Saturday 28 October 2023: Tripadvisor Review - Nymans

Saturday 28 October 2023

Tripadvisor Review

Nymans is a National Trust property, twenty miles north of Brighton just off the road to London. There appears to be ample free car parking, including plenty of parking spaces for Blue Badge holders. There are several places for refreshments, including a café and a tea-room. The toilets include accessible facilities and, unusually, a Changing Places toilet. There is the usual shop, plant centre, second-hand bookshop and, less usually, a small commercial art gallery.

The main gardens can be categorised in terms of formal gardens, informal gardens and parkland. Some of the formal planting is utterly delightful, and the number of paid and volunteer staff must be enormous. Not surprisingly, weddings are held here. Some of the less formal planting, such as an almost-canyon-like rockery, and the heath garden, are like a dream-world. In the late spring, there is a fantastic display of rhododendrons.

A good case could be made for Nymans to be considered an arboretum, for the range of trees, indigenous and exotic, is wonderful. In fact, part of it was planted as a pinetum, although I think that this was destroyed, along with almost five hundred mature trees and many shrubs, in the great storm of 1987. Around the western edge of the property there are many planted trees, which gives autumn colour interest. Across the road is a large area of scrubby original woodland, called the Wild Garden, with some 'rides' cut through it. I guess that this area offers city-dwellers the opportunity to experience raw nature. To the east of the gardens, the boundary blurs into estate parkland, and through a locked gate (for which one is required to obtain a numerical code from Reception), one is able to walk out into a huge, publicly-accessible wooded area that has obviously been curated, probably over centuries. I assume that the woodland is part of the High Weald woodland, and the Ashdown Forest (Winnie-the-Pooh) is only fifteen miles to the east). Colour-coded, dog-friendly, footpath routes dissect this woodland, at the bottom of which lies a wild lake ('Fish Pond'), in a natural river valley, on which I watched a heron fishing. A round trip takes at least forty minutes at a fair clip, and the numerical code is required to re-enter the gardens.

I have not discussed 'the house' at Nymans, much of which is a picturesque ruin, because I have not entered it.

Unlike at Sissinghurst, also National Trust, picnicking on the spacious lawns is permitted. However, as at Sissinghurst, Nymans is not a venue for a wet day out. In good weather, especially with good light, it is a superb place at which to fill one's digital camera memory card. If I lived within twenty miles, instead of eighty miles away, and could feasibly visit monthly, I would very happily do so.

Sunday 22 October 2023: Gabrielle Münter and other artists

Sunday 22 October 2023

Gabrielle Münter and other artists

Next year, from 24 April until 20 October 2024, there will be an exhibition entitled Expressionists: Kandinsky, Münter and the Blue Rider, to be held at Tate Modern in London. Although it is unlikely that we shall be in a position to attend the exhibition, due to our continued self-isolation away from coronavirus infection, and the £20 per person ticket price would cost us dearly, on top of the cost of petrol, it remains of interest. I had not previously heard of Gabrielle Münter, although Janet and Jemima had. She was a pupil of Kandinsky, and later his life-partner for a while. It seems that the contemporary artworld, along with many other aspects of modern public life, is awash with the names of women who it is purported have been overlooked. Needless to say, it is largely women who are making all the fuss. This latter offers little guide to quality.

Looking at the images online of Münter’s work, it does not appear to be particularly special, and it is easy to see why her name has been eclipsed historically by that of Kandinsky. Her work appears to be of a similar ilk to that of Kandinsky during the period when they were together. It veers more towards the work of Matisse. I read that she was influenced by the paintings of children, a fact that does not especially commend itself to me. However, she was more persuaded by Fauvism than was Kandinsky. I find something interesting in her bold use of colour and colour contrasts. I have yet to decide whether I consider her use of colour to be meaningful (to me).

Lest it be considered that my sentiments expressed above are sexist or even misogynistic, I greatly admire the art of Natalya Goncharova, Georgia O’Keefe, Brigid Riley and Barbara Hepworth, and I enjoy being challenged by the work of Tracey Emin. I like the quiet, muted palette paintings of Gwen John. On the other hand, I have always considered the work of Berthe Morisot and Mary Cassat, with some of which I am familiar, to be lauded too highly.

I have read much of the literature produced by Susan Hill, and have made a point of reading works written by, inter alia, Pat Barker, Anita Brookner, Helen Dunmore, Rebecca Stott, Edith Wharton, Antonia White and Virginia Woolf.

Women politicians I have especially admired for their politics include Estelle Morris (direct contact), Shirley Williams (heard her speak at a BBC broadcast of Any Questions I attended), Caroline Lucas, Jacinda Adern and Angela Merkel.

I always prick up my ears with interest when Dr Susan Blackmore speaks on the radio.

Two of my favourite singers are Sandy Denny and Maddy Prior.

There are movies directed by women that I have particularly admired, such as Farewell (1983) by Larisa Shepitko (albeit completed by her widower, Elem Klimov); Testament (1983) by Carol Amen; The Piano (1993) (on DVD) by Jane Campion; Sleepless in Seattle (1993) (on DVD) by Norah Ephron; Lost in Translation (2003) (on DVD) by Sofia Coppola; Mischief Night (2006) (on DVD) by Penny Woolcock; Gone Girl (2014) (on DVD) although directed by David Fincher, both the screenplay and the novel on which the screenplay is based were written by Gillian Flynn; Ladybird (2017) by Greta Gerwig; The Farewell (2019) by Lulu Wang. I also have on DVD Meek’s Cutoff (2010) by Kelly Reichardt.

I do not like what seems to me to be the gratuitous gendering of many aspects of society. What I do accept is that British society (along with many others) has been crudely patriarchal, and that this has been to the detriment of society. I am happy that patriarchy has been reduced considerably, and I expect this reduction to continue. However, I should prefer that it proceeded by the process of degendering instead of intensified gendering. Every day there is a news item about the first woman to do this or that. I worked professionally in a field (counselling) dominated, at least numerically, by women, with which I have no issue, alongside whom I worked as an equal, without remark, for decades. I look forward to the time when the same can be said about all professions. However, I have no enthusiasm to cheer every time a woman achieves some first, for that sets up a gender rivalry that I consider unwelcome. Neither do I welcome the popular elevation of unremarkable ‘fine artists’ simply because of their gender.

https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/expressionists

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gabriele_M%C3%BCnter

Tuesday 17 October 2023

Favourite things about this time of year

 

What is your favourite thing about the autumn?

Do you have any meals you like to cook as the weather gets colder?

Do you have any traditions for this time of year?

 

What I like best about the transition from the warmer months to the colder months is the fact that the reduction in ambient temperature demands that I power up the eye-wateringly expensive, oil-fired central heating, which means that the bathroom can be heated, which in turn means that I can finally enjoy a bath for the first time since May. I derive extraordinary Friday-evening pleasure from a long, relaxing soak in a hot bath with Epsom salts. I usually read for an hour, later snoozing gently, before washing and then dragging myself out of the bath, physically wrung out as though I myself were the bath towel. The bath water is used over subsequent days to flush toilets.

In the hotter months, I rarely prepare roasted meals. Once the weather deteriorates, on Sunday evenings I peel (homegrown) potatoes, shop-bought carrots and parsnips, par-boil them, and then roast them all, the potatoes sprinkled with salt, pepper and homegrown rosemary. I grind nuts and bread (homemade), to which I typically add okara (the residue from the plant milk I make), herbs and spices, and roast this alongside the vegetables. There may be brussels sprouts or calabrese broccoli from the garden. I make an onion (homegrown) and sage (sadly, shop-bought) gravy. Preparation time: 90-120 minutes; eating time: 20 minutes. The roasted potatoes can be exquisite.

No traditions. As a child, I collected horse chestnuts with great enthusiasm, but played 'conkers' quite poorly (I was no better at 'marbles'). I remember on one Sunday failing to take up my role as a choirboy at the local parish church because I spent the morning illicitly gathering horse chestnuts. However, I am appalled by Halloween, to which I respond involuntarily by returning closer to my Judaeo-Christian upbringing, even though I am a lifelong atheist (I was choirboy because I was able to sing in tune, and because I wanted the pocket-money).

The reduction in day length means that there is much more darkness. This can be lit up with festivals of light. When I lived in Durham, I loved the Lumière: it was magical.

In contrast, I detest the explosions that increase in frequency over the weeks leading up to 5 November - to me it sounds like shell-fire, as though a military incursion were underway. My tinnitus is badly affected by loud noises. The air quality deteriorates from all the burned-up chemicals. There are always people who are injured by fireworks, and out-of-control bonfires that have to be doused by the fire brigade. Needless to say, I stay well away from firework displays and (satanic) nighttime bonfires. Although the festival of Diwali, compared with Bonfire Night, is more about lamp lights, fireworks remain important in the celebration. The festival of lights that I might one day embrace is a secular version of Hanukah, in which I would remember in the candlelight all my relatives and friends who have died: my father, my sister, my uncle, aunt and cousin (very recently); my wife's parents, aunts and uncles; my friend Martin; various work colleagues, counselling clients and Quakers. I know that what I have written sounds sombre, perhaps bordering on the morbid, but I deeply believe that, as in Japan's Dai Bon festival (which I saw in Kyoto), there should be an annual occasion in Britain when personally and privately (i.e. not publicly) we celebrate the lives of those we have lost. (In a contrast that could not be more stark, I deeply resent the public nature of remembrance, and thereby a kind of national glorification, of British military personnel (including two of my great cousins) who died on the battlefields of the First World War, pro patria mori.) Late autumn seems to me to be the right timing for such a private and personal celebration by candlelight.

Change-of-mood: in the lo-o-ong lead-up to Christmas, some excellent Belgian beers appear in the shops, and I am extremely fond of Guilden Draak (Golden Dragon) from Ghent, although I have been sadly unacquainted with it in recent years.

Monday 9 October 2023

The consequence of burning stuff to create energy (heat, movement, electricity) has been progressive, increasingly catastrophic, global climate change. The world should have stopped burning stuff a long time ago, but commercial interests prevail.

I do much to reduce my carbon footprint. Although I should very much prefer not to burn petrol, I shall never have an electric car unless someone gifts one to me, for the simple reason that I cannot remotely afford one.  (I have no income, so would be unable to pay off a loan.) I drive as little as possible, and even then only when absolutely necessary, to transport my disabled daughter in her wheelchair to her hospital appointments. The car becomes increasingly thickly clothed in leaves and bird droppings over successive weeks when the car remains undriven.

I get travel sick travelling by car (including taxis), and intensely so when travelling by bus or boat. My father did his National Service in the Royal Marines, my uncle served in the Royal Navy for eight years, and my brother, who is wealthy, sailed round the world on his yacht (and wrote a book about the experience). I am, and have always been, fascinated by the sea, by lakes, by rivers and canals, and even by brooks and ponds. I love the idea of being on the water, but my movement sickness is so bad that even stepping onto a pontoon makes me feel ill, and I get sea sick swimming in the sea.

I thought that the Colne Innovation webpage (https://www.brightlingseaharbour.org/news/4th-example-news/) was mildly interesting, but rather verbose. It read like the kind of report one might find in a village newsletter, which typically tend to be of greater interest to the people directly involved in the activity being reported. Maybe I missed something, but I am unclear what the big deal about this boat having an electric engine is, apart from the fact that it is not burning stuff (see above), because electricity has been powering boats for over 120 years: "An early electric boat was developed by the German inventor Moritz von Jacobi in 1839 in St Petersburg, Russia. It was a 24-foot (7.3 m) boat which carried 14 passengers at 3 miles per hour (4.8 km/h). It was successfully demonstrated to Emperor Nicholas I of Russia on the Neva River."  (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electric_boat).