Be Steadfast

I have been told that Doncaster Museum and Art Gallery was one of only a handful of new custom built museums in the UK of the ninteteen sixties, and I can confirm that it is a clean, stylish building in the modernist style created using such high quality materials that, almost fifty years on, it's still in very good condition (cosmetically, at least - people who work there tell me there are lots of unseen issues). It was designed by a mysterious cabal of Council architects, and it opened in 1964.

Because nothings says museum like M-U-S-E-U-M.

The Town Motto.

The main building is flanked by two great big bits of modern art. On the left is a figurative sculpture by Yorkshire born teacher, writer and Apartheid era South African spy Fabio Barraclough. The rectangle represents a picture frame, and the sculpture was commissioned after a competition to create a striking piece of art comensurate with the new building.



They're holding a picture frame.

Still holding it...

On the right hand side of the building is 'Epicentre', an interesting abstract that reminds me of  fossilised shark jaws but also evokes the white rose motif of Yorkshire. It was the work by Franta Belsky, a Czech sculptor who had an extraordinary life and career, and (amongst lots of other things) also sculpted the playful 'Mother and Baby' statue that adorns Stevenage town centre. 

The external detailing of the museum is quite amazing, and the amount of work (and money) that must have gone into the tiles alone is staggering. 

The interior of the museum is less interesting, being, of course, a series of large interconnected spaces, although it is rather smart and beautifully rendered – the two staircases look almost brand new. The museum itself collects a lot of interesting and varied objects and presents them well in a relatively confined area.

Donny Bears.

Olden Days Fishing.

Primitive people arguing, still a feature of most UK towns.

Hungover Roman.

Artist's Impression.

What an Otter.

Old Stone Face.

There are the usual dioramas, stuffed animals, dressed up dummies and a few interactive button pressing things. As the museum has no specific theme other than Doncaster, and Doncaster has no specific identity (in terms of history, I mean – it has been used by the Romans and the Normans and played a big part in the Industrial Revolution, but is not defined by this) it can seem a bit haphazard, but it’s never boring. I’m particularly fascinated by a carved stone face which, to me, seems to resonate with ancient evil and always reminds me a bit of Peter Vaughan.

The downstairs also incorporates the Kings Own Yorkshire Light Infantry Museum, a fascinating set of displays and mannequins that culminates in a room literally wallpapered with medals. It’s been recently refurbished and is excellent.

Gas Mask.

Soldier vs Oik.

Upstairs is the gallery part, with a fair sized permanent collection of art and pottery, and a large open space for visiting exhibitions. The effectiveness of this area is dependent on what it displays, of course, but I can report that it looked great when the Shell Travel Posters were in town (Nash, Sutherland, Dobson, McKnight Kauffer!)  and equally good with about thirty Eduardo Palozzi collages hanging on its walls. The permanent collection is not to my taste particularly, but is eclectic enough to be worth looking at and there’s a Cuneo painting called ‘Giants Refreshed’ that railways enthusiasts go all unnecessary over (Doncaster is a big railway town).  

What’s the best thing about it? It’s on my way to work, so I get to see it more or less every day.  For me, a good museum should be like a good church, a visit to it should provide respite - a bit of peace and quiet and an opportunity to just look at interesting things and think about stuff - so I pop in whenever I have a headache and just wander around until the pain goes away.   

The Commonwealth Institute

Ah, The Commonwealth Institute in Kensington, the trendy, liberal cousin of the British Museum that eventually came a cropper. Whereas the British Museum is full of artefacts stolen from the natives, The Institute showcased items donated by our extended international family, not least the 25 tonnes of South African copper that comprise the distinctive ‘hyperbolic parabaloid’ roof.

Built as a showcase for trade between Commonwealth partners, it was designed by Sir Robert Matthew, who had worked as a London City Council architect from 1946 to 1953 and played a massive part in the Festival of Britain, as well as co-designing the Royal Festival Hall. Started in 1960, it was opened by The Queen in November, 1962. It comprised an administrative wing (it was a real Institute, not just a pretend one), and a large diamond shaped exhibition space with an art gallery and cinema attached, all set in ornamental gardens with walkways and waterways. It’s a lovely building, very 1962.

The exhibition itself was designed by James Gardner, who had created the exhibition inside The Dome of Discovery at the Festival of Britain, which looked at life on our small planet, and the proportionally enormous part Britain had played to date (sections included The Earth, Outer Space, Sky, Polar, Sea and The Land). The Commonwealth Institute’s exhibition was similarly comprehensive, with stuff from all the formerly pink bits on the map, all willingly given in the spirit of the new age of equality of peoples and a spirit of co-operation.

In 2000, the ownership of The Institute shifted from the Foreign Office to a Trust, the architectural equivalent of a football manager receiving a vote of confidence from the Chairman. It closed two years later and has remained closed ever since. Here it is in its rather sad, vacated state.

In 1969, the ITV kids show ‘The Tyrant King’ (which was basically a tourists guide to London and the suburbs), filmed several key scenes at The Institute, and the following screenshots give a flavour as to what it looked like with stuff in it. I love the central hub, although it is very frustrating that everyone in the programme who passes the centre looks down, and I have no idea what they are looking at.

The Hub

Not part of the permanent exhibition

The late Phillip Madoc checks out some ethnic art 

Some sort of African exhibit

Another sort of African exhibit

How much did Modernists love stair cases?

The building is due to reopen in 2014 as the new home of the Design Museum, although the interior has, apparently, been significantly remodelled. I wonder if there will be a place for a model of a Hong Kong junk, or a set of African drums? I hope so, but I very much doubt it (the majority of the exhibits were returned to their places of origin).

Speaking of Design, here’s the flag of the Commonwealth, a classic of simplicity and good taste, although I'm not sure it’s a coincidence that the beneficent golden glow encircling the earth has a gap where Russia and China are.    

Death Has A Ginger Beard

‘Sightseers’ is, in many ways, the perfect ‘Island of Terror’ film. It’s dark and funny and its locations are camp sites, roadside cafes, ruined abbeys, viaducts, slate mines, owl sanctuaries, tram and pencil museums, show caves and stone circles. I got excited just typing that. It’s also very good, not perfect, but something that I am more than happy to recommend to anybody who likes the idea of a film that combines sudden death and National Trust properties.

Angry Tina and ginger faced Chris are a couple of downtrodden misfits who set out on a ‘sexual odyssey’/ road trip across the North of England.  In a caravan. Compulsive knitter Tina (Alice Lowe) is happy to escape her oppressive and manipulative mother, who blames her for the death of their beloved dog, Poppy. Heavily bearded plastics nerd Chris (Steve Oram) is apparently writing a book, and Tina is to be his muse. As they set off, Tina says ‘show me your world’, barely realising that Chris’ world is a strange and violent one, and that he uses murder as a way of getting his own back on litterers, snobs and people who are more successful than him.

Mordantly funny, extravagantly bloody, the film was scripted by Lowe and Oram but many of the scenes are improvised, and this lends immediacy and realism to the film, an approach consolidated by director Ben Wheatley, who shoots on the hoof, capturing some wonderful scenery and, in particular, some truly awful weather, both of which add immeasurably to both the veracity and the atmosphere (it never rains, but it pours, and when it isn’t pouring, it’s hailing). It’s rare to see Britain presented like this, but I like it: the banality and beauty of our sceptered isle in all its damp glory – an ancient and primeval landscape criss crossed by motorways and studded with brown heritage road signs indicating points of (selective) interest.  

If you’ve ever wanted to see a woman write a letter with a four foot long pencil, or see crotchless knitted lingerie, then you won’t be disappointed. A great little film, I love it.

Incidentally, Ben Wheatley’s next film is called ‘A Field In England’, and is, apparently, a tale of hallucogenic drugs and necromancy set during the English Civil War. I can’t wait.

Sightseers

Interesting Postcards

Giant Panda, Chi Chi

Pandas feed on bamboo shoots and are confined to the area around Szechuan in Western China. Chi-Chi was captured there in 1957 and lived in the London Zoo from 1958 to 1972

British Museum (Natural History) London SW7 5BD

There’s an inherent contradiction in a nation of animal lovers who wrench creatures from their natural habitat and put them in a cage for the duration of their lives, but there it is, we’re complicated people. The same ambiguity extends to our furry friends post mortem: having loved the creature, we have it cut up, emptied out, stuffed and put on display again - this time for all eternity. No wonder Chi Chi looks so forlorn.