Mass-Observation 101

Whenever I’m in Mass-Observation mode, I become a bit of an observer myself…particularly when I’ve got my camera out and I’m recording everyday events or things (rather, things that are “everyday” to those around me).  This trip, I started taking photos of signs about the city.  I haven’t come to any conclusions about what larger meanings they might hold…

And how might one describe a dishonest sausage?

Hmmm.... (Window of a music shop)

Not a culture inclined to euphemism...

Very sensible! Hourly, daily, and season rates available for lounging in Regent's Park...

The humble hired loo...

Completely disavowing its bashful cousin the Loohire, the much more cosmopolitan and indeed stylish Cityloo stakes its claim in the City of Westminster.

single lens medium format camera = efficiency in 21st century surveillance

Coming to and end…

For the last two days I have been finishing up at the archive and madly running around London to cover many the museums and galleries associated with the work of William Coldstream.  I have been (obviously) to the Tate, the National Portrait Gallery (much of Coldstream’s work after his GPO period was based in portraiture), and then to Imperial War Museum (which holds many of Coldstream’s works and papers from the wartime period because he was an official war artist).  Making contacts and figuring out which resources exist where and how one gets access to it seems like taxing legwork, but it does pay off…particularly if you can introduce yourself to curators and archivists in person.   This is to say, if you don’t research in the country where you actually live making friends, colleagues, or even casual connections abroad is WELL worth the effort.

I also took a couple of side trips, including to the Victoria and Albert Museum.  I wanted to see if I could find any ephemera in the V&A collections (much like the chaotic interests of Mass-Observation, so also is the collection at the V&A — ceramics, books, furniture, fashion, glass, jewellery, metalwork, photographs, sculpture, textiles and paintings, amongst almost every other object you might care to consider) that might indicate relevance to the project (most of the museums in the UK are free, so going in and looking around costs absolutely nothing…and may prove rewarding).  I’m not sure how well my searching paid off in terms of research potential, but it was certainly rewarding to see THIS (below) in the early 20th Century collection…

Mass-Observation's second publication "Britain by Mass-Observation" in the collection at the V&A

Very, very early on Friday morning (7am), prior to gallery and archive openings, I ventured out on a pilgrimage of a more personal nature.  My grandmother was born in London and lived in a house — before emigrating to Canada when she was 6 years old — only about 2 miles from where I am staying.  I wanted to see the house where she lived with her family and so I drew myself a map for myself and set out walking.  It was MUCH longer than I suspected (but I did pass a commemorative statue of Sigmund Freud and the entrance to his street enroute), but very rewarding once I arrived (albeit with sore feet…) at my grandmother’s little Victorian row house.

52 Maygrove Road, West Hampstead, London NW6

Cheerio for now…

St. Pancras Station

Today I finished searching through William Coldstream’s personal correspondence.  Alas, no prized letter from Tom Harrisson, Charles Madge, or Humphrey Jennings…but that’s part of the adventure — you don’t always find what you want.  And you’ll never know what exactly is there until you do the leg-work and look through the ALL the files yourself.

But the great thing about having to look through EVERYTHING is that you find other documents that you never even suspected might exist.  After finishing up with the letters, I began rummaging through a few files of odd photographs.  Most were photographic reproductions of paintings that were commissioned in the early post-war period, those in public galleries, as well as many that have been lost or are held in private, unaccessible collections.  This was a great archival windfall because I won’t ever see many of these images any other place.

But the real success of the day was finding a particular photograph in a file of ephemera.  After his film career, Coldstream began painting in an acutely objective way.  One of these works was a painting of the platforms at St. Pancras Train Station created in the late 1930s.  My great finding was the actual photograph from which Coldstream worked, the surface of which is marked with Coldstream’s own penned grid marks that he used to transfer the image.  As the English would say, I was absolutely gobsmacked!  In my hands I was holding the same image held by Coldstream while creating one of his most famous paintings.

Tomorrow, portraits…stay tuned.

Like looking through someone’s underpants drawer…

I’m sitting in my tiny apartment with the Spain-Germany game on in the background (to see if oracle Paul, the psychic octopus who places his eight legs on different flag markers to articulate his predictions  — and who made UK headlines this morning by predicting a Spanish win — is correct) and I’ve just seen a red fox climb up onto the wall under my window.  At first I thought it was a small and very nimble dog, but apparently red foxes in England — even in the city — are as common raccoons are in the States.  Nonetheless, I was still stunned and in my shock moved too slowly to catch a picture. Here’s a version of what I saw…

A version of what I saw from my window....

But back to the subject at hand…

Today I finished up Graham Bell’s early letters and discovered that he was, in fact, not a fan of Bolton.  Indeed, judging by his tone, I’d say he was quite severely traumatized by the experience of spending three weeks there working for the Mass Observers.  He refers to the city as “grisly” and “indistinguished” and more to the point, that the food “is too horrible” even to describe.  But Bell does have a sense of the good that his work might do in bringing the plight of the industrial working class to into the consciousness of the nation.  Indeed, at the end of one of his letters, Bell does write that he wishes to return to Bolton and keep painting in order create works for the local art gallery.

[aside:  Spain has just won a spot in the final...clearly oracle Paul the octopus IS the 8th wonder of the world]

I then moved on to files, files, and more files of William Coldstream’s collected correspondence.  Rather than reading letters written by him, I was reading letters written to him by friends, family, and colleagues. In looking for a gem (namely, any letter written to him by Tom Harrisson, Charles Madge, Humphrey Jennings, or anyone else associated with Mass Observation), I stumbled across so many tidbits of information that I never would have found otherwise.  So much can be discovered by the serendipity involved in reading through stacks of communications that were — in many cases — never intended for public view (hence the title of today’s post…)

William Coldstream (center) with his good friends Wystan (W.H.) Auden (right) and Benjamin Britten (left)

Included in these files of letters are messages from Sir Kenneth Clark, W.H. Auden, Clive Bell, Vanessa Bell, John Bratby, Alberto Cavalcanti, Lawrence Gowing, and Duncan Grant, amongst others.  I think what struck me most, however, was a letter authored by a complete stranger.  Responding to Coldstream’s 1937 article in the BBC magazine The Listener (entitled “How I Paint”), the writer wanted to tell the painter that he was grateful for what Coldstream had argued about the nature of painting in general and, more specifically, the need for realistic visual representation.  A failed painter himself, the writer informs Coldstream that the depression he feels over the state of the arts in Britain (abstract and alienating) was temporarily lifted by Coldstream’s words.

Unfortunately, I only got to the “G” file (alphabetical by sender) by 5pm this afternoon when the archive closed for the day.  Tomorrow, we move on to the “H” file and perhaps some “Harrisson” entries!

And, in case you are curious, here’s oracle Paul…

Oracle Paul the Octopus...at work

A great find…

Today I took the Tube from Belsize Park to Pimlico (Northern Line to Victoria Line) and the ride lasted approximately 20 minutes.  This must be a record so far…particularly since I was passing through some of the busiest stations in London.  Underground security is quite high this week as well given that tomorrow is the anniversary of the 7/7 terrorist attacks.

The Tate Gallery opens about an hour before the Tate archive does, so I spent the first 60 minutes of my day strolling around the collection.  It is always thrills me to see things “in the flesh” (so to speak)…

Highlights of today include:

Leon Kossof, Man in a Wheelchair (1959-62)

Leon Kossof’s Man in a Wheelchair is a spectacular example of “sculptural” painting.  Kossof’s canvas is roughly layered with hills and valleys of swirling pigment, some of which sits two inches off the canvas surface…the topography is so accentuated that dark shadows are actually cast across the picture plane giving the subject matter a very eerie sensibility.

I can’t really say I’m a “fan” of Damien Hirst, but I do find the yBa phenomenon strangely compelling (and by that I don’t mean that it’s aesthetically pleasing or always good work, merely “the movement” is very interesting), hence Away from the Flock (1997) makes it as part of my list.  And, more to the point, I’ve never actually seen a pickled sheep before…

Damien Hirst, Away from the Flock (1997)

Vanessa Bell’s Mrs. St. John Hutchinson (1915) makes it into the highlight section because of the quirky story behind the portrait and, more importantly, because I love Bell’s Matisse-inspired palette. Mary Hutchinson was the mistress (the Bells had an “open” marriage in everything but name) of Bell’s husband, the critic Clive Bell.  When the painting was exhibited, Vanessa Bell was claimed to have said matter-of-factly, ‘It’s perfectly hideous…and yet quite recognisable’.

Vanessa Bell, Mrs. St. John Hutchinson (1915)

When the archive opened I signed in and finished up transcribing the rest of the letters written by William Coldstream to Jack Rake that I had started yesterday.  I am particularly interested in the notes he wrote to Rake about his work with Mass Observation.  Coldstream doesn’t offer too much detail about his participation in this particular set of documents (but there are many more to investigate!), however he does discuss at length his increasing sense of social responsibility and how he could use his skills as a painter to promote social justice.  The search will continue tomorrow….

My great find of the day was a set of photocopied letters written by the painter known as Graham Bell (his full name is Frank Graham Bell).  Coldstream and Bell began sharing a studio in 1937 and had very similar left-leaning political views.  Although most of Bell’s archive has not yet been catalogued (and hence is not accessible to the public…all documents in the archive must be vetted by the archivists in order to determine whether or not they are sturdy enough to be viewed by the public and also because many of the documents archived are private correspondence naming individuals who are still alive or whose families are still living), these letters to his family in South Africa are available for consultation and provide a wealth of information.  Indeed, two of the letters that I have found so far reveal a great deal about Bell’s experiences working as a painter for Mass Observation in April of 1938.

Unfortunately, Bell’s handwriting is atrocious…I feel as though a crash course in modern palaeography  might have been in order before staring this venture…

Finally…London!

After roughly 20 hours of traveling, I finally reached London late late Saturday night.  A delay leaving Atlanta put me two hours late arriving in Amsterdam (I know, I know…going too far only to have to go back) and so I missed my connecting flight to Heathrow.  Instead of arriving at 4:30pm, I arrived around 8:30, cleared customs by 9:30, jumped on the Tube and — after an hour or so — arrived at Belsize Park Underground Station.  Belsize Park is a “suburban” neighborhood in North London…just about one mile north of Camden Town.  I have rented a very small apartment in this very pretty community spotted with parks and Victorian row houses.

Belsize Park, London, UK

Given the duration of my journey over the Atlantic, I spent much of Sunday sleeping.  But I did — in the afternoon — stroll down to the famous Camden “open air” markets, taking advantage of some very un-English warm and sunny weather.  Although once serving the only the “locals” with food and goods, the rows and rows of Camden market stalls are now VERY popular and attract thousands of tourists each weekend.  You can buy anything from jewelery to curries and everything in between.

Camden High Street, Camden Town, London, UK

Eating Lunch in Camden Town

Camden Town Market

Today (Monday) was my first day in the Tate Gallery archive.  After registering and having my photo taken (for security purposes), I was admitted to the reading room.  Because the reading room provides access to the archived collections, it is kept locked all the time.  You must knock on the door, show your face through a glass door, and then (provided you’re already a registered archive “reader”) be “buzzed” into the room.

Upon sitting down, I was presented with one of many files of letters written by the painter William Coldstream to his friend and confidant, Dr. John Rake.   I spent six hours transcribing about fifteen of these communiques.  Each of them reveals something about the frustration that Coldstream experienced as a realist artist during a time when abstraction and, more generally, a dedication to formalism seemed to eclipse any attempt at “visual objectivity.”  But Coldstream firmly believed that art had to serve a social purpose and that social import could only be registered through realistic representation.  In the early 1930s, Coldstream moved in and out of depression, often not being able to paint for weeks or months at a time.

When the archive closed at 5pm, I decided to take a walk to Bloomsbury and look for the original “School of Painting and Drawing,” established in 1937 by Coldstream and his colleagues Victor Pasmore, Graham Bell, and Claude Rogers.  Not surprisingly, this school was intended to promote an objective form of painting. Its first location was at 12 Fitzroy Street, around the corner from Coldstream’s own studio at 23 Fitzroy Square.  The school then moved a few blocks north to the Euston Road and thereafter was known as The Euston Road School.

William Coldstream's studio at 23 Fitzroy Square (now the Liberian Embassy)

314 Euston Road (now a plaza between two office buildings)

Yes, the building is long gone.  But at least we have the archive…

And the adventure begins again….

That’s right folks…it’s July and I’m off to England again.  This time I am going to the Tate Gallery archives in London to read up on William Coldstream, a painter who participated in Mass Observation during 1938.  Coldstream was also a filmmaker for the GPO (working under John Grierson) and founding member of the Euston Road School of Painting and Drawing.

Here’s a little intro:

William Coldstream was born in Belford, Northumberland on 28 February 1908 and grew up in north London.  He attended the Slade School to train as a painter from 1926 through 1929.  Yet by the mid-1930s, after experiencing some success as a professional artist, Coldstream abandoned painting in order to pursue a career in film.   Although excited to engage the possibilities of this new medium, Coldstream’s decision was equally inspired by a weighty sense of disillusion.  He was a committed realist, yet one who inhabited a culture that increasingly valued abstraction over naturalistic representation.  Non-figurative aesthetics were anathema to Coldstream’s belief that painting must be always comprehensible to the “ordinary person.”  For him, the principal duty of art was to inform and to educate; to somehow better the life of the average individual.  This was not possible, however, when the artists of his time appeared to be deliberately widening the gap between the viewer and the work of art through their espousal of what he perceived as an essentially impenetrable formalism.

Coldstream thus attempted to regain his sense of social purpose by joining John Grierson’s documentary film unit at the General Post Office.  From 1934 to 1937, Coldstream directed three films –The King’s Stamp (1934), a celebration of the King’s Jubilee postage stamp of that year; Fairy of the Phone (1936), which instructed viewers on proper telephone usage; and finally, with Stuart Legg, Coldstream directed Roadways (1937), a film that ostensibly advertised the Post Office’s speedy mail deliveries by road, but by and large was an exposition of the history of commercial trucking in Britain.  Yet after three years and countless clashes with Grierson’s formidable personality, Coldstream left the unit, having confirmed his true vocation as a painter.   Newly inspired, he formed – with fellow painters Graham Bell, Victor Pasmore, and Claude Rogers – the School of Painting and Drawing, a very small, private institution in London’s Euston Road.  Thereafter, it was affectionately known as the Euston Road School.

While teaching at the school, Coldstream accepted an invitation from Tom Harrisson to join Mass Observation.  The painter’s initial objective in joining the project was to use the organization and its human resources as a means to re-establish a link between the artist and society.  Although he stayed only four weeks in “Worktown” (aka Bolton), public response to his work created during this period seemingly demonstrated the validity of his argument.  It was his representation of Bolton (along with his friend Graham Bell’s, the other realist summoned by Harrisson) – conceived in brown, grey and black tones, depicting a dreary community – with which viewers identified most.

So Long, Farewell…

Weather:  somewhat overcast with sunny bits

Clothing:  down to my last pair of trousers

Headlines:  JOBS, JOBS, JOBS

Today is my last day at the Mass Observation Archive at the University of Sussex.  I’ve finished up with the Topic Collection on ‘art’ and am now busily reading the details of my (now favourite) mass observers — how they came to be a part of Mass Observation, their personal politics, for how long they worked, etc.  I’ve looked through the files of Julian Trevelyan, William Coldstream and Humphrey Pease, and will this afternoon further explore the (very thick, heavy) file belonging to Humphrey Spender.

The thing about leaving is that, as I’m tying up loose ends, I’m constantly opening new doors.  I began the process of looking through the Observers’ files yesterday and have realised that there is so much more to find out… so much more to know about who these people were, why they did what they did, and how they did it.  The enormity of the project, however, is comforting:  it demonstrates that Mass Observation most definitely has a life unto itself and highlights how privileged I have been to peek inside.

Tomorrow…I’m leaving Brighton for Bolton, aka ‘Worktown’!  Much more to see and do…stay tuned.

Observing the Mass Observers

Weather:  cloudy, possibility of rain

Penguins consumed:  none (ackkkk….)

Pavement Art:  no conclusions…yet

Today I finished up with the third and final box of papers in the Topic Collection ‘Art’…phew.  So I moved on to the ‘Former Mass Observers’ files, which has allowed me to access papers and correspondence related to the Observers themselves — Julian Trevelyan, William Coldstream, Humphrey Spender, and Humphrey Pease, amongst others.   I feel as though I’ve started in on an entirely new project and that there are still mountains of information left for me to access.  I guess a trip again next year is in order…

Some interesting things that I found out:  Tom Harrisson never published that planned book on art; Humphrey Pease was conscientious objector and an ornithologist (birds!)  who became involved in M-O during the war (taking over ‘the art bit’ from Julian Trevelyan…and one of the reasons he was so welcomed by the organization was because he was one of the few who had a car…a two-seater V8, no less); Humphrey Spender’s first exhibition of photographs in the US wasn’t until 1981 and he was awarded an honorary DLitt from the University of Sussex in 2000. 

Tomorrow:  more Mass Observers, a touch of Worktown, and my final goodbyes…sniff.

Pavement Art

Weather:  some sunny patches, mostly overcast…a bit of rain

Penguins consumed: 2

Packages of ‘sunbits’: 1

Headlines:  Repatriation of 8 British Soliders Killed in Afghanistan

Perhaps the most intriguing part of my day today was an exploration of HP’s analysis of pavement (sidewalk) art.  By this terminology, Pease seems to mean any artist who draws on the street and/or sells his/her work on the pavement (excluding ‘graffiti’…this comes under ‘street chalking’)  Touring around London, Pease trolled the Embankment, went to Bloomsbury, Hyde Park, etc. and recorded not only all that he saw in museums and galleries, but also on the streets.  The images (and often words) that he saw in this very public sphere were a good barometer of public opinion during wartime.  He classed everything using his system of categories (according to theme and subject matter) and offered general remarks regarding colour, tone, etc.

Tomorrow…the last bit of pavement art…and an investigation (hopefully) into Pease himself.

I’m off to the Brighton and Hove Art Museum…open late this evening!