Spit in your eye

Browsing the French morning paper over breakfast ,my attention was caught by a very unflattering close-up photograph of a woman’s mouth , her lips in a tight ‘O’ and her tongue cradling something brown. What !! Thought I; and on closer inspection discovered that the great annual French cherry-pip-spitting season had begun. This led me to musing about the human obsession with spit, spit spot, spit shine, spitting image , I spit in your eye and were I actually to do so, you would be so insulted that we would be duelling at dawn.

While it seems that most cultures frown at spitting, some do not. But before I venture down this path I must point out quite strongly that there is spitting and spitting. The spitting in central Asia and China involves deep sinus purging which is practiced so publicly and offensively that a large part of the Beijing pre-Olympic budget went into trying to convince the locals that public spitting is frowned upon in the West and - so as not to offend the foreign devils - would the Chinese please stop with the spitting already.

Spitting seems to be a national pastime in central Asia. It first struck me in Samarqand in Uzbekistan. Where suddenly I realised that the pavement was covered in the yellow oyster-like contents of the nations sinuses, which to me seemed somehow worse than dog pooh. This has got to be the most vile and disgusting habit known to man. With a loud sniff and guttural hawking the result of the horrific noise is then plop-splat expectorated onto the most convenient pavement. I can deal with many things but this was just one step beyond. I promtly stopped looking at the pavement; Samarqand is a good place to sort out those lingering posture problems.
In Urumuqi , China, the art of spitting is very well developed . My worst spit memory is that of a well dressed Chinese woman who in a fairly upmarket hotel felt the need to expectorate just before entering the elevator we were all waiting for. So this well groomed lady proceeded with the snarfing, the hawking and the spit into the ashtray, with precision that spoke of many years of experience. I was in a state of horrified shock.

As these memories overwhelmed me this morning I abandoned all hope of further nourishment . If you too are enjoying a meal at this point I do apologise; but I felt the spit obsession deserved some research and did a quick surf to see what the internet could tell me about humans and spit.

Typing in ' Why do humans spit?' Led me into areas of the internet inhabited by the semi-literate and foulmouthed . It also taught me that India rivals China in the love of public spitting. I discovered that most people find spitting an utterly repugnant habit but nowhere did I find why humans feel the need to spit in public . But it does seem to hang together with the acceptability or not of performing other unmentionables in public. The distinction must lie in levels of poverty and living space. The richer a nation the more it can afford clean public toilets, tissues ,handkerchiefs and other niceties that make living together more pleasant

Next I typed in ‘spitting and superstition ‘ as my mother brings from her north eastern German childhood strange quirks that make her believe that to admire ones hands brings bad luck, which is only dispelled if one quickly spits on them. Please remember that this type of spitting is a front of mouth, more air than liquid, variety. A form of spit that is also practised in the Greek culture where, after receiving a compliment it is considered wise to spit on your person- three times- to fend off the evil eye. Fisherman spit on their nets for the same reason and in the film ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ we are introduced to the strange Greek habit of spitting on the bride for good luck. I have visions of the Chinese doing this and … eurrgh there goes my appetite for lunch.

The business of spitting for good luck is also found in Africa amongst the Massai. The Massai are great believers in spitting for luck ,they will spit on children, on people they are pleased to see and on their hands before shaking hands to seal a promise - boys in the west still do this, despite the general cultural taboo of spitting- the explanation given for the Massai love of spitting is that they believe that when it rains god is spitting on earth. It follows therefore that to spit and be spat upon is a very good thing. So if you have a secret desire to spit or be spat upon a visit to the Massai of Africa will find you in good company.

Even the bible mentions spitting in two different contexts, that of shaming by spitting in someone’s face and blessing which is apparently something Jesus did by spitting on followers to heal and ward off evil spirits. Spitting is obviously a deeply imbedded human behaviour and ,as with most primitive human behaviour ,our overwhelming competitive drive kicks in even when spitting. When I asked my search engine to find spitting competitions the most purse lipped of all countries, America, came up tops for variety.

The watermelon pip spitting competition and the cherry pip spitting competitions are the most frequently practiced and the cherry spit has now claimed international status and is practiced as fervently in Europe as America ; it possibly even originates on the European continent . In Spain there is the olive pip spitting competition that draws no less than 25 000 spectators. There seems to be a great fascination with the distance an olive pip can be spat. While spitting pips might seem a fairly harmless thing to do, the dead cricket spitting competitions of America take spitting onto an altogether more bizarre plain. The competition rules require that competitors place a dead, brown house-cricket of between 45 and 55 milligrams fully in their mouths and spit it as far as possible. The spit is only valid if the whole cricket hits the ground. Judges check the missile for the full contingent of six leg ,four wings, one body, a head and two antennae. The world record for spitting a cricket is held by Daniel Capps at 32 feet and one half inch. Now while the Americans are a strange bunch they do not hold the record of the most bizarre spitting competition, that distinction ,I believe, must fall to the South Africans.

The South Africans are great fans of the art of spitting ‘Bokdrolle’. What this translates to is people putting a ball of Kudu dung - the balls are tiny I admit - into their mouths and seeing who can spit it the furthest. Now these are people who under normal circumstances would shudder at the thought of touching a piece of animal pooh, let alone put it in their mouths. But tell them that it is in the quest to see who can spit said piece of pooh the furthest, then all inhibitions are lost and pooh is spat about with abandon. There are hardly any rules for the spitting of pooh but it is commonly understood that a certain amount of very strong liquor should be consumed before, during and after the event.

From this all this information I concluded that humans are hardwired to spit and started surfing the bonobo monkey - as we share 98% of our DNA with this primate- to see how far back in our evolution this tendency manifests itself. My research showed positive results; the bonobo are great fans of spitting on hands and sharing spit i.e. kissing- now that is some spit that nobody goes eww at- and we do seem to share far more behavioural traits with bonobos than just spitting . These are monkeys that also enjoy sex ,a lot, all the time .Both the hetro- and homosexual variety. But that is another story.

You just don't listen

All my life I have had men nailing down my ‘problem’ with the words ; ‘You know what your problem is? You just don’t listen’. My family, friends, lovers and husband and all said the same. So of course when everybody is telling you the same thing you must assume that there is some truth in it.

I decided some self improvement was needed and took action. I would really make an effort to listen to the men in my life. I bit my tongue and opened my mind to the possibilities. Often I got very bored and struggled to remain awake but I really did try to listen. And then, when the men finally took a moment to catch their breath, I took the opportunity to make my reply; only to be shot down with the same old complaint ‘You haven’t been listening to me!’

At the end of last year when once again standing accused of not listening I decided instead of action I would think deeply about my problem of not listening. What was I doing wrong? I had read the self-help books on listening. I was looking the man of words in the eye, giving my undivided attention and allowing him endless time to get to his point – when is the conversation no longer a conversation but a monologue – before I started composing an answer. Despite all this I still stood accused of not listening.

Finally after another sleepless night tossing and turning over this seemingly unsolvable mystery I hit on the answer.

It is not that I don’t listen to the men in my life, it is that I don’t often agree with them that offends them so. How can I possible have been listening to their great wisdom and not agree? It can only mean one thing; you just haven’t been listening.

Renewable energy in South Africa

Play leapfrog not catch


There are moments in history that shimmer with possibility. Lucky are the few who find themselves at the right time and place to take full advantage of the opportunities these moments bring. South Africa is presented with just such a moment now.

The age of Renewable Energy Technology is ready step onto the world stage, and it will be the lead actor for decades to come. Generating renewable, clean, cheap - possibly totally free - energy will be the technology from which will come the greatest innovations of the near future. Renewable Energy Technology will be the biggest and fastest generator of jobs seen in decades .The nations that make developing Renewable Energy Technology their top priority now; will be the leaders of tomorrow.

Africa has a tremendous advantage in this field precisely because it is energy poor. Before the start of the IT age it was commonly believed that Africa would never catch up with the technology of the West. With the arrival of wireless technology Africa didn’t need to catch up, but within ten years simply leapfrogged into a future that it took the developed world hundreds of years to reach. Today Africa is in the same position to leapfrog over the dirty, unsustainable, polluting energy technology of the developed world and become energy rich without further disturbing the balance of nature. Africa is in a position to be a leader in a world where trade and commerce must factor in the value of clean water and air, a world where people labour to create things that enhance the human condition, without destroying the ecosystem that sustains them.

While Governments of the energy hungry developed world know that the prospect of future climatic chaos can no longer be dismissed by clever spin doctors; they are prevented from taking decisive action in developing and implementing the technology of what will become the next age of progress- the age of clean renewable energy- because of their heavy financial investment in antiquated dirty energy technology.

Africa does not yet have the massive investment in dirty energy, it does not have the outdated energy grids it doesn’t have even a small percentage of the coal burning plants it needs to bring energy to all Africans. This is a blessing in disguise as investment in the development and creation of clean energy could become a major new industry in Africa; providing not just clean energy but clean jobs. Unlike the politicians of developed nations the leaders of Africa do not have to convince their voters to move from old and comfortable dirty energy to clean sustainable energy in order to prevent a still debated future of climatic chaos. African leaders can justify the implementation of completely innovative energy technology with immediate human need.

In the 1998 South African White Paper on Energy the then minister said that the energy policy ‘did not intend to reinvent the wheel’. Eleven years on we have discovered that the wheel is central to the planets climatic problems and reinventing it or throwing it out altogether is very much part of the energy policy of the developed world. Just skimming through the White Paper I came across the following statement. “We must open our economy to global industries, and by supplying cheap efficient energy we can do so”. Yes, quite right, but in the context of today’s thinking so very wrong. Of course global industries are looking at South Africans ample supply of cheap energy in combination with its easy come easy go environmental policies with delight- South Africa is 14th in the world for CO2 emissions and its energy use to production ratio places South Africa 10th in the world for inefficient energy use. For a small, sparsely populated country where 40% of the population are not yet linked to the national grid these figures are shocking.

For dirty fuel hungry industries, that are increasingly forced to shape up environmentally in their own countries, South Africa is the last outpost. Even the Chinese are looking at South Africa for cheap energy (that is about as bad as it gets) and considering what the Chinese managed to do to their own environment within the space of 20 years this does not bode well for the rivers, air and people of South Africa. While China continues to consume Africa’s dirty energy, spewing pollutants into African air; the Chinese government has woken up to the fact that it can no longer pollute its own country the way it has been doing or its people will no longer be able to breath. China is currently in the race to produce clean renewable energy at home and it’s government passes stricter emission and pollutant controls daily. So for whose benefit is China coming to South Africa?

The biggest hurdle in getting South Africa to fully embrace new energy technology is it’s massive coal resource –South Africa is the fourth largest hard coal exporter in the world- these exports bring 23.4 billion ZAR into South Africa annually . A massive part of the annual budget, and a very difficult thing to imagine the country doing without. But the fixation with monetary cost - as it is understood today- prevents decision makers from seeing that the value of clean air, clean water and every other environmental thing that dirty energy impacts on will all be hard costs that will have to be factored into every energy budget in the very near future. In that context it would not be far fetched to state that; within 20 years from now the fully factored cost of energy from fossil fuels will be so high that South Africa’s coal will no longer be the cheapest but most expensive fuel on the planet. It is not inconceivable that producing energy from any fossil fuel will be outlawed or morally condemned- much like whaling is today- and global communities will enforce sanctions on any industry or country that insist on using them.

The world’s great financial power houses are squaring up for a battle to see who will lead this energy revolution, but they are hindered in taking the quantum leap that is required by their existing technology. The biggest end user of dirty energy is the domestic house. While factories might seem to be the biggest consumers; it is in the service of the houses of man that all this energy consumption takes place. But due to the glut of houses in the developed world, changing the way houses are built is not even on their think tank agendas.

The need for housing is well understood to be the social foundation for any country. It provides not only shelter but stability and pride of ownership. The possession of a house settles the society and allows it to grow beyond its basic needs of food and shelter. But in a world where Renewable Energy Technology will soon become central to all thinking, the house should not be seen as just a basic social requirement, but central to the fiscal growth of a country. I believe the house of the future will be the catalyst for all the technologically advances that we will make in the next decades and will sweep away thinking that we believe is entrenched and unchangeable.

Technology moves fast; take the IT example, in 20 years we have moved from a communications Dark Age to a present where we know and accept that we will leap forward with better, smaller, cheaper communications on a daily basis. The age of Renewable Energy Technology will be the same. The coal fired power plants that are being constructed now and are expected to start producing energy in 2023 may never be used.


The chronic housing shortage in South Africa combined with government commitment and control over the building of these houses -and the governments stated aim to provide affordable energy to poverty stricken and rural households- makes the South African RDP house potentially the greatest nursery for clean Renewable Energy Technology in the world. Never has a government been presented with such an opportunity to promote and fund Renewable Energy Technology through tax incentives, design competitions and global partnerships with companies that already have done the technological spade work, but are waiting for a large investor to allow them to scale up.

If the South African Government included a ‘zero energy use’ standard (the house is designed as an energy producing unit which creates all its own energy) in the design requirements of the RDP house, these houses could instantly provide the scale needed to make new energy sources, new building methods and materials more cost effective than traditional brick and mortar fossil fuelled houses. In a society that is not yet dependant on six electrical gadgets to shine its shoes and another four to brush its teeth, the concept of a zero energy use house is totally feasible with existing technology. With a zero energy use standard, the government could conceivably not only provide free energy to these households, but the houses could sell back energy to the national grid, producing income for the RDP household or for the government ; thereby offsetting an initial increase in building costs. The increase in building cost of the RDP housing energy unit should also been seen against the elimination of the need to build more power plants and electrical grids and the incalculable advantages for the health of the people and the planet. With new South African design innovation and production the RDP house could become a self sustaining, energy producing unit that could provide the blueprint for international housing and building standards.


In 2008 the then Minister of Energy claimed that South Africa couldn’t supply the 100 000 solar heating systems they had planned for because South Africa doesn’t have the capacity to build them. So build the factories, create the jobs, invest in the future; the renewable energy race has only just started and nobody on the planet has the answers. The Danish government is in the forefront of wind energy but their only distinction is that they are first. It doesn’t mean that they are the best or even right. Their technology it is based on a 7000 year old design – Chinese were using windmills to power their water pumps in 2000 BC- this is like using carrier pigeons to deliver our emails. The future in clean energy has not yet been written and South Africa with it’s first world infrastructure , the knack of it’s people to be innovative thinkers , it’s culture of entrepreneurship and it’s intricate knowledge of low energy living conditions is perfectly positioned to be a world leader, innovator and exporter of renewable clean energy and clean energy systems.

South African could leapfrog the world and become a leader in clean Renewable Energy Technology. Will you grab the chance?

Climate change is a question of scale

1200 km from the northern border of Kazakhstan with Russia - three days torturous drive across arid sands that stretch from curving horizon to curving horizon, past glaring white salt beds that once were water - you will find a dot of a town in the middle of the Kysylkum desert. The metal arch over the road will inform you that you have reached Aral. The first thing to catch your eye will be the gleaming modern fuelling station on your left - unfortunately today it is without diesel – a quick hands and feet chat to the manager will inform you that the diesel truck should be here in a few hours.
The next fuelling station is 150 km to the south so you might decide to wait and wander over the town square- no more than a dusty piece of desert- to the market. Here things hang off strings strung from corrugated iron shack to corrugated iron shack; as a normal sized westerner you will have to duck and dodge under bags and brooms as you make your way from stall to stall. You will find carpets and cloth in acid bright colours, freshly baked crusty bread, stubby knobbly desert cucumbers and sweet deep red tomatoes. You will find cheese- which comes in a barrel out of which they scoop great spoonfuls of white curdles- you will find balls of salty butter, potatoes and freshly slaughtered chickens. You will even find a bottle of Pepsi. But what you will not find is fish.

There is no fish in Aral. Why on earth should this bother you? Simply because the reason that the town of Aral exists is fish. Aral is - or more correctly - was a port or maybe it is still a port as the port is still there, it is the sea that is missing .Odd that. The Aral Sea started vanishing into itself in 1970’s and now the only indication that there is still a body of water somewhere out there - beyond the white chemical encrusted sand and shimmering lake mirage on the horizon - is the occasional seagull that incongruously floats above the heads of the pale camels that wander freely in the dusty streets.

The lack of fish and subsequent economic devastation of Aral is the direct result of long years of human abuse of the ecosystem around the Aral Sea. This abuse culminated in the Soviet ‘’Virgin Lands’ project in the 1950’s; this was the Soviet’s grandiose plan to green the desert by planting fields of wheat and cotton in the dessert which they would irrigate by diverting the Amu Darya and Syr Darya rivers . Rivers whose waters - according to the Soviets - were just going to waste into the Aral Sea. The Soviet collective farmers put the sand to the plough, they planted and sowed and irrigated and irrigated and irrigated and at some point they took just a touch too much water and unknowingly tipped the balance of the ecosystem of the region and started the irreversible shrinking of the Aral Sea.

The ecosystem of planet Earth is like that of Kazakhstan; a delicately balanced see-saw and every time we walk into a shop and buy something we really don’t need, every time we forget to turn off the lights, when we turn up the heat instead of putting on a jersey, when we drive to the corner shop instead of taking a walk, every time we do one of a hundred unthinking things we add to the unbalancing of the see-saw.
The problem is; by the time we noticed that the ecological see-saw of the greater Aral region had tipped, the Aral Sea was already dying and even after we noticed there was nothing we could do. The sea continues to shrink and the sand storms that now plague the region blow polluted sand far around the planet degrading agricultural land and water where-ever it lands. The Aral Sea disaster is proof that human activity can change the climate yet; as global climatic change is still too large and vague for us to measure, we continue to believe we are too small to each make a difference.

We accept however that a tiny bacterium that is transmitted by fleas caused the Bubonic plague; which between 1348 and 1353 caused the death of 25 million people in Europe. We accept that even in our times of highly advanced medical science we are unable to stop the AIDS virus which has killed 25 Million people since 1981 and 2 million in 2007 alone. Today we look with great concern at the spread of Mexican flu as we accept that this flu could turn into a global pandemic. With viruses and bacteria we are quite happy to accept that small could be potentially deadly. Human activity can be seen the same way.

From a vantage point where the whole of earth would be visible - say we were sipping sundowners on a deck chair on the moon- we would see a ball of green and blue suspended in a sea of black. From this distant vantage point we could see the smoke clouds of the burning rainforests we could see the giant pollution slicks in the air and sea but we would have to employ a pretty big telescope to see us; the 6 billion busy little microbes all destroying our tiny part of the greater organism and only then could we imagine how all our little acts of destruction eventually come together.

The IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change); which was established in 1988, has been attempting to provide us with just that telescope. Since it’s inception it has gathered information from the leading thinkers in all fields that are suspected to affect -or to be affected by- climate change. By carefully reviewing and correlating all scientific papers and reports on the global climate issue the IPCC has allowed us to get an overview of the problem. Initially the IPCC reports came to very conservative conclusions that were easy to push aside to make way for more seemingly more pressing immediate problems. Recent years have seen the IPCC reports coming to a clearer and undisputable conclusion; in the last 50 years the speed of climate change has increased alarmingly and this is undoubtedly due to ecologically destructive human activity. Destructive activity that is on the increase daily.

As more humans move into the dead zones of cities they become disconnected from nature and no longer have any concept that they need the diversity of the planet to sustain them. In a city it is easy to believe that as long as there is a supermarket around the corner and a petrol station within driving distance all will be well. The connection between the weather and the produce that we buy in the supermarket is lost. Generations of children are growing up who will never pluck a dewy peach from a tree, who will never lie on their backs to stare at the stars or to find animals in the clouds. Yet they are the ones easy to convince to change their destructive behaviour. More difficult to convince are the generations of people who are already completely entrenched in a lifestyle that is the cause of climatic change. These people are unable to see life outside of their own private sphere let alone make the imaginary leap required to see how much we have to change our thinking to stop a problem we are collectively creating and have no way of controlling or predicting. When the global ecological see-saw looses its balance, the changes it will bring will spill over all our lives.

There are no borders and boundaries to contain global climatic chaos. We all breath the same air, we are touched by the same grain of sand and we all drink the same water; again and again. We are of Earth and the Earth we are unwittingly destroying is our only refuge. Despite the fact that we believe we are the masters of the universe, we cannot stop the flood rains from falling or divert a hurricane; we cannot bring back the river dolphins of the Yangtze. The rainforests that we cut down in an instant will not grow back in our lifetime – perhaps ever- the climatic chaos we are unwittingly creating is a sum of all these parts. When the global ecological see-saw looses its balance, the changes it will bring will make us look at the shrinking of the Aral Sea and wonder why we did not react to the future dangers it warned us of

do_no_evil

Hear no evil see no evil ….does it follow that you are doing no evil?

 

Google has a very snappy little slogan ‘do no evil’ ; I can just imagine a group of bright young things sipping their espressos at a slick table throwing ideas  around until finally ‘do no evil ‘ hits the shiny surface and *bing* a giant flashbulb goes off and everybody is simply thrilled with their cleverness.

 

A sexy and apparently very good slogan. But it must be asked why Google felt the need to give itself such a wide margin of error. Perhaps it is because those bright young things have never had the opportunity to face true evil and simply cannot imagine the amount of things you can do completely wrong before you are defined as evil. Evil is the last degree of bad; herein fall such deeds as raping babies, slow and brutal torture, the wanton destruction of the planet, Hitler, Idi Amin Dada and the Rwanda massacres ; these are things that fall into the realms of evil. I am very happy to know that my daily computer companion has taken it upon itself not to venture down these paths. But again - why are they giving themselves such a wide margin of error?

 

Perhaps it is sheer laziness or an increasing level of illiteracy or the need to always seem the best, and today 100% just doesn't’t cut it, it must be at least 120%. This trend in excess also sees us using the most extreme words to describe the everyday. We call just about every half way decent thing awesome, when last were you really awestruck? Do you even know what that must feel like? Hyperbole and sloppy language use in the everyday hides a multitude of sins, including a couple that can truly be called evil

 

I recently sent a PETS petition about the skinning of fur animals to my entire mailing list. The video is apparently horrific - I am a complete wimp when it comes to such things - I saw the first blow and was ready to stop but forced myself to watch a little longer, when that poor beast twitched as the skinner ripped the pelt from its living flesh that was me , done. It seems , although this petition is very well supported, the general feeling is that the blame is out there somewhere, anywhere but here. It is an easily dismissed fact that the Chinese would not be skinning those animals, in which ever way they do it, if we were not buying the fur. They do it, not because they have some sadistic need to torture animals, they do it because they need to feed their children, house them and hopefully send them to school with new cloths once a year.

 

The recent Chinese history is one of deprivation and hunger . The Chinese population aged 50 years and older lived through 'the great leap forward'- an event that I believe falls within the realms of evil-they can still feel that hunger and can still remember someone who starved to death. The generations that followed lived in abject poverty under the yoke of their oppressive communist regime. It is only the last two decades that has exposed the Chinese to the inconceivable wealth and waste of the West, and asking them to understand why they should not have it too is a bit rich. To waste is the height of cool in China; go to any fancy restaurant in China and you will be astounded at how much food the host will order for his table of guests. There is no chance that the food will be eaten, it is all just a show of money. This is the West ; Chinese style. To waste is to be super cool, to waste is to be sexy, to waste means you are getting to the top of the pile and the more you can waste the higher up you are. Fantastic for capitalists not so very good for the weather or for those poor furry beasts.

 

 I know for a fact that I cannot raise a chicken then chop its head off, rip it's feathers out, gut it and then roast it for Sunday lunch - it is a mental impossibility - but give me a nicely packaged supermarket chicken, squeaky clean and wrapped in glossy cellophane, well then I am capable of rustling up a large variety of delicious chicken dishes and eating them with relish. Most Chinese however, still know that an animal must die for it to be eaten or its fur to be used, they have unfortunately taken the killing thing to its blasé extreme; the wanton cruelty of humans to their fellow earthlings is legendary.  Humans seem programmed to be cruel to others, even within their own species . But who is more in the wrong; me in my cellophane wrapped hypocrisy or the Chinese who actually know exactly where their next meal is coming from.

 

If you are jumping about shouting  ‘yes but it is not about food but about the fur trade’ remember a time not so long ago when western men attacked tiny immature fur seals- those cute white fluffy ones-  with bludgeons to prevent their pelts from being damaged. These poor beasts were also skinned then and there. Were all those little seals well and truly dead? When you have a couple of thousand fur seals to skin in a week you are not going about taking the pulse of each one. The difference is they didn’t have mini-cams and internet in those days so the sins were more easily hidden.

 

Today we still want our furs. In the latest edition of ‘Intelligent Life’ a light hearted article about cocktail rings proclaimed that, as we can no longer wear a fur as we might have a can of paint thrown at us, we should indulge in cheap jewellery. Just there lies the hypocrisy; to not wear a fur because you fear the paint can is not the point and will not stop the Chinese from skinning living animals. What we have done to absolve our guilt is to move our atrocities to a place where we hoped nobody would ever see them.  It would be bigoted in the extreme to plead innocence and to blame the Chinese for something we have equal part in creating. It smacks of the same sort of thinking that makes one country believe it is better than another if not the best country on the planet. The point is debatable but what is true is that this is the best planet we are ever likely to inhabit so the aim would be to stop dumping our garbage in someone else’s backyard and then start pointing fingers.

 

 The West  has squandered the earths resources in a one- hundred- year-party in which we have used and abused every one of the planets resources. We have left the hangover and the mess to the developing world and they don’t really like us for it. They want a party of their own. How are we going to stop them and make them believe that they are having a better time than we did. This is going to make telling someone to go to hell in such a way that he enjoys the ride seem amateurish.

'"You have to work much harder than we ever did ,but you cannot have the big house, the smart car, the three hundred pairs of shoes, the swimming pool or any of the other thing that we demanded as our just desserts. In fact sorry folks, we had the dessert , the cake and the cake shop is bankrupt " - are there any good really really good diplomats out there?

There are no more easy outs, there is no more passing the buck because that buck comes from the west, and after it has paid for dirty energy, dredging of coral reefs and the skinning of live animals it is going to end up right back in your wallet, with all the stains of its wanton course around the world embedded in it.

Next time you step out to SHOP because you cannot think of anything better to do, think of those ‘f'ing’ Chinese skinning those living animals; hearing no evil and saying no evil does not mean you are doing no evil.

 

The_decline_of_art

The decline of art

 

In the city of Rubens – Antwerp Belgium – the work of that great master abounds in churches, public buildings and in the Royal Museum of Fine Arts where, in a dedicated hall, his finest pieces overwhelm the vast space. When looking at these giant glowing works of masterful composition, painterly craft and intelligent concept, I am sure that no Joe Public was ever moved to say disparagingly; ‘I could do that!’ These works inspire a sense of awe and wonder at what we humans are capable of achieving. When you walk away from them you are filled with a purpose to try a little harder.

 

Antwerp also claims to have discovered the - I quote from the blurb in one of the catalogues in the Xeno gallery - most famous female artist of all time, Marlene Dumas. The Xeno gallery is just across the road from the Royal museum; here fifteen Dumas works hang in a much publicised exhibition. Small paintings, modest in colour use and niggardly in craft. At the opening I watch the faces of the public viewing the work, they are blank masks, and no word is spoken. Is this a sign of silent reverie in the presence of greatness? Or simply one of complete incomprehension and the fear of seeming stupid if an opinion expressed might stand in opposition to the great reputation of this artist.

 

The images on display are of blotted vaginas in raw umber and blue, a bad copy of a Man Ray eye, portraits that are vaguely reminiscent of Marlene Monroe, a set of pouty lips and a portrait of her mother that sends me suddenly into “Physco” the scene where we finally discover the secret of the woman in the rocking chair. The craft of the work is questionable and the composition limited to placing a fuzzy object more or less in the middle of the canvas.  As the intellectual concept behind the work is always more difficult to fathom, I leave the gallery to try to find the meaning behind it all. Here is where contemporary art leads the public on a merry chase of the said and unsaid, by using mangled philosophies - expressed in words with far too many syllables - to describe meaning that is not there. My conclusion is that Dumas is in favour of the accidental in art. Sounds very philosophical but accidents happen; to leave the spill of coffee on the table claiming that it enhances the room is absurd, but in contemporary art this thinking is elevated to greatness.  It is also said she understands and paints the human condition with the sparse brushwork of a master. With this background information I decide to give Marlene Dumas’s art a second viewing.

 

In an empty gallery I open my mind to the experience I meditate quietly, surreptitiously glancing at the images out of the corner of my eye to try and catch that fleeting magic that defines a master piece. I employ every method of looking that I can think of to try and find some sense of achievement in these pieces but the magic eludes me.  All the while I have in the back of my mind the knowledge that the public was proven wrong in rejecting a host of artists that presented a new way of seeing in the past, and I could be missing something quite fundamental. But then I console myself with the fact that we - Mr and Mrs Joe Public - have also made vast advancements in our way of seeing the world and with the endless stream of visual stimulation that we are accustomed to processing every day I feel quite confident in expressing my opinion about the works of Ms Dumas.

 

The Dumas world is inhabited by sad somewhat scary individuals. Why is sad and suicidal so much more sexy in the art world than happy and joyous? Is it that the art dealers are just so numb to joy that they find it repulsive, or could it be that as soon as a thing evokes a happy emotion it could conceivable been seen as decorative, and that of course will never do. Personally give me happy and joyous any day and if the piece makes the room look pretty (I can just see the critics wincing at that word) so much the better. The Dumas works are relentlessly ugly and evoke only the feeling that the artist must be very sad or very bored .The accidental in her art seems to me to be reactive in that she splots paint about and then looks back and says; ooh that looks sort of like a Man Ray eye I’ll put that in my next exhibition. Compare this to Rubens who set out with a brilliant concept in mind and then was able to consciously sketch and compose and finally through the expert application of paint to imbue the concept with vigour and life. I am sure that within this process there were fortuitous moments when a small quirk of paint on canvas suddenly created the magic that makes a masterpiece. These moments are a gift; not the whole basis of an art form and in the case of Dumas they don’t bring magic but disaster. Dumas’s works inspire only irritation that I again took the time to come downtown to view them. To all the Dumas fans, you go roll about in the sludgy browns and blues of Dumas despair but spare me the eulogies; the woman needs help.

 

I try to imagine what Rubens would have made of the Dumas exhibition. It is a difficult task, especially if one were to try to explain to him that for the sake of the advancement of art we have dismissed his style in favour of that of Ms Dumas. I think the man would have me committed. I wonder also what he would have made of the constant comparisons that are made between him and the other superstar of the contemporary art world. Damien Hirst. Critics try to justify the fact that Mr Hirst never actually paints the paintings he puts his name to by comparing him to Rubens. Rubens was known to also use assistants in producing his works. But when one digs further and finds that Hirst uses assistants to glue dead butterflies onto boards painted in flat enamel colours, or to paint dots on boards ; producing an endless repetition of the same but slightly different thing, as compared to Rubens using highly skilled artists - masters in their own right - to help with specific areas of vast works, that took years to complete; and if one then stood in front of the original works of both artists one would surely have to be completely blind or somewhat addled not to find any comparison between the two men totally inappropriate.

 

But the comparison serves to underline how far we have regressed in thinking and craft .Today using assistants to produce endless coloured dots on board with the exulted claim that the same colour is never used twice, is presented as great art. To make the achievement of not using the same colour twice a measure of great artistic talent neatly illustrates the state of contemporary art. An act of insignificance that deserves the insult of; I can do that.  But of course Mr Hirst has a point when he says ; perhaps you can do that but only mine - even if I don’t paint them myself - are worth 600 000 pnds. The blame for this state of affairs has got to rest squarely on the shoulders of the rich. How stupid are these people . I can only imagine it is because today the rich are the Paris Hiltons of the world, these are the light brained twits who fall for the Damien Hirst scam and drag the whole concept of art into the worst neighbourhood of the capitalist state.

 

What Damien Hirst is, is glittering mirror ball  of everything that art has become in the last few decades, the making of money in which- lets give credit where credit is due - he does indeed stand at the pinnacle of the contemporary art world. A world where beauty and intellect have been disregarded in favour of the art of selling the emperors cloths at great price. But in order to justify this state of affairs there is a great wringing of hands and deep anguished discussion of whether Mr Hirst is an artist and whether ‘his’ creations will be considered great art tomorrow or the next day.

 

To my mind this addresses the wrong thing. Damien Hirst is the artwork, but not one of his own creation. He is the pinnacle of the creative abilities of the salesmen and woman who control the world of contemporary art. To end the discussion of where the art of Damien Hirst lies I would suggest that he be carefully preserved and floated precisely at the centre of a giant tank of acid green formaldehyde as a symbol of the perversity of the art world today. And hey Damien, as we all know you are not so good at thinking up your own ideas have this one, it’s on me.

 

 

Frieze Art Fair

My brain is melting;I thought I published this months ago. Ah well

London October 2008

 

The importance of the Frieze art fair was made quite clear to me while buying an online ticket to the event. Peevish instructions accompanied every step of the process. Do this, do that, under no circumstances may you do the following. I realise that art is important, but was all this schoolmarmish instruction giving really necessary. Fortunately, having bought the ticket online, I could skip the queue in Regents Park. Not really a huge advantage as, although signs were placed at carefully measured intervals giving waiting times , these were never in any danger of being used and the one stating ‘two hours wait from this point’ seemed a touch optimistic. The small group of art enthusiasts was considerably fleshed out with people in black suits employed to herd unruly art viewers. Walk here, keep left, stay right; I had unpleasant flash-backs to the people-herding one endures at Heathrow - but without the crowds - perhaps they would arrive later.

 

The people who were there were giving the art a good run for its money. Green haired Goths - with more buckles on their boots that the entire mounted brigade- rubbed shoulders with elderly ladies in exotic purple gear ,who peered at artworks through bejeweled wingtip spectacles. The serious buyer was the one who actually bothered asking after the prices. ‘Oh anywhere up from 11000euros’ the airy reply of a young sales lady wafted into the ears of less courageous onlookers.

 

The sales ladies were a revelation; who knew that so many gorgeous young ladies were simply passionate about art. Black seemed to be the only clothing colour option. Much like ramp models that may not smile lest they distract from the clothing they are wearing ,these young ladies were obviously under instruction not to distract from the art works with outlandish clothing. What to do then about the glut of all-black paintings. It must be the gloom of global economic meltdown influencing the art world. I confess to being in an all black mood myself.

 

Interestingly, despite the constant harping that painting as an art form is dead, the overwhelming majority of works were in fact paintings. Probably a bit of strategic thinking on the part of the dealers - in a down market - to put up art that can in fact hang behind the coach. It must make the sale a bit easier if the buyer does not have to consider remodeling the house to accommodate the new art acquisition. There were however two sculpted pieces that caught my eye. Both in clear substance, one a cubic meter of clear resin(perhaps) in the centre of which floated a galaxy shaped air bubble, ‘the laboratory of a new universe’ I think it was called. It certainly drew the crowds and the craft of the thing alone was worth applauding. The other piece was ‘a continual vortex’. A large sphere of glass with a whirlpool of water dancing in its centre, this was mounted on a plinth at eye level, so the hilariously distorted faces of other viewers were visible behind the vortex. An interesting, possibly meditative piece, or a gym for the Koi.

 

On the painting side what stood out were very graphic, very large pieces consisting of thin sinuous green and brown acrylic lines racing and swirling over snow white canvas. These paintings were presented by several galleries. Must have upset the galleries but great exposure for the artist. However -as with most abstract art- the artist had found a groove and kept repeating himself. The paintings were admittedly intriguing from the - how did he do it point of view- the problem with this sort of art is once the how’s it done is discovered what is left? There is nothing there except a computer playing with lines that have been enlarged to impressive size. Fun, but telling art, that will have weight in five years time let alone 500? I doubt it.

 

While I enjoyed the visual spectacle of realistic paintings of mini cars and trucks all balancing on top of one another or arranged in compartments that reminded me of keyboard tabs, all this in various shades of yellow, the possible deeper meaning of it all was - as is normal in the art world of today -  on a strictly need to know basis so who knows and frankly who’s got the time to try and find out? Nobody really, perhaps not even the artist. I caught another snippet of information from an oriental buyer interested in a medium sized framed photograph of a wave. 35 000 USD was the quoted price. The oriental chap did not seem fazed at all, and he and the sales lady withdrew to the small private room all the stalls had in place to conclude the business end of the deal.  Other than that there were the usual comers of inexplicable art, ugly art, badly executed art and odd photographs that on the whole reminded me of the first year efforts we all produced in art school. Goodness knows, perhaps that is where the galleries are finding their great artists.

 

Is it possible that only the worst of creatives stay in the fine arts, the rest being snapped up by the design and commercial art studios of the world? I think it must be so if one considers the woeful state of the art market or rather more precisely the horrible stuff that is for sale. The shape of the art market itself depends on whom you are speaking to. The Frieze organisers have pegged this fair as their best fair yet, but the critics say the sales tanked and the auctions were dismal. But then the modern art market is all about spin isn’t it?  A market in which clever sales men and women control all things ART, perhaps that’s the problem.

 

Eaves dropping once again I overheard an elderly couple discussing a fabulous piece with a sales lady. Deciding that surely I must be missing something, I took time out to stand and concentrate on the offering in question, a series of sloppy lines in various shades of purple and green mud. What was the point? Was it in the colours or in the line or was it possibly a representation of a three day old bruise? What did the couple find fabulous about this piece?  All I could see was inexplicable ugliness.

 

Perhaps that is what art has become? A fairly ugly, meaningless and completely uninspiring object that is sold for more money than can possibly be justified? I have this old fashioned idea that art should have a function.  I believe the function of art is to ‘kick against society’, or to communicate to society that which it lacks ,or to communicate a higher ideal ,to provide some inspiration, and I further believe that art should be executed with great attention to craft. But even craft it seems is now no longer a desirable part of art. It is as if the artists revel in the slovenliness of their creations.

 

Contemporary art perhaps shows a mirror to our faces and says – to paraphrase Picasso- the world is ugly and incomprehensible why should art be otherwise. This is just a slippery escape route. Society has always been brutal and the world inhabited by millions who cannot see other than to prevent themselves from walking into a pole.

For art to emulate life is to degrade us all. Art should be an act of intellect that should attempt to be arresting enough to issue an invitation to deeper thought. And the invitation should have sufficient clarity to allow the recipient to at least to arrive at the right time and place, if they then don’t enjoy the occasion when they get there, well that’s up to each individual.

 

I think the true art lover - that person who does not need a middleman to tell him that the thing he is looking at is beautiful or has value beyond money - must despair at the things that pass as art today. I wonder how our descendants will view this era of art. Will there ever be a museum 600 years from now to which people will flock to marvel at our creations. I think our descendants will not marvel at our art but will shake their heads at the sad folly of it all or worse, fall about laughing.