outside of Amici on the high street (East Finchley). A man walks by. Backwards.

At first we all worry about collisions and him hurting himself, walking into a pole or tripping on an obstacle. We watch him cross at the traffic lights. People turn to watch him wherever he goes.

We are talking about mental health. Enfant Terrible No. 2 wonders if the fella gets a physical kick out of it like the elderly man in the short film Slo-Mo. This backwards walker is getting on in years. We all already know the compulsive runner with a backpack who used to run along this same high street, though has been spotted much less in recent times. And I’ve shown the family one of my favourite shorts, The Edgware Walker by Lee Kern, about another compulsive runner in my childhood high street.

He walks back past us backwards, disappearing down the hill, still turning heads.

 

Amici East Finchley

Update 18/5/17 Torrevieja, Spain:

From the balcony of the fourth floor apartment where we were staying I was watching the world going by first thing in the morning. Two Spanish schoolgirls were walking to school together. The one behind, dressed in red and yellow (the Spanish colours), was walking backwards, watching herself reflected in the windows of empty shop units, taking pleasure in reversing the norm.

Three Days a Week

 

Eight Days A Week

Eight Days a Week

Day 2: Liverpool

29701126075_f4078330e3_o

So I’m sitting in front of Liverpool Town Hall in the Indian summer afternoon sunshine. I’m discussing a documentary with a Scouse film-maker, the protagonist of the film and the cameraman. We’ve just arrived, the beers have just landed and out of the open balcony door of the Town Hall tumble the strains of Let It Be. Then more Beatles. Then a female singer doing covers of their songs. I couldn’t have scripted or timed it any better. My fantasy Liverpool afternoon. After the meeting I trotted down the street to the Odeon for the world premiere of the Beatles documentary, Eight Days A Week, put together by Ron Howard. The red (actually blue) carpet shenanigans were broadcast live from Leicester Square to this and other cinemas around the country and beyond, including the arrival of Paul and Ringo. Where better to watch it than in Beatlesville. The moment and song that punched out was when John composed Help. It stood out as the point when their song-writing went up a gear or three.

img_6980

Day 1: Sheffield

29568234632_74c5c34303_o

Spent the day working with an indie producer in Sheffield – which was fun. After we wrapped for the afternoon, I headed into the city centre from the atmospheric, leafy burbs. In the golden early evening sunlight surveyed the city’s excellent array of street art, not least the excellent work of Rocket01.

29644557516_95411143f8_o

After a fine Mexican beano, hung out chatting in the Peace Gardens with their monumental fountain portals and all-round perfect mix of water, stone and grass. I’m usually in the city for DocFest in the summer so it was good to see it under other circumstances. It has some of the finest regeneration in the country, with a brilliant passage from the station up to the Peace Gardens. The blade sculpture bordering the station with a thin layer of water flowing over the gigantic knife-edge of shining steel. The tower of the university bearing a poem by Andrew Motion about standing looking at the tower of the university. The art deco Showroom cinema. The art deco Library and (Graves) Gallery. The wooden ribs and hothouse glass of the Winter Gardens. The Victorian Town Hall, sheltering the Peace Gardens.

img_6964

Day 2: Sheffield

SAG52936

Edith Sitwell by Roger Fry

Began the day at a working breakfast with a Sheffield-based film producer who is a very nice guy. Then a quick visit to the Graves Gallery to look at the hidden treasure that is their permanent collection. Catching my eye this time: Christ Carrying the Cross attributed to Luis de Morales (late C16), a prematurely aged, weary Jesus, right beside a striking painting of a man holding a skull, a dark momento mori where the difference between the head and skull is marginal; The Hours by Burne-Jones, six ladies representing the sweep of the day, their dress ranging from dawn blue to late afternoon russet and back to night-time blue-black; a Paul Nash landscape, an Auerbach cityscape of Mornington Crescent; Sam Taylor-Wood suspended from the ceiling (flashback to young John Lennon); a portrait of Edith Sitwell and her languorous hands – one of the best galleries in the land.

Then the train to Liverpool across the Peak valleys bathed in Indian summer gold.

Day 3: Sheffield

Rain after the early hours thunder, making the work at Roco (a new creative co-operative space) all the cosier. A good creative session, inducing headache in the journey to a possible break-through, wrestling with knotty problems between cups of tea. A burst of sun as we left to mark the conclusion in grand style.

29096522223_32bbe1cc89_o

“So we sailed on to the sun”

The Beatles – Yellow Submarine

 

 

%d bloggers like this: