Yesterday was spent buying boots then traipsing around the West End and its adjacent streets, seeking meaning and solace amidst the glitter and fauna of retail executives' summer dreams (such elaborate window displays and the products that adorn the windows are the result of many sleepless nights and drawn out meetings). I had other plans that I realised but my wanderings and reflections served to fill in the gaps.
Trafalgar Square served as the focal point of my journeys yesterday, I began there and spent some time hanging around its concrete nothingness. It is a space, pure and simple. Its value and meaning comes through the people, animals and objects that are dropped in this arena of tradition. Outside of the National Gallery, performers seemingly unaware that painting yourself gold and standing very still was old hat years ago in Covent Garden and the street performers in Barcelona do it so much better, clearly not so worried about hypothermia in very low temperatures. There was one performer who intrigued me. He had a whip and was loudly and aggressively instructing the rather bemused wanderers to 'LOOOKK ATTTTTT MEEEEE'. As he explained, he needed an audience. One performer in search of an audience standing on his case, the sound of his whip swishing and cracking as it hit the concrete seemed to be unsurprisingly having the opposite effect. Fear is not always a primary motivation for humanity when it seems its entertainment. The possibility of getting hurt tends to lead us away from such aggression. Yet... Given a different set of conditions, we thrive on sensations of fear and disgust. The horror genre works on the safety in numbers philosophy or simply being in an environment where we can watch or read with the recipient of the horrific act or acts being unaware that they are being spied on. The world of sado-masochism also enjoys the pleasure/pain principle but in very controlled situations. I am gradually being led to a position where I feel that there is a need for performers who test the comfort zones of the audience, if only through pushing their sensibilities to the limit. In a vicious world, why do we continue to labour under the belief that things will ultimately get better and that bad things are not inevitable? Does it help us to sleep at night or simply to turn away from atrocities that maybe we could help to address or stop?
Trafalgar Square is like a Pagan stone circle without the spiritual centre. It has monuments to everything. My old friend the blue Cock still occupies the Fourth Plinth.
The 'Hahn/Cock' sculpture by Katharina Fritsch, still resplendent on the Fourth Plinth.
Nelson's Column and the other monuments also guard the area, the last bastions of tradition, not yet tarnished by logos but rendered as clichés through never-ending photos. Fragments of time past, holidays that serve to fill the time and expand the mind. Also the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square, the gift from Norway for the United Kingdom's support during the Second World War looks oddly bereft during the day, reliant on the lights to help it sparkle by night.
The Christmas Tree in Trafalgar Square.
My main memories of my journeys around Trafalgar Square yesterday involve the warning signs advising people not to feed the birds and also not to go in the fountain. Both options were clearly on my mind as I spend some time rebuking the advances of amorous birds and the water seemed so appealing in pretty cold temperatures. Also sitting down reading my book, I was reminded how absurd our daily work rituals are. Two waste management representatives walked around the Square over and over again using one of those devices for gripping rubbish and chucking it in the plastic bags they carried. Every so often, they would pick up the bins and empty them into their bags. This is their permanent occupation. I am not criticising their job as it is necessary and it provides employment but somehow, our decadent lifestyles have caused the waste mountain we are drowning beneath. Our cardboard sandwich packets, our Polystyrene cups, the weird plastic bits that fasten our bottles preventing the risk of contamination. We are submerged and losing breath in our convenience culture.
On a brighter note, yesterday was not simply a day of pessimistic reflections, I also attended the 'Mood Swings' exhibition by Bob Dylan at the Halcyon Gallery and 'Julie Madly Deeply' at the Trafalgar Studios. One contained smashed car doors with bullet holes, gates and paintings of fractious relationships, the other a delightful cabaret focusing on Julie Andrews' life through her songs and roles. Can you tell which was which?
So 'everyone's a winner'? To the victim, the spoilt?
Barry Watt - 20th December 2013.
Afterword
'The Big Issue' is copyright to The Big Issue Foundation and basically remains one of only a small number of magazines I will purchase as a percentage of the sales goes to the homeless vendor. Also it's a magazine that actually has something to say beyond blowing smoke up a fashion house's rear end or massaging the ego of a multinational media company.
The 'Hahn/Cock' sculpture is by Katharina Fritsch and is still on the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square.
The 'Mood Swings' exhibition is on at the Halcyon Gallery until the 25th January 2014. It's a pretty eclectic mix of Bob Dylan's work, ranging from his metal works to his very funny Revisionist art, taking magazine covers and recreating their content. Please see the link below:
'Julie Madly Deeply' is at the Trafalgar Studios until the 4th January 2014. It's a very intelligent and funny take on Julie Andrews' life.
BW
