Stonehenge as sculpture and installation art

Sir Philip Sidney, Certain Sonnets 22:

“Near Wilton sweet, huge heaps of stone are found;
But so confused, that neither any eye
Can count them just, nor reason reason try
What force brought them to so unlikely ground.”

Siegfried Sasoon, The Heart's Journey, IX:

What is Stonehenge? It is the roofless past;
Man's ruinous myth; his uninterred adoring
Of the unknown in sunrise cold and red;
His quest of stars that arch his doomed exploring.
And what is Time but shadows that were cast
By these storm-sculptured stones while centuries fled?
The stones remain; their stillness can outlast
The skies of history hurrying overhead.

William Wordsworth:

Pile of Stone-henge! so proud to hint yet keep
Thy secrets, thou that lov’st to stand and hear
The Plain resounding to the whirlwind’s sweep
Inmate of lonesome Nature’s endless year...

(from Guilt and Sorrow; or, Incidents upon Salisbury Plain)

Katharine Lee Bates, At Stonehenge:

Grim stones whose gray lips keep your secret well,
Our hands that touch you touch an ancient terror,
An ancient woe, colossal citadel
Of some fierce faith, some heaven-affronting error.
Rude-built, as if young Titans on this wold
Once played with ponderous blocks a striding giant
Had brought from oversea, till child more bold
Tumbled their temple down with foot defiant...


Alfred Williams, Stonehenge:

"Speak, you dumb stones!..."

"But ye are silent, harking not the call."


Alexander Craig, from To His Calidonian Mistris (1604):

“…those stones on Sarum plaine,
Which Merlin by his Magicke brought, some saine,
By night from farr I-erne to this land,
Where yet as oldest Monuments they stand”

Whatever the theories about the origins of Stonehenge, in terms of intentions and function, I prefer to read it as a stone sculpture, as environmental installation art set in the Salisbury Plain landscape, an assembly (or partial re-assembly) of standing stones, uprights and lintels, designed as two circles and two horsehoes of stones. The art-work we see is incomplete, as many stones have disappeared. Some fallen stones have been re-erected.

The sculptor-designer was clearly an artistic giant, or a giant of an artist, assumed by early writers to be none other than Merlin the Wizard (Ambrose Merlin, the prince of enchanters).

As good a theory (or myth) as any that I've heard!

In the past visitors could walk amongst the stones, touch them and climb on top of some of them- as I well remember being able to do. One of my official HMSO guide-books (1955) starts:

"The visitor to Stonehenge will most probably have walked to the centre of Stonehenge before he begins to read this guide..."

We only have ourselves to blame if this is no longer possible. A slightly later HMSO guide-book (1959) states that "Many stones are now missing altogether, and others survive only as stumps below ground level; while the soil as far out as the car-park is filled with fragments of the stones which have been broken up. Much of this destruction is certainly due to visitors, who delighted in knocking off fragments as keepsakes. Indeed, at one time a hammer could regularly be hired in Amesbury for this very purpose. One must remember, too, that there is no natural building-stone available in the neighbourhood, so that from the Middle Ages onwards Stonehenge must have provided a convenient quarry for local builders. It is known, too, that up to about a century ago the local farmers used regularly to break up the smaller stones for road metal, to repair farm tracks. Many of the bluestones have probably disappeared in this way."

Lots of little Lord Elgins! It seems that we are lucky that a single stone has been left standing. The site is still threatened by nearby road traffic.

What has happened to that important plan to build a tunnel for the nearby road, so that Stonehenge can stand undisturbed in its natural environment? That should have been a priority before the 2012 Olympic Games, but the plan for an underground tunnel was abandoned by the government in 2005. Stonehenge was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1986.

STOP PRESS

Today, 17 June, the British Government shelved plans to help fund a Visitor Centre, and cut up to £25 million pounds which was to have gone towards this project. I have heard the argument being made that it was not a good idea to rush this project in time for the Olympic Games, given that it did not include the underground tunnel and that it would have increased the size of the car parking area.

Is it not better to wait until the country can afford to do the job properly? It has to be seen in the light of other priorities. Far sadder to hear of decisions to cancel planned new hospital projects, or of the closure of essential wards.

Update, March 2013 The Croods, Stonehenge: Not to be missed in 3D!

Howlin' Wolf Centenary

Today marks the centenary of the birth of Chester Burnett, Howlin' Wolf.

Even the BBC (Radio 4) will be marking the occasion at 0822 this morning.

"It is a hundred years since the blues singer Howlin' Wolf was born. British blues singer and guitarist Ian Siegal and Nigel Williamson, the author of the Rough Guide to the Blues discuss the legacy of Howlin' Wolf's work. "

We should all pay our respects to this giant of rhythm 'n' blues by listening in. Or you could listen to my very own Howlin' Wolf Tribute recorded at the Sun Studio in Memphis. The tribute is an improvised medley based on "How Many More Years", "Smokestack Lightnin'" and "I asked her for water, she gave me gasoline".

To see the great man in action, albeit out of sync, see him on Youtube, singing "How many more years" and playing his harp on British TV (Shindig) in 1964, the same year that I met him.

Postscript:

I listened to the BBC item. Ian and Nigel described the Wolf as "elemental", "intense", "primal", "raw", as well as "frightening" and "spooky".

I would rather say that his voice was supremely expressive and sensitive. When I talked to the Wolf back in 1964, I asked him about the meaning of the poetic imagery in his song, "Smokestack Lightnin". He told me:

"Well, it's about this train you see. 'Stead of saying the smoke come out the funnel, I said 'Smokestack lightnin'...shine just like gold' - more poetical you know. You know what a smokestack is? Sure, you seen 'em on engines. They got a circle of brass round the top, and when the sun shines, wall, this brass ring shines -just like gold!"

When I asked him his opinion of Arthur 'Big Boy' Crudup and of Elvis Presley, he commented: "Well, Big Boy is a real favourite of mine, but I don't think you should critic any entertainer. They've all got their own sound and own style, and you should never critic them for what they done different-like. Presley, too: he got his own sound. But you know, some entertainers get real big-headed and don't have time for nobody. Me, I'm pleased to talk to you; if you like me and have time to talk to me, wall I'm pleased for that and have time for you- I got all the time in the world! But I'm not a flirtin' kind o' man; I don't never critic any entertainer, 'cos they might critic me. Just listen to their music."

Ian Siegal will be performing tonight at a Tribute Concert at the Blues Kitchen, 111-113 Camden High Street. I wish I could be there. He's got a great sound. You can hear him sing one of Wolf's songs on the BBC.

Wrong place.

Punch and Judy Man, Weymouth

I must admit that when listening to The Yetties sing John Conolly's "Mr. Punch and Judy Man" last week, I found it a bit too mawkishly sentimental. I never really liked Punch and Judy (I much prefer Karaghiozis).

So I wasn't feeling very wistful when they sang that the Punch and Judy Man had gone forever.

The slot machines and penny arcades were a different story altogether!
They really did represent the childhood land of summer, especially in Weymouth.

I took a Corfiot friend to Weymouth today. Lo and behold, the Punch and Judy Man was back. He'd never gone away at all, it seems, although he may be one of the last to be seen at the seaside.

I was glad to see the show and the recently repainted statue of George III and his lion.

There was a fine example of English body art to be seen (spotted in the audience for Punch and Judy). With luck this lifesaver (and Punch and Judy) will still be around for the 2012 Sailing Olympics. I hope our foreign visitors will be duly impressed.

Stone Carving and Letter Cutting

With all the stone available at Portland, Dorset, and in Zagori, Epirus (first picture above), it seems a pity not to try one's hand at stone carving, sculpture or letter cutting. It's something I've always wanted to do. Some years ago I even went so far as to buy a set of specialist stone-sculptor's chisels and hammers. They remain in their box. I soon realised that I needed a course and some expert tuition.

I have visited Portland twice in recent weeks, most recently to see the Portland Sculpture and Quarry Trust, at Tout Quarry. I was taken round the quarry by Hannah Sofaer. It was fascinating, and my interest and artistic ambitions are growing.

Having long admired the stone sculptures or environmental installations/assemblages of Andy Goldsworthy (his sheepfolds in particular), Richard Long, Tony Cragg and Ian Hamilton Finlay (Little Sparta), not to mention Henry Moore, I have often dreamt of creating a small sculpture park in the Zagori, near the Vikos Gorge. I am drawn to works in stone, whether carved, assembled, built, installed or arranged. There's a work by Anthony Gormley in Tout Quarry ("Still Falling"). I am equally drawn to megalithic menhir, dolmens and runic stones.

Since I am unlikely to achieve any of these dreams, I might settle on learning how to cut a few words (a memento mori or some runes?) into a slab of Portland stone. A haiku might be too long.

Perhaps a quote from Jack Kerouac?

"When rock becomes air
I will be there".

Or from Charles Simic's "The Stone":

"I am happy to be a stone".

Or a line from Shelley's Ozymandias:

"Nothing beside remains".

I'd like to engrave two pantheistic thoughts from Wordsworth:

"To every natural form
I gave a moral life".
(The Prelude, Book III)

and

"The still, sad music of humanity"
(Tintern Abbey).


It would be appropriate to link a block of Portland stone with St. Paul's Cathedral (Sir Christopher Wren made much use of Portland stone).

Perhaps the Latin word, "RESURGAM" (I Shall Arise, which was carved on the pediment above the door of the rebuilt cathedral's south transept?

Or a line by John Donne, Dean of St. Paul's?

"Death be not proud" or "I fear no more".

There are plenty of other well-known short Latin sayings, appropriate for the Portland environment:

LECTOR, SI MONUMENTUM REQUIRIS, CIRCUMSPICE

or "Respice post te! Hominem te memento!"

("Look behind you! Remember that you are but a man!" Tertullian, Apologeticus).

or

"Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt?"

(Where are those who were before us?)

or

"Et in Arcadia ego"


I might also try some lines from Anglo-Saxon poems like The Ruin, or The Wanderer:

Wrætlic is þes wealstan - wyrde gebræcon,
burgstede burston; brosnað enta geweorc.

(Wondrously wrought its wall of stone,
Shattered by Fate! The city buildings fell apart,
The work of giants crumbles! -The Ruin).

or some other "Ubi Sunt" lines like

Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago?

(Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?)

or, again from The Wanderer,

Winde biwaune weallas stondaþ,
hrime bihrorene, hryðge þa ederas.


Then I remembered the Gotland poet Gustav Larsson:

"Varje sten i ditt hus är ensam
så som du själv är ensam
bland dina vänner..."
(Gustav Larsson)

(Every stone in your house stands alone,
just as you yourself are alone
amongst your friends)

But suddenly my mind turned to Albert Camus's "Myth of Sisyphus" and the image of Sisyphus and his eternal punishment, endlessly pushing his rock up the mountainside. In spite of that (he did get a bit of a breather on the way down, before he started again), Camus wrote, reassuringly,

"Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux".

Difficult to keep smiling and happy, when you think of all those memento mori poems like To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell:

"Had we but world enough and time..."

D. M. Thomas (author of books like "Logan Stone" and "Birthstone") wrote, in his poem on the Ninemaidens stone-circle in West Cornwall,

"In your arms
Stone is beautiful".

One should not forget all the convicts who had to labour in Portland's quarries:

"Black towers above the Portland light
The felon-quarrier stone."

(A.E. Housman)

I soon realised I had enough inscriptions to cut graffiti on nearly all the blocks of stone or exposed stone surfaces on Portland...but that's not allowed. Sculptors, like architects (in Wren's words) "aim at eternity".

Before I create my timeless anthology in stone, maybe I should start learning how to handle a hammer and chisel.

I could begin by cutting just two words:

S T O N E.
R. I. P.

I need to consult the local experts in Abbotsbury.

Dorset Village Fete

A perfect June summer's day.

Fish and chips on the seafront.

A village fete, such as I haven't experienced for over fifty years.

I even won a coconut at the coconut shy.

I had a go at the skittles, but I didn't try throwing a wet sponge at the man in the stocks (pillory). I enjoyed listening to St. Swithun's Band and the Holy Trinity Church Bell Ringers. It could have been Castle Cary, 1955.


Bradpole, June 5 2010.

Cultural Diversity in Dorset

Who says there is no cultural diversity in Dorset?

Last night, walking on Burton Bradstock beach towards sunset, I stopped to chat to three fishermen who were reeling in the mackerel. The first turned out to be Greek (Vassilis is the village postman in Burton Bradstock). The second was Bulgarian, and the third was Indian. They had a huge catch of mackerel between them.

I wish I'd taken my fishing rod. Vassilis also caught a sea bass. They seemed to be doing better than the "locals".

I've just borrowed an interesting little book from the library, "Dorset's Hidden Histories" by Louisa Adjoa Parker, the Lyme Regis poet, which is an exloration of the presence of black people in Dorset over 400 years. I like her poem, "Velvet Dresses", which begins

"I want to climb under Dorset's skin
curl up in her folds, wrap her around me
like a patchwork quilt....

She writes about people "not from here" who live and proudly belong in Dorset.

The book also has an interesting section on Dorset and the African slave trade, about Dorset's slave-owning families who owned sugar plantations in Jamaica and Barbados and substantial estates in Dorset.