The Grand Northern Tour
Went up to Cumbria to visit Kieran and his family over New Years and having shelled out £78 for a train ticket to Penrith was determined to make the most of it. (Still) Up at the crack of the prepenultimate dawn of 2006, i jumped on the train to Birmingham. Went to the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery in search of Burne Jones and was suitably satisfied and impressed. Socks knocked more off though by the Barber Institute of Fine Arts at the University of Birmingham - it has a fabulously dense high quality collection - one of the best I've seen in England. Back on the train to Penrith, then picked up by Kieran's dad and on to Broughton via Cockermouth (the Wyalkatchem motto, "strange name, beaut place!", could probably be applied here). Authentic and tasty hotpot with black pudding for tea then out "for a couple of quiet ones" in Cockermouth that evening, a convivial ale with the owner of the pub turned into convivial shots of Sambuca with him and about eight other people he knew, and so on and so forth to the local nightclub... Come closing time, I had to find my own way home as Kieran had found his way to someone else's home.
After getting up the following day, we used the remaining 40 minutes of daylight to stroll about both the Little and the Great Broughtons. Saw some sheep and the river Derwent. Lakes District tourism next day: Keswick, Ambleside, Cumberland sausages, Jennings ales, Grasmere, Kendal mint cake, Windermere, Keswick slate, Lake District from Above, what more could ya want? My only retrospective disappointment is that we didn't make it to Egremont, home of the World Gurning Championships, but then again they're on at the Egremont Crab Fair in September - will def try to schedule next visit to coincide! NYE in Cockermouth - sauced - rockin! 200 tonnes of fun!
Went to Manchester to stay as, having been there previously, i kinda knew my way round ish already. Most of the city was pretty dead, being a Monday 1st Jan, so for dinner I set out on a pilgrimage to The Curry Mile of Rusholme in search of the best kebab I've had in the UK, as discovered by one G. Turner and I one Friday night in August 2005. Rusholme was pretty busy (in a strange echo of the bombscare incident of my last trip there, there were at least 30 police out) but, of the 50 or so kebab and curry joints open, none appeared exactly as I'd remembered. After a few moments of reflection on the futility of trying to recapture past experiences and solid interrogation of a spruiker about how they cook their bread, i settled for a double kobeda kebab at the West Bank. It was literally about 12 inches long, double-barrelled, liberally accessorised with olives, pickles, onion, chilli and garlic sauce, spicy, saucy, substantial. Past experience not recaptured (couldn't have honestly been without Grant there) but in many ways adequately substituted. And definitely worth walking 5 kilometres for.
Next day, cultural ambitions fully and heartily realised. Joe Colombo: Inventing the Future exhibition at the Manchester Art Gallery (exhib organised by Vitra Design Museum which i'd visited - on the outside at least - when in Basel), and checked out some of the PreRaph faves too. MetroLink out to Salford - it's a pretty groovy set-up out there - will be great when its grooviness spills sufficiently far east towards Castlefield and they can connect via some kind of a grooviness-rhizome - to The Lowry - Greater Manchester's own Guggenheim Bilbao and tribute to the great LS. Paintings very nice, some fab photos, interior design a little OTT. Back to Manc Picc then train to Liverpool. First stop, the Walker - by its own admission, the national gallery of the north. It is significantly bigger and its collection (certainly that on display) notably more prolific than those in Birmingham, Leeds, Nottingham and Manchester. I haven't been to the Laing or the Graves. In my geo-econo-politico-historico-cultural musings, I couldn't help wondering why that is the case. Is it a coincidental fact, down to the particular admirable actions of one Andrew Barclay Walker? Or is it symptomatic of some deeper industrial/economic/social/cultural forces in action? One possibility that sprang to mind is that Liverpool's prosperity predates that of Manchester and Leeds somewhat due to its position as a port (inasmuch it has arguably been open to outside influences). Moving into the Victorian era, the period during which civic pride and motivations for self-improvement collided and colluded to make the public museum a popular pastime for the bourgeoisie and mandatory accoutrement for every bourg, the
scousers were probably better equipped than the
mancs or
geordies (
leeds residents don't have an amusing slang name - seriously check the link: it's some vitriolic funny s--t - look up dff (a varitable plethora of definitions) and cock block for more guaranteed laughs - how far this cultural musation has slidden) to step up to the mark.
Right-o, where were we? Next stop the Open Eye Gallery (which is quite near where Kieran and I drank at least 10 "Seven Sins"-themed shots (envy was good if a little heavy on the chartreuse) EACH whilst conviving with some charming scousy popsies in matching white cowboy hats (not too many dffs iykwim;)) for a Phillipe Chancel exhibition DPRK - a series of fascinating photos from North Korea, one of which was in the Photographic Portrait Prize finalists at NPG. Then down to Albert Docks to the Tate: supercoolkitschy John Armleder installation, Patrick Caulfield, Lowry in Liverpool, Jake and Dinos Chapman: Bad Art for Bad People. The Chapman brothers are extremely clever: the contronting often physically revolting nature of their works made me realise for the first time that art doesn't have to be beautiful to be worthwhile. I hesitate to say good because as they saliently highlighted, with their sculptures of young children with erect phalluses instead of noses, art can't be judged as "good" or "bad", only as "oohgosharentwecleverweknowthatartdoesnthavetobebeautifulheresabigdickhahahaandanotheronecockscockscocksandnazishahaha" or "nodicksinvolvedwhatsoever". I feel genuinely enlightened, if a little jealous - they've earnt themselves more money, fame and alleged repute applying their obvious skills in draughtsmanship and devotion to craft to making cynical, often repulsive, crap than most of us will doing anything else, good, bad or otherwise. The Richard Serra's assistant skit in the rubber glove video was pretty funny though. "Considered as a whole the brothers' work appears to be concerned with what might be described as the redundancy of liberal humanist notions of the redemptive value of the work of art, as well as notions of transgression, which might, by virtue of its 'canonical' place in art theory, be considered equally redundant." I was forced to purchase an architecture tome at the bookshop to redeem and renew my view of creative contributions to the world and a 4pack of Caffreys at the Spar near the train station to redeem and renew my view of life.
Next am, first train to York. It was good. i walked along the wall, saw the castle, had a nice latte, art gallery (pre-e-etty regional, though an interesting exhibition on "conversation", i.e. genre, i.e., borgeouis nunciness, pieces), good lunch, expresso, town centre, minster, museum, stroll through town, went to evening prayer at the minster, more stroll, book, train home via Peterborough, it has a seriously amazingly cathedral (one can only only get so close at 8 o'clock at night - will have to check out again in daylight hours).
The North - done and dusted.
