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!

Panic!

It's been a curious week of unexpected connections, conversations, sights and sounds, underpinned in some shape or form by panic.

I was recently contacted by Ania, the model/actress featured in my recent pin up shoot with a request to step in as behind the scenes/stills photographer for a short film she is producing, titled The Third Visit. 

Hopefully I'll be able to share more in time, as the film is to be submitted to a number of film festivals this year.  But for now, I can tell you that on the sunny Saturday that was 30th March (Easter Saturday), the final scenes to be shot for the 30 minute film were a dream sequence/picnic in the park and a traumatic car crash.

The weather was a great relief after a week of incessant rain and the small crew comprising make-up team, three actors, Sarah, the director, Cam, the cameraman (easy to remember) and myself assembled in the car park of a local nature reserve.

Improvisation is common on film sets, including make-up.  Without the luxury of a studio for final touch ups, a car boot and bright sunlight did the job.  But not too bright, you understand. 

We trudged up the hill to a quiet spot and set up the picnic scene.

Filming takes forever.  There are often multiple takes, waiting for clouds to pass, deflecting harsh sunlight, checking of footage and pauses for hair readjustments and make up retouches.  

The child star of the day had no acting experience or lines and so it was a long morning for him, but with quiet encouragement from Mom...

...food and jollity...

...and a kick about, he relaxed into it and proved to be a little superstar!

After the director called "Cut" on the picnic scene, over an hour of make-up ensued to transfer the fresh faced Ania and Don into this gruesome twosome!

A quiet, but gritty urban location was selected for the aftermath of the car crash.  The warped humour derived from the sight of Ania driving into position in apparent need of urgent medical attention was not lost on any of us.

Harriet, one of the make-up team, doubled up as special effects operator, hiding out of sight of the camera in order to release a steady stream of smoke into the car... and there was much deliberation over the eventual position of Don's head on the dashboard.  

Some final touch ups (wounds need to stay fresh) and finally, we were ready to go.

In breaks in between filming, I asked Don to give me his best used car salesman pose.  What do you think?  Would you buy a used car from this man?

Filming of this scene went smoothly and before long, it was a wrap!

Thanks all for a great day!  I'll be sharing details of those involved at the end of this post.

Another weekend and another atypical day.  Remember our recent adventuring over Kinver and that glimpse of Drakelow tunnels?  Well, last Saturday was the date of our booked tour.  For those of you unfamiliar with the tunnel complex, you can read more here:  Winter Peach Photography: Tunnel Vision   But if you're short on time, the tunnel complex was built initially for use as a shadow factory during the second World War and later repurposed as a nuclear bunker during the Cold War.

The new Drakelow Tunnels Museum operators have grand plans for this site.  However, photographs were strictly forbidden during our tour.  The reason given for this was that a large proportion of the tunnel complex is utilised as a bonded warehouse for wine storage and the company heading up that particular enterprise, are extremely security conscious. But, the rebel in me could not resist a few sneaky iphone snaps when the tour guides' backs were turned.  What harm could they possibly do?

The tunnels were blasted into the hillside and the copious tonnes of spoils deposited in and around the site of the former village of Drakelow.  The sandstone walls are lime washed and you can still see the scars of the machinery used during the tunnelling process.

All good nuclear bunkers need power...

...and should the worst happen and panic sets in, a decontamination area is a must!

The tour really was excellent value for money.  I could tell you all about it, but I really think you should go and see for yourselves.  Tickets aren't cheap but the tour is approximately 2 hours' long and the guides are good humoured (ours was Mike) and extremely knowledgeable.  

You'll see a mock-up of a factory, offices, a medical facility and a particularly eerie Cold War era canteen (formerly a theatre during WW2 frequented by the likes of George Formby).  

If you do decide to go, be warned.  Advance booking is essential. Further information can be found here.  Drakelow Tunnels (drakelow-tunnels.co.uk)

Our top tips? Wear sturdy footwear and lots of layers.  It is very cold and damp in the tunnels.  We emerged, hands almost blue with cold, like moles blinking in the sunlight, amazed to discover that the mercury had climbed to a staggering 19 degrees while we were dithering below ground.

Even though the weather remains unpredictable, the garden is definitely getting on with the business of Spring - so far with minimal intervention from me.  

The tulips and primroses are flowering.

The robins and blackbirds are nest building in the garden.  The robin is exploiting the upside down umbrella that is our burgeoning Gunnera Manicata, eating up all of the fat ball remnants that the squirrels drop as they make their hasty getaways.

Plus, Noah, Lotte's former nemesis, has made friends with us.  Well, sort of.  He's very vocal and will now stop for some fuss whenever he's passing through our garden.  He did bite Gareth the other day, after tricking him into touching his belly, but that was a schoolboy error.  I'm not falling for that!  He always looks startled, but is a bit of a bruiser and very vocal!

Our final panic themed excursion was last night's gig at Wolverhampton Civic.  On the bill?  Johnny Marr (legendary guitarist, aka Johnny F**kin Marr, formerly of The Smiths and "Panic" fame) and Gaz Coombes (former frontman for Supergrass).  

I'd clocked this gig some months ago, but had planned a photo shoot on the day and couldn't commit.  However, the shoot was ill feted and fell through.  Storm Kathleen would have put paid to it in any event.  I therefore decided to see if we could get tickets last week.  We were in luck and I honestly couldn't have asked for a better way to spend a Sunday night. 

Wolverhampton Civic Hall is only a short drive away for us and is, in my humble opinion, the best music venue in the West Midlands.   We were excited to see Gaz Coombes, but were only vaguely familiar with Johnny Marr's solo stuff and wondered just how many hits from his days with The Smiths he would perform.  We weren't disappointed.  Both are supremely talented artists, but Johnny Marr blew us away.  He struck the perfect balance between new material, songs from his solo back catalogue and Smiths classics.  Everyone was singing along.  The atmosphere was electric, even if he did have to - in his words - "...be the vibe police" and reprimand one inebriated and "gnarly" audience member.  

Sadly, my big girl camera wasn't allowed, so I only took my iphone.  I had an interesting conversation with an Instagram follower Ken (a seasoned photographer) who tried his level best to help me secure a precious camera pass (including forwarding Johnny Marr's record company details and suggesting he would have asked Billy Bragg for help "...but he's in America at the moment.")  In reality, it was just too late in the day.  But he did give me some great tips moving forward. Thanks Ken!

So forgive the grainy images. I did my very best, holding the camera high in the gaps between the thick-necked six footers standing in front of me and trying to maintain some level of focus.

Gaz Coombes

Johnny Marr

As we suspected, we came away with that definite feeling that we had witnessed something very special.  As much as I would like to leave you with a clip of his Johnny's performance of Panic, I somehow managed to fumble with my settings and film it at a speed that makes Johnny sound like the spawn of Satan. 

So instead, I'll leave you with his performance from last night, uploaded to YouTube by someone with both a better position and filming expertise!

Johnny Marr. Panic. Live @ The Halls Wolverhampton. 7/04/24 (youtube.com)

*******

The Third Visit Film credits:

Writer/Director:  Sarah France

Cameras:  Cameron Sheldon

Actors:  Ania Cummins and partner, Don

Lead HMUA:  Kacey Comarsh

MUA:  Bella Whitlam

Harriet Smith