Lustre and A Libertine

I can't believe I'm typing this just a couple of days after the announcement that our meteorological summer is over.  I'm only just getting into my stride!  This year saw a late onset of summer and I for one am not ready for Autumn just yet.  So I'm going to recap on a few interesting local events to keep the summer vibes going.

First up, the Black Country Folk Festival, which combined the talents of some of the Black Country's most successful independent artists of the last decade and took place in Katie Fitzgerald's Secret Garden, last mentioned here: Winter Peach Photography: Learning, Laughter and a Spa Day; The Best Medicine!

This year's festival got off to a shaky start with a last minute change of venue from the original, Himley Hall, and a mix up over timings.  They say bad luck comes in threes and this was no exception.  One of the artists on the bill was forced to pull out due to a health issue and the much lauded Jess Silk, fresh from a set at Beautiful Days Festival, had lost her voice and was struggling with her hearing.  

In spite of all this, Katie's Secret Garden hosted an amazing event.  As per usual, I had my camera with me and indulged in some people watching; an interesting face here...

...a cool jacket...

...and a loved up couple there.  

Many of the punters were clearly regulars and knew each other, but we buddied up with another pair of newbies, Owen and Tracey, from Dublin and Dudley respectively and enjoyed several hours of exchanging stories, listening to live music and the odd beverage!  Gareth caught up with the lead singer of 90s rock band Pele after seeing the band perform at his old student union back in the day.  We also narrowly missed seeing Gareth's old neighbour Dan from Ned's Atomic Dustbin, performing in a side project. (It was late in the day, I knew nothing about this, we'd already been there for hours and the hunger pangs were kicking in). 

But here are a couple of the bands we did see.  First up, the excellent trio Journeyman with their own blend of traditional, foot stomping folk.

Jess Silk, in spite of her ailments, was present for the duration and popped up on stage throughout the day.

Joe Solo made the 8 hour round trip from Scarborough to perform at one of his favourite venues.  As the man himself later said to me, his travel schedule is "borderline masochistic."  A real trooper with seemingly endless battery juice.

Another day, another gig and a venue that's new to us.  A couple of months ago, I spotted Peter Doherty (of Libertines/Babyshambles fame/notoriety) tickets on sale at KK's Steelmill, an intimate venue in Wolverhampton and promptly snapped up a couple.

Peter is living a life of relative sobriety these days, but there's still an air of unpredictability about him and we knew we would be in for an interesting evening.

Sure enough, upon arrival, I went to check out the merch, only to find a flustered looking man setting out polo shirts for the support act on a table.  I asked whether or not he had anything of Peter's and he responded by requesting another 15 minutes as "Peter has loads in his dressing room" and yet, apart from one very tiny t-shirt and a few copies of Peter's book, nothing materialised for the rest of the evening.

Not that it mattered. We were there for the music.  Peter appeared on stage well ahead of schedule and without any fanfare, sang a song and then introduced the first of two support acts.  Throughout the gig, he would, without warning, dash on stage, dance and jump around on the sofas, harmonise with the second support act, Welshman Jack Jones (part purveyor of "bangers" and part stand up comedian) before exiting the stage again.

Peter's own set was thrilling.  He moved seamlessly from one song to another, engaged well with the crowd and was very generous and inclusive to the support acts.  There was only one hiccup when he dropped his harmonica and then cursed the fact that it had been in the wrong key all along.  Not that the crowd noticed.  He rounded the night off with an impromptu signing session as people began tossing on stage everything from pieces of cardboard to Vans trainers for him to scribble on.

As per usual, I lamented the fact that I was only allowed my mobile phone camera, but given that we were right at the front, I was able to get some slightly superior photos and chat to his old friend and official (female) gig photographer.

For our final immersion into local culture, we took a trip into town - Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter - to catch Dion Kitson's Silver Lining Exhibition, which coincides with his first major exhibition at the Ikon Gallery (you can read about that here: Winter Peach Photography: Rue Britannia And The Search For Avalon)

Housed within JW Evans' Silver Factory, which opened in 1881, Dion has carefully placed various works throughout the factory premises, playfully and poignantly drawing on his working class roots and parallels with JW Evans himself, a self made man, whose silverware castings business passed through three generations of the same family.  

Dion utilises found objects, elevating them to relatable art.  

This piece, Vice, shows gold plated cigarette butts secured in a vice...a simple concept utilising great wordplay.

This piece, a gold plated broken bottle of Frosty Jack cider, laments the addiction problems which afflicted members of the community Dion grew up amongst, often resulted in burn out.

Bob:  Mechanised dunking Digestive biscuits.  A nod to a very British tradition and the workers' tea break, these nodding biscuits could also be interpreted as subservient nods to the big bosses.

Numerous discarded footballs were mounted in a trophy style cabinet...a visual representation of broken dreams.

This clock, which has been partially filled with resin coated baked beans is entitled "Somat to ate" (Black Country for "something to eat" or a reference to the time.)   I'm not sure why I actually waited for this photo bomber to do his thing.  The result made me smile.

My favourite had to be Tin Man, created in the artists own image and an homage to his favourite childhood film, The Wizard of Oz.  Inspiration struck as soon as Dion laid eyes on this lump of metal.

Originally three terraced houses, the properties were knocked through to house the factory, before spilling out into the long, narrow gardens.  A guided tour was essential.  We may well otherwise still be rattling around inside the out buildings with the factory ghosts and cobwebs for company.  

This atmospheric place is now owned and operated by English Heritage, but is very much the poor cousin to bigger attractions such as Kenilworth Castle, receiving a smaller piece of the funding pie.  This by no means takes away its lustre.  JW Evans Silver Factory is a must visit place; a fascinating glimpse into our heritage and a rapidly dying skillset.  It remains as it was when it was finally handed over to English Heritage in 2008, complete with machinery, dies, office supplies, tools, silverware and some incredible furniture.

I loved the factory's utilitarian chic - with wood/paint patina aplenty - possibly more than the silver itself.  Sadly, no photos were allowed of the silverware, but take my word for it, there were some incredible pieces, including a silver Wee Willy Winky's "Nightcap" cup.  

Tours of the factory are available all year round with advance booking advisable.  Dion's exhibition ends on 16th September.

Soon I have my penultimate wedding of the year we've a coastal getaway on the horizon.  

See you back here soon!

Rue Britannia And The Search For Avalon

Before we exit the month of May (where is the time going?), I thought I'd share with you a couple of quintessentially British events we've enjoyed; one an artistic expression of the nation's obsession with class (specifically what it means to be working class) and the other, an event intended to evoke a romanticised vision of England in days gone by.  I may be digressing here, but if pushed to nominate songs for a soundtrack for each event, I would nominate God Save The Queen and Common People for our first event and the latter would feature The Village Green Preservation Society and most definitely Roxy Music's Avalon.  But enough of my feeble, cryptic attempts at suspense building, let's dive in.  

Last Thursday - the fifth consecutive warm and sunny day - we headed into Birmingham to catch local Black Country artist Dion Kitson's first major solo exhibition, Rue Britannia, at the Ikon Gallery, housed in a Grade II listed neo-gothic school building.  The exhibition is summarised as "Incisive, enterprising and laced with sharp wit, Kitson's artistic practice dissects British class and identity, reshaping its visual hallmarks and traditions across sculpture, installation, film and found objects."  

Growing up as I did in a working class family, art wasn't front and centre of my life.  My Dad was a history buff and we would visit castles, old battlegrounds and museums, but I don't ever recall being taken to an art gallery as a child and to this day, I'm painfully aware of gaps in my knowledge.  Dion clearly has a deep understanding of how the art world can be intimidating - even alien - to great swathes of a population still underpinned by our stubbornly entrenched class system.  The environment was warm and welcoming.  Our arrival just so happened to coincide with Dion's and we said a brief hello before he took to the stairs with a gaggle of exhibition visitors trailing behind. 

 

Inside on the top floor, there were four distinct spaces displaying Dion's work.  Playful and provocative, this included a pebble dashed living room inspired by the one in his Dad's council house (and yes, the original living room was pebble dashed), prints created from scratched bus stop windows... 

...and Dorothy's ruby slippers slung from a suspended telegraph wire.

We bumped into Brummy comedian (and now BAFTA winner) Joe Lycett by the bus stop windows.  Joe said of Dion - not to me but to the press (we're not close): "He understands the state of our nation better than anyone and why it is the way it is: funny and beautiful and dumb."

Visitors were encouraged to interact with Dion or each other over a game of pool (using mops, presumably because pool cues are expensive), as a nod to our beloved pub culture.

At times, the installations were so everyday, that you could be forgiven for walking straight past them.

We popped out briefly to grab a drink from the bar and returned to throngs of people...

...and Elvis, who had entered the building.  Befitting of the Rue Britannia exhibition, this Elvis was none other than "Yam Yam Elvis."  The expression "yam yam" might sound like an exotic vegetable, but it's actually used as a reference to someone from the Black Country, deriving from the local dialect for "you are" ("yo am" or "yam").  Incidentally, this wasn't the first time we'd witnessed a Yam Yam Elvis performance.  The last time he was on stage on the back of a lorry at a local VW show.  Such is life.

While I was fixating on Yam Yam Elvis, I suddenly became aware of another solemn figure standing next to me.  I hadn't spotted him initially and so the life size figure of a traumatised 12 year old Prince Harry (taken from the day he walked behind his mother's funeral procession), took me by surprise.  

Apparently, Dion has had a lifelong fascination with the Royal Family.

Here's Dion himself with his muse.

I deliberately didn't photograph every exhibit, because you really should go if you get chance.  It's playful, poignant, bizarre, beautiful and thought provoking.  So, job done!

Incidentally, such is the state of Birmingham City Council's finances, that the Ikon Gallery will have its funding cut by 50% this year and 100% next year.  For its 60th Anniversary, the gallery has launched a fund raising campaign.  You can read all about it here.

Ikon (ikon-gallery.org)

When Elvis had finally left the building, we headed downstairs and I photographed some of Birmingham's more colourful characters, including one Bob Teal, a wizard and Time Lord no less!

I also bumped into this gorgeous and creative woman, Ayesha.  We've followed each other for years on Instagram, but never met, although we immediately recognised each other and chatted like old friends about cats, photography, design and her latest passion, pottery.

 The evening took an even more unusual turn when Dion encouraged anyone willing, to join him at the pub.  Carried away on a tide of positivity, courtesy of good company, amazing weather and a glass of fizz from the free bar, we and around a dozen others, duly obliged.  I was hoarse the next morning from talking to so many different people.  A truly memorable night.

Two days later, we found ourselves in the grounds of Sudeley Castle in the Cotswolds, the burial place of Katherine Parr.  The Cotswolds has long been associated with high property prices and as home to the glitterati and aristo types, counting former PM Lord Cameron, TV presenter Jeremy Clarkson and supermodel Kate Moss amongst its residents.

We were there to see Avalon, the Medieval themed latest production directed by Cal McCrystal.  Considered one of the UK's national treasures, it's a great escape from everyday life for a couple of magical hours of thrills and circus skills.

We were joined by Vix and Jon and after a quick catch up in a sunny field over a beer, we headed into the big top to watch Merlin, King Arthur and co perform their hearts out.

As usual, I took way too many photos.  If you want to see more, click here:- kigswinford wedding photographer | Winter Peach winterpeach photography

We later accosted some of the key performers, cooling down after the show, who were happy to pose for a photo.  Merlin, aka Spanish showman Maximiliano Stia, messaged me on Instagram to ask permission to share this photo.  After all the fire eating, I expressed my concern for his throat.  He reassured me he was fine and attributed it to "the Merlin diet - eat the four elements."

Vix and I were channelling Medieval Chic; Vix in vintage Gunne Sax and a very pasty looking me in vintage Spectrum.

After a pub meal (our second at the 15th century Ye Olde Hobnails Inn), we said our goodbyes and headed home.  Back to reality...but not before passing this timeless scene.  

So there you have it.  Britain's great and good!