politics – BLANK CANVAS

The Space Race

Standing in space. Wide open away from any barrier, wall, manmade or natural object. Humans have a strange desire to be next to or under something. Taking a pee by a lonely tree. Creating an arch for your wedding, framing the lovely couple within the view. Grounding them. Why not have the wide expanse of the Arizona Desert rolling out before you, untethered, unleashed. But you take a picture by the only cactus within 20 miles. There needs to be a prop. Something to contextualise your presence on earth. Which makes it all the more bizarre that we seem so obsessed with travel into space. Space Twitter or X as it is now called. Putting the first people on the moon in 1968 then just waiting around until 2030 until we do it again. Apollo disasters halting any idea of mass migration to outer space. Elon Musk and Trump hoping to control the planet by regulating the space all around. They will charge us to breathe air before you know it. There is a fascination to searching the solar system, looking for likeminded inhabitants. So far though no one has turned up, except perhaps the clangers, trumpeting around with almost discernible presence. A fascination to look on where we all reside from a vantage point, from above, all trying to be gods, what an unbelievable waste of time and money. Fools fantasy. The planet is dying, yes, but rather than rush for the escape pod then surely it needs some TLC. People need help. Not some hair brained multi trillion dollar experiment. Imagine what you could do with the money. Applying for some small creative arts funds takes weeks of your life, jumping through ever decreasing hoops until you are squeezed by a Boa Constrictor. Review after review then your bid is deemed worthy of submission. Weeks of waiting, heart beating faster when any email pings into your inbox with the message “the quality of applications was very high…..”. And then, oh sorry you haven’t been successful this time. Please resubmit though, changing all your budget forecasts and being more realistic with your project aims. Be more realistic. Blimey. Fortunes are being spent propelling people into other orbits. You want me to be more realistic and less arty? Space travel is the ultimate rich persons folly. Pure art. Pointless. An inevitable outcome of greed and power searching. Can’t we just be happy in our communities rather than trying to form a space station on the boiling mess that is Mars. I mean a Mars a day helps you work, rest and dream of flying into the great beyond. Refugees, fleeing war torn nations battle across lands, rejected and looked down upon before reaching waters edge, crammed into flimsy life or death rafts, desperate for a life on earth. Do their kids wonder about life on mars, do they look at the moon and wish they could set foot on it or do they just wish for a safe place. Home. Not under siege. A place where they can exist. Not heading to some otherworldly final frontier but to real end points. Spaces to live within. A tree.

Manekins who I see as humans, in a shop window

1.12 Brian Eno Day

On 1st December 2016 I took the train from Bristol Temple Meads to London Paddington. It was one of those beautiful rare clear cold sunny vibrant winter days, one where the trains ran on time, everyone had a seat and enough room to spread out. I was very excited. At 11.47 precisely I was transported to the ornate iron and glass door of a mews house in Ladbrook Grove. Just about to knock on the pane I see a figure furtively rustling around the colourful and bright studio space. Picking up objects, transferring them, bustling around with what seemed like an ever enlarging grin on his face. A medium set bald guy with a kind of beard. Ah Brian, there you are. I was transfixed. I wanted to keep just watching. I did for about 11 minutes before I walked away a few stops and came back to the door to knock. Brian was welcoming and lovely, making me a large cup of his wizards tea.

During our session, artist musician Brian Eno demonstrated Chaos Theory with his 2 handed pendulum, where simple motion on the first one creates infinite non repeated movements on the second. So, a little nudge one way can send all kinds of confusion across the next, thereby subordinating populations. Collective consciousness came through in punk, hip hop, techno, jungle etc.. through commonalities of fashion, style, music, art, taste, lifestyle, place, rhythm, dance. There are instigators, those key people who lead the collective in a certain direction. We are all swayed in some way, which can be a positive in cultural scenes but have global destroying effects in political spheres.

Brian Eno hanging out with the German electronic musicians of Kluster, provided the time and space for creative exploration by dropping out and living in their Kommune for a while. London squats were the beating heart of the emerging punk scene, and within Western Europe.

Our connections to our lands, our ancestors, spaces and places, kneeling in the soil, digging the garden, the new rock and roll as Cosey Fanni Tutti and Kim Wilde continue to show. I’m sure Brian Eno potters around hot tomato plants, winding them carefully up their strings, reaching to the sky. Little glowing red orbs gradually appearing. The Farmers Boys and Girls in their Norfolk greenhouses. Sets of allotments are the socio-cultural space for the new creatives, or the old creatives who need to be in touch with their land, the city dweller who yearns for the countryside, everyone effected by global cost of living crises, where pulling up your evening meal from the ground can offset ever rising food prices.

Roxy Music keyboard knob twiddler Brian Eno learnt about the power of humour through his art school adventures with tutor Roy Ascott. His first lessons at art school included devising personality tests, where students had to enact the opposite traits they normally displayed. For chatterbox Eno, he had to remain silent for the sessions and let other people lead projects. When becoming a record producer, Eno introduced concepts relating to getting artists out of their normal comfort zone so that they would maximise their self in performances and composition ideas, without the usual routines or trappings. The Oblique Strategy cards he created with artist Peter Schmidt contains humorous, tasks such as play with your non dominant hand, do something boring or emphasise the flaws, whilst also suggesting role play ideas to bands including pretending to be an alien funk band from the year 2055.

Brian and I had a good chat. He showed me 2 floor standing safes, saturated with notebooks, relaying pictures and concepts from years of doodling and thinking. A time bandit. Brian got on his fold up bike and scooted off for a meeting with George Monbiot. See you again Brian.

https://www.intellectbooks.com/blank-canvas

https://www.enoshop.co.uk/product/what-art-does.html

This is the modern world

Everyone recognises their epoch as the modern world. We live in a modern world. We have always done so, back to JC (not Jeremy Corbyn) himself, announcing wow what a modern world I have created (sic). What constitutes modern? AI or AC? We seem to be constantly moving towards Tomorrow’s World, futuristic presenters Raymond Baxter or Judith Hann pronouncing new inventions which will change our lives on the BBC programme. Kraftwerk robotically striking synthesised drum pads. The computer, that most modern world invention. Everything is controlled by them, from cavernous rooms filled with metal boxes and spooled tape to small passages of text on the first desktop computer, really the IBM personal or ZX Spectrum. These devices seem even more futuristic now, more modern than when they arrived in the world. We are looking towards AI as our future, our saviour, our threat. A world where we can sit twiddling ever-expanding thumbs, surfing through an ever-increasing array of social media, yearning for a newspaper or weekly journal to plop onto the doormat. A reassuring and exciting presence, rather than a mini world, on a little screen in front of us. The modern world should be better. More nature. More free time. Greater freedom. A life worth living. Supporting the planet and actually enjoying it rather than mercilessly moving forwards, striving for the next thing. Samantha Harvey’s wonderful Booker prize winning Orbital, providing an expansive view from above, defining the gaseous layers which sweep around the little fluffy clouds of our beautiful orb.

AI has been around for ages, having a greater impact in certain areas. Music has utilised AI technology since the 1970s, through automated synthesisers, Kraftwerk on Tomorrow’s World, still looking futuristic today. AI will suddenly be implemented at pace, when everyone realises it has been there for so long, waiting in the wings for its opportunity to pounce. Early Dr Who episodes through stricken derelict London sites, Mad Max meets the time lord. Earthy. Dated. Tomorrow’s world is here today, always has been, constantly striving for the new, pushing forward in ever increasing ways that is meant to mean improvement, subtle alterations aimed at de-snagging. The present or future is not always improved. Thinking about my generation, we were lucky to have existed in a world that straddled the internet, saw rapid changes in technology but had a grounding in the analogue basics. Relate to the past but be excited about new technologies, providing a grounding so that AI isn’t let loose without contemplating the past, thinking about what will be missed, experience of technological advancement. Is there life on Mars? 1984 predicted a future before Big Brother, nasty Nick, a dystopian world which always seems to hang on a date slightly out of reach. How about 2032? That currently feels far enough away to have mystique so that the truth doesn’t need to be connected. A dream date. An impossible reality where everything is shiny and silver, silent, smooth, sensuous. The human condition of constantly looking forward whilst burying collective heads in sand about climate change. I mean the planet is always going to exist, things will be OK, global warming is a myth made up in a lab by boffins who are always proven wrong. Experts eh! The future will always be there, temptingly out of reach, tomorrow’s world ahead of today. In the blink of an eye time moves on, tempting new ideas just about in reach. AI can help unlock our lives, reduce the amount of time needed to be spent on daily chores, gathering information in seconds, the robot the research assistant of the future. Or the present really as the future has always been with us, just moments ahead. Iconic German band Kraftwerk still feel so futuristic, ahead of the game, computer dummies producing evocative minimalist music to cycle to. But there is a stark coldness to the thought of AI, not something comfy and fluffy. Images of sheet metal glistening in a bright orange glow, the ozone layer thinning daily, the end of days feeling nearer as our world becomes increasingly dystopian.

Album cover of Kraftwerk album Electric Cafe and a copy of Orbital by Samantha Harvey

A question of Truth

The world runs on the concept of truth. That we believe what people say. We invest in the words that come out of people’s mouths. Governments around the world twisting the truth for their own political gain, brought into power on other untruths whilst the general public look on with their mouths agape. Oh no they did it again. I can’t believe it. Brexit, the great untruth in the UK, a country taken on a ride by arch villains Johnson and Cummings with the support of other despotic individuals and countries. You are told by lying parents to tell the truth. It’s a great aim but one that falls apart quite easily. Small white lies you tell friends so that they are not offended by something. The world of marketing lives in a lying state. Some people are naturally truthful. TV show The Traitors features people blindly telling fibs to fellow humans who have supposedly, instantly become their best friends of all time ever. Only for this lack of truth to come out and their shocked expressions gradually dawn to the realisation that they are on a reality show called The Traitors. It should be the name for all politicians, holding yet another photo opportunity in front of the flag. Boldly lying where someone else has gone before. Selling their country down the river to the highest bidder, not really caring about much other than to line the pockets of themselves and friends. UK politician Jeremy Corbyn told the truth. He couldn’t help himself. No politicking around. Straight out truthfulness which made him a threat for those in power. Football managers lambasting their team after a shocking display, gradually the players will stop performing for him or her. Inside the dressing room the right amount of truth can be told, to motivate and provide direction. Neurodiversity often presents in extreme levels of truth telling. Not being able to cover up the truth. The whole truth, nothing but the truth. We lie to our children, tell them things will get better. The world won’t be destroyed in an almighty fireball due to the carelessness of previous generations, or a nation voting for arch villain Donald Trump. That things will get better. As a musician I prefer it when someone tells me straight out what they think of a performance or a song I have made. Usually it is a family member, outright frank about it. Whatever the situation. My biggest critics. Actually, couldn’t they be a little less upfront with the truth. To develop you need the truth. Record companies telling you exactly what they think, nuanced feedback. Feed forward. Propel you towards improvement, hopefully. You need a thick skin to hear the truth. About you, your personality. God you talk too much. You just seem to always be discussing yourself. Narcissistic. My youngest daughter always tells the truth. God dad, you look old. Thanks there. Hairdressers telling clients how wonderful their new style is. Donald look in the mirror. Outfits that are perceived to flatter. Living in a truthful space, knowing who you are, understanding the self takes strength but is a positive position to exist within.

It is so tiring chasing the truth, unpacking messages from politicians so that actual real information doesn’t have to just drip through social media channels. Truth should be up front and central. We have to tell the truth in our lives. I can’t go into work and start making things up because it suits the position I would like to take. There should be a truth monitor standing beside any political leader when they are talking, interrupting each time lies flow from their mouth. Trump’s speech would be very staccato. Hold people to account, be real, be human. BBC verify is all very well, but it occurs after the fact (checker). We need instant buzzers that sound whenever an untruth is made, although the cacophony would make life difficult to live. Donald Trump, that doyen of truth, announced that there will be no wars now he’s in power. King Canute. King c**t. No Ukraine, Gaza, Syria, Afghanistan. Tell the truth. Challenge the guy, ask him how this is going to happen because we all follow the sentiment but no one else has managed to achieve this. He must have superpowers. Or snorted too much coke. Narrowly missing having his head blown off, a shot grazing his ear so that diehard supporters can copy his Van Gogh left ear plastered image. A cult in charge of one of the most powerful countries in the world. Plus ça change.

The contrast between US presidential candidates Kamala Harris and Trump is quite staggering. On one side there is love, compassion, fun, normality, enjoyment, balance and plain speaking. On the other, lies, deceit, nonsense, chaos and confusion, bizarre behaviour that screams anger. Angry that he can’t be this good person. Angry with himself and the world. Retreating into his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror and venting. The world’s gone orange, a colour of life and peace. There is great fear of everything around him. Insecurity. Is there a way that someone like Trump can return to normality, be saved from a life of lies, unhappiness manifest in being Mr Angry. Maybe Trump needs some time away from the disunited States, a cultural trip to Europe, France perhaps. Sitting in a café, wearing a beret, smoking Gitanes and pontificating about the latest conceptual art piece. Paris, the city of lights and love. Reach out Donald, don’t hide behind your fracking wall. Maybe it could save him. Grumpy old git. Face not moving due to a lifetime of botox, all sense of normality or expression, the creases of life eradicated from his image, cryogenically frozen although still robotically moving from platform to platform. Terminator 4. The orange one. Symbol of joy and experimentation within Johan Cruyff or Denis Berkamp. He keeps coming back, like a clown on a spring popping up from a box, wobbling around, putting up barriers, retreating within. He’s just scared of his own mortality. Narcissistic c**t.

US President Donald Trump looking angry and facing the camera.

Learning from Vietnam

The US – Vietnam War ended in 1975 with American troops airlifted out of Saigon, ending eight years of another attempt to take aways the country’s independence, it’s freedom to exist, Continuing conflicts in Gaza and Ukraine demonstrate the lack of learning that the human population undertakes. Or maybe it is the people in power who learn. That they can do anything and the fog of information, the lack of a true story deflects attention, confuses the masses. Travelling through modern Vietnam, dodging the mopeds, it is really difficult to fathom the reasons behind the war. Reds in the beds. McCarthyism in America where a communist spread was a frightening position for Republicans and Democrats alike. Vietnam is the most beautiful and friendly country. The people have forgiven. They love Westerners whilst keeping a wary eye on China to the North. War, what is it good for. Absolutely nothing of course and you realise the sheer stupidity of trying to bomb the hell out of a diverse and opaque land where the camouflage of the jungle and the brilliant local knowledge is bounds to defeat the enemy, carpet bombing from above. B52 craters litter the land, now creating objects of war for tourists to take selfies besides or filled in as finishing lakes. Tunnels at various levels where life could go on unhindered, were the enemy could be surprised, passing hidden entrances and attacked from behind. Like in Gaza, finding ways to defeat the over powering superpower, going underground to get out of the jam.

There is the demonstration of collective strength from the Vietnamese people, a common goal to get on with life and make the most of their opportunities and resources. Legendary leader Ho Chi Minh left the country to learn about all aspects of life, from pot washing to gardening, supporting the French Communist party before returning home from hiss exile voyages to support the implementation of collective politics at home. Vietnam still contains a Socialist government with the cracks of Capitalism breaking their way through, but a common understanding and Buddhist leaning life is abundantly clear in the happiness, the joy de vivre of the people. They laugh and work as small groups, spreading out to a vital whole. Vietnam is rebuilding through its people, its verdant growth. Built on the back of a non hierarchical mixed patriarchal/ matriarchal society where women can be seen building houses and men in the kitchen. Wandering through parks and closed weekend streets in Hanoi, the lilting tones of Boney Em to One Unlimited filter through as groups of women dance in step, teenagers hang out on sultry evenings in Hoi An working on routines and theatre sketches, peacefully in each others company, not getting drunk or jacking up. Peacefully, happily together. Strong groups, strong families.

poster of a female soldirer in the Vietnam war

outline of a female solider on a window of the Vietnamese Women's exhibition in Hanoi.

Images from the Vietnamese Women museum in Hanoi, Vietnam