The Arts?

Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce
(RSA)
I had high hopes when I was proposed for Fellowship of the RSA. A
meeting of minds perhaps; a place where my interest in the arts, in the
process of creation, in the celebration of things that make life grand,
might be shared and appreciated.

Over the weeks and months, not very much has happened with my
fellowship. True, some of this is my fault, I haven’t particularly
engaged with any of my fellow Fellows, or gone to any meetings.

Therein lies the problem.

I am confused. Very confused.

The Royal Society for the encouragement of the Arts holds meetings
with titles such as: “The Big Society Approach to Anti-Social Behaviour”
and has projects for Drug Addiction and Citizen Power, and the
Environment.

Okay. These are all very worthy subjects, but seem to have remarkably
little to do with the arts (in any form), or manufacturing, or commerce.
I am not entirely sure what I did expect from the RSA but did not expect
to see a agenda focusing entirely on social issues.

There are any number of quangos, interest groups and government
departments whose sole purpose is the discussion and policy making in
relation to Society, or Drugs, Citizen Power, the Environment. I am
curious as to why the Royal Society which is supposedly for the
ENCOURAGEMENT of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce appears to be only
interested or engaged in the duplication of the work of all these other
quangos, interest groups and government departments.

There is a big problem with the Arts in this country. One that goes
largely unrecognised; and I need hardly add that Manufacturing and
Commerce amongst this once great nation of “shopkeepers” is floundering
too. Surely the Royal Society should be engaged in activity which does
something to right these problems. Yes, some social engagement is
necessary, in fact vital, but for it to be the bound and centre of
everything that the RSA does seems wrong and inappropriate.

Which leads me neatly to my next bugbear. The Big Society. Let me say it
now, and get it out of the way quickly so that the shouting and whining
can be over and done with.

95% of the people who are likely to read this will not have the
slightest nodding acquaintance with what the government and people with
posh job titles and high salaries are talking about. Politicians won’t
either. The media paints a view for the clucking classes to shake their
heads over and feel secretly grateful that they don’t have to live like
that. Very, very few of these people have ever lived the lives that
they talk about in such grandiose terms. They don’t understand it, and,
I am certain they wouldn’t survive it if they were suddenly plucked from
their nice hermetically-sealed, money-cushioned lives and dumped down in
this world.

I have. I moved up to Leeds, and for eight months I lived the life. And,
let me tell you that on my own, I would not have survived it. It is a
different world. Some of the societal ills people like to pontificate
about are inflicted upon the people living them. It is simply stunning
the number of times these shortcomings are brought to the attention of
the powers that be, and still nothing is done. This is not about the
last thirteen years, this malaise has been growing for at least the last
thirty years. You can probably trace the origins back to the post war
period.

The cycle of dependency that has been created will not easily be broken.
The feelings of injustice and hopelessness will not be easily put aside
by some sort of social programme dreamed up by politicians and quangos.

The Big Society is another political initiative, put together by people
entirely divorced from the true reality of the lives they are talking
about. It will not succeed in the way that politicians think it will,
because they have failed to grasp the nettle of the things that have to
happen before it can have a hope of success.

Oddly it is in the Arts, and Manufacturing and Commerce where the
answers to some of these riddles would ultimately lie. Not in the social
agenda but in areas that the RSA apparently feels no need to commit to.

Posted via email from mock-ing-bird's posterous

Un-Common Places

When I started out on my publishing adventure, and it is an adventure, I
never suspected the places I would be finding and falling love with.
Some of them from my own living room.

I signed up for Second Life only this year. I'd known about it for a
long time, sure; but there were always reasons why not.

Everyone was so friendly and helpful. Lovely ladies, Selina and Arton,
made me welcome, Arton fixed my shop for me; Imarad let me share mike
time on readings of my writings... I found a whole new place to be, and
people who were happy, interested and engaged with reading and writing.

So when we launched the seventh novel from our tiny publishing "cottage"
(house is much bigger and grander), it seemed natural to come to Second
Life for a reading and discussion.

Common Places by Paul House launched last Friday at the Winchester
Writers' Conference, and now has the distinction of being my first
launch on Second Life too.

It was an excellent reading, and discussion, everyone really enjoyed
hearing the book, it was slightly unfortunate that audience was
curtailed by technical glitches, but this was more than made up for by
the generous enthusiasm of the audience.

So, thanks to everyone who could make it, and an extra special thanks to
Paul for sharing his marvellous new book with us.

Posted via email from mock-ing-bird's posterous

Now I really have read every damn thing!

For the uninitiated, and my non-UK friends who would otherwise not see any of this, in the UK we have newspapers. Actually, the word in itself is a bit of a stretch... apparently “news” includes stories about people you have never heard about (and from seeing the reports, never want hear about again) walking down the street.

British newspapers also have a serious obsession with the value of people’s homes and their ages. Presumably, so that the reader can orientate themselves on the pity scale, by adding up the value of the home and the ages of the owners and making value judgements about their likely class or political persuasion.

All of which leads me neatly to the point of this diatribe.

A couple of nights ago, twin baby girls were attacked by a fox as they slept in their cots in their parents’ home.

Now you would believe that such a horrific incident would illicit the sympathies of almost anyone who read the story. Nine month old babies attacked by a wild animal.

Not a bit of it.

In fact the responses I have read tonight on one website in particular make me question if there is any point, value or need to preserve the British people, especially the urbanites, for the future.

In between blaming the parents, suggesting that they are covering up for the family dog (the family don’t have one), even suggesting that the twins’ four year old brother let the fox in, and postulating that it’s a Tory conspiracy to re-start fox hunting, this little gem was posted.

“Hate to say it, but even if 'bite marks' are proven to be that of a fox still, it still doesn't mean the fox did it. Is it not possible for a human to take a dead foxes jaw/teeth attach them to make a pliers type of device & then sink away into flesh. A very sceptic thought I know, but possible nonetheless.” 

WTF??? That isn’t scepticism... Honestly, I don’t know what that is. A product of a very unwell mind most likely.

Most of the comments championing the fox are drowning in a tide of anthropomorphism and nauseating sentimentality that is simply not rational. Watching a few wildlife programmes does not make you an expert. Urban foxes have existed for decades. They are getting bolder, because people are actually trying to attract them into their gardens, leaving food out for them, and trying to make contact with them. If you care about the fox, leave them alone, interaction with humans is bad in every way for the fox. Wild animals do not benefit from contact with Man.

For the record, I am no fan of hunting. I don’t believe in killing things unnecessarily, and if it becomes necessary a cull by professionals with high-powered rifles would seem to be both more efficient and more humane. I believe we are here to care for weaker creatures and the less fortunate among us, not to exploit everything for some kind of meaningless political point.

Where is the humanity? I’d just like to know. 

Posted via email from mock-ing-bird's posterous

Absentee Landlords and Rotten Boroughs

Unless you have been hiding under a rock, or up the Amazon completely out of touch from newspapers, television, radio and gossip, you will know that the most infuriating and important election in at least the last twenty years is upon us.

I have always voted. It would never ever occur to me not to vote. It is my right and my duty. Braver women than I chained themselves to railings and chucked themselves under racehorses to win the vote. It's the least I can do, frankly.

I was up and ready this morning before the 0700 alarm. No mean feat as I crawled away to bed at 0315 this morning, carried away by writing again.

The least I can do. That particular statement carries even more irony when you consider that my vote doesn't really count. I live in what is laughingly termed, a safe seat. Not so much from my cold, dead hands as from my safe, warm seat. In my case, the incumbent has been in residence since the dawn of time... or so it seems. Actually he was first returned in this seat in May 1997, it just seems like forever.

I rolled up this morning fully intending to cast my vote for the Lib Dems; perhaps the least dire option amongst some real stinkers. I picked up my two papers. White for National Government (surely a particularly grubby shade of grey would have been more appropriate), and Green for Local Government. I walked over to the booth. Unfolded the papers and stared at them.

A list of names, the candidates' addresses, box to make a cross in. Simple.

Yeah, right.

First of all, at the top of the paper, the incumbent. Fair enough, I wasn't going to vote for him. Second on the List, the Labour Candidate.

Apparently, Surrey matters so little to the Labour Party that they can't even be bothered to field a candidate who actually lives here. The Labour Candidate lives in West London.

Then my eye fell on the listing for the Lib Dem Candidate.

Apparently, Surrey matters even less to the Lib Dems, whose candidate did not even put down an address, but stated in brackets that she had addressed in Hampstead and Kilburn.

Hampstead and Kilburn, those well known boroughs of Surrey!!!

I refuse to vote for candidates who don't even live here. How can they know anything about Surrey if they don't actually live in Surrey?

I cast my vote. After all, it makes no difference according to Voter Power Index.

In Mole Valley, one person does not really have one vote, they have the equivalent of 0.073 votes.

The average UK voter has 3.45x more voting power than voters in Mole Valley. 0.253 to be precise! [Source: Voter Power Index].

I didn't vote for whom I wanted to. I didn't vote tactically... apparently I can't even do that. And I refuse to spoil my ballot paper.

NONE OF THE ABOVE was the option I wanted. It is the option we should have for when all else fails.

* * * * * *

Those who know me well, know that my music in the truck is usually played at a fairly ear-splitting level.

Right now, I have an irritating problem with my truck and a loose wire somewhere in the system.

As I drove away from voting this morning, my truck's front right tyre hit a particularly large pothole. For a few seconds, my music was at psychological warfare volumes. It was that point that I remembered that the party mostly in power and responsible for things like the potholes (which in my town are enormous and have done untold damage to many cars)... is the Liberal Democrats.

Maybe my wasted vote wasn't such a waste afterall.

 

An open letter to ITV

Sirs

I read with considerable interest the article by Alexi Mostrous in the media section of today’s Times.

Apparently, The Bill “attracted an ageing audience unattractive to advertisers.” Should I therefore assume that at 45 I am on the scrap heap as being considered as ageing and unattractive to advertisers? Although, half an hour spent investigating the forums dedicated to The Bill would prove beyond any reasonable doubt that this statement is factually incorrect. The bulk of TB’s audience is in the demographic age group 16-25.

Apparently only middle class viewers are of interest to ITV, curiously I had believed that terrestrial programming (in particular) was supposed to be accessible to all? My mistake.

“Am I satisfied with the development pipeline?” Mr Norman said. “No. We’ve had some good successes. But in the last five years we haven’t [developed] a big global hit.”

I beg to differ. The British Television market has been sagging badly for many years. The very many misses far outstripping the very moderate successes. One of the reasons so many of our young actors seek employment in the USA is that we don’t make much of any worth here anymore.

In the last five years, the strongest, most innovative and ground-breaking drama programming has all come from the US. Today, this trend continues. Programmes such as The Wire, Lost, Heroes, any one of the excellent crime dramas such as NCIS, CSI, Criminal Minds, Numb3rs; Sons of Anarchy, Justified... the list is endless. Exciting writing, character driven plots, huge loyal followings – worldwide!

Yet what do we have to look forward to from ITV? Amongst the delights we have been promised, a re-make of A Bouquet of Barbed Wire. Delightful. A re-imagining of a programme from the seventies, which has already had one re-tread in the eighties. Personally, I found it stilted and dull thirty-four years ago, I have no intention of tuning in this time around.

Whitechapel 2? The first time around the concept was novel. A second series on the same premise would appear to be over-egging the pudding somewhat.

The truth is extremely simple. I do not believe that ITV have what it takes to find a real hit. Let alone make one. After all, they took a hit show, with a twenty-seven year pedigree, shunted it around the schedule, interfered with its execution, and then axed it before it had a chance to settle.

I am well-educated, middle-class and aspirational. I own my own business (publishing). I am therefore (apparently) the demographic you wish to target. Yet, with the axing of The Bill, I find that your programming does not meet my needs, or pique my interest.

One of the concepts behind my publishing business is to seek out the innovative, the unusual and the niche, and publish it. The mainstream does not necessarily cater to the aspirational tastes of early adopters and innovation seekers.

The same is true of British television. Terrestrial television no longer holds my interest.

Another medical drama? Why? We have Casualty and spin off. ITV had a medical drama which had the added interest of being set in the sixties. Yet The Royal, and its companion “Heartbeat” have both been shelved. Again look to the US, medical drama is amply covered and top notch in delivery. What more could a British made drama add to the genre? Or do you believe in the concept of if you loved A, you will love B? Because frankly, it’s not love we feel here, it’s déjà vu.

Audiences have changed, but some of us don’t feel that you either know or care what audiences actually want.

The Bill is a well-loved institution that ITV has endlessly played fast and loose with in the schedules. An almost unpublicised shift to Tuesdays for the rest of the run took audience numbers down further. Yet 28,296 people have signed up to a Facebook page in the cause of Saving The Bill. That is a pretty powerful statement of commitment to the programme.

Some of us are no longer prepared to play ITV’s game. When a Facebook campaign propelled Rage Against The Machine to number one at Christmas, didn’t that give you a clue? Or did you think that was solely a comment on Simon Cowell’s assumption that X Factor would give us a Christmas number one? It was as much about the disaffection with the reality dross led by X Factor as it was about a bad cover version.

In sum, we care what we watch. We want good, exciting drama. Not reality dross.

Exercise!! Moi... Part Deux

"Yoga is for ANY-BODY. You don’t have to be super-fit, super-supple or super-beautiful, or any of those images you may have of yoga. Yoga is for every-body. Yoga not only stretches your muscles and invigorates your joints, but also massages your internal organs and calms your mind. Come and find out how Yoga can benefit your life.”

I decided to put that claim to the test. Now I am willing to bet that most of my friends (especially the ones who know me well) would have thought I would have given up by now. I am sneakily delighted to be able to prove them wrong.

It isn’t particularly elegant, and from time to time I get things quite spectacularly wrong. But during my morning half-hour with Sam and Doug’s DVD, I just let the explanations and instructions flow over me, emptying my mind of life’s little petty irritations. (Such as the Lord of Snow dumping another two tons of the white cold stuff all over my car again last night. I looked out of the window this morning, and actually felt quite serene.)

You guys who know me, know that serene isn’t really ma thang! I am pretty full on, with a dress sense that’s best described as bright (ahem!), I tend to go 100 miles an hour in first (not when I’m driving though) and I really don’t come with an off switch.

Well, I have come to relish my peaceful half-hour of Yoga in the morning. I may not be great at it, but I’m enjoying myself and I won’t be giving up anytime soon.

One of the main reasons I have stuck at it, is the DVD. Sam and Doug don’t talk down to you, there’s no high pressure sales techniques (which never work with me anyway). There are just simple, honest and clear directions. You can take it at any pace you want to.

Hey... if I can do it, you can too!

Review: Jubilee (2009)

Doug Rao's second short film perfectly captures the reality of modern underclass Britain, and the political forces that are taking tenuous hold in our society. Patrick Baladi is pitch perfect as Nick Bright, the "new" face of the "Patriot" party, with Sam Spruell as Phil Walker, the foil, a man utterly at sea with the "modern" message of the party. As they work their way around the estate, Bright encounters a beautiful young Asian woman from his past; an encounter which throws into question his whole philosophy.

Rao's script cleverly avoids cliché and packs an emotional punch. Their fundamental differences drive the two protagonists further apart and their journey overspills into violence. Yet even his revulsion at Walker's Neanderthal tactics does not change Bright's own course, and he ultimately rejects his earlier apparent change of heart.

As writer and director, Doug Rao is clearly one to watch for the future of British cinema.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1515840/