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THE OAG:RE

Monthly Archives: March 2013

John Tweed – The Empire Sculptor: Reading Museum (23rd March, 2013)

26 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by Daniel N Rosen in Uncategorized

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One of those Georgian buildings the town planners missed.

One of those Victorian buildings the town planners missed.

The following review was contributed by ‘X-Stream Pontiff’, Mr Raymond Babel, whose Babel Anthology, featuring new English writing and French literature in translation, will be launched on May 1st at the Albion Beatnik bookstore in Jericho. Several Oxford Arts Group members have contributed to this exciting new tome, including Mr Bable himself.

Reading (pronounced like ‘Otis’, not like what folks did on long train journeys before they invented Eyepads) is a would-be klone town (with leftover Victorian and Georgian and even older bits overlooked for renewal by a careless council). It is conveniently situated between Oxford and Smokeyvile our national capital godsavethequeen and eton college too, so that train drivers could stop for a fag and a cuppa in timesofyore.

The ice men (and woman) cometh.

The ice men (and woman) cometh.

On Saturday it was the chosen target for a select core of snow warriorz under the command of ‘Neilyboy’ Nil Anderstun on a mish to visit the John Tweed sculpture exhibition at the Museum of Reading (pronounced Otis). Tweed was a man with a split personality who on the one hand, inspired or perhaps just egged on by his friend Auguste Rodin, turned out sensitive and sensual nudes of various girlfriends, with particularly finely done upper arms and buttock muscles sleeping under their cold smooth marble.

impossible beauty

impossible beauty

On, or possibly with the other hand, after the Boer War, Tweed turned out great brooding fat Queen Vicky statues, one portrayed in a bizarre photo of the Yemen on the exhibition end wall; as well as cock o’ the walk Cecil Rhodes figures, an example of which can be seen in the exhibition surveying his domain in Bulawayo, ex Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. No doubt President-for-Life Roberto Mugabe lays a wreath there every year.

imperial majesty

supreme majesty

Great documentation, sketches, photographs etc in the exhibition fill out this hardworking artists’ career for us — and it’s free.  God bless Otis.

After the Tweed exhibition, the snowpeople looked at a stuffed stoat, a Roman suburb mock-up (with togas to try out) and a medley of biscuit tins. The Otis or Bikky museum has summat for all. Your reviewer was installed, in the Fake Bayeux Tapestry Gallery, as Xtreem Poncetiff (similar to supreme pontiff and also travels on buses, so where’s my palace and red shoes, innit?)

Not very long to reign over us...

not very long to reign over us…

And then we had cake and sandwiches at the picnic cafe, which has good soup and choc tarts.

Ray Babel of Babel Anthologies. Abridged and interpreted by Neil Anderson.

 

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Carducci Quartet at St John’s College (17th February, 2013)

12 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by Daniel N Rosen in Uncategorized

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Guess who's coming to dinner on Sunday? (And drinks afterwards)

Guess who’s coming to dinner on Sunday? (And drinks afterwards)

This was the saga of a window of opportunity, the rush to gain access, and the utility of social media in linking those in need with those who can help. In the end everything came together satisfactorily – this time round at least.

One of the best things about Oxford is the abundance of wonderful cultural events which happen in the city, and one of the most galling (or intriguing), is that many people never get to hear about them. Part of our raison d’etre is to flag up the goods others might not yet have discovered. In this case, it was a concert by an internationally renowned string quartet, at an Oxford College, with an opportunity to meet the musicians afterwards, wine and nibbles thrown in, all for free!

When this kind of nugget turns up, you’d normally be expecting a gold rush, but somehow, this time, it didn’t happen. Whether it was the long delay between news being announced and tickets becoming available, or that people didn’t really believe access would be given to anyone outside the university, or that the whole damned thing seemed too good to be true, I don’t know, but when the go ahead was given a few days before the event, let’s just say there wasn’t any danger of being stampeded in the rush. I donned my best negotiating hat, and despite being told there was a limit of two tickets per person, managed to wangle over a dozen admission programmes from the Porter’s Lodge. These were earmarked for the group members who’d been first to sign up on the site. Or who I thought had been first. The Meetup organisation works in mysterious and sometimes peremptory ways, and had in fact been rotating RSVPs randomly, meaning the names at the top of the list when places were allocated was simply a matter of chance.

Where we hang

The kind of joint we like to hang in

Pazienza! There was still time for people to visit St John’s and collect tickets for themselves and their guests, and maybe for fellow arts group members as well. But, with the weekend looming, and missed or mis-communications, and one thing or another, some left it a little late, leading to the lucky ones being rewarded and several others missing out.

alan

anything with spinach

Still, it’s not over til the slim lady solos, and with friends and +1s dropping out with lurgies in the days leading up to the event, suddenly the Meetup conversational facility, which had finally been instituted after years of prompting, was alive with offers of tickets and last minute deals. Some members had planned to have lunch at Al Andalusia in Little Clarendon Street beforehand, which threw a little more uncertainty into proceedings as there were now two official meeting points. Then, when somebody discovered another entrance to St John’s, there were three.

In the final reckoning however, everybody who’d requested a ticket, no matter how late in the day, and turned up, was rewarded, and for those who did, well… what a reward. If you like classical music, string quartets in particular, and sitting in generously proportioned, comfortable seats in well-designed auditoriums with excellent acoustics, then, as a certain duo on Classic FM were almost wont to say, “…..you’d have loved this”

This sort of thing

This sort of jive

The Carducci Quartet themselves, comprising Matthew Denton, Violin, Michelle Fleming, Violin, Eoin Schmidt-Martin Viola and Emma Denton Cello, were superb. They played Haydn’s Ryder quartet, which was okay, but a bit dated. (I made this remark several times during the afternoon, and people were so happy, they didn’t even stare at me). They played Debussy’s string quartet in G minor, which was challenging, and in places, sublime. Then, after a 15 minute break, where latecomers were let in, and the auditorium still didn’t feel crowded, they performed Dvorjak’s American quartet, which was ultimately, immense. After that, and because the crowd implored them, they returned and encored with Britten. It was hard work, for them obviously, and in a lazy, spoiled, ‘never had it so good’ way, for us as well – the less musically educated members of the audience I mean. An hour or more’s strings when you’re unfamiliar with the pieces is something of a challenge, even if we weren’t exactly talking Wagner’s Ring Cycle. But equally, I knew it was remarkable stuff. The intensity of the cellist’s facial expressions, let alone her playing, was astonishing; the lead violinist’s fingers were a blur, and the quartet played, for want of a more technical phrase, in almost perfect harmony. You want information about tempo, variation and tone? I’m afraid you’ll have to ask an expert. I just shout out the good news, and try to get everyone to the ball on time. And enjoy it all of course. How could I not? There were around 40 Arts Group people at the event, of varying ages and nationalities, and we met in the reception room afterwards and made friends and greeted acquaintances, and drank red and white wine, and the second cellist was surrounded by Oxford Arts Groupies and had his moment of glory, and deservedly so.

'We had some of that Sevilianas at the arts group party once..." It was all quiet on the dining table front last Sunday.

‘We had some of that Sevilianas at the arts group once…” It was all quiet on the Al Andalus dining table front last Sunday.

Oh, and Al Andalusia wasn’t at all bad either, easily matching the standards I remembered from several years ago when I first came to Oxford, and never dreamed I’d end up doing this sort of thing, with the fabulous people who make up this group, and writing about it afterwards. Criticisms? Well, I suppose the prices at Al Andalusia have gone up a bit…. but on a Sunday afternoon, with the sun shining, and the promise of what’s been described still to come, you felt you could push the boat out a bit. And there won’t be another event like this for quite a while. But then again, will there?

Drawing Show II at 03 Gallery: (16th Feb 2013)

01 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by Daniel N Rosen in Uncategorized

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drawA busy weekend of events for Oxford’s most artistically motivated social group. On Saturday, we visited the 03 Gallery in the Castle Complex for Drawing Show II by artists from Magdalene Rd Studios. Participant Kelly Dunagan, interviewed in the Oxford Mail, stated that the works on display ‘related to the idea of drawing,’ (rather than actually being drawings, presumably). She endeared herself by adding, “some installation artists…struggled a bit”. I doubt most were too bothered about the artistic means, as long as the end results had merit. Kelly’s own ‘Swallow’ was an impressive study, crumpled and delicate, but vibrant with colour and immaculately detailed. Once the Arts Group had arrived, we had the usual argument about whether the worthy but unexceptional or the ‘risible-slash-revolutionary’ most warranted a three figure price tag, our battleground this time being a simple graphite sketch of a mixing bowl(?) with broken porcelain eggshell, and a fair to middling landscape, the discourse soon getting bogged down in the old ‘I could do that – and wouldn’t bother! – ‘Ah, but you didn’t!’ quagmire. To my mind, dismissing conceptual work offers no clearer proof of its potency than praising figurative art confirms its limitations, though I’m not sure that even makes sense. But if you like how it sounds, please send £145, the price of each work of art on display.

Claudia Figureido with all round arts many of mystery Greek Tom

Claudia Figureido and company. You can just see Tom De Freston’s unfortunate horse, top right

the art

Black and white piece c/o Tom De Freston; Closest to camera is Luke Skiffington. with Les McMinn propped against the wall.

While the the group went round the gallery, nodding and tutting before heading off to meet friends, catch buses, or find somewhere for coffee, I grabbed a pencil (symbolically perhaps) and a price list (in lieu of a guide), and made a few jottings. I probably didn’t stay long enough to do any of the work real justice, but for what it’s worth, these were my impressions: Madi Acharya-Baskerville’s miniature oil and glass paintings on driftwood had a timeless beauty, particularly the images of peasant women glimpsing a vision of paradise. Sonia Boue’s mixed media, ‘Draw me a life’, one for ‘Mum’ and the other ‘Dad’, incorporating images of gates, letters and other personal mementos, was touching and not overly sentimental. In terms of pure abstraction, Luke Skffington’s ‘Palette Drawing’ presented ‘strips of metal files cut and woven like fibres’, or ‘black and white banana skins exploding over graph paper’ (I couldn’t decide which), while Tom De Freston’s collage of black and white sketches, including what looked like a pyjama case horse being raped by tree, had unquestionable comic vigour. As far as colour work was concerned, Les McMinn served up a sumptuous purpley yellow acrylic paint stew inspired by the holy Hindu city of Varanasi, and Jo Stannard’s ‘Blue sky Cones (Four)’ on white backgrounds was quite simply that. There were several photographs in the exhibition, including a study of Iffley Lock, the structure’s reflection making a circle among the ripples, and more unfathomably, a Finnish apartment block, glimpsed through what might have been a melting ice cube.

Various works of art - can you match them to the descriptions?

Match the descriptions to the pictures? – Good luck!

Other works in the show left less of an impression, with the possible exception of Claudia Figueiredo’s mixed media collage (below left). I’m coming to realise the importance of titles in tying creation to concept, much the same as with poetry, where more obscure pieces almost always benefit from a little guidance on the part of the narrator. In Claudia’s case, a paper grille, overlaid with sand-toned card, flock wallpaper and a photo of two ice skaters, gained substance through simple application of the label ‘Cement ll’.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words - certainly true in my case.

They say a picture’s worth a thousand words – certainly true in my case…

The idea of cohesiveness in art was discussed when we met up at La Tasca afterwards. Jeremy Darge, who runs East Oxford Drawing Collective, took the lead in this exchange. It was Jeremy’s first event with the group, and he was so knowledgeable, erudite and modest, that I could have listened to him for hours without necessarily agreeing with a single word he said, but nonetheless richer for the experience, and maybe even with my mind prised an inch or two further open. Jeremy singled out Anna Morris’s ‘Passing through’ for praise, pointing out how the gold and grey rectangles combined to create a sense of flow, something I’d overlooked, or perhaps the artist hadn’t made apparent, and serving as a reminder not to ignore the obvious, as well as the abstract, when considering works of art.

So the afternoon reached a tingly climax, with talk of art, the group and our plans for the future, and what a splendid thing it is to meet with fellow arts enthusiasts in such a convivial context. Not only that, but what a rubbish idea it is to sit outside in February when somebody lacks a jacket and has to request, “the hottest coffee ever made” simply to avoid hypothermia. However, despite chattering teeth and my brain having been numbed to the point of imbecility by the end of the afternoon, it was an enjoyable outing and we were in good shape for The Carducci Quartet at St John’s the following afternoon.

Photos used by permission of Madi Acharya-Baskerville – for further information: http://www.magdalenroadstudios.com/

but perhaps not in theirs.

…but perhaps not theirs.

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