BBC Radio and BBC Sounds to bring festive joy, magical stories and musical treats for audiences this Christmas:
"This Christmas BBC Radio and BBC Sounds will delight listeners with a line up full of festive joy, magical stories and musical treats."
TV As you have seen (possibly above), the newest Doctor Who companion was announced during tonight's Children in Need and here she is in the first joint photo with Ncuti as tweeted out by the Disney+ Twitter account because everything is weird now:
Usually I would have just embedded that tweet but like I said everything is weird now and its worth keeping for posterity, just in case the unthinkable actually does happen. Space Karen.This year's Review 2022 is going to be a bit different in that it's going to span the past hundred years and continue well into the next twelve months. It will be is a celebration of the BBC but with a twist. The corporation itself has been doing a pretty good job of highlighting its own history through the BBC 100 website and its connected history website so there's little point in replicating that.
Instead, I'm going to be look at that history mostly through the prism of other organisations, specifically their digital archives and libraries, news agencies and universities and linking to their video, audio and documents. It'll be clearer once you see tomorrow's first post which contains links to footage from Pathe News of Marconi testing radio equipment, articles about these origins and photos of the original transmitter.
This will not necessarily be everything. One or two of the UK film archives have hundreds of news clips from local BBC regional news programmes and I'll exercise some editorial control, only including material which helps to tell the story of the BBC. Similarly some of the digitisations of deposits in university archives are thorough enough to include random envelopes with a date scrawled on them which I'm not sure is even useful to a George Orwell historian.
As the "mostly" at the top of the third paragraph suggests, some BBC sources will be sewn into the fabric of these posts, but only from the more obscure parts of the corporations website, the "clips" section of programme pages and BBC Sounds, the material which the BBC rarely highlights itself but which reflects on its own history or representing the types of programmes being made at that time. There are some real gems hidden far below the surface.
Anyway, now the groundwork is laid, I hope you enjoy what's to come. It's going to be a big, addictive and fascinating effort for me and hopefully interesting for you too. At least it'll give me something to do in the evenings for a while. But I'm also genuinely interested to see if I unearth anything the BBC itself doesn't have in its archive. There's a piece of radio in particular which is old enough and obscure enough that I'm not sure. But you won't be seeing that for a couple of months yet.
TV Let's be honest in the middle of everything which happened in the thirteenth Doctor's final episode (for now!) the last thing I expected to see a (squint if you like) reference to Big Finish's equally bonkers 40th anniversary celebration Zagreus. If you remember in that story, Eighth had been possessed by an anti-time creature and as part of a dreamscape (or some such) three of his earlier incarnations rocked up to warn that (and I'm quoting from the TARDIS wiki) "Rassilon is manipulating him as a weapon against the creatures of the Divergent universe, as the creatures of the Divergent Universe would have evolved to surpass the Time Lords before Rassilon locked them away." The Wilderness Years were a weird time.
Similarly in The Power of the Doctor, we find another council of the Doctors cropping up at a moment when the Time Lord's future is in doubt and amongst them is the Eighth Doctor, and reader, I did gasp, I did squee. You see, despite everything, all the books, comics and audios, he's still the chronological version with the shortest televisual screen time so when he does turn up, when McGann dons the costume - his Time War threads in this case - it feels like a confirmation for all of the creatives who filled those so-called Wilderness Years that what they did matters beyond the freelance payment. That even though none of those adventures were on a BBC One during a weekend evening, they still matter too.
Chibbers manages to bring over some of the Big Finish bantz too. Of course, eighth "doesn't do robes" because he's a manifestation of his consciousness and he can wear what he likes. He also still looks incredible for all his 62 years, which judging by my own father who's 80 but looks at least fifteen years younger, must have something to do with the fresh breeze off the Mersey. You can bet if David Tennant hadn't been available, McGann could have quite easily sustained the three episodes coming next November (thirteen months away because of course it is) possibly with Nicola Walker sharing the TARDIS. But let's be honest, we don't know what shenanigans are coming for the 60th. That might still happen.
Perhaps the most interesting philosophical question about this is where this appearance fits in this blog's checklist. Is this the true Eighth, swimming about in the Doctor's consciousness, like all of the past incarnations, offering help on a subconscious basis, unlike the previous incarnations of the numerically challenging renegade Time Lord usually heard as The Eleven? Or did we just see some of the faces of what I've always thought of as the core Doctor, the internal being that like the Trill in Star Trek contain the centuries of memories and experiences which are then hosted by the faces who wander about liking bowties and custard creams and so is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike the Eighth Doctor?
Placement: I'm going with the latter. If for some mad reason you decided to watch/read/read again and listen to the checklist in that order, Time of the Doctor feels like the proper end point. It'd be a bit weird to then sit through The Power of the Doctor just in case.
TV Here we are then, the first teaser or final trailer for The Power of the Doctor, the 13th Doctor Jodie Whittaker's swan song. It's bitter sweet. Such a good incarnation, such a dodgy showrunner. Chris meant well but never quite managed to decided what he wanted to do with it. It happens and as is always the case with Doctor Who, I'd say in the end there were probably the usual selection of great, average and rubbish episodes, from an, ahem, certain point of view. I look forward to watching them again soon.
Typically for Chibbers, this looks like a throw everything at the screen and hope something sticks affair. It's certainly more action orientated than some recent regeneration stories continuing Flux's style of multiple characters in various locations, stuff happening all over the place. Unlike Flux, I hope that the focus is squarely on the Doctor (unlike a lot of the previous three seasons when that hasn't always been the case) and that it wraps up whatever her story arc has been for the past three seasons.
Then, a few months after that, we're well into the show's 60th anniversary year even though the magnificent 50th was only ab0ut six months ago or something. Back then, I did the j-word and watched the whole of the series in order. This time, I'm going to spend as much of the year as I can catching up on all the spin-off stuff I haven't gotten to yet, the many hundreds of Big Finish I've bought and put to one side, all of those charity shop novels, work my way through the annuals, as well as rewatch everything since The Day of the Doctor which was the end goal last time.
Audio Released this week, Andrew Lane's The Code of Flesh is a sequel to his The Scent of Blood from last year. Reporter James MacFarlane from the previous story is in 1890s Cardiff investigating "anaesthesia frolics" in which a doctor demonstrates the use of ethers on invited guests, some of whom disappear shortly afterwards. The Doctor's also on the case (which is presumably why Torchwood's steering well clear) and hijinks similar to the previous audio ensue. It's fine. It's more of an atmospheric piece than the previous story with a conclusion which requires a fair amount of lamp-shading in the dialogue by way of justification, although it does have an interesting way of tying into the Time War. It feels like less of a novelty than the previous story, although Dan Starkey's equally impeccable reading keeps it listenable.
Placement: Somewhere at the start of the Time War.
Secrets of the Museum is a behind the scenes documentary series about the conservation work at the Victoria and Albert Museum, a sort of institutional version of The Repair Shop. In one episode, the fifth in series one, we're given an extensive look at this First Folio as Jane Rutherston, Principal Book Conservator is shown doing paper repairs to thirteen tears on various pages and part of the spine which has broken due to having been out on display on the same page for too long.
During the introductory passage, RSC stalwart Alexandra Gilbraith is invited in to chat about the book and provide some context for viewers ("Am I allowed to touch it?" "You are allowed to touch it."). Rutherston suggests that single plays, the Quartos, were printed for the actor's use, which isn't confirmed, especially since a lot of them were pirated version to give rival companies access to the plays.
The book's pretty identifiable from the folio survey book which describes the binding of "brown goatskin with blind fillets as a double framed border with double ‘V’ at the bands. It is slightly scuffed. In the programme we see a glimpse of the spine which has "six bands" and "‘shakespeare,’ is gold- tooled in the second panel and ‘london,| 1623,’ appears in the third panel. There is no other decoration."
This binding was apparently from the time of the first identified owner, Reverand Alexander Dyce, Anglican Minister and editor of Early Modern Plays, with two different editions published in his lifetime (his work can be seen at the internet archive). He bequeathed the book to the V&A on his death in 1869, along with his collection of 15,000 items which included books, paintings. prints, rings and art objects.
Late, the conservator is seen repairing the volume, indeed fixing many of the problems itemised in The Shakespeare First Folios book. A small dab of wheat starch paste is applied to the spine to bring the worst break back together and fibres from the inner bark of the mulberry tree are glued to the tears. It's a very satisfying watch.
TV Oh, hi Mark. It's always good to have a familiar face at the start of something like this and here's the maître d' of the macabre, the star of the Web of Caves, Mark Gatiss, to introduce us to the programme and the theme of the exhibition, the interrelatedness of Doctor Who and real world science. He has a difficult job, though, being upstaged by the replica of the first Doctor's TARDIS console first seen in his drama An Adventure in Space and Time and most recently in the Fugitive Doctor's time capsule, with its retro controls and letraset labelling. But the overall feeling in this opening room is, you're amongst friends.
Finally. Back in May when WoW opened, tickets were at a premium, with slots only available days in advance. Knowing that the exhibition would be open until just after Guy Fawkes Night, I relaxed and decided to wait until the school holidays were over when the space would hopefully be a bit quieter and the day and time would be in my hands. Then, having studiously avoided spoilers so well, I forgot that it existed and having been reminded by someone passing though on the socials, quickly ordered a ticket for a slot this morning. Between this, the Sugababes concert and the Tudors exhibition, Liverpool has been having its own feeling listless cultural festival.
Which is why I feel a bit obligated to write about the experience. Did it live up to expectations? Yes. What were those expectations? Well, having read the publicity, I knew this wasn't going to have as extensive a display as Llangollen, Blackpool or the Doctor Who Experience (which seemed very impressive based on the shots in The Five(ish) Doctors) mostly because of the tension that Mark suggests in his opening statement is in the DNA of the franchise, between giving the kids what they really want to see, the bug eyed monsters, and the educational aspects buzzing away in the background. Come for the Daleks, stay to discover how electromagnetism works.
So the element that most Doctor Who fans will be here for, the props and costumes are mostly collected around a series of scientific themes, although they're usually broad enough to allow for a fair amount of license. "Welcome To The Lab" features such things as the Emojibots from Smile, the Kerblam Man from Kerblam and in honestly the creepiest exhibit of the whole show, the prosthetic heads of Matt Lucas and Greg Davies from The Husbands of River Song with their follicle perfect recreations of their faces. On pikes. There are a lot of heads in pikes throughout the displays. Poor Madame Vastra. Yikes.
Does this synergy work? For the most part. Each of the labels tries to find some scientific connection with the real world. The K1 robot (taller than I expected) offers a short explanation as to its original purpose, then says: "Four decades on from this story’s first broadcast, robots built for difficult and hazardous industrial tasks are in operation all around the world. Luckily, so far none of them have killed their creators, gone on a rampage and grown to an enormous size." The text is clearly written by fans of the show who're also steeped in science and they get the slightly irreverent tone just right.
Interspersed with the exhibits are screens in which experts explain the science behind some elements at I'd say about a BBC Four level of complexity (from about five years ago before they began repeating old BBC One programmes from about five years ago). Professor Clifford (no, not that one) discusses how time travel might work and the TARDIS can be smaller on the outside. There's an excellent and quite lengthy discussion with Kevin Fong about the resilience of humans and how micro-organisms help to keep us alive but also how vulnerable we are, even on our own planet.
And of the things which, lets be honest, most of us would be going for? I'm very aware that most of you have already seen this but spoilers, I guess. The majority of the costumes and props are from about the past ten years, so that's the Capaldi and Whittaker eras and often some of my very least favourite stories, the Skovox Blitzer, the Teller, the Wheezy, Clara's space suit from Kill The Moon (which is tiny!). But its impressive to see how well the creatures have been fabricated in a way which gives them the best appearance on television, which is especially true of the imposing Fisher Kind from Before The Flood who you can have loom over you at one point.
Perhaps its because I'm of an increasingly certain age, that it's the smaller props which are the biggest draw. In the opening room there's a display cabinet containing what looks like all of the Doctor's sonic screwdrivers from the second Time Lord onwards, including Eighth's from the TV movie (his only prop in the whole show), along with Missy's sonic umbrella and River's sonic trowel. They also have Mike Tucker's re-creations of the ships from Shada created for the 2017 reconstruction, Skagra's spacecraft, the Think Tank space station ad The Nosferatu. Absolutely beautiful.
If something did nag away at the back of my mind, it's which props were originals and which were recreations. Much of the time, the labels contain the words "screen-used" which adds authenticity, but part of me wishes that like an art exhibition, all of the items had some provenance. Which Dalek is this? What were the circumstances of its creation? Was this K-9 produced for an earlier exhibition or did it feature on The Sarah Jane Adventures? Is that really the prop Paul McGann held in 1996 or some made since for a different project? I know most people don't care about this stuff, it's all just photo ops, but ..
At the price of an old classic series DVD release on play.com, did I get my money's worth? Probably? I guess? There's a lot of empty space in the exhibition so that it can be spread through the horse-shoe display gallery in the museum necessitating lots of walls with text displays and a massive diorama of a publicity shot from In The Forest of the Night (some people like that episode, I suppose, and it was written by a local boy). Of the classic props, there are a few of the usual suspects in here, but this is probably as close as I've been to Morbius and Omega and in a well lit room for a change, rather than near darkness with a green light projected against them.
Nevertheless there's something quite magical, as well as expressively weird about being able to attend an exhibition dedicated to a television show you've loved for many years which has in this case has clearly been created by fans for fans, something which hasn't always been the case over the years, when its sometimes felt like the props have all been thrown in together in the shabbiest of conditions to make to exploit our loyalty. I was quite emotional on more than one occasion as the years peeled away at the sight of a Super-Voc robot head or Handles. If Worlds of Wonder shows anything, it's that time travel is possible.
Literature The Morgan Library & Museum owns two copies of the First Folio and I was able to identify which copy this is using the Rasmussen book, mostly from a description of the binding ("the cover design has a goldtooled square within a square with floral gold tooling within the inner square and at the corners") but also due to an incident which happens on screen during a segment of the BBC's Shakespeare Uncovered about Macbeth presented by Ethan Hawke.
Part of series of programmes broadcast in 2012 to coincide with the London Olympics cultural festival which included the likes of David Tennant on Hamlet (which I reviewed at the time) and Trevor Nunn on The Tempest, each hour long programme is about what you'd expect them to be with potted histories of each play, an exploration of their cultural significance and performance clips usually from the BBC and also Shakespeare's Globe with which this was a co-production.
The tone is reverential. In whispered tones, Hawke explains the location of the folio as its wheeled on the pictured trolley and placed on a clear perspex stand so that the actor can forthrightly enter the library room via the rotunda and encounter the book ("Curator John Bidwell has retrieved it from the vault"). Hawke hesitates before he touches it then begins leafing through the pages because frankly who wouldn't. At this point we notice he's kneeling on the floor in front of it.
After a shot of the title page of Macbeth, he says he's seen his favourite speech, then notes how strong Shakespeare's body of work is that when you reach the end of Macbeth, "you're already in Hamlet". Eventually he settles on a page and says, "it kind of suits the end of the Scottish play that there's a slight burn on the final page of Macbeth. Somebody was upset and their cigarette fell as Macbeth fell", at which point he runs his finger over the burn mark and makes a hole in the page.
This same hole was then subsequently noticed by whoever later visited the folio to assess it for the descriptive catalogue and noted in the "repairs and damage affecting text section: "Macbeth ll6 tear repair 62 mm from foot affects three letters. ll6v tear repair 59 mm from foot affects 61 letters. nn4 hole affects two letters b23" (my italics) (nn4 simply means this is the fourth note - these observations of very densely printed).
The library takes its name from its founder, the banker and collector John Pearpoint Morgan, yes of J.P.Morgan fame, and he thought of this as being of inferior interest the other two in his collection. Apparently numerous other parts of the text have been lost to damage and this folio has been extensively been repaired with some of the missing text having been replaced with a manuscript pen facsimile (rather like on of the Folios at the British Library).
At the conclusion of the segment, Hawke "reads" his favourite passage, the Tomorrow and Tomorrow speech, although he clearly knows it by heart. He then stands turns around and walks away as a Shakespeare expert describes were Macbeth is psychologically at that point in the play, the folio having played its part in telling the story and gained another tiny addition to its history.
Life This is not the blog post I was planning to write and if your blogger had any sense, he'd just go off and do something else. But I'm here now so I might as well post something.
This time last week, I'd just arrived in Stratford-Upon-Avon after a brutal overnight stay at the budget Ibis hotel in Birmingham. By budget, they mean cheap. The bed is a futon mattress on some glorified pallets. The wash basin is in that room. The shower makes a periodic groaning sound which I can only attribute to being in sympathy with the rest of the plumbing when someone flushes a toilet. The breakfast is "continental" meaning lots of bakery products, catering fruit and yoghurt and two small mounds of reformed pork and ham. There's no kettle in the room. Instead you have to pay £1.50 for a paper cup to be used in a coffee machine.
When I was last in Stratford, the RST was still being refurbished so I was keen to see what it looked like now and so booked myself on a tour. As it turned out, this was mostly a look at the building were costumes and some props are made, which was still fascinating but did also mean we didn't get to see inside the auditorium (which was apparently closed for rehearsals). The tour did however include a five minute glance through the on-site permanent exhibition, currently closed to the public due to continuing refurbishment work in the Swan Threatre below. It acts as a good finale for this tour because it includes costumes from across the history of RSC productions.
At the start of the exhibition is a Folio and so you can imagine my excitement. With just minutes to spare, I quickly took a photo of the book and the label pleased that I'd unexpectedly been able to tick another one off the list. It also looks extremely pretty with the reflection of a stained glass window shining across its display case.
Later I consulted the Eric Rasmussen (et al) book listing the first folios and assumed it must be (39) The Theatre Copy from The Shakespeare Centre with its interesting story about the Pope and a misunderstanding. In 1964, three members of the RSC, Dorothy Tutin, Derek Godfrey, and Tony Church visited Rome to give a recital of Shakespeare's plays at the Palazzo Pio in front of the pontiff and a couple of thousand guests. They took their folio along for it to be bless by the Pope at the conclusion of the performance. Unfortunately something was lost in translation and he took it as a gift. After some diplomatic shenanigans, the folio was eventually returned.
All of which hilarious pot pourri, sorry, popery would have made for a decent blog post. Except when I just sat down to write, I read the label which accompanied the folio (something which I'd not had time for during the tour).
As you can see, this is not that First Folio. It is a Second Folio. The Second Folio has its own publication history and by rights should be greeted with just the same awe as the first edition. As the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust explains, it's the first attempt at "editing" the existing text, with 1700 corrections and the additions of far more stage directions. It has the first work of John Milton to see print, "An Epitaph on the admirable Dramaticke Poet W. Shakespeare", written when he was 22 and part of an extra page of effigies for this edition. There are only 250 copies of the Second Folio in existence which is only a few more than the first.
But this tickylist project is not about the Second Folio, it is about the First Folio and so this is not the blog post I was planning to write. When and if I do clasp eyes on (39) The Theatre Copy from The Shakespeare Centre, there'll no doubt be something quite similar to this with some extra material about the provenance and a few other oddities.
Literature Currently running at the Library of Birmingham is the exhibition Everything To Everybody: Your Shakespeare, Your Culture and last Tuesday, I made the pilgrimage to have a look at the First Folio which is part of the display. Curated by the Royal Shakespeare Company, the exhibition is based on the collection of the Shakespeare Memorial Library which was suggested and funded by the local fan club (yes, really) in 1864 with an aim to collect "every edition and every translation of Shakespeare; all the commentators, good, bad and indifferent; in short, every book connected with the life and works of out great poet" as well as images and illustrations.
This is not the first First Folio owned by the collection. As Eric Rasmussen et al reveal in their descriptive catalogue of the folios, the first was a "made-up" volume containing 300 original leaves augmented by facsimiles. But the library was almost completely destroyed by fire in 1879, and although around five hundred volumes were saved (of which about two thirds were German publications) many thousands were lost including that book. I shiver to think what else was lost, if there were any unique or irreplaceable items. There is what looks like a handwritten copy of Two Noble Kinsmen with singed pages in the show.
The library and its collection was subsequently rebuilt through donations from private citizens including the current Folio which was purchased from the bookseller Bernard Quaritch for £240 in 1881. Given how grandly most of the Folios I've seen have been displayed, it's surprising to see such a valuable book sitting in a pretty non-descript display case with a few other items. The rather silly accompanying label says that this "is the only one in the world bought with the visionary aim of giving all citizens access to great culture. The city bought the volume in 1881, making it available to all." Tell that to the other libraries.
The label ends with "It is proudly stamped with the inscription "Free libraries of Birmingham"." It certainly is (sort of) and according to Rasmussen that stamp appears eight times throughout the text which shows that in the late nineteenth century the book was considered important not so much as valuable object but for what it contained. I'll admit to an audible gasp on seeing that library mark on the final page of Twelfth Night. Of course now, because it is in a display case, the paradigm has shifted, it's impossible to see any of the other pages so it is now more of an object (with a million pound plus valuation).
As you can see I've decided to go ahead with tickylisting the First Folios and armed with a library copy of Eric Rasmussen's book I'll actually have a list to work from. Mostly I'm going to endeavour to see in real life, but I'll also be covering any which appear in other contexts like television documentaries and writing on here about the context in which they're shown. That adds a certain element of discovery. Has the folio at the University of Pennsylvania ever been put on camera? How about the one in the Paul G. Allen Family Collection? Let's see now.
Art This morning I attended Tate Liverpool for the press viewing of their new paid exhibition, JMW Turner and Lamina Fifana: Dark Waters. I could pretend that I was in completely the right mind for this. As you'll probably gather from the scarcity of writing here this past few months, I've not been in the best places mentally. The grief of losing Mum last year still lingers and I've never quiet felt the same since catching COVID earlier in this year. Plus anxiety continues to thrum away in the background every now and then turning to into a full blown rock concert but sadly more Woodstock '99 than Glastonbury '99 (which at least had REM headlining)
All of which made me rather nervous about a press day at Tate, something I've really enjoyed in the past, but having not put my name down since before the pandemic or indeed been to many exhibitions in general, it felt like it was going to be a lot. Pre-pandemic, one of these events involved reception desks and noise, lots of bodies in the space, a curator led tour at certain time making me feel need to rush around the show beforehand, followed by a meal with all the inherent low self esteem issues of being sat at a table with professional journalists when you're a blogger who's mainly doing this sort of thing as a lark.
But the format has changed, or at least it had for Turner and Fifana. The space was just open for a couple of hours this morning. On entering I was offered some brief directions by the press person pointing to some notable items and then I was left to fend for myself. Perfect. It's also not a huge show. The fourth floor is currently being prepared for this year's Turner Prize exhibition, so T&F are inhabiting one side of the fourth floor, quality rather than quality, large oil paintings punctuated by watercolours and drawings, a conscious decision, perhaps, to recreate the feel of the Turner rooms at Tate Britain.
Well, I relaxed. I becalmed. I began to enjoy myself. I also had questions. Why was Tate Liverpool, which has generally been on the cutting edge of contemporary art hosting a Turner show? That should not be seen a complaint. Over the years, I've hoped they would diversify the types of work they display to before the 1900 cut off which seems to have been the general rule and cheered on the occasions when they have, for Turner Monet Twombly: Later Paintings (ten years ago folks) and Alice in Wonderland (even longer). It's also interesting that this is a paid exhibition when it's entirely sourced from Tate's own collection.
The most numerous selection of Turners are of his Whaling Scenes, depictions of one of the industries which developed in the 1700s out of the same docks which can be seen from the windows of this Tate (see above). However abhorrent we might find the practice now, when these were originally painted it was a way for the public to envision how many household items such as oil for lamps. soap and lubricants were provided in the years before fossil fuels were properly harnessed. Almost everything here was accepted by the nation at part of the Turner bequest in 1856.
Not that Turner's work doesn't take some creative license with Whalers Entangled in Flaw Ice, Endeavouring to Extricate Themselves (1846) showing the boiling of whale blubber on board ship, something which would usually have happened back in port but allows the artist to contrast the deep red of the flames against the muted grey backdrop. In many of these later works, the objects become less important than Turner's experimentation with colour leading to near abstraction and how light interacts with the canvas to the point that the image almost "shimmers".
The centrepiece of the exhibition is A Disaster at Sea (1835) which was inspired by the loss of the Amphitrite, a slave ship which left Liverpool in 1799 and capsized off Nigeria the following January. Unlike other depictions of sea tragedies, like The Raft of the Medusa (painted a few decades earlier) which show the anguish and fear of the sea farers against an otherwise quite static background, Turner loses the sense of individuality amid the hellish swirl of the ocean and chaotic skies with the pieces of ship and fragments of people almost indistinguishable.
Lamina Fofana's sound installations are inspired by another tragedy at sea in which the crew of the Zong massacred over a hundred and thirty slaves and threw them overboard near the Caribbean (by doing so the ship's owners could make an insurance claim). Of the three, the most prominent and certainly the most recognisable is Life and Death by Water (2021) which mainly consists of the hummed section of Boney M's Rivers of Babylon repeated on a loop for twenty minutes like an ancient chant.
Originally recorded by the Jamaican Reggae group The Melodians for the 1972 film The Harder They Come, the lyrics, based on Psalm 137, although originally about the Jewish exile following the Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem, could equally be applied to the souls lost on board the Zong, "By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion ... They carried us away in captivity requiring of us a song ... Now how shall we sing the LORD's song in a strange land?"
For about five or ten minutes at the end of my visit I sat listening to Fofana's piece. Potentially it's a distraction from the Turner paintings, especially as your ears twig a familiarity with the melody in the other room and then try to identify it like a human version of the Shazam app. The repetition does make it inherently irritating and I fear for the invigilators who're going to have to be in the space and will collectively develop it as an earwig on mass. But just sat listening, once again I relaxed, I becalmed and I began to enjoy myself.
On reflection the opening paragraph to this was a bit gloomy so I wanted to say I am fine, really, and in this past week I've been on an overnight city break to Birmingham and Stratford-Upon-Avon (more on that in the next couple of days) and a day trip for Blackpool for my Dad's 80th birthday (and that) (maybe) so it's not like I've been a complete emotional wreck. I just wanted to show that you can't approach any exhibition with a clear, neutral mind. And at least I didn't try to make some tenuous connection between my mental state and the chaos of Turner's paintings. I'd never have forgiven myself.
Life A little after half past six this evening, the palace announced the death of Queen Elizabeth II. We heard it via Huw Edwards, who's anchoring of the rolling speculation coverage since the original announcement about her health at lunch time and was becoming noticeably strained. Moments before, he seemed to stumble over his words as the transmission editor cut from a shot of the gates to Balmoral to the flag flying at half mast over Buckingham Palace. "And of course we are expecting the news from Balmoral that she's having treatment or that they're unable to help her majesty any more." Then seconds later, "A few moments ago, Buckingham Palace announced the death of Queen Elizabeth II."
It's not unexpected, but it's also still a shock. She's been the head of state for my entire life and my parent's lives, my Mum was 75 when she left us, my Dad is nearly 80. However much you might think the royals have nothing to do with you, the shift from having a queen to king will have impact from the cash in your pocket having a new face printed on it to such events as the state opening of parliament just having a different energy. We going to have to get used to using a different pronoun for our head of state. The lyrics to our national anthem have changed. There's also the historic moment of the country having a change in monarch and prime minister in the same week.
The one occasion when I shared space with the Queen was at school. I sang for the Queen on the occasion of her fortieth year as monarch. It was in my sixth form at Blue Coat School and someone decided it would be good idea to fill the Anglican Cathedral with school kids and have them sing Handel's Zadok very loudly, whilst oddly other kids offered a martial arts demonstration. We practiced solidly for two weeks, frequently after school and on the day the big church looked a treat, and even though we had all rehearsed separately, the collective sound was suitably epic. Even the anti-royalists amongst us were excited about meeting her majesty. But she was clearly having a very busy day and didn’t have time to stop and listen, passing by on her way to the altar.
Here, then, we greet King Charles III. I think it's fair to say the nation thinks of him less warmly, especially post-Diana. It'll be up to him to navigate the future of the monarchy, an institution which has certainly taken a knock due to numerous scandals over the past few years. But now that Elizabeth has gone, it's sure to enter an even more troubled era in which the pomp and circumstance looks even more antiquated, the sheer cost increasingly unjustifiable outside of the upkeep of the houses. But I do think it'll survive even him in some form and honestly good. The monarchy has provided continuity for a thousand years and do we really want to be the generation to ruin it? Don't answer that ...