Denna Jones: Consultant, designer, writer and lead artist around architecture, the public realm, culture and innovation

Don't Let the Rant Rule the Writer

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Bang the drum. Send in the clowns. Another writer has been inducted into the ABM (Author’s Big Mistake) Hall of Shame. She is Katherine Rosman, a reporter at The Wall Street Journal, author of the recently published book “If You Knew Suzy”, and aggrieved recipient of a mild book review toasting (not even a roasting) by The New York Times writer Dana Jennings. ABM members are writers who go print postal when they receive a poor review (see my previous post “What Not To Do If You’ve Received a Bad Review” for more on ABM). Although they generally train their crosshairs on the critic, writers sometimes crank back the magnification to widen the field of view to include the publisher. Watch out.

As if hubristic writer rage weren’t enough, sometimes the writer’s downfall is fuelled by word assaults from angry fans of the author. One of Rosman’s Twitter followers (an Associate Professor of Architecture no less) overtakes Rosman’s 1,514 word Gawker screed (the offending review devoted less than 300 words to Rosman’s book) with her superposed rapid fire word spray to The New York Times. @LizaSwanson’s verbose Letter to the Editor stands at 1,675 words. Will The New York Times publish it? Unlikely. Swanson and Rosman demonstrate the first three casualties of writer rage. Say goodbye to perspective, economy of language and tight edits, and say hello to digressive pity party prose. And to borrow a word apparently coined by Rosman, screeds aren’t very “Timesian”.

Don’t mistake the ABM Hall of Shame for a stellar literary feud. Hall of Shame blame is like an authorial weather report. Generally tedious with occasional light relief. Literary feuds on the other hand are like ringside seats at a Luche Libre spectacle. Pumped up stars, theatre and massive fun. The famous bust-up between Tom Wolfe, Norman Mailer, John Updike and John Irving was ignited following adverse reviews of Wolfe’s book A Man in Full. Wolfe retaliated with his essay “My Three Stooges”. And a truly classic literary feud is an extended collection of bon mots. Dorothy Parker’s feud with Clare Boothe Luce produced this (attributed) gem. The younger Luce opened a nightclub door for Parker snarking as she did so, “Age before beauty”. Parker serenely swept through replying “Pearls before swine”. This is how the pros do it Hall of Shamers.

A danger for the newest Hall of Shame inductees is the immediacy of Twitter. Rosman’s Twitter stream is at a tipping point. Will she continue to tweet about her NYT review and encourage her tweeps to do likewise leading to a possible Alice Hoffman-like implosion? Hoffman exceeded ABM and veered into obsessive stalker tactics when she bristled at a Boston Globe book review (which like Rosman’s wasn’t as bad as Hoffman thought). Her stream of Tweet nasties culminated with a Tweet revealing the private phone number of the reviewer, and a Tweeps call to arms. “Tell her what u think of snarky critics.”

It’s not just Twitter that attracts zealotry. The Gawker comments for Rosman’s article are largely negative towards Rosman’s rant. The author’s defender Liz Swanson goes to bat once again for Rosman, but she loses the argument to Eringowaaaah, whose reply to Swanson is bang on target:

That’s cool. But I think you just made the point that a lot of people are making here—reviews are subjective. Why review the reviewer? And especially, why is the author of the book reviewing her book review. Next, we’ll have the reviewer of the book reviewing the review of his review of the book by the author of the book.

At the end of the day, she got one crap review, and lots of good ones. Most authors should be so lucky. Seems cheap that she utilized her Gawker connects to deal with it

Rosman complains Mr Jennings didn’t “get” her book. A critic has no obligation to “get” a book on the writer’s terms. His role is to review with a judicious eye, and to employ Wimsatt and Beardsley’s “intentional fallacy”. Rather than consider the author’s intentions, the critic’s role is to be objective and decide what meaning the book might hold for the reading public. A critic isn’t a writer’s friend; a critic is the reading public’s friend. And it’s venal to imply a critic owes the writer quid pro quo because the writer sent the reviewer best wishes prior to the review.

“When I read of Mr. Jenning’s cancer, I wrote and mailed to him a letter sending him my best wishes. I guess I should have asked Ms. Didion for help in crafting it.”

Rosman doesn’t know when to stop. She pointedly states this is her first book. The subtext is clear. The reviewer should go easy on her. If being a Wall Street Journal reporter were a menial job like trainee apron boy at Sheets-n-Things on Glee, then yes, Rosman should get a pass on her first book attempt. But it isn’t. Writing is a profession envied by many. Writers earn their recognition.

Rosman indulges in pompous and yes, even ludicrous, analogies. The gem of the bunch is this:

“Might I add comparing all memoirs that involve themes of death against Ms. Didion’s is like measuring the work of every carpenter against Jesus Christ’s.”

Have archaeologists discovered furniture made by Jesus? No? So we agree no furniture by Jesus exists against which we can compare the work of contemporary furniture makers. Malcolm Gladwell reckons it takes 10,000 hours to become craft proficient, something the Bible fails to establish in terms of Jesus’ woodworking skills. The Reverend Ken Collins makes the Jesus-was-a-Rabbi-not-a-Carpenter point. “In the gospels, there is no incident where a Pharisee invites Jesus to fix a wobbly table.” The good Reverend also reminds us that “Carpenters don’t have disciples.”

There is a semi-tragic element to Rosman’s rant. It distracts from her gift as a writer. She can write. She is good. Her website “about me” page is charming and self-deprecating. But her decision to write a self-pitying, splenetic invective, and to compound the error by promoting her follower’s similar move demonstrates how powerful is the Sirens call of the ABM.

My advice to writers with fragile egos? Study screenwriter J.D. Shapiro. Shapiro recently received a Razzie award for worst movie of the decade for Battlefield Earth. Did he object? Did he hide? Did he whine? No. He rose to the occasion and treated the ceremony like a Friar’s Club Roast. He accepted his award in person. He made a self-deprecating, funny speech. He owned the movie. He declared it wasn’t just a “sucky” movie. No! It was the “suckiest” movie of an entire decade! Kudos! Shapiro’s IMDb STARmeter should be on the rise as a result of his Razzie acceptance speech. Heed his lesson writers. Own your output. Keep your voice authentic and your audience will listen. And if you can’t? Then employ brevity and wit when you write your riposte. And just to be safe, let it settle a few days before you hit “send”.

Audi Urban Future Award Conference - Building a Vision for 2030

Tue, 01 Jun 2010 00:00:00 GMT

“He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me … ” No, I don’t refer to a man but rather man’s best friend. The car. I have a fractured relationship with cars. On the one hand I love them. Absolutely love them. My Father’s collection of vintage Lincoln Continentals included the famous “suicide door” model. Hemmings Motor News was his monthly must-read. I’ve barreled down many a west coast highway in one of his Continentals, and we both love driving through the desert with the windows open to joyously disprove the notion that 120 degree farenheit demands air conditioning. AC is for snowbirds.

But on the other hand … I live in London. And I try to live green. No meat. No dairy. No car. Small footprint. So despite the contradiction of Nissan’s Figaro being my transport talisman (if I see one it’s good luck, touch one and it’s bonus good luck), I don’t own a car. UK Government transport policy habitually tries to build its way out of congestion. Traffic paralyzes many roads. It’s no longer possible to accurately gauge arrival time via London bus. Sixty minutes to travel the relatively short distance from Dalston, East London to Trafalgar Square should be adequate, but last week it took me ninety. And yes, I can walk that distance in ninety minutes. The sorry truth is, London traffic moves slower than joggers on the former Fiat test track at the famous Turin Lingotto factory.

So when I was invited to attend the Audi Urban Future Award: Building a Vision for 2030 conference, my RSVP was an emphatic “yes”. Held last Friday at RIBA’s impressive Portland Place HQ, the event announced the shortlist of international architectural practices responding to the Audi brief to imagine the future of cities by conflating mobility, architecture and urban development.

What follows is my assessment of the presentations (five minutes per speaker). My assessment does not take into consideration prior knowledge nor the essays published in the conference catalogue.

Comments appear in order of presentation. I have no affiliation nor loyalty to any of the practices. Brackets & bold indicate my comments or critique of the presenter’s ideas. The architects have three months to fine-tune their proposals before the Judges announce the winner.

Rupert Stadler, Audi introduction. Audi’s goal is to listen, learn and understand in order to create a sustainable future. Audi thinks long term and is a mobility provider, not just a car manufacturer. Looks to create sustainable individual mobility.

Alison Brooks, Alison Brooks Architects London. “Personal mobility is here to stay.” Downsize cars. Make expandable cars, e.g. clip-on a bit when you need to seat more passengers. [Antro, Hungary have a prototype in the works.] The “USB house” - integrate the car with the home. Make the car interior multi-functional within the home. [Will cities 2030 be able to accommodate the luxury of detached homes as illustrated by her USB house? I don’t think so.] Grade: C-
Bjarke Ingels, BIG, Copenhagen. “Can the world afford the Tata Nano? [Perhaps India and developing nations should ask if they can afford the West and our profligate habits?] Seeks to apply Kurzweilian thinking to cars. Less is more. Mess is more. Cars will be driverless [“Total Recall” got there first!], noiseless and non-polluting. One of the architect’s slides demonstrated the managed chaos at intersections which will allow driverless cars to seamlessly segue. [I’ll bet this guy’s played Atari’s 1980 Dodge ‘Em when he was growing up. But perhaps he should graduate to swarm theory?] Grade: B
Enric Ruiz-Geli, Cloud 9, Barcelona. Buildings, meat and cars are the three biggest CO2 producers. Airbag car - an empathic car. [Needs a better visual. Will people want to drive a car with a big bag stuck to the front of their sedan?] Empathic car is evolution of Buckminster Fuller’s solar car. [Perhaps I misunderstood. He showed images of Fuller’s Dymaxion car which wasn’t solar powered.] Grade: B-
David Allen for Diller, Scofidio + Renfro, New York. Highlighted US love of “RVs” (recreation vehicles). Most searched term on Google in 2005. Wants to re-think the idea of the RV mobile “home” and create a mobile world of architecture. [Visuals did not look visionary. In fact, several looked retro, i.e “plugging” containers into buildings reminds me of a 1940s New Yorker cartoon, as well as Welton Becket’s 1971 Contemporary Resort Hotel for Disney World. The steel A-frame was designed so rooms could be craned in and out - apparently to ease redecoration. But the steel expanded and the rooms stayed put. See also Kurokawa’s Nakagin Capsule Tower, Tokyo (1972).] Grade: C
Jurgen Meyer H, Berlin. Surveillance technologies trace our mobility. Data takes over driving of car. Fluid traffic. No drivers means we can remove motorway lighting and the mess of traffic lights, signs etc. [I like the idea of returning dark skies to urban centres - this is a step in the right direction.] Grade: B
Zhang He, Standard Architecture, Beijing. “Harmonious Beijing”. Decried Beijing’s ring road traffic which is at a stand still much of the time. “Ring roads are parking lots.” Need to focus on public not private transport. Intensive ring subway/underground system with housing above. “Subway first” will replace “Road first”. Travel belts will move driverless cars or Audi “bubbles” around the city. Awkward phrase “agricurbanism” to describe green cities producing food. [Visuals look disturbingly similar to MRDV Gwanggyo Power Centre, Seoul, South Korea.] Of the architects who showed images of 2030 homes, only Zhang showed densification. [Brooks and D S + R showed detached houses. A 2030 pipe dream.] Grade: A- for concept

My winner is Zhang He, Standard Architecture because he has the guts and vision to say that integrated public transportation is the mobility future for our cities.

What Not To Do If You've Received a Bad Review

Thu, 27 May 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Think about it. What do you hope for when you put your work before the public? Whether writing, a performance, an artwork, a building or a service, we all seek attention for our creativity, and most of us hope for a warm, positive reception. (And yes, there are instances where creators court controversy, but let’s leave that discussion for another time.)

So you’ve laboured long and hard over your creation. It gets accepted for publication or perhaps for a public exhibition. A critic (me in this instance) reviews your work for a magazine. I don’t like your work. The review is published. You (and one of your fans) read the review. You are livid. Livid! You both write furious, lengthy emails to the Editor.

You cry the reviewer’s “misunderstood” me! She’s taken “her scythe to some very tall poppies”! How dare she reference Basquiat and Kerouac who work in different media and are “Dead Male Stereotypes”! Why can’t the reviewer see “the beauty of the work and the brilliance of her concept?” Why is the review “arrogant, dismissive and contemptuous”?! Why is she “blatantly disregarding actuality”? Doesn’t she realise my work relates to “marriage in the animal kingdom”, and that “snails mate at dawn”?!

You and your Canadian fan demand justice. You want a forum for public rebuttal. Wait a minute. Public rebuttal? That’s not good enough! Let’s reintroduce the shame of public stocks and pelt her with rolled-up copies of the magazine! That’ll teach her.

So far, so entertaining. These quotes are genuine and refer to a review I wrote that was published this month. Anyone familiar with Vice City radio in Rockstar Games’ “Grand Theft Auto” games franchise will know what I mean when I say these emails read like a script for callers to Chatterbox Talk Radio. Chatterbox host is Lazlow. Most of his callers are - well let’s be charitable - irrational cranks. If angry artist and peeved Canadian fan are lucky, the Editor in question won’t publish their diatribes, because publication isn’t going to make me look bad, it’s going to make them look bad. Knee-jerk, inchoate, histrionic missives are a big mistake. By all means write your rant, but then file it in your drafts folder. Read it over every now and then until the pain subsides. But do not hit send.

Paul Fussell’s brilliant essay “Being Reviewed: The A.B.M. and Its Theory” (published in the “Boy Scout Handbook”, 1982) explains the reasons why writers who receive bad reviews should do nothing. Fussell’s A.B.M. stands for “Author’s Big Mistake”, i.e. rising to the bait. Fussell’s essay uses real examples culled from the pages of sources such as The New York Times Book Review. Fussell is succinct in his analysis of wounded pride:

Just as the abuse sometimes visited upon authors gratifies many readers, so these letters [to the Editor] have something irresistibly comic about them. Sputtering away, the veins on their foreheads standing out, these little compositions generally deliver the most naked view of the author’s wounded vanity. And never without subtlety, for they are conceived in fury and scribbled in haste.

Beyond his command to “do nothing”, Fussell makes three important points:

Readers readily forget an individual has received a bad review. What they will remember is that individual’s appearance in a prestigious magazine, journal or newspaper. If the bad review is a long one, even better, as that further indicates the importance of the “slandered” writer/artist.
Fame works two ways. Samuel Johnson counselled a writer dismayed by bad reviews. “Nay Sir, do not complain. It is advantageous to an author that his book should be attacked as well as praised. Fame is a shuttlecock. If it be struck at only one end of the room, it will soon fall to the ground. To keep it up, it must be struck at both ends.”
Editors (and readers) love a good bun fight. Both will be happy if the dispute is published. The Editor gets free copy and the readers get ringside seats to a slanging match. Perfect!

So dear offended British artist and her loyal Canadian defender. Take deep breaths. Back away from the keyboard. Let my offensive review sink beneath the waves of paper at your nearest recycling centre. And let’s all take heed of Fussell’s advice ascribed to the British Foreign Office. Never explain, never apologize.

Ship in a Bottle - Yinka Shonibare's New Sculpture in Trafalgar Square

Tue, 25 May 2010 00:00:00 GMT

From ship at sea to ship in a bottle, today was my second historic ship launch inside a year. Last September I was guest aboard Stad Amsterdam as she set sail from Plymouth Sound on the south west coast of England to recreate Charles Darwin’s historic voyage aboard HMS Beagle. Today I was in London’s landlocked Trafalgar Square for the christening of an altogether different type of historic ship recreation. Yinka Shonibare’s 1:30 scale “Nelson’s Ship in a Bottle” - a giant glass-like corked jug with a model of the ship HMS Victory inside - was unveiled as the newest edition of the contemporary art “Fourth Plinth” series.

I wonder if the organisers considered honouring ship launch tradition by hoisting the artist to the top of the plinth so he could pop the giant cork (expansively signed “YSMBE”), slip inside and crack a bottle of Bolly on the ship’s bow? Instead, the maritime equivalent of perennial favourite the snow globe remained intact, and

Shonibare posed for the press scrum safely, if a bit boringly, on the ground.

The sculpture is a fun bit of tchotchke, but it’s also appropriately site-specific (Admiral Nelson atop his column is only a hundred feet or so distant).

Shonibare’s colourful sails are a subtle riposte to those who might think the sculpture is no more than a Brobdingnabian seaside souvenir celebrating the “Best of British”. The ship’s 37 sails, which feature Shonibare’s signature “African” textiles, are the artist’s rejoinder.

First however, let’s quash the notion this ship inside a bottle is an engineering marvel. Not quite. A report in the London Evening Standard marvels at the sleight of hand which puts ship inside bottle, and suggests it is “guaranteed to make passers-by wonder exactly how he did it.”. If the bottle-to-artist size ratio were the same as it is for ships in bottles made by hobbyists, i.e. big man little bottle, then yes, the public might be amazed. But the bottle opening and interior are obviously large enough for an average sized human to enter. And apparently assistants did work inside the bottle to assemble the ship and fine tune working parts like the air conditioning system. More prosaic than magic perhaps, but the bottle is nevertheless a beauty on the plinth.

But Shonibare’s sculpture is less about ship, size and assembly, and more about the sails and their meaning. The sculpture’s obvious reference is Admiral Nelson’s famous 1805 victory at the Battle of Trafalgar. The artist pronounced this morning “We’re here to celebrate Nelson’s legacy”, but that legacy includes less well known facts such as Nelson’s defense of the slave-based Caribbean plantation system and his hostility towards abolitionist William Wilberforce.

Shonibare’s subversive sails elevate the stature and importance of this work beyond preceding Fourth Plinth commissions. The sails appear to be “African” textiles, but their design history is complex. Made from traditional sail canvas and printed with the artist’s interpretations of wax print textiles, they are layered with centuries of meaning. Ironically perhaps, the textiles are not the legacy of the British Empire, but of a rival colonial power - the Dutch.

Wax-resist batik fabrics from Dutch-controlled Indies were introduced by the Dutch West India Company to trade stations along the West African coast. The textiles were slow to become popular, but when African soldiers recruited by the Dutch to fight popular uprisings in the East Indies returned home to Africa with batik, the textiles began to assimilate into local cultures, and European manufacturers took note. Dutch companies began to produce “African” versions of the wax print textiles for sale back to the African market. African wax print manufacturers existed, but the market was controlled by European makers, and the export of “Real Dutch Wax Textiles” continues to this day. “Real” textiles are printed both sides using a dual roller system. Cheaper single-side Chinese copies have entered the supply chain, all of which provides a case study in global trade.

Is it a long shot to assume the public will engage with any of the history behind Nelson’s Ship in a Bottle? A report in today’s Metro - a widely circulated free London newspaper - suggests it won’t be tourists who wonder whose ship is inside a giant jug. Apparently one in seven UK young adults think 17th century soldier, Parliamentarian and Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell, won the battle of Trafalgar. Shonibare, interviewed by The Telegraph isn’t bothered. He hopes the sculpture simply makes people think “Wow, what’s that?” And that is probably all the sculpture really needs to accomplish.

Parkinson's Law or the Growth of Creativity

Wed, 27 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Today I declare my practice is anti-growth. Shocked? Growth is the benchmark of a successful business, isn’t it? Gloomy headlines in August 2008 state the UK’s economic growth is at a standstill for the first time in sixteen years. Recession is around the corner. Growth is not just good, it’s an axiomatic business imperative.

Or is it? Innovation, flexibility, response and creativity often thrive when “growth” is quashed. Not literal growth like business expansion, but a “stagflation growth” (a contradiction in terms, but bear with me), where the size of the job is finite, but the time allocated to achieve completion is open-ended.

Parkinson’s Law explains my “anti-growth” declaration. The Law is one of growth. But not positive growth. Negative growth. “Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.” So says the Law. Created as satire by Engish humourist C Northcote Parkinson in 1958, he identified growth as a direct result of a job that “swells in importance and complexity in direct ratio with the time to be spent.” Everyone has experienced the Law at some point in their working life. Many creatives (myself included) are unwilling adherents. In common with all great satire, humour is the razor thin veneer under which lie truths about human behaviour.

The Law, and the book where it first appeared, Parkinson’s Law or The Pursuit of Progress, was an immediate success. Every major British newspaper and magazine weighed in with accolades. “Barbs for the Bureaucrats!” thundered The Telegraph. The Financial Times found it a “devilish book. No businessman should let it fall into the hands of his staff”. The Scotsman declared it, “the best treatise on management we have come across.” In the fifty years since the book was published, Parkinson’s Law is accepted as fact, not fiction, and a time management industry has grown around it.

A case study illustrates how awareness of Parkinson’s Law can either help or hinder creativity:

Stefan Sagmeister is a well-known, brilliant graphic designer. His website used to include what I call “The Parable of the CD”. Every Thursday between nine and noon, Sagmeister designed a CD and booklet insert from start to finish. His job for an imaginary client is the equivalent of an Olympian’s schedule. You keep on top of your game with consistent training. The three-hour CD illustrates how a tight, time-constrained brief doesn’t kill creativity, but forces the mind to reach beyond its normal capacity to find innovation and brand-new creative responses. The current Sagmeister site includes reference to the average amount of time the company allocates to to the design of a CD - three months. Is a lengthy time allocation preferable to a quick turnaround? Parkinson’s book lobbies for a balance between inducement and risk.

There is a postscript to this case study. www.sagmeister.com no longer includes the CD parable. Instead, the site’s “Answers for Students” section includes, “How do you know when to say no to a potential client?” Sagmeister replies, “When the product is bad. When I don’t like them. When they have rush jobs (clients who are bad at scheduling a job are often bad in other areas too.)” The final part of Sagmeister’s answer is puzzling. Yes, in some cases a rush job will indicate a potential client to be avoided, but not in all cases. A rush might just as easily indicate a creative client with a multitude of opportunities. Someone who recognises Parkinson’s Law, and alternates between generous and tight delivery dates. And in doing so she finds she attracts a wealth of work she can share with talented colleagues. Including a graphic designer.

A great opportunity sometimes appears with strings attached. Strings like a tight turn-around. Dither too long deciding whether you have enough time to respond, and your competition will not even bother to wield their elbows to shove you out of the way. All good things come to those who wait? Don’t count on it. Instead, heed the real message behind Parkinson’s Law.

Diversify or be Damned

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Harriette Wilson was a sex celebrity. Her published account of doing the dirty with royalty, aristocracy, and miscellaneous married men was a 19th century version of Heat magazine’s exposÃ©s. Only bigger. The Duke of Wellington called her bluff. When told she intended to publicly tell-all, he bellowed “publish and be damned!”. She did. Her book was a best seller.

Harriette Wilson was smart. If she were around today she’d still publish in traditional media, but she wouldn’t stop there. She’d read the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup of Lapsang Souchong, finish the pink paper and diversify.

Why? Because Harriette knows she’s a brand not a book. Before rising from her breakfast table, she tweets a witticism to her website. (Facebook? No. Bespoke.) She debates mainstream print versus the bijoux top end of publishing. But a book is only the beginning. Offsetting financial exposure is critical for her sustainable business model.

Harriette’s print world and web world link and are mutually supportive. Her website is always fresh. Doesn’t matter if her content contribution is minimal. Fan forums take up the slack. Harriette gives away content. Like Mp3 download teasers so fans can listen to her read selected book passages wherever and whenever they like. For free. Harriette believes in a “give to get” marketing philosophy because she knows a meaningful percentage of the “getters” will return the favour and buy.

Harriette’s fans want to be part of her community. Not just online but live. So Harriette partners with promoters who help ally her brand to an event. In the 19th century she’d be limited to a book reading. In the 20th century she might get a book tour and a seat on the sofa next to Oprah. In the 21st century Harriette still wants Oprah’s endorsement, but she wants to go off-road and offer more. Her branded live event will be multi-layered and appeal to a wide public. The friends, family, partners, and children who might not be interested in (or allowed to read) her book, will want to attend the live event because the organisers will consider their needs too.

It started with a book, but it doesn’t end with the physical printed page. Harriette’s publishing story has a universal message. One that matters even more now that a financial freeze is upon us. (Credit crunch?! Please. Too tame a phrase for the seriousness of the situation. Watch Jim Cramer on CNBC last summer for a scary eye-opener.) Heed Harriette’s lesson. Diversify to survive.

A Summer's Day in 1790, Plymouth Dock Town

Wed, 06 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

NB: The narrative is fictional, but people, places, events and quotes below are real, and based on my primary research, which includes 18th century Royal Engineer letter books. Plymouth Dock Town is present-day Devonport. The Governor’s House is present-day Admiralty House where I live in a temporary grace and favour flat. In November 1787 the Duke of Richmond appoints Lt Col Elias Durnford as Commanding Engineer, Plymouth to replace Lt Col Mulcaster who is transferred to Portsmouth.

1790

Your Grace,

The Ordnance Architect, J Wyatt, doth not find leisure to give any answer to the various written applications made …

Lt Col Elias Durnford, Commanding Engineer, Royal Corps of Engineers, Plymouth, puts down his pen and drums his fingers. Playing piggy in the middle to James Wyatt, Architect, and Charles Lennox, 3rd Duke of Richmond, Cabinet Minister, and Master-General of the Ordnance is no job for the feint of heart.

He stares out to sea and remembers adventure. Durnford engineered the shift of swamp to city in the British frontier of West Florida. He faced alligators, yellow fever, the Spanish and still had leisure to design the infrastructure of Pensacola. And now? Townspeople object to the 12 foot high King’s Wall, and send delegation letters that bite with more annoyance than ten-fold of Florida mosquitoes. They believe the wall stops the free circulation of air and renders the Town unhealthy? Let them move to Florida and experience true unhealthy air.

Of greater annoyance is Wyatt. A talented but feckless architect who fails to respond. Wyatt shows no willingness to sally forth and oversee the build of his design for the Governor’s New House in Plymouth Dock Town. Durnford paces his office, and wonders how best to reach a long arm to London, grab the recalcitrant Mr Wyatt Esq of Queen Ann Street East by the scruff, and shake him into action.

Durnford ponders the wisdom of shifting the seat of power from the Governor’s House in the Citadel, Plymouth to this new location. But all are agreed the house Wyatt designed at the Citadel is faulty. Sea air seeps through the stone walls. The Necessary is an ongoing bone of contention for Lt Gov Campbell. The site itself is problematic. In 1787 Richmond acquiesced to a new build.

I think it will be proper for you to write me an Official Letter stating fully the defects of the present Building both with regard to its Construction and Situation, the great Expense that would attend the Repair of it, its unfitness for being the Place of Residence of the Governor even if thoroughly repaired, and recommending the Building a New House in a Situation where the Governor’s presence may be more Necessary than in the Citadel, stating also the advantages that would arise from placing it on the Spot within the Lines which has been already examined with that view.

In 1789 Parliament approved exactly four thousand seven hundred forty three pounds seven shillings and four pence to build the Governor’s New House on a commanding headland overlooking the Hamoaze. The sum is based on Wyatt’s estimate. It is not to be exceeded.

The commission is confirmed in a letter from Richmond to Lt Col Durnford, May 1789;

I would have you begin immediately to Excavate the Foundations for the Governor’s House in the Situation which Lt Governor Campbell and Colonel Fox agreed with you in preferring. I believe you are in possession of all the necessary Drawings for carrying on this executing it. Whether you would propose to build the outside Walls of Plymouth Stone and case them with Red Brick such as you can get at Plymouth, or whether you think it would be better to face the Walls with white Brick from Hampshire and to build the interior part of them with Plymouth Stone, You will at the same time consider what difference there may be in the Expence of these two Methods and for this purpose it will be necessary for you to make enquery at what Price you can get white Bricks delivered at Plymouth.

It is a hot summer’s day. The penultimate day in July 1790. Durnford looks at the letter he has written to the Duke of Richmond.

I beg leave to inform Your Grace that I find the money estimated for Building the Governors New House at Dock Lines will be entirely expended by the time the Roof is placed thereon which I expect will be by the end of next Month and all the Credit due to said Estimate for Drains Reservoirs & the Works performed and not mentioned in the Original Estimate also. I therefore request Your Grace will please to inform me from whence I am to obtain Money to Compleat the Building, as Mr Wyatt hath sent an Overseer for this purpose otherwise I must shortly desist carrying it on.

Wyatt is the last of the Ordnance Architects with such uncontrolled power. His reach exceeds his grasp, and creates a belief he can accept more public and private commissions than mere ordinary men can attend. Delay, overspend, accusations of shoddy workmanship and poor materials result. After his death in 1813 the Board of Works alters the office of the Surveyor of Works to allow a political appointee to oversee the work of three attached architects.

But Durnford is a man with a mission. The Governors New House must be built. Money will be found. And it is. He appoints Lieut Wheldale Director of the Building. Durnford requests Wheldale prepare it with all possible dispatch. Patent Slating, Dun stone, Ironmongery, firkins of cement, rubble, brick, lime etc etc etc are freighted, shipped and carted to site. By November 1790 they are ready to Slate the Kitchen and Court Martial Rooms. The House, at last, is almost complete.

The Power of One (Part 1)

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT

“Mr Alexis P Lautenberg, Ambassador of Switzerland and Mr Sunand Prasad, President, Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) request the pleasure of your company at the press preview of the exhibition Le Corbusier - The Art of Architecture at the Ambassador’s Residence on Wednesday 16 July 2008 at 10.30 am.”

The Swiss Ambassador’s Residence is a Georgian townhouse in a terraced square in London designed by Joseph Parkinson circa 1813. The marble floored reception is a cool, calm oasis. Design is spare but significant. Corbusier, Jeanneret and Charlotte Perriand LC2 sofa and chairs. folding Plia chairs by Giancarlo Piretti. A Corbusier tapestry anchors the far end wall, and an angled glass baluster staircase leads to the private upper floors.

I was invited to the residence for a press preview of the forthcoming RIBA exhibition on Le Corbusier. The Ambassador spoke. The President spoke. We watched a presentation of key images from the exhibition. We mingled over coffee. And that was when I became engaged in a “debate” with the current (but outgoing) President of the Royal Academy of British Architects. He seemed to come out swinging. Maybe something to do with the RIBA leadership contest? Whatever. Buoyed by perfect summer weather, my lovely summer frock and the serene Swiss surroundings, I was ready.

Climate change. Such an emotive subject. It was my use of the “f” word that tipped our discussion from tolerable to tumultuous. The President’s face hardened. “Well I suppose you think I’m facile then!”, he barked. I stretched my left leg as far as possible so it supported my torso like a flying buttress, allowing me to drop closer to his eye level. (Who knew my Charles Jourdan heels would create such height disparity?) Well actually yes, Mr President, I do. It’s both patrician and facile to believe you must witness Antarctic environmental degredation firsthand in order to lobby for UK climate change policy. Why not sit in your London office and get a similar if not superlative understanding of environmental loss by studying the UNEP’s image atlas “One Planet Many People”? Or support the environmental lobbying of The Royal Society? Or here’s a truly radical idea. Instead of a jolly to the Antarctic, why not lobby for change within your own organisation? Censure RIBA architects who work in Dubai or Abu Dhabi. Aside from human rights abuses, architecture-led abuses of the delicate ecosystem of the Arabian Peninsula are being built at a rate of noughts in the desert sheikhdoms. But I smiled these last few thoughts. I didn’t share them.

Tactical shift. I criticised carbon credits and complicated personal carbon calculators. (No surprise. He likes them.) I voiced my belief in the power of average individuals to effect mass change. He countered. Climate change demands leadership. (Was this the tone of voice Robert Moses used with Jane Jacobs? Probably.) But I know businesses are attuned to key stakeholders who in turn mirror the attitudes of their customers. If customers are fatigued by climate change, stakeholders follow suit and the business of change doesn’t happen. Worse are the punitive measures employed by central and local government to get the public to pony up to positive behaviour change. Fear and facts don’t work.

But the President was still in pursuit. What did I think of the RSA Arts & Ecology programme? Not much as it happens. I was a delegate at the RSA A&E launch in 2005. Nick Serota, Director of Tate Modern spoke these words in his opening address. “Artists are not environmentalists, scientists, nor doctors. We shouldn’t expect them to be agents of change.” He was right. If we want positive action on climate change, then we the people must be the change. We can’t expect or hope that artists or the President of the Royal Institute of British Architects will do it for us. We have the power. Let’s use it.

Part 2: “The Power of Many” will be published in August.

Intellectual Insecurity and the Art of Writing

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT

NB: The following is a book review I wrote for a forthcoming (2008) issue of Embroidery Magazine (UK). The failure of the book lies in the writing, particularly the lead essay by a professor at Goldsmiths College, London, a teaching institution where obfuscation and gerund creation seem to be considered art forms. (For the record: I hold an MA from The Courtauld Institute of Art, London. Clear, informed language was the permissable style.)

No doubt the professor will argue that all professions have their own jargon. True. But the great practitioners and promoters of niche industries are keen to explain their craft. They will provide glossaries. They will write clearly. They will hypertext unusual words. Award winning art critic Roberta Smith, who writes for The New York Times, loathes “fashionably obtuse language” and believes “two bit words” simply “betray an intellectual insecurity”. Willfully obtuse language also creates a barrier between “us” and “them”. So if you, like me, are a “them” - read on.

Contemporary Textiles: the fabric of fine art. Main texts: Jann Haworth, Nadine Monem, Bradley Quinn, Janis Jefferies. Black Dog Publishing, London, 2008. Â£25.95/US$45.00

Contemporary Textiles is an anthology of fifty-seven established international artists. The selection reflects the expectation held by influential spaces like The Fabric Workshop and Museum, Philadelphia that artists should work beyond a narrow definition of “fabric” or “textile” and experiment with new materials, technology and outcomes. Standouts in the book include Guerra de la Paz, Ghada Amer and Paddy Hartley.

While the overall choices are excellent, there are inevitable omissions and questionable inclusions. It’s a stretch beyond generosity to consider Matthew Barney’s costume choices as textile art. Franko B, who uses his blood spattered performance canvases to upholster furniture and create “soft furnishings”, would have been a better choice. A prominent omission is Ghanaian El Anatsui, who adapts techniques of West African strip-weaving for his monumental “tapestries”, but uses common detritus - metal bottle caps, wire, foil wrappers - as the materials for these precious metal-like hangings.

Where the book fails is the essays, editing and structure. The authors declare a “rebellion against limitations” and applaud artists who reject “historical hierarchies”, yet the book shoehorns artists into four arbitrary zones - paintings, drawings, sculptures, spaces. ClichÃ©s, clangers and ellipses are frequent. Much of the main feminist academic tract is incomprehensible to readers new to the subject, and a chore for the experienced. The editors indulge narcissistic self-references ad nauseum, and had they not seemingly abdicated editorial responsibility, the book might have excelled. As it stands, the old-school feminism reads quaint, and attempts at currency are dated - references to the influence of the internet read like it’s 1995.

The essays fail to ask why an increasing number of young women and men take up textile-based “craft art” and how the trend relates to artist practice. An exploration of the global economic and social influences behind this movement would have made a vital contribution to the subject, as would a look at the politics of outsourcing aspects of craft art practice - something many of the artists in this book do, but prefer we didn’t know. Lastly, a mention even in brief, of the enormous influence of internet sites like etsy.com and craftzine.com would have brought the text into the 21st century.

sleep shed

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Commission: sleep shed

sleep shed is a site-specific work commissioned from recent graduate Callum Bell for installation (August 2008) in my small walled back garden at Admiralty House. I commissioned Callum on the day I saw his installation Home at the 2008 University of Plymouth Degree Shows. sleep shed will be both practical (an extra sleep area for houseguests), and a metaphor for sustainable creativity and the restorative power of slumber.

A temporary “habitable sculpture” coupled to the main house, sleep shed is a transformative space much like the sleeper carriages on the Night Riviera Sleeper train that transports me - asleep - twice a month from Paddington (London) to Plymouth. Sustainably sourced from found, ephemeral lengths of wood, sleep shed represents the transient, magical and fleeting world of a mobile night.

Background: Home

A large, polygonal, roofless structure, the main materials of Home are discarded lengths and sections of milled wood collected by the artist over months of foraging expeditions on his bike. The first thing the visitor sees is the raw wood exterior, braced and rigidly vertical as though it were the reverse of a theatrical stage set. But Home isn’t a scenic construction where fantasy is foremost, and the audience is not allowed to see what’s behind the constructed reality. Home reflects both the public and private side of home, but in reverse. The public face, i.e. the more “camera friendly” nuanced white space, is the interior. The exterior is the private “raw” side.

Visitors enter Home through reclaimed mullioned glass French doors. White radiators hang on the walls of the pale, neutral interior. One lies on the wood plank floor. The boundaries of each random length and shaped piece of wood are strengthened by shadows formed where each section abuts its neighbour. A small circular cut-out in one wall is a peep-hole from the outside-in and vice versa.

Although there are similarities, Callum Bell doesn’t suggest his forms are influenced by the habitable sculptures of Dubuffet’s L’Hourloupe cycle, or the driftwood constructions of Margaret Mellis, or the ad hoc wood exteriors of 1970s-era adapted domestic geodesic domes. But he agrees his practice shifted from 2D to 3D to satisfy an urgent need to make substantive, sustainable objects. Dubuffet felt this same urge. He abandoned the limitations of the plane to create stand-alone structures. He wanted to inhabit his images.

Frank Stella believes “no art is any good unless you can feel how it’s put together”. sleep shed slumberers will soon feel - literally - how Callum Bell puts his art together. Check back for updates and details of the opening.