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Interview: Lucy Caldwell

Sitting in Belfast’s first (deserted) Argentine café on a cold Friday morning just before Christmas, I wonder what to expect of Lucy Caldwell – the playwright whose rather impressive résumé I have been studying for a couple of weeks. Caldwell has two full-length, three short and two radio plays to her name, among them Leaves, which was awarded the 2006 George Devine Award and short-listed for the Susan Smith Blackburn Prize. She also wrote a Dylan Thomas Prize and Waverton Good Read short-listed novel as well as a novella, short stories and articles for The Independent. This is no mean feat, especially for a person still in their twenties. Lucy, however, is very honest and open about her success.

She is particularly insistent about her debt to playwright Chris Hannan (the Judith E. Wilson Visiting Drama Fellow during her second year at Cambridge). ‘He was so encouraging and he would think nothing of sitting for hours in Café Nero going through your script with you. He was brilliant,’ she tells me, describing her first ‘poor attempts at a play’. Given that her first novelWhere They Were Missed, was entirely written during her university years, her modesty seems a little unnecessary. ‘I started to write a story for the May Anthologies…and it just didn’t stop and about 10,000 words in I suddenly thought – oh my goodness, I’m writing a novel,’ she explains. It’s almost as if, at times, she takes herself by surprise.

This is not to say it has all been plain sailing. Lucy may

have enjoyed success others her age can only dream of but, when asked what she attributes this to, her response is instantaneous – ‘hard work’. Then she quotes Chekhov, one of her favourite dramatists, ‘I used to think it was fame that matters, but I’ve realised that all that matters is the ability to endure.’ The public nature of theatre makes writing for the stage particularly terrifying. She says, ‘It’s horrible actually. It’s really, really horrible. You are so powerless. You’re just sitting there and watching people review your work; it’s the most naked feeling.’ Her advice to the winners of the New Writing Festival, who will go through this for the first time in the seventh week of Hilary is to ‘have a good stiff whisky lined up for afterwards – maybe a couple before as well.’

Another thing which always takes her by surprise is her readers’/audiences’ desire to label her work as autobiographical. ‘To you that’s a sort of silly question because of course it isn’t, but people do assume all sorts of things.’ She does admit there ‘has to be some middle ground where you connect, I think, or [the characters] won’t live. Anne Enright has a lovely way of putting it – she says that her characters are ‘the sloughed skins of a snake’ – the people she wasn’t, the paths she didn’t take.’

Her approach to the production of her own plays is not overly possessive. ‘Some writers can happily direct their own work but I just can’t.’ Caldwell prefers to be involved at the casting and workshopping stages before giving the actors time to experiment. ‘My French translator has a lovely way of putting it – she says the actors need to incorporate the words, to literally take them into their own bodies and make the parts theirs.’ She acknowledges she’s ‘been really lucky to work with directors who [she] get[s] on with.’ For Caldwell, unlike some of her playwright friends, the ‘drama has been limited to the stage.’

One thing which strikes me is Lucy’s incredible versatility as a writer – not only in the variety of forms she works with, but even within her dramatic output. The writers she identifies as most influential are certainly diverse – apart from Chekhov, there is Brian Friel, Caryl Churchill, Tennessee Williams, Marina Carr and Mike Bartlett. Lucy’s plays include Carnival, a spectacular circus tent affair, as well as several pieces written for the radio. I ask her if it is the aural or visual aspects of theatre which she finds most important. ‘Well, personally, aural. I played a lot of music when I was younger and I always hear the rhythms of things.’ She once worked with an actress who could tell her whether a line needed to gain or lose syllables to let it ‘zing’. ‘I’m very good at being able to pick up on the rhythms or the patterns of someone’s speech. I always find that getting a hold on the way someone speaks is the key to making them come to life as a character.’

The variety of her creative work is perhaps key to Lucy’s productivity, ‘After finishing a novel you feel exhausted and drained and the thought of starting another novel is impossible but the thought of starting another play, bizarrely, isn’t. It’s a different kind of energy – a different kind of work. I think each form has its own limitations and abilities. And you have to be very much in control of your own form and know what you can do and you can’t do.’ In England she finds that her status as a novelist/playwright is viewed as something of an anomaly, ‘I get that a lot more in England than here. I think, in Ireland, people can be both – Edna O’Brien, Sebastian Barry or Beckett. Writers will work confidently across a lot of mediums, whereas in England you get a few – Michael Frayn for example – but it seems a lot more divided.’

It is in the tradition of an Irish storyteller which Lucy seems to find herself, ‘It was only when I left that I started considering myself as Irish. I suddenly felt that I wasn’t British or English. I only discovered that when I was with English people. I started saying I was Irish and I started writing about Ireland and, at the beginning, slightly resenting that I was setting my novel in Belfast, as if it was being set in Belfast without my consent. I think once you leave home you suddenly have this dynamic about home – what it is, whether you can return.’ Lucy now spends most of her time in London but says she feels ‘very torn’. The Belfast theatrical scene still has need for a lot of improvement, ‘It’ll be fantastic when the new Lyric opens [Belfast’s Lyric Theatre has been undergoing extensive renovation] and we have plays on; we need to have a big theatre that can stand up to the Abbey [in Dublin] or to the best regional theatres.’

Yet, aside from the Irish tradition, Lucy is also a part of the ‘explosion’ of new writing for stage the last decade has enjoyed. Jack Thorne and Ben Musgrave (both now successful playwrights) were also under Chris Hannan’s tutelage at Cambridge and Lucy has been involved with the Royal Court’s Young Writers’ Programme (a centre for new drama), ‘The Royal Court’s programme, especially the Young Writers’ programme, is absolutely fantastic. I can’t rave about it enough. It’s open for anyone under the age of 26 and there’s a negligible fee for an eight week course.’ For Lucy, good writing is key for the continuing success of the theatre, ‘now there’s a lot of devised theatre, collaborative theatre but I, personally, feel that nothing can ever unseat the writer. I think writing is the most important thing…but then I would say that.’

I ask if she has any advice for those considering a career in writing for the stage, ‘What’s particularly hard at the start is showing people your work for the first time – trust who you give your work to.’ She admits that, despite her success, ‘in a weird way it doesn’t get any easier’ but, with a draft of her second novel nearing completion, a new play at the Birmingham Rep next year and commissions to attend to, it doesn’t look like Lucy Caldwell will be stopping any time soon. ‘Putting one word in front of another is all you can ever do,’ she concludes.

 

A Bad Case of Christmas-Over

So. You’re a stone heavier. Your wallet’s a stone lighter. All the presents you bought are 50% off in the sales. And you’re surrounded by Round Robins consigned to the overflowing recycling bin as soon as they were opened.

But you’ve decided to peruse them again. To reignite the Christmas spirit? Not likely.

Feelings of depression and inadequacy will only be strengthened by these circulars of stupefyingly self-satisfied, self-congratulatory, sickening, self-eulogising, smug boringness.

Example number one: the child-worshipper. You may be proud of what you have achieved this year, until you receive an effusive epistle for which you might have thanked the postal service for losing in transit. Not climbed up Mt. Kilamanjaro carrying only a toothbrush and the new Nikon camera like dear little Tommy? Or performed your first recital at the Royal Albert Hall? Danced with the Royal Ballet like wee Araminta? Had audience with the Pope? Well that’s just not good enough really is it. Just what, you may think, have I been doing with my year? Why am I so horribly inadequate? All I did was pass exams (narrowly), get trashed a lot and go on a beach holiday. To Majorca.

You probably also got a lot of stick from your parents and heard them openly denigrating your character to their friends over dinner.
Well, take comfort: all the most talented people had terrible parents. Mozart’s father berated him constantly, driving him to Requiems. Michael Jackson’s dad pushed his son to a nose-job, and eternal fame. Every week someone makes a fortune selling a paperback full of their childhood woes.

Therefore, do not try to

be better than these shockingly able children. Do not envy them their glowing, supportive parents. Wallow in your comparatively miserable circumstances and later you might even be hailed as some kind of genius.

Example number two: at a time when we’re meant to be harking and heralding the imminent angels, a letter containing a record number of deaths in the family just isn’t welcome or conducive to Christmas cheer. If you know the writer, you’ll know the number of his or her close friends and relatives who didn’t quite make it to December. If you haven’t seen them in a decade (and there’s always a reason for that), you just don’t want to know.

Festive and funeral doesn’t mix. Whatever happened to good old British restraint and the stiff upper lip?

Oh well, at least you won’t envy the people behind these particular circulars.

The best way to end this activity is to chuck them all in the shredder, along with any unwanted gifts you had to eke out smiles over, and thank God it’s over for another year.

Cherwell’s end-of-the-year quiz

And another year has flown by. Cherwell has decided to reflect on the passing of the year 2009 in our one and only end-of-the-year quiz. It’s simple: the quiz has five sections, each section has five questions. When you’ve answered them all, send your answers to [email protected] by 7th of January 2010. From all the correct entries we will draw the winner, who will be able to place a picture of his or her choice in the paper.

Good luck!

News
1. Taking place in January, how long did the Oxford students’ occupation of the Clarendon building last and how many protesters were there?

2. Which OUSU elections candidate was
(a) fined for the fact that his girlfriend had advertised his candidacy on her Facebook status
(b) “incredibly shocked that he managed to win” despite never running in a contested election before?

3. Where and when did the members of Oxford University Conservative Society tell the inappropriate jokes that caused nationwide controversy?

4. As part of smear campaign against Derek Walcott’s candidacy for Oxford Professor of Poetry, excerpts from a book were sent out to various Oxford academics. Name the book.

5. In Michaelmas, Magdalen JCR adopted the name of Gryffindor. Which college JCRs were encouraged to take on the other three Hogwarts names?

Lifestyle
1. Name the themes of fashion shows that were part of Oxford Fashion Week 2009.

2. One Oxford ball had seen their main act, Mystery Jets, pull out 36 hours before the event only to be replaced by another disco performer. Name the Ball and the singer who took the place of the Mystery Jets.

3. Which two Oxford events/clubbing companies joined at the beginning of this academic year to become one?

4. This year saw many of Oxford’s restaurants and bars closing or being taken into administration. Name three.

5. What is the word of the year 2009 according to New Oxford American Dictionary?

Culture

1. Which cultural spot in Oxford was described by the Guardian as a “temple of space and light”?

2. Who chose the final four winners in this year’s OUDS New Writing Festival?

3. Name the film which
(a) won the 2009 Palm D’Or at Cannes
(b) Has a character saying, “You probably heard we ain’t in the prisoner-takin’ business; we in the killin’ Nazi business. And cousin, Business is a-boomin’.”
(c) stars an actor named Taylor who’s going out with a singer named Taylor

4. What is the former occupation of Natasha Khan, the lead singer of Bat for Lashes?

5. What is the name of the book that rocketed in the charts after Tiger Woods’ crash? The book has jumped 393956 spaces on the Amazon.com chart.

Comment
1. Which Labour politician described Tony Blair as being “so far up the fundament of Bush, only the soles of his feet were visible”?

2. Who was named the first EU president?

3. Which former bank chief had the full sum of his pension declared as unacceptable in “the court of public opinion” by Harriet Harman, and what was the pension figure?

4. Name the four other panel members alongside Nick Griffin and David Dimbleby in the episode that saw the BNP’s first appearance on Question Time?

5. How many states/districts voted for Obama in the American Presidential elections?

Sport
1. Which college burnt its boat last Trinity, and why?

2. Which college won the Football cuppers last year?

3. How many years ago, and where, did Oxford alumnus Sir Roger Bannister run the first four-minute mile?

4. Name two Ballroom and two Latin dances that Dancesport beginners compete in.

5. In 2009, how much time did it take the Oxford team to complete the Boat Race and how did their score compare to Cambridge’s?

The Season’s Predictions: The Halfway Stage

Long ago at the dawn of the new season I made a few quick predictions. So how murky/clear was my crystal ball? To my surprise some actually seem like they might be right. Others, however need a fair bit of tweaking. Initial predictions in bold below, alongside a few halfway editions.

Champions – Chelsea. Still clear favourites, just so much more quality and strength than their rivals

Top Four (in order) – Chelsea, Man United, Arsenal, Liverpool. Well so much for the top four remaining the same, Liverpool have been an absolute shambles recently. So who to predict for fourth? It would be fantastic if Martin O’Neill’s young, exciting, and very heavily English team could make it, but with City improving and their wallet likely to be open again in January it seems hard to see beyond them. As for Arsenal and Man United, I’d call it a 50/50 race for second, and both will likely push Chelsea all the way.

Relegated – Hull (good riddance), Portsmouth and probably Burnley. Actually, I might stick with this. Hull proved today that they can be shockingly awful at the back, Pompey are just too fragile, and Burnley’s early season form is fading. Ridiculously tough to pick, but I’ll happily stick with this one.

Top Goalscorer – The Drog. Actually, why isn’t he in my fantasy football team? Well the African Cup of Nations could be all that scuppers it for him. Darren Bent will still fall just short, so if it’s not Drogba, then it will have to be Wayne Rooney.

PFA player of the year – Heart says Arshavin so I’m sticking with it. Well this one is wrong. Arshavin can be fabulous at moments, but is no-where near consistent enough to deserve the bi

g prize. Being played out of position is hardly helping him at the moment.

Newly promoted surprise package – Wolves should have the goals in them. Wolves have indeed looked increasingly at home in the top flight, but its Birmingham who have taken the league by storm, sitting just one point behind Liverpool in 8th. Frustratingly hard to beat, and largely on the back of signings mocked in the summer. Lee Bowyer, Scott Dann, Barry Ferguson and of course, Alex McLeish, you are duly saluted.

First sacked – Phil Brown. Saved by the brief return of Jimmy Bullard, but if current form continues he could well be on his way soon.

Best signing – Thomas Vermaelen/Glen Johnson. Not such a bad call. Vermaelen especially has been excellent, and although Johnson has faded he is still a remarkably effective attacking right-back when on song. The best competition comes from some slightly more low-profile signings, especially those of Richard Dunne by Aston Villa, and Lorik Cana by Sunderland.

Worst signing – Michael Owen was free so he hardly counts. Antonio Valencia/ Alberto Aquliani: Both have to fill boots far too big for their feet. Perhaps a little harsh, but unsurprisingly both have failed to live up to their predecessors. Aquilani though does look class, and Liverpool fans will be hoping he can actually stay fit now. Otherwise the league is largely short on expensive flops this year. Fingers can easily pointed at the holes in City’s multi-million pound defense.

Will the great Real Madrid experiment succeed: Unfortunately, yes. And it probably will succeed whether it be in the league or in Europe. Barcelona again look fantastic, but both sides are miles above not only the domestic competition but also the rest of Europe. A quick glance at the World Footballer of the Year lists will show just how dominant these two teams really are.

Fabregas keeps Arsenal a cut above

Arsenal reinforced their burgeoning title credentials on Sunday with an excellent 3-0 win over the in-form Aston Villa. A trio of second half goals, with two from Cesc Fabregas and one from Abou Diaby sealed a win that put the home side just four points behind leaders Chelsea, with the added bonus of a game in hand to boot.

The plaudits for the win will rightly fall at the feet of Fabregas. Introduced into a relatively turgid encounter ten minutes into the second half, the Arsenal captain produced a mesmerising twenty-eight minute cameo of drive, scoring two fabulous goals and utterly bossing the midfield before being withdrawn with a recurrence of his hamstring injury. Arsenal will certainly be hoping it proves only a short-term setback.

Fabregas’ performance provided Arsenal with some much needed impetus after a first half which had typically seen lots of possession, but little penetration, as a series of underwhelming moves had largely been dealt with excellently by the Villa defence. It illustrated that even in this most unpredictable of seasons, certain individuals can be relied upon to keep the elite a cut above the increasing number of contenders.

Without Fabregas the game had been even. With him the teams look oceans apart. Suddenly Arsenal were finding space, and Fabregas was instrumental in a move that set up Arshavin to force a good save from Brad Friedel with a powerful low drive.

Just after the hour mark, Arsenal were rewarded for their increased pressure. Fabregas, fouled himself by Richard Dunne, picked himself up and curled a sumptuous free kick into the top corner. And as it was Fabregas who powered Arsenal into the lead, so too was it the Spaniard that effectively sealed the win.

A loose James Milner pass was picked up by Armand Traore who swung a cross-field ball into the path of Theo Walc

ott, who in turn laid an inch perfect ball into the path of the charging Fabregas, showing a surprising turn of pace, who finished superbly inside Friedel’s near post.

Arsenal’s joy was tempered somewhat as Fabregas pulled up grimacing immediately after scoring, and had to be withdrawn after 84 minutes.

Deserved gloss was put on the second half performance in stoppage time by Diaby who, Fabregas aside, had been clearly Arsenal’s most threatening player. Taking advantage of tired Villa legs, Diaby drove through the Villa midfield before planting a twenty-five yard shot into the bottom right hand corner.

The win was thoroughly deserved on the merit of the second half performance and will be particularly satisfying as it came so convincingly against a side who boasted the league’s meanest defense before kick-off and had not failed to score in their previous sixteen league matches.

Arsenal now sit in a promising position in the league table, but will have to show that they can cope without both the injured Fabregas and also integral midfielder Alex Song against Portsmouth on Wednesday, with the latter departing for the African Cup of Nations. An early exit for Cameroon and a speedy recover from the captain would both be much welcomed in North London.

Test Team of the noughties

As the 2000s come to a close, talk of the imminent death of Test cricket is rife. Yet the decade has seen Test cricket taken to a new level: gung-ho openers, ferocious lower-order hitting, reverse swing and arguably the two greatest spin bowlers of all time have ensured there has been plenty for fans to savour.

Here is a composite XI of all those who played Tests in the 2000s. All statistics are for the decade only, not the players’ careers. The five Australian faces are reward for a decade in which, bar the odd blip, they have taken the game to new heights.

Matthew Hayden (96 Tests in 2000s, 8364 runs @ 52.93)
Loathed by many as a caricature of the worst of Australians, Hayden was a brute of an opening batsman. His muscular hitting terrified many an opening bowler, as he amassed 29 centuries over the decade. Whether waltzing down the pitch to Shaun Pollock or slog-sweeping his way to 549 runs in three Tests in India in 2001, Hayden could be relied on to score quickly with his bludgeoning bat. On the rare occasions when he was tamed, as in England in 2005, Australia’s juggernaut acquired hitherto hidden vulnerability.

Virender Sehwag (72 Tests, 6248 runs @ 52.50)
You thought Hayden was scary? His strike-rate of 60 looks sedate when set against Sehwag’s scarcely credible 80. There is no one quite like Sehwag: the hand-eye co-ordination; the blistering bat-speed; the obliviousness to pressure, the opposition and the match situation. Yet, for all that, is not Sehwag’s most impressive attribute his concentration span? When he gets going, he goes not just big but massive: having hit four 250+ scores, three at over a run-a-ball, his place in the pantheon is already assured. And he does it regularly against the best, averaging 51 against Australia. To those who say he thrives only in good batting conditions, Sehwag’s 201*, out of 329, against Mendis and Murali in Sri Lanka was a devastating riposte.

Ricky Ponting (106 Tests, 9389 runs @ 58

.68)
Over the decade, there has been no wicket more sought-after than Ponting, who is keeping of number three. While seemingly eschewing risk, he scores his runs at such a pace – with a strike-rate of 62 over the decade – that he inevitably seizes the initiative, keeping alive the tradition that a side’s best batsman and captain should occupy the pivotal spot. Adept all round the wicket, Ponting’s sheer single-mindedness, best displayed when gaining revenge on England in 2006/07 with 576 runs at 82.28, have helped him score more Test runs and centuries than anyone else this decade.

Brian Lara (66 Tests, 6380 runs @ 54.06)
Perhaps perceived more as a man of the 1990s, Lara in fact scored 21 of his 34 Test centuries in the 2000s. He was not without his troubles, but he continued to display the ability to score big runs against the world’s finest attacks, scything the ball away with his characteristic high backlift. Few performances of the modern era can match Lara’s 688 runs in three matches in Sri Lanka in 2001 – though, typically, West Indies were still beaten 3-0. Throughout his career, that thrilling x-factor remained. Lara was not a man to bat for your life – though his 400* against England saw him, astonishingly, reclaim the Test record score – but someone who illustrated just how breathtaking the art can be.

Rahul Dravid (103 Tests, 8558 runs @ 54.85)
Few nicknames are as appropriate as the one that has been attributed to Dravid – simply ‘The Wall’. Sachin Tendulkar is the great icon of the Indian game, but it is Dravid who has been the key batsman in their crucial victories, displaying mastery of batting’s technical challenges especially when standing out away from home. His 305 runs, for once out, to defeat Australia at Adelaide in 2003 was testament to his mental fortitude. Dravid’s finely-crafted masterpieces are a common thread linking the seminal Indian victories of the 2000s: from Headingley, to Rawalpindi and Kandy via Kingston, Perth and, of course, Adelaide.

Jacques Kallis (100 Tests, 8552 runs at 58.97; 202 wickets @ 31.70)
Hailed by Kevin Pietersen as “the greatest cricketer ever”, Kallis’s averages for the decade – 58 with the bat, and 31 with the ball – almost defy belief, especially when considering he has played 100 Tests in the 2000s. His batting is perhaps more science than art, but his steady and unobtrusive accumulation has led many a captain to despair. Other batsmen may get bored; Kallis remorselessly grinds the opposition into the dust. As he has proved in recent times, he does have another gear. He just seldom feels the need to use it. With the ball Kallis has tended to be the consummate fourth seamer, although when occasions have allowed, as at Headingley in 2003 when he took 6/54, his swing has proved devastating.

Adam Gilchrist (91 Tests, 5130 runs @ 46.63, wicket-keeper)
Gilchrist’s demoralising assaults from number seven will, for many, be the abiding memory of Test cricket in the 2000s. Whether he arrived at the crease at 100/5 or 300/5, his approach was the same: audacious, clean hitting that would seize the game’s initiative, most stunningly with a 57-ball century against England in 2006. As Gideon Haigh wrote, “Gilchrist seemed to invent a new cricket variant in which, while everyone else carried on as usual, he thrashed about him with apparent impunity.”

Andrew Flintoff (74 Tests, 3695 runs @ 32.69; 220 wickets @ 32.38)
No one could conceivably claim Andrew Flintoff was a superior cricketer to Shaun Pollock. So why is he in this side over Pollock? With McGrath and Kallis parsimony personified, Flintoff can finally be unleashed as an impact bowler in short, sharp spells – like his series changing over at Edgbaston in 2005 – rather than forced into the containing role. When at his peak, Flintoff performed outstandingly in all three disciplines in the Caribbean, South Africa and India – and, of course, his 2005 Ashes performance was one of the finest all-round series enjoyed by any cricketer this decade. He was not only vital for what he himself achieved on the pitch, but the galvanising affect his deeds had on others.

Shane Warne (65 Tests, 357 wickets @ 25.17, captain)
Warne v Muralitharan has been the subject of so many pub debates over the years. And, while Murali’s statistics in the 2000s are marginally superior, he admitted that Warne “had a better cricketing brain than me.” Through sheer force of personality, the Australian could change the course of games on even the least helpful of surfaces. And, so often the symbol of the all-conquering Australian machine, his Herculean efforts in defeat in the 2005 Ashes – 40 wickets and 249 runs in five Tests – provided indisputable proof of his enduring greatness. Widely regarded as possessing the best cricketing nous of anyone who never captained his country in a Test, Warne will have the honour of leading this side out.

Dale Steyn (33 Tests, 170 wickets @ 23.70)
In an era when express pace seemed to be dying a sad death, Steyn has emerged to revive it. Bowling at speeds in excess of 90mph, he has created carnage with his devilish late swing with new and old ball alike. His yorker and bouncer alike have the capacity to destroy, and he was crucial in South Africa’s success against Australia in 2008/09, claiming 34 scalps in six Tests. A more subtle and canny bowler than many of express pace, Steyn was also exceptional in India.

Glenn McGrath (66 Tests, 297 wickets @ 20.53)
It all seemed so simple, didn’t it? Plod up to the wicket, bowling with nip but some way short of express pace, hit a good line and length and perhaps extract a little movement. The most remarkable of unremarkable bowlers, McGrath could be relied upon to raise his game against the opposition’s star, and shared some memorable duels with Messrs Tendulkar and Lara. When there was a little in the pitch, as when he took 8/24 against Pakistan at Perth, McGrath was simply without peer.

All statistics are

based on Tests played from 1st January 2000 to 25th December 2009.

 

Review: Turner Prize 2009

After previous shortlists, which have included Keith Tyson’s wall-text ‘Arsewoman in Wonderland’, Chris Ofili’s paintings with elephant dung and, of course, Damien Hirst’s various bovine experiments, this year’s Turner looks decidedly tame. There is little in the way of surface sensationalism; instead, all the artists seem concerned with raising questions through the de-contextualization of material or subject matter.

The room of Lucy Skaer’s work is dominated by a huge whale skeleton, concealed but for slits in the wall around it, part of her installation ‘Leviathan Edge’ (2009). It might seem gimmicky to have spectators peering closely and walking about to try and get a full view of what is in front of them, but Skaer’s approach questions the limits of empirical knowledge. Her enforced slowing down of the process of looking leads us to question how much we can ever know of this skeleton, whether it is partially obscured in a gallery or spot lit on a plinth in a science museum. The shapes of the whale’s bones seem to correspond to her work ‘Black Alphabet (after Brancusi)’ (2008), a series of 26 identical objects that repeat the form and number of all the ‘Bird in Flight’ sculptures Constantin Brancusi made in his lifetime. Whereas his were bronze, alabaster or marble, and praised for evoking the weightlessness of flight, Skaer’s are batch-produced out of compressed coal dust. The solid weight of these forms and their matte black surface entirely contradicts their streamlined, finlike shape. In transforming the originals, Skaer highlights the impossibility of sculpting something as intangible as ‘flight’. 

The next room’s installation by Enrico David, a self-described ‘modern Surrealist’, delivers perhaps more what you’d expect from the Turner Prize. The assortment of cloth dolls, pornographic photographs and large papier-mâché eggs looks cheap, more than anything. Bits of craft paper messily stapled onto MDF are so self-effacing they beg you to seek out an underlying conceptual framework – but the objects themselves aren’t giving anything away. The aforementioned eggs, for example, stand about two metres high with an oversized photo of a human face pasted on the front. They rest on wooden runners, which, if you stepped on them, would make the egg roll, forward and crash into you – presumably, you would be consumed by its face. Elsewhere, a long cloth doll drapes across things, its useless distorted limbs lolling grotesquely. It’s all very sinister, but apart from a general sense of impending doom, David’s various transformations of the human body do not seem to cohere. 

Roger Hiorns’ material experiments are perhaps the clearest demonstration that our ideas about everyday sights are completely determined by their contexts. The use of strange materials, or rather, materials in strange contexts, is a central concern of Hiorns’ work, and his untitled 2008 piece consists of what appears to be a pile of dust of different shades of grey, heaped on the floor of the gallery. When we learn that it’s actually an atomised passenger jet plane, our perceptions of what seemed insignificant dirt or rubbish are undeniably changed. What seemed like meaningless, pointless matter now appears to comment on the aviation industry, on 9/11, the fallibility of machinery, the limits of human invention. 

However, it is the untitled 2009 wall painting by Richard Wright that is this year’s winner. The single painting occupying one wall of a large white room was made directly onto the gallery walls and will be painted over after the exhibition. Few photographs are available of it and there are no postcards. The imagery is non-figurative, bafflingly intricate with many lines of symmetry, and all rendered in gold leaf. This material links back to religious frescoes of the Renaissance and earlier, but here there is no overt religious subject matter, and no hierarchy of divinity, since the gold covers everything. What is more, the certainty of this image’s destruction seems a comment on the impossibility of a truly everlasting religion. We may get caught up in the surreal mathematics of this design – close-up, the immersive patterns are sublimely  beautiful – but its existence as an object is finite.

Wright has said of his approach to painting that he ‘wanted to get at the idea without the object getting in the way’, and his Prize entry seems the closest possible way of doing this without painting nothing at all. In that sense, it is a quiet rebellion against art that demands to be remembered through sensationalist images seared on the viewers’ memories. Rather than attempting to evade the fragility of art in the face of time, Wright’s paintings acknowledge it by disappearing of their own accord. Perhaps this year’s Turner is not so tame after all, then. Its winning piece is thoroughly anti-institutional, just not in the same way a cow in formaldehyde is. 

Four stars

The Turner Prize 2009 is on at the Tate Britain, London until 3rd January.

Admission is £8. 

Photo: Lucy Skaer – ‘Thames and Hudson’ (2009) – courtesy of the artist and dogfisher, Edinburgh. © Copyright the artist.

 

Education, Education? – Labour now proposes two instead of three

Presumably having run out of coal, Peter Mandelson yesterday announced his gift to Higher Education in 2010.  Mandelson made a decision to reduce spending from £7.8 billion to £7.3 billion and has lots of ideas for how this might be implemented. One of the suggested measures is the reduction of degree courses from three to two years.

 

“2010 for education is becoming a buzzword for reassessment and belt-tightening”

 

The National Union of Students has raised its objections, arguing that any cuts lack foresight and will have unforeseen economic ramifications. But recession perhaps forces leaders to assess the pragmatic solutions to the current situation, rather than continuing to spend in the hope that it will eventually solve itself. As with every area of public service, 2010 for education is becoming a buzzword for reassessment and belt-tightening. The government’s ability – and inclination – to accept this necessity is something which should be appreciated, if not exactly celebrated. However, it is the suggested modes of implementation which make this already bitter pill a little bit harder to swallow. The idea that these cuts in spending should lead to a reduction or dilution of the current situation seems to lack insight into the problem and feels somewhat like putting plasters on a flesh wound.

 

“The government perhaps needs to look back to dividing higher education into vocational and academic courses, and to adequately fund and reward both halves”

 

It seems to stem from the same idea which led to the consolidation of universities and polytechnics in 1992. If everyone could be said to go to university, this could be seen as extending its capabilities, rather than giving it unnecessary and inappropriate burdens. Abolishing polytechnics meant getting rid of schools of higher education which were directly designed to serve industry, thus diluting their service and purpose in the act of ‘elevating’ them to universities. In addition, the way in which universities encourage students to move away from home – as was much less common with local polytechnics – the move increased the financial burden on universities from the outset. In a similar way, limiting any university courses to two years (particularly those that the intellectually arrogant refer to as ‘lower-value’ courses) would be a failure to the other end of the higher education spectrum. Rather than continuing to extend the traditional forms of higher education, and this leading to a dilution of quality of the intellectual experience, the government perhaps needs to look back to dividing higher education into vocational and academic courses, and to adequately fund and reward both halves – albeit differently.

 

“The suggestion of limiting university to two years is also to undermine its social and psychological impact”

 

But as much as it appears to be misunderstanding the relationship between education and our economic future, it also lacks comprehension of the purpose of higher education. Of course, the central issue (as it should remain) is that being given two years to complete a degree does not give time to either cover the amount of academic ground necessary, nor to allow the change in ways of research and presentation which have been the distinguishing features of university level education. But without wishing to summon up visions of Kukui on a Tuesday night, the suggestion of limiting university to two years is also to undermine its social and psychological impact. Many argue that a shortening would be impossible because it takes the first year to bring students to the level which A-levels previously ensured. But it also takes some of the first year to bring about the emotional maturity which is just as crucial to success at university as is passing the exams. Just as university is not entirely about getting drunk, so it is not entirely about academic pursuit; there is a balance which is both desirable and necessary to retain sanity, particularly if not exclusively at places like Oxford.

As I see it, shortening university would lead to under-prepared and under-educated 20 year olds being forced to compete for jobs in the global market, a fact which doesn’t just scare me because I’m a 21-year old second-year. In an economic climate in which graduates are desperately trying to extend their time at university in order not to have to enter the battlefield of job applications, Mandelson’s substitution of a shortening rather than a complete overhaul of tertiary education feels entirely baffling. 

 

Why we experience a quarter-life crisis

Fear. This is doubtlessly one of the most pervading feelings among some Oxford students. Unconsciously, it drives us to do more, make things better and try harder.

A friend of mine in Brasenose was rejected from fifteen Milkround companies. He applied because he wants to earn thousands on the trading floor and escape the lifestyle of his parents, Oxford academics. “You have to provide for your family and stuff and my parents just don’t have that kind of money,” I always would hear him complain.

Estelle, one of my hardest-working girlfriends was fretting over coffee, “I don’t know. I’m studying for an Oxford degree but that’s still no guarantee of success in life.” Blues tennis, distinctions in academic results and incredible social skills and she’s still stressing out.

There are more examples. One of my fellow PPEists decided to help out in the organisation of the Oxford Investment Banking Conference because she felt “like she needed something for the CV”. Whenever I meet up with my friend Masha who is studying at the London School of Economics, we always end up talking about how we might not provide our parents with the lifestyle that they provided us. Ask any Oxford undergraduate what they want to do in their life and the answer in the majority of cases will be, “er…I don’t know.”

“My parents fought communism and my grandparents fought their farmer plight so that I can do what I want with my life”

We are the generation that was supposed to have it all – Oxford’s bright young things, comfortable with technology, growing up when Labour’s investment in public services pushes through social mobility barriers and the city of London lures us with drinks and lavish dinners (this year’s Accenture dinner anyone?). We’ve had the education, the social provisions and the freedom to do something great. My parents fought communism and my grandparents fought their farmer plight so that I can do what I want with my life.

Yet, we’re left confused and scared as we consider the vast majority of options offered. Should we be deceived by corporate offerings, losing our souls to banks but leading an economically comfortable lifestyle? Or maybe go onto the political treadmill, join a think-tank and become hotshot MPs? Work for NGOs and charities for peanuts, a profile that fits with the desire of ‘giving something back’? Or try to make it in the ruthless world of media?

“We want to at least maintain the economic standards our parents gave us and some of us will support the rest of the family as well”

Another reason for this fear is both the parental pressure and the pressure we put on ourselves to be someone and to provide economically for the future. Many of my school friends suffered a silent crisis when they learnt they didn’t get into Oxbridge – for in their families this was a tradition and parents expected them to get in too. We ourselves want to be successful people: we research career options, checking up the paths of people we’re impressed by in Wikipedia and wondering what should be our next step. We want to at least maintain the economic standards our parents gave us, and some of us will support the rest of the family as well. Media’s laments of a lost generation only intensifies our panic.
 
Most of us Oxford undergraduates postpone the big decision until later, taking a Masters or a gap year before committing ourselves to a clear path. Yet, the internal anxiety stays for a while, becoming as the popular American catch-phrase says, a quarter-life crisis in itself.

Varsity: Learning something on the slopes, if not how to ski

It wasn’t until I was packing my salopettes that I quite realised what I had let myself in when I signed up to go skiing. Not only in that sort of packing-up-your-kit-bag, take-a-deep-breath kind of way, but also just how difficult it was. It’s like packing a duvet; you have to fold them into a sort of bulbous rectangle, squeeze the air out and try and nestle them between everything else before they start to reinflate. It was on the third try that I realised I didn’t want them anywhere near my legs.

“My haggardly attractive French instructor noted of my skiing on the first day that ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day'”

My first experience of going skiing didn’t do much to help with these initial fears. Everything, from remembering to put on goggles before gloves to knowing you should wear thermals under (not over) leggings was new to me. It was a new language (see ‘salopettes’ above) and a totally new experience. It’s completely counter-intuitive. Firstly, you have to get wrapped up in order to do a sport. You have to go up a hill, just to come down it. Perhaps most controversially, you have to lean towards the snowy ground, when everything inside you is telling you to move as far away from it as possible.  My haggardly attractive French instructor noted of my skiing on the first day that ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’. But as ‘Rome’ in this charming analogy stood for ‘leaning towards your impending death in order to try and prevent it’, I was worried it might even take more than a week.

Everyone assured me that Varsity is the best place to learn how to ski. Everyone including the Varsity handbook, whose reassuring tones noted that 400 beginners attend Varsity every year. So I was to be in the company of 399 other non-skiers. That seemed like plenty to distract from my personal humiliation. But then there were 2100 other people. And because Oxford is Oxford (and equally, and no less crucially Cambridge is Cambridge) most of these people looked like their mums had given birth on a chair lift, and sent them on their merry way. This was the point that my defence mechanisms set in, and I started to write off skiing as a pretentious, expensive, middle-class activity for people who have bought every possible style of Ugg boot and so have to find something else to empty their weighed-down pockets.

But then I just realised that I couldn’t blame skiing for the fact I wasn’t good at it. I couldn’t blame the salopettes for the fact that I wasn’t storming down the mountain like a bride’s nightie. I tend to blame the things (the piano, maths, Renaissance drama) for my inadequacy, rather than taking any of the flak. And it was the same with skiing – after trying it once I was just about ready to spend the week honing my snowman building.

“I suppose one thing skiing teaches you is to have some humility and actually try; something which under-achieving at Oxford tends to teach you fairly brutally too”

But looking around at some of the other beginners on Varsity, I realised I wasn’t the only one who started day two eying my skis with a mixture of disdain and distaste. This resignation is perhaps something you see more on the slopes at a university ski trip – especially an Oxbridge one – than anywhere else. If we’re not immediately good at something, it’s not worth it. But much like the ritual humiliation of tutorials (at least for me), having shortcomings publicly exposed makes you want to get rid of them faster. And shortcomings aren’t easy to hide when they involve landing on your elbows in powdery snow. So I suppose one thing skiing teaches you is to have some humility and actually try; something which under-achieving at Oxford tends to teach you fairly brutally too. And at least sub fusc has given us excellent training for getting dressed up in stupid clothes to do something you can’t do.