Fragments of time: art for lockdown

Prospect Cottage in Dungeness, Derek Jarman's old home.

There’s a research thing about Covid that I take part in and every month they ask you to fill in a questionnaire about how you’re feeling. I like doing it because there’s a question about how much you trust the government to manage Covid and I can put the biggest tick ever next to “not at all” (or as big as you can when it’s an online check box).

Anyway, this month there was a question about what things you are missing. And I wanted to put the biggest tick ever next to “everything”. People. Travel. Going for a coffee or a drink. And the one that said “art and culture”. I wanted to put a big tick on that, because I grieve for it. 

Reasons to be cheerful, part 2: creative consolation

Last year – well, last month – I saw a thread on Twitter of “ten things that have brought a smile to my face in 2020”. I was going to copy the idea, but I didn’t get round to it, and now it’s January.
But there is never a bad time to say thank you for creative consolation. 

Back in the gallery with my bullshit detector

I’ve never been quite sure about this 40 years of punk “celebration” that’s going on. All a bit too establishment for me. And I know some of the London stuff has been controversial.

I was in Bristol yesterday and it turned out they are doing a punk season at the Arnolfini arts centre. They say they are, anyway.

Fingers in the sparkle jar: a rant or a review

I’ve been reading Fingers in the Sparkle Jar, Chris Packham’s remarkable memoir. It’s a hard book to review so maybe I won’t. But I will have a rant.

10 reasons why Peter Capaldi could be the best Doctor Who ever

When they brought back Doctor Who, I liked Christopher Eccleston a lot. I liked David Tennant even more. And although I worried about Matt Smith being so young, I ended up thinking he was the best doctor ever. But Peter Capaldi’s “my” doctor.

…Not just for Christmas

I don’t like adverts, as you may know. But I don’t like adverts being banned either, which is what’s happened to a cinema ad produced by the Church of England. It’s called “Just Pray” and some big distributors for cinema adverts have decided it’s not suitable.

Some people might take this as a cue for saying Christians are being persecuted in this country: I won’t. It’s not the case, and I’m not that sort of person.

Book review: A History of Television in 100 Programmes

You know those lists you get of TV programmes, in (really annoying) TV programmes? This isn’t that sort of list.

It’s a list of TV programmes in a book and it’s much better.

Provincial punk: Why I love Grayson Perry

You’ve got to love someone who made an artwork called “Football stands for everything I hate”. (Well, I’ve got to anyway, because it does.) You’ve also got to love an artist who has a retrospective exhibition called Provincial Punk.

You’ve got to go and see it, too (well, I had to anyway because I identify as Provincial Punk), so I went off to Margate to have a look. It’s the first time I’ve seen any of Grayson Perry’s work outside of the telly or a magazine, and I loved it.

Margate and me

Things I have in common with Tracey Emin:

• We’re nearly the same age.
• We spent our formative years in Margate.
• Er, that’s it.

Tracey Emin is rich and famous and I’m not, but she’s got an artwork up on Margate harbourside that says “I never stopped loving you”. Me neither.

Modern life is ridiculous

The other day I paid a visit to my nearest city. And I saw the following:

A young man with a pudding bowl haircut and a long beard. (I had to force myself not to laugh out loud.)

Two tourists taking photos with the use of a selfie stick.

A young man wearing his hair in a man-bun.

And this.

 Sometimes I don’t understand modern life at all.

The missing tweets: tents, Tolpuddle and traffic jams

HOLIDAY SOUVENIRS

I promised myself when I went on holiday that I would stay off the internet. (And much of the time, we had no phone signal so I had no choice.) But I couldn’t help thinking of what I might be saying if I was back on Twitter. So here is “what I did on my holiday”, 140 characters at a time.

How the Green Party lost my vote

 

I don't normally post about politics even on social media because like a lot of people I can't stand looking at or hearing most politicians and like a lot of people I'm sick of hearing about the election. So please excuse this lapse.

This advert will make you cry. And the last 30 seconds will make you spit with anger.

We are Making a New World (1918) by Paul Nash, war artist. From collection of the Imperial War Museum (available to share for non-commercial use).

I think it might be Children in Need day today. There was someone in a teddy bear suit waving at me when I did the shopping this morning.

Today we all have to feel sad about unfortunate children. On Tuesday, we all had to feel sad about dead soldiers. Next week it will be something else. At the risk of appearing cynical, count me out.

Neat, neat, neat: Teachers, tests and lies

There's a thing going round the internet. Well, there's always a thing going round the internet. It's divided opinion more than most, and nearly made me fall out with someone I love. Which wasn't nice.

It's a letter from a teacher to children in her school about not worrying about their test results. A sort of consolation prize. I think her heart's in the right place but I also think she is feeding the children a lie.

Armchair anger is not enough

One evening last week, I was on Twitter making small talk with some friends, having a laugh, trying to wind down after a hard day at work.

Then someone I follow decided to spend the evening inviting people to share experiences of poverty, and retweeting them. This appeared to find approval among a lot of people, who made comments such as 'This is what Twitter is for'.

I unfollowed him.

How to enjoy things that are not the Olympics

Someone I follow on Twitter posted the other day: 'Were just asked how we get enjoyment if not from London2012 - well, we build our own achievements rather than bask in those of others.'

‏'How do you get enjoyment if not from the Olympics' seems a pretty odd question to be asking. It assumes that it's only possible to get enjoyment every four years, which seems a bit sad.

Another Punk Britannia review, and some middle-aged angst

I've been thinking and writing a lot about punk lately. And I don't know if I want to think and write  about it any more. It's very easy when a lot of your thinking and writing is done online to find yourself trapped inside the same conversation. But I never wanted to be defined by my past.

You're history: Punk Britannia review

In honour of the jubilee (yes, I know), the Guardian asked some 60-year-old writers to ruminate on their lives. Sean O'Brien, in a rather good piece, wrote: 'One of the mixed benefits of ageing is reading accounts of your lifetime by people who weren't there.'

Shit. That means I'm going to have to get used to it.

Complaining about The 70s: BBC response

I recently wrote to the BBC to complain about the bias in their programme The 70s. This was the reply. It came from the Complaints department when I would really have liked to have heard from the producers.

The 70s: don't believe everything you see on television

Ten years ago, the BBC launched BBC4 with the slogan "Everyone Needs a Place to Think". I wrote to them saying I already have one, thanks very much, and it's called BBC2 (they didn't reply).

Since then, I've gone digital and become a huge BBC4 fan. As for BBC2, it's obviously not a place to think any more. I was looking forward to the new BBC2 series The 70s. I should have known better.