"The Anglo Files" by Sarah Lyall

It's amazing how wildly our preconceived notion of a place can differ from the way it is in reality. A friend of mine moved to Great Britain a while ago and was completely shocked at the wide gulf that separated literary England from contemporary England. She had expected the British to resemble characters from the novels in Jane Austen, and in reality, those she encountered bore a far more striking similarity to the cast of East Enders.

I still remember one of our first phone conversations after her arrival in Britain:

"Margaret, England is awful! I hate it here! I don't know what I was expecting, but I thought they would at least be well educated! But they all drink too much, have terrible grammar and bad manners and all they seem to care about is football!"

Unfortunately, my dear friend was expecting the England that most of us become familiar with through historical dramas--a pristine land teeming with Oxford-educated gentlemen: tee-totaling tea-drinkers, clad in argyle with better English than the Queen (I put this confusion down to watching too many episodes of Masterpiece Theatre and not enough soccer/football games!).

While journalist Sarah Lyall's The Anglo Files does little to dispel these myths (although she does examine the British love of alcoholic beverages--I'm still mystified as to how my friend came up with the idea that British people didn't drink), it serves as great entertainment for those who know to take it all with a grain of salt. As this New York Times Book Review suggests, some clichés run deep (for some reason I'm instantly reminded of Mireille Guiliano's French Women Don't Get Fat), and Anglo Files revels in some of the most worn out generalisations about British society. At least Lyall devotes a good portion of the book to examining the British obsession with sport.

Clichés are always a great deal of fun, but I recommend anyone planning a trip to England to temper some of their BBC-driven enthusiasm with a few episodes of East Enders and a Manchester United football game or two before concluding that Britons live in some sort of classy, tea-infused, time-warp bubble of aristocratic nostalgia. England is a lovely, very real place, and while Lyall's book promises to be a big hit with anglophiles, it's probably best to keep in mind that individuals, wherever they may live, rarely consent to being compartmentalised as easily as outsiders might hope.

Da Vinci's Last Laugh

The New York Times reports that this painting, The Marriage Portrait of a Young Woman, which was initially believed to be a 19th-century German School portrait is now thought to be a Leonardo da Vinci original. The painting, which sold for $21,850 at a Christie’s auction back in 1998, has already fetched offers in excess of $50 million US dollars (from Russian billionaires, of course).

The work's owner, a Swiss Art Collector, decided to have some testing done on the piece after his friend, a Canadian art collecter, suggested that it might be a da Vinci:

The two collectors took the portrait to Lumiere Technology, a Paris-based company specializing in multispectral digital technology that had already digitized two works by Leonardo: the Mona Lisa at the Louvre and “Lady With an Ermine” at the Czartoryski Museum in Krakow, Poland.

“The first time that the owner gave me this drawing he didn’t say a thing; the author was secret,” said Pascal Cotte, Lumiere Technology’s chief technical officer.

Though Mr. Cotte carried out a series of tests on the work for nearly four weeks, he said, it did not take him long to come up with a name. “I went to the owner and said, ‘I have a feeling it’s a drawing by Leonardo,’ and he said, ‘We’re here for just that.’ ”

In June, Lumiere announced that its examination had led to the authentication of the work as a Leonardo.

Of course, skeptics would like to know how the experts at Christie's could make such a big mistake. At the very least, we now know that Christie's was way off base in terms of dating the work. The auction house experts believed the piece to be from 19th century, but independent Carbon-14 dating Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich places the painting's date between 1440 and 1650.

While it is still unclear whether or not the work is a genuine Leonardo (scholarly opinions are mixed), what remains is that they made a rather sizable goof when they failed to pinpoint the date properly. It makes you wonder how many mistakes the experts make! I'm reminded of a scene in one of my favourite films, The Red Violin, where a concert violinist overlooks a priceless instrument when he's told that it's worthless. Too often, we see value in things because others (particularly individuals with cachet) believe are valuable. Prestige suggestion is often far more influential than whether we can genuinely appreciate an object's beauty.

At any rate, if I owned this painting, I would probably try to get rid of it a.s.a.p., before the critics changed their minds again!


Image courtesy of Lumiere Technology, used in accordance with Fair Use guidelines.

John Ruskin's Elements of Drawing

I first discovered John Ruskin through a badly battered edition of Elements of Drawing that was my constant companion from the ages of 10-16. I don't even remember where I found it the first time (did my mom buy it used? I have no idea), but at any rate I dragged it with me every time I went to sketch something. I loved it because it made it seem like drawing was something accessible to anyone, and it had great pictures that didn't intimidate me. Plus, it was written so simply that even a child could understand it, in spite of Ruskin's warning on the first page of the preface:

In the first place, the book is not calculated for the use of children under the age of twelve or fourteen. I do not think it advisable to engage a child in any but the most voluntary practice of art. If it has talent for drawing, it will be continually scrawling on what paper it can get; and should be allowed to scrawl at its own free will, due praise being given for every appearance of care, or truth in its efforts.

I remember feeling quite self important for using the book long before I was "supposed to", although looking back, I was basically engaged in "continually scrawling," rather than any serious study. At any rate, I just adored the book, which I took great delight in dragging to the woods with me whenever I wanted to go investigate sketching opportunities.

It wasn't until much later that I figured out that the John Ruskin who had written my handy little book was the same John Ruskin who had been one of the most famous art critics of the 19th century. I still remember reading about the Elements of Drawing--it was like a light bulb went on in my head. I ran to my bookcase, and sure enough, it was the same book! I was a little surprised--it seemed like such a simple little book.

151 years after it was published, The Elements of Drawing is still in print today, and it's no surprise. It's an amazing introduction to drawing and the world of art that is a perfect gift for anyone (plus, it has great pictures!). The entire book is constructed like a series of letters to an aspiring artist, and its conversational tone is a large part of its appeal. Plus, the reader is treated like an artist from the first page of a book--and is congratulated on tasks as simple as drawing a line. It's a classic book, and one I would recommend it to anyone, whether they draw or not!

The Ruskin watercolour shown above is Rocks and Ferns in a Wood at Crossmount, Perthshire, 1847.

Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939)

I love movies about great teachers. It's my weakness--Dead Poet's Society, The Emperor's Club--give me a movie about inspiring educators and I'm sure to love it. Goodbye, Mr. Chips is in a bit of a class by itself, however. It has been remade several times, but the original, starring Robert Donat as Charles Chipping, remains a masterpiece. The film garnered Donat an Oscar for best actor, and was nominated in pretty much every other category, including Best Picture (it lost to Gone with the Wind--and faced tough competition from the likes of the Wizard of Oz). Robert Donat's portrayal of "Mr. Chips" progression from a shy, young teacher to a school institution is masterful and remains a standout performance.

Goodbye, Mr. Chips is based on James Hilton's 1934 novel of the same name and tells the story of Charles Chipping, a Latin teacher at Brookfield, a prestigious boarding school. The story opens in 1870 with Chipping's arrival at Brookfield, just as the Franco-Prussian War was breaking out. Chipping is painfully shy and lacks confidence in his teaching abilities. His reticence makes him a target for the boys' rambunctious ways, nearly costing him his job. Determined to be successful at Brookfield, he transforms himself into a strict disciplinarian, earning the boys' respect at the cost of his popularity.

After losing an important promotion as the result of his unpopularity, Chipping goes on vacation in Europe, where he encounters his future wife Katherine while lost on a mountaintop. They marry, and through their relationship Chipping (she gives him his nickname)begins to soften. Sadly, tragedy strikes the couple very early in their marriage, but Katherine has helped Chips to see his relationship with the boys in a different light. He becomes very popular with the students and having Sunday afternoon tea with Chips becomes a beloved tradition.

One of the most pronounced themes in the film is the importance of continuing education in the midst of war. This is hardly surprising, given that Britain was deeply embroiled in World War II at the time of the film's release. After the outbreak of World War I, Mr. Chips is actually coaxed out of retirement at 65 to serve as headmaster (the position he was overlooked for years earlier). He does an excellent job boosting the student's morale in the midst of crisis. There is also a clear nostalgia for the Victorian era, and for the past in general (after all, Chips teaches a dead language!). This is also demonstrated by Chips' reluctance to adopt the "modern" Latin pronunciation (which nearly gets him forced into retirement!). There's a great scene where Chips tries to explain to the headmaster how much more glorious the old pronunciation of Caesar's words: "veni, vidi, vici" sounds compared to the new version (sounds like "weenie, weedy, wiki"). Although I was taught modern pronunciation, I must say I'm in agreement with Chips. There are, of course, aspects of the story that seem rather dated, such as the scene when Mr. Chips takes his cane to a rebellious youth. But I don't see this as a problem because the story is a historical piece and should be seen as such.

Sentimentalist that I am, I never fail to burst into uncontrollable tears at the film's close, when the dying Mr. Chips overhears his friends discussing what a shame it is that Chips never had any children of his own. He responds: "I thought you said it was a pity... pity I never had children. But you're wrong, I have. Thousands of them ... thousands of them ... and all boys." The story is a classic, and I particularly enjoy the way the film follows the protagonist through his entire life, and showing the audience the disappointments, tragedies and triumphs that make up Chips' life. It's also a movie that I appreciate more each time I see it. I remember that in high school, while I appreciated Mr. Chips, I preferred the flashier, more overtly sentimental Dead Poet's Society. I suppose my perspective has changed over time, because these days I'm attracted more to the subtleties of Goodbye, Mr. Chips.

Do any of you have other favourite movies about education you'd like to share? I always love hearing about new ones!

image courtesy Wikimedia
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John William Inchbold "In Early Spring"

One of the most pleasurable things about writing this blog is that I'm constantly doing research. As a result, I often end up finding new artists that I'd never heard of before.

One of my recent discoveries is John William Inchbold, who painted A Study In March (In Early Spring)(shown above). A Study in March was inspired by William Wordsworth's poetry and was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1855. The Spectator called it "a most delicious little piece—pure and perfect in its soft colour and unsurpassedly tender as a description of the season of early promise."

Inchbold's landscapes are extremely beautiful--(I've been looking everywhere for a copy of another of his paintings, The Chapel, Bolton ). It's a beautifully detailed rendering of Bolton Abbey done in the Pre-Raphaelite style. If anyone finds a public domain copy of the image on the web, let me know!

John William Inchbold grew up in Leeds, where his father worked in the newspaper business. John William left for London in 1846 in order to study lithography with the firm of Day & Haghe. Interestingly, while his obituary in The Athenaeum claims Inchbold studied at the Royal Academy, his name does not appear anywhere in their records, so if he studied with the Academy, it was in an unofficial capacity!
Inchbold showed his watercolours at the Society of British Artists in 1849 and 1850 and at the Royal Academy in 1851. In 1852 he met Dante Gabriel Rossetti and from that point onward his style changed dramatically. He began to draw heavily on the poems of Wordsworth, and his oil painting of the Chapel, Bolton (exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1853) shows Pre-Raphaelite influences, such as extreme attention to detail). The next year he produced another painting of Bolton Abbey, this time with a deer prominent in the foreground. Both paintings are based on William Wordsworth's poem "The White Doe of Ryleston."

Inchbold seems to have been a rather dull fellow (Rossetti complained that he was boring), at least in comparison to the rest of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, so that's probably why he's not as well known as his compatriots. At any rate, I think his paintings are just lovely.


Source consulted for Inchbold bio: Oxford Art Online
Image courtesy of Art Renewal International

iTunes U

I've written about a couple of Apple products lately, and I think it's a slippery slope: you download iTunes (it's useful, right?), then you buy an iPod (everyone has one!), then you fall for an iPhone. Apple: you had me at iTunes. It's only a matter of time before I go all the way and start using a mac. So, pardon me for my enthusiasm, but I thought I'd share a bit of my experiences with Apple's iTunes U.

iTunes U was launched late last year by Apple in cooperation with a number of leading universities and other educational providers and is completely free and available to anyone. You can watch videos and listen to audio recordings from MIT, University College London and other great schools (in addition to content from Museums like MoMA).

I started by downloading a video series from the UK's Open University "Art and its Histories." There were some great segments, though overall the program lacked continuity. After perusing some other video offerings from other Universities, I came to the conclusion that the video aspect of iTunes U is a bit like a better organized version of YouTube. The content is great, and obviously more reliable because it is offered by the universities themselves. Unfortunately, there's a lot of work to be done before it lives up to its name--it's no "U" until it's a little better put together. That being said, I should mention that the audio podcasts are great, although I believe video has a lot more potential if it's properly organized. I'm optimistic that the organization will improve as time goes by--it's amazing how much content is available already.

One neat thing I noticed was that a lot of schools are having students record their presentations as podcasts, which is a great way to teach students about the value of their research. My only concern would be the quality of their work, but I found most of it to be quite good. I must confess that when it comes to the concept of offering a free, reliable, quality source for educational content, I'm blown away. Apple has a really good idea here. It's really nice to see information being shared in this way--it's the web at its best.

One of my first thoughts after watching Apple's tutorial on iTunes U was that this would be an excellent resource for homeschooling. I was educated at home until my third year of high school, which I think conditioned me to look for new ways to learn on my own. I've always been somewhat of a natural self-starter when it comes to learning. I basically just love learning new things, and this program will be perfect for others who really just enjoy learning. At the very least, it's nice to have some quality educational programming to use with your iPod or iPhone, rather letting your brain turn to mush while watching the music video du jour. And since I'm guilty of constantly cramming my head with pop culture slush, it makes me feel better to know I have the chance to expiate my sins with an informative lecture or two.

You can read more about Apple's iTunes U project on their website.

Possessed: Announcing a New Pre-Raphaelite Musical!

What do you get when you combine Pre-Raphaelite art, an infamous love affair, and music? Possessed is a new musical that examines the life of Jane Burden, from her discovery by Dante Gabriel Rossetti to her meteoric rise to become one of the most popular and iconic models of her age, almost omnipresent in the paintings of the Pre-Raphaelites, particularly those of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Possessed focuses on the relationship between Jane, her husband William Morris ("Topsy") and Rossetti. The full cast also includes Bessy, the Morris's housekeeper, Lizzie Siddal, Mr. Carter (the foreman of Morris & Co.), and Jane and William Morris’ two daughters, Jenny and May.

Playwright Teresa Howard became inspired to research Jane’s story following a William Morris exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum back in 1996. For Possessed, Howard (who has written a number of other plays) has teamed up with composer and arranger Steven Edis, who has written and arranged music for numerous theatre and television productions.

Not surprisingly, art plays a central role in the production. During the course of the musical, stained glass windows depicting the tale of Tristan and Isolde are constructed on stage, symbolising the close relationship between art and life and alluding to the link between the story being played out on stage and the story of Tristan and Isolde.

The musical was presented on April 27 at the Oxford Playhouse and was a great success, generating a great deal of interest in the project. Hopefully full scale production of the musical will begin at the end of next year...I can’t wait!

To learn more about this production, visit the The musical's official website. For up to the minute news and information, visit their blog, Putting it Together.

Rehearsal photo of Anna Francolini as Jane Morris and Joseph Millson as Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Rehearsal Photo by Charles Girdham © 2008, reprinted with permission of Teresa Howard