I reckon it was about 18 years ago when it suddenly dawned on me that although I'd always been interested in science (specifically physics) and technology, that the one aspect of my life which I'd never allowed to grow, or to even acknowledge was a love of Art. Not ll art of course, you can shove any form of dance up your pert backsides, alongside modern jazz....come to think of it....you can include most old jazz from what I've heard. Near enough everything else in terms of art now warms my soul. I wondered if it was something that I'd hidden subconsciously but now I veer towards thinking I never knew it existed within me.
So why write about this? Well.....it's my blog, so I'll do what I want, selfish bastard that I am.
I've reached an age where I'm beginning to think I've heard all the great music there is to hear. If I find a track or album I want to listen to then it's by accident, or by the fact my musical taste is snobbishly locked to knowing what I like and who makes the stuff I like. Like Manic Street Preachers for example. I always liked them from a distance and then in 2015 I was wandering around Spotify and decided to give an album called Rewind The Film a listen. Did it win me over immediately? No, the best albums never do and in a lot of cases the best art in terms of paintings or sculptures rarely do. But after a play or 3 it hooked me and this then led to finding Futurology, an album they released around the same time. That in turn led me to rediscover a back catalog I hadn't dusted off in a few years. That in turn made my mind up to go to my first festival and see them live. That in turn has made me want to go to more festivals and be myself, because aside from Stamford Bridge, the festival was the first time the corporate me, the stoic patriarch of my family, the man trying his hardest to be alpha male disappeared.
The mask fell away.
For the first time in years I was cheering not because of a great goal or win, but because I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the atmosphere and the tidal wave of .....well....happiness of the day but also of the atmosphere and the fantastic performances of the artists, even from music genre's that I wasn't really into.
I digress....the best music takes work and effort to get into. the same applies to any art form in my view (again, except bloody dance in my case). It doesn't' blow you away (often) but it does have a powerful hook, sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious. And that hook has some strong elastic attached deep into your soul. And that elastic pulls you back to listen, look or touch again. You been deeply harpooned and the more you try to get away, the more embedded the harpoon becomes. It's like falling in love. Just 19 years ago, the Jackson Pollock above would have had me describing it as a hyperactive 5 year old with some paint who's gone mad. But look again...it has a symmetry and a pattern to it. It's indecipherable and that's why I take great pleasure in looking at it. It's as though subconsciously my mind thinks it will crack the puzzle of meaning even though that's impossible.
The mask fell away.
For the first time in years I was cheering not because of a great goal or win, but because I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the atmosphere and the tidal wave of .....well....happiness of the day but also of the atmosphere and the fantastic performances of the artists, even from music genre's that I wasn't really into.
I digress....the best music takes work and effort to get into. the same applies to any art form in my view (again, except bloody dance in my case). It doesn't' blow you away (often) but it does have a powerful hook, sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious. And that hook has some strong elastic attached deep into your soul. And that elastic pulls you back to listen, look or touch again. You been deeply harpooned and the more you try to get away, the more embedded the harpoon becomes. It's like falling in love. Just 19 years ago, the Jackson Pollock above would have had me describing it as a hyperactive 5 year old with some paint who's gone mad. But look again...it has a symmetry and a pattern to it. It's indecipherable and that's why I take great pleasure in looking at it. It's as though subconsciously my mind thinks it will crack the puzzle of meaning even though that's impossible.
Like great music and lyrics, great films, TV, plays and other paintings and statues (yes them too) , each is open to the viewer's eye and interpretation, even if the artist is explicit in their description of the piece. Yeah, whatever you say Artist...I'll be the judge of that thanks. As many of you will know I love to be at Stamford Bridge watching my beloved Chelsea, but the surprise is I could spend the same time equally enthralled at the Tate Modern, the Louvre or the Guggenheim. So, Jack, at the ripe old age of ...ahem.....50young.....feels more rounded because of my love for science, for great technology, great design and great art. Just look at the picture below of Michelangelo's Pieta in Rome and its hard to believe it's just a piece of stone.
And so to mention TV. Yes, it is art. Whatever the snobs and toffs and art critics might say. TV has amongst some true dross, produced moments of sheer greatness and made them available to the masses cheaply even if they didn't appreciate it. Just recently my own TV tastes have been sated by one great crime drama which forces the viewer to think and then twists and turns the viewer to a point where you are unsure what is wrong, what is right, who is good and who is bad and at times does all of this within one episode. Take a bow Line of Duty .
Then follow that with two of the greatest anthology genre series you will ever see. The dystopian brilliance of Charlie Brooker and his wonderful Black Mirror which looks into the not too distant future and extrapolates where we are going , often resulting in a bleak, sad, poignant, violent, funny and very rarely an upbeat vision. Even the episodes which are 'clunkers' will still make you think and surprise you. But 15 Million Merits, White Bear, White Christmas, San Junipero and Hated In the Nation from across all 3 series to date are watchable again and again.
And finally, a little lauded treasure from the team who made The League Of Gentlemen and Psychoville, called Inside No9 . This absolute gem , which has just finished series 3, tells a different 30 minute story each week, each relating to the number 9 and each revealing something twisted and unexpected. Yes, a modern day Thriller (one for the teenagers there) or Tales of The Unexpected. Again, even the less good ones of this series are still very good, each beautifully written, shot and performed. And one episode in particular, with no spoiler link , called 12 Days Of Christine, with the world class Sheridan Smith in the lead role is one of the greatest pieces of television ever made, now or in any other era you can think of.
We live in strange times, the right is growing, intolerance pervades our everyday lives and people feel more isolated, threatened and insecure than ever before. Great art, in whatever shape or form has never in my lifetime been more important than now.
Later Mugs, GJ
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