Ram’ses

It is a strange quirk of fate that the best-known of the Pharaohs is probably Tutankhamun. That’s surely because his is the only ancient Egyptian burial treasure that has survived more or less intact, showing something of the incredible wealth and beauty of these funeral hoards. He was, however, a minor monarch, young and short-lived, at the end of a failing dynasty.

In the next dynasty, by contrast, and not all that long afterwards, there lived what may actually be the greatest Pharaoh of all: Ramesses II – or Ramses, it seems both variants are equally accepted. I’m going to make matters worse by calling him Ram’ses. At Battersea Power Station there is currently an exhibition devoted to him, and we visited.

While Tut’s treasure has attracted blockbuster crowds all over the world, Ram’ses’s funereal collection, probably much more opulent, was lost to tomb raiders, though his mummy was discovered later. So what can you feature in an exhibition? The curators have actually done fairly well. Luckily Ram’ses commissioned hundreds of statues and monuments during his unusually long reign, and in fact it’s one of his portraits that features in the famous poem Ozymandias (his name in Greek). So the exhibition features a number of depictions of the Pharaoh and his family, especially his first and favourite wife Nefertari (he had hundreds of wives and concubines). We can also see depictions of him in battle, with his pet lion running alongside his chariot. Ram’ses scored many solid victories, but the one he was proudest of, the battle of Kadesh against the Hittites, is generally regarded as more of a draw.

The exhibition does rely on a number of artefacts from earlier and later periods. Most of the jewellery here (not all that much gold, in spite of what the publicity says) is the sort of thing Nefertari might have worn, but actually from decades or centuries before or after her time. This is OK given the amazing stability of Egyptian culture, which changed little over three thousand years. In fact one interesting thing here is the way Ram’ses reconditioned statues from long before, having a thousand-year-old lady recarved to represent his mother: we also see art made for Ram’ses that much later kings appropriated in a similar way.

Less grand than other exhibits but highly interesting are a few ink sketches on stone by some of the artists who worked for Ram’ses. These are less formal than typical Egyptian art and convey a more vivid sense of the artist’s individual humanity.

All in all, well worth a look.

Samurai

Apparently they are more commonly referred to as Bushi in Japan? We went to see the British Museum’s exhibition which explains the long history of the Samurai. Beginning as medieval warriors, they effectively became the Japanese upper class until their abolition in the late nineteenth century, when the rule of the Emperor was restored and the Shogunate brought to an end.

Like their aristocratic counterparts in Europe, the Samurai retained an affection for swords and suits of armour. One set of Samurai armour here was sent to King James (I and VI) who would surely have understood the double significance of the compliment and warning it embodied. Another suit was later sent to Queen Victoria. While they retained a sense of themselves as warriors, the Samurai developed an interest in drama and culture generally, which may have helped while away the days they were required to attend the court at Edo (rather the way Louis XIV made the French nobility come to Versailles?) As a whole social class they naturally included valiant women, and it seems gay and/or cross-dressing young men were not unknown.

The exhibition features a wide range of fabulous and illuminating artefacts, but it is those extraordinary helmets that are really the stars. They are elaborately decorated with dragons, birds, and a finely worked butterfly, and there is one with leaves that Katharine said resembled a pixie hat. One Samurai seems to have been unable to decide between horns and a massive fist – so he got both. These all seem rather impractical: European knights had fancy tournament armour with decoration and crests, but when it came to an actual fight they were inclined to switch to the plain, streamlined steel that best deflected blades and points. It seems that in Japan being visible and showing high status was more important than guiding weapons away from your cranium. The followers of each Daimyo (top Samurai) had a different style of cover for the heads of their spears, and apparently there were actually spotter’s reference books, so you could identify which great lord was passing by on the weary trip to or from Edo.

Very interesting. Here is King James wearing his Samurai armour (this never happened).

Perfection

I read Vincenzo Latronico’s book Perfection, about a young Italian couple who move to Berlin, where they live a highly fashionable life, working as web designers, going to trendy bars and restaurants, making friends with an international community of highly mobile young professionals, and above all, owning a series of beautiful objects that help create stunning pictures for their Instagram feed. It’s inspired by Georges Perec’s Things. The book is clever and very readable, and I recommend it – it was shortlisted for the International Booker and received well-deserved praise.

It’s a very believable account set in a specific time and place which Latronico must surely have experienced, full of neat, exact references. The theme, lightly but clearly outlined, is the contrast between a life that looks perfect ‘in the pictures’ but as lived falls a little short of ideal and becomes subtly unrewarding in a way the couple find hard to address.

Stylistically, it is highly unusual, consisting entirely of generalised descriptions of the sort of thing the couple do, the kind of meals they eat, what types of people tend to become their friends (few Germans) and so on. There is no dialogue or directly described action, and we are frequently told about feelings and moods they often felt. The narrative stays at this high level of generality throughout. It works fine, but I can’t help thinking how the tutor on a creative writing course, or some publisher offering feedback would respond. Why not have someone murdered, they might suggest, then the reader has a story to draw them through all this lovely description? Could you relate an argument they have over soft furnishings or something, just to bring these brand references to life? Have you ever heard of Joseph Campbell and the Hero’s Journey?

This is a very successful, celebrated book, but you and I could never get away with writing like this. You have to ask, how did Latronico ever get a literary agent to take this on? The answer seems to be – he married one.

Seurat

We went to the Seurat exhibition at the Courtauld. It is a small, focused show, featuring a series of paintings he did of ports and landscapes along the Channel coast, including some preparatory sketches. This gives a good opportunity to make comparisons and see the development of his technique.

Seurat of course was the leading exponent of pointillism, in which the picture is built up from hundreds of dots of unmixed colour. One aspect of the method that I hadn’t appreciated is that dots of the opposite colour are always included, so for example in a blue area there will be some dots of orange. This is meant to give a special vibrancy to the colour. Often it really does, lending a unique luminosity to the paintings, but I thought in other cases it was less effective. Seen from a distance those less successful works look very much like straight, accurately realistic pictures.

We’ve seen Seurat’s pictures before, and in fact the Courtauld itself has several on display that are not part of the current show. But the consistency of subject and the interesting sketches here make it an illuminating exhibition.

Mozart at the RFH

We went to an enjoyable concert consisting of the Overture to the Magic Flute, Piano Concerto no. 21, and the Requiem. Music this popular is often used as a lure to get audiences to listen to something more obscure, but this was pure pleasure.

I remember being shocked when I first discovered that the usual version of the Requiem is a completion of a work Mozart never finished himself. Whether or not he really came to think of it as music for his own funeral, it’s impossible not to be reminded of his early death, which certainly deprived us of some of the greatest classical music never written. Imagine the results of an extended rivalry between Mozart and Beethoven, each needling the other into constantly raising their game, like some Romantic era Lennon and McCartney…

Woman In Mind

We went to see the new production of Woman In Mind, the Alan Ayckbourn classic, staring Sheridan Smith as Susan and with Romesh Ranganathan as Bill Windsor. It’s a great show and I recommend it: funnily enough my only reservations are about the play itself. There are some spoilers in what follows.

The story is in essence about a woman losing her mind. In the early stages her delusional and at first ideal life contrasts with the depressing reality, as she switches between the two. I would have liked a neat resolution to all this, but we don’t get one: instead the delusions get stronger, less controllable and less pleasant and eventually swallow her up.

I said one side of the story is the depressing reality of her life, but in fact our faith in the reality of even the ‘real’ parts is gradually undermined (or at least, mine was). Bill Windsor seems to move across gradually from sensible reality to florid delusion. Muriel the sister-in-law seems like a caricature, too completely awful to be a real person. The behaviour of Susan’s son is not depressing in normal ways but bizarre, and seems to revolve around her, even if in a most negative way. So perhaps in the end we are to realise that the entire play is the record of a set of growing delusions that reflect reality only in a distorted way. That can still be interesting, but I think a little less than a play that does engage with real life effectively.

Grayson Perry Delusions

Delusions of Grandeur at the Wallace Collection is an exhibition in which Grayson Perry reacts to the items in the museum. It got lukewarm reviews when it opened, perhaps because of a lack of coherence. Certainly Perry makes things complicated. We know that context changes the significance and even the value of art, and he likes to control that context by inventing new artists to be the ‘creators’ of some of his work – arguably even ‘Grayson Perry’ is one. Here apart from personas we have seen before he introduces the artist Shirley Smith, also the deluded Honourable Millicent Wallace who believes herself to be the true heir to the Wallace Collection. This opens the way to many reflections on the palatial and the ladylike. He complicates things further by bringing in the work of two real outsider artists, Madge Gill (whose stuff was exhibited here in its own right when the galleries had been emptied in WWII) and Alois Corbaz. So there is no simple story to the exhibition: but how could there be? The collection is complex and so is Perry, and this is the shadow thrown by the former on the latter (or vice versa, or both). This unmanageable complexity is acknowledged right at the beginning by a figure of a Man of Stories who has narrative threads literally bursting out of him.

Coherent or not, Perry is never uninteresting, and there are some nice things here, notably a helmet and figure in armour that are a tribute to the Wallace’s formidable collection of arms and armour, but also great objects in themselves. The ‘tapestries’ Perry goes in for these days are less successful in my eyes. Whisper it quietly, but perhaps the best stuff is the pots.

Not for everyone – you probably know already whether you like Perry’s stuff or not – but I enjoyed it.

Hiroshige

I suppose Hiroshige is the second name that comes to mind when you think of Japanese artists. I had him down mentally as a pretty straight landscape man. However, the current show at the British Museum is amazing and shows him to have been the creator of pictures of huge originality and impact, really second to none. His animals are terrific, and those landscapes are powerfully evocative. He has a particular gift for misty distances which provides a great complement to the hard outlines of printmaking.

Not to be missed if you like ukiyo-e at all.

Here We Are

Went with Elizabeth (thanks to her) to see Sondheim’s last work Here We Are, currently at the National Theatre. For Sondheim’s many fans, this last musical, left in draft form at his death, is a must-see, but it’s an entertaining evening for anyone.

It’s based on two Bunuel films: The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and The Exterminating Angel, but transplanted to America and infused with a New York sense of humour. In the first part the characters just can’t seem to get brunch: in the second they somehow cannot leave the room. Meanwhile they are covertly involved in a drug cartel and a revolution is brewing.

Bunuel’s originals, though surreal, had a dream-like logic which is missing here, but in compensation you get the wisecracking humour. You don’t expect to come out of a late Sondheim show humming the big melodies, but if you’re not a grouch you’ll enjoy the singing.

To me Sondheim represents the pinnacle of the curious trend that briefly saw the Broadway musical turn away from its song-and-dance razzle-dazzle roots towards something much more intellectual. That all stopped when Andrew Lloyd Webber put strong stories and popular tunes back in place, but we were left with some interesting works – and this is a decent final addition to the portfolio.

Restoration of Anne Boleyn

This figure, a modern carving on a modern house, became a bit of a landmark in Carshalton. It was removed for restoration a long time ago, but today Anne is back!

Why Anne Boleyn? She stands opposite ‘Anne Boleyn’s Well’ by All Saints’ churchyard, but in fact the history is garbled: the well was originally associated with the local Boulogne family, not connected with the Boleyns (or Bullens as they were more prosaically known).

Nice to see her back, though.