Thursday, 4 November 2010
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
HOW TO BLOW AN INTERVIEW
Things were going badly until one of the interviewers started asking questions in Japanese. Actually, he only got through one question before he abandoned it completely. Thereafter, things nosedived sharply.
This was my shot at the big time. No more car crash clips. No more dancing dogs, or interminable searches for third-party rights holders to nature documentary footage. This was a job in news.
There was a quiz to kick things off. Just to get started. Amongst others, I couldn't answer who the current Prime Minister of Japan is. I went with cheek, charm and humour instead: 'There have been so many changes recently, I've lost track'. Yes, Guy. You might not know the answer, but you bloody well know the background to it!
The English interviewer scanned through my answers and said not to worry, there were only a few he'd be really worried if I'd gotten wrong. 'Actually', he said, looking closer at my answer script, and frowning slightly.
He didn't wave me off at the door, returning to his desk instead and leaving me to gibber through some small talk with the two Japanese interviewers, in pigeon Japanese.
I left the building and started walking with no direction whatsoever. At first I felt giddy that at least I had a story to tell, but when the full weight of what I'd just tossed away came to bear, a different kind of feeling sank and settled.
This was my shot at the big time. No more car crash clips. No more dancing dogs, or interminable searches for third-party rights holders to nature documentary footage. This was a job in news.
There was a quiz to kick things off. Just to get started. Amongst others, I couldn't answer who the current Prime Minister of Japan is. I went with cheek, charm and humour instead: 'There have been so many changes recently, I've lost track'. Yes, Guy. You might not know the answer, but you bloody well know the background to it!
The English interviewer scanned through my answers and said not to worry, there were only a few he'd be really worried if I'd gotten wrong. 'Actually', he said, looking closer at my answer script, and frowning slightly.
He didn't wave me off at the door, returning to his desk instead and leaving me to gibber through some small talk with the two Japanese interviewers, in pigeon Japanese.
I left the building and started walking with no direction whatsoever. At first I felt giddy that at least I had a story to tell, but when the full weight of what I'd just tossed away came to bear, a different kind of feeling sank and settled.
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Snowdon
I don't think I've ever travelled by National Express before. I've never had to- there's always been a train or a car or even a plane going where I want to go, but Friday I took off from work and headed straight to Victoria coach station. Destination: West Country.
Next morning, doorstop bacon sandwiches dealt with, Paul and I made our way up to Snowdonia to meet Si, who had slept in a tent in the rain the night before. The sunrise had made it all worthwhile.
Half an hour or so later, hail hammering down and wind blasting indiscriminately, we were facing down Crib Goch (one of the tougher ridge ascents of Snowdon). We decided against the route and took an easier way, along with everyone else climbing on the day.
The hail continued for a while and we trudged on, hooded and bowed. At one point I wondered aloud what we were doing it for. People climb mountains for different reasons: to get to the top, for a nice view, for the air, for the exercise, some even climb them just because people climb mountains. Others climb simply because the mountains are there. I hadn't even envisaged climbing Snowdon when I planned this trip- I was interested in seeing some of the autumn colours. We had settled on hiking Snowdon almost without discussion.
Next morning, doorstop bacon sandwiches dealt with, Paul and I made our way up to Snowdonia to meet Si, who had slept in a tent in the rain the night before. The sunrise had made it all worthwhile.
Half an hour or so later, hail hammering down and wind blasting indiscriminately, we were facing down Crib Goch (one of the tougher ridge ascents of Snowdon). We decided against the route and took an easier way, along with everyone else climbing on the day.
The hail continued for a while and we trudged on, hooded and bowed. At one point I wondered aloud what we were doing it for. People climb mountains for different reasons: to get to the top, for a nice view, for the air, for the exercise, some even climb them just because people climb mountains. Others climb simply because the mountains are there. I hadn't even envisaged climbing Snowdon when I planned this trip- I was interested in seeing some of the autumn colours. We had settled on hiking Snowdon almost without discussion.
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Weiwei
Guy says:
20 October 2010 at 07:31
I loved the exhibition- I too appreciated the thoughtful layout of objects nearby paintings containing them, as well as the objects themselves: call me a philistine, but I had no idea Gauguin had been such a talented carpenter. I went on a Friday evening, expecting it to be extremely busy but it was by no means heaving and I didn’t have to wait too long at any point to steal a look at something that caught my attention.
However -at the risk of straying from the topic- I also went in great anticipation of the new Turbine Hall exhibition. Just before I left work for Tate, I saw an article saying it was now an off-limits exhibition, due to health concerns about dust.
I have to say, I was extremely disappointed when I did finally lay eyes upon the latest, sterilized addition to a series that has as it’s hallmark interaction and social immersion. It wasn’t the fact that you had to view the artwork from behind a tape-barrier, it was that earlier during the week you could trample all over it: knowing that this was not how the art was originally conceived to be detracted from the experience significantly. And from an artist who typically takes a pugnacious attitude to authoritative dictums. I would have gladly worn a respiratory mask if it meant I could enjoy the art as it should be enjoyed.
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Another opinion:
Letters
Sunflower Seeds at Tate Modern – health and safety gone sensible
(3)
The Guardian, Monday 18 October 2010
Article history
Your article on Tate Modern's decision to stop visitors interacting with Ai Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds installation misses the point (Keep off the art: dust puts sunflowers out of bounds, 16 October). It consists of a series of quotes from people complaining about "health and safety gone mad". They, and you, have thoughtlessly failed to consider the people who will be most affected by the large amounts of ceramic dust that was being created as people interacted with the exhibition.
While the health and safety of the general public is important, it will be Tate Modern staff who will suffer from prolonged exposure to such dust. That is why many of them quite rightly refused to work on the exhibition, supported by their PCS union reps, and ensured that management took their views seriously.
My partner works at the gallery, and my son and I are glad that she was part of this refusal. The disappointment of a few visitors is surely a better outcome than long-term, and possibly fatal, health effects for her and other workers at the gallery. Despite the decision, people can still view the work in the same way they would almost every other piece of art – by looking at it.
Matthew Cookson
London
• Tate Modern seeds? Ceramic dust? Sounds like a good use for stockpiled swine flu masks. Kind of makes it more "art", though not sure how.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
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