If you are planning to visit London anytime this term then this exhibition is a must-see. With his innovative and controversial approach to exhibition curation, David Solkin tells the story of Turner’s life, education, work and influences, placing him in the context of the art that shaped him.
Whilst Turner was a highly independent artist, forging a new genre of landscape painting, he was also deeply engaged with his artistic predecessors and contemporaries.

Indeed, Turner was constantly reacting to his artistic heritage and declared that ‘we may suffer ourselves to be too much led away by great names and to be too much subdued by their overbearing authority’. Turner would not be too much subdued – his responses to other works strike a complex balance of homage and one-upmanship. This exhibition provides an excellent insight into Turner’s methods, growth and unremitting ambition, and challenges the way we view his work.

The exhibition presents us with a series of dialogues between Turner and his influences. Turner’s presentation alongside his rival water colourist Thomas Girtin invites a fascinating critical comparison, and one which was commonly made when the two first emerged.

Girtin’s ‘Lindisfarne Castle’ is clearly referenced in Turner’s ‘Warkworth Castle’, whilst Girtin’s work is less detailed, using broad sweeping strokes, Turner is almost painfully tentative, the warm rays of sun illuminating the castle and the delicate ripples on the shore.

The pair’s rivalry was ended with Girtin’s death in 1802, but Turner continued to reference him, especially his iconic ‘The White House at Chelsea’ as shown by Turner’s ‘The Lauerzersee with the Mythens’.

four stars

Turner and the Masters is at Tate Britain until 31st January. Admission £12.50/£10.50

In this uniquely comparative exhibition, we are able to see not only the battles Turner wins but also the ones he loses. At times we see his own ambition defeat him as he attempts to rival Titian with scenes of religious figures such as his ‘The Holy Family’, in which the people are wooden and unengaging. At times, it seems that Turner had his fingers in too many pies.

Another target of his rivalry was his contemporary David Wilkie. Wilkie, painting in the style of David Teniers, was celebrated for his realism, presenting evocative and unvarnished scenes from quotidian life. A particularly charming example is ‘The Blind Fiddler’ with its touching detail of a child’s drawing pinned to the cupboard. Turner’s attempt in ‘A Country Blacksmith Disputing upon the Price of Iron, and the Price Charged to the Butcher for Shoeing his Pony’ seems by contrast as laboured and contrived as its title.

Also on display is Turner’s only royal commission from George V ‘The Battle of Trafalgar’, which was Philip James de Loutherbourg’s ‘The Glorious First of June’. The two monumental works comprise part of a larger commission commemorating the naval victories of the Hanoverian dynasty and were to be hung in the St. James palace, either side of George III’s portrait. When de Loutherbourg’s was first displayed it had been attacked for inaccuracy, however this was completely overshadowed by the controversy that Turner caused.

In response to a barrage of complaints from sailors, Turner spent eleven days making minor adjustments but this did little to calm the storm. The commission was intended to celebrate naval victories but Turner’s representation, with men suffering in the foreground and Victory’s falling mast, reminds us that the battle of Trafalgar was also a national tragedy because of Nelson’s death.

An exciting fact about this exhibition is that it reunites Turner’s ‘Helvoetsluys’ with Constable’s ‘Opening of Waterloo Bridge’, for the first time since they were exhibited together in the Royal Academy in 1832. The two were hung next to each other and in the final ‘varnishing days’ before its opening, Turner added a red buoy to his seascape to compete with Constable’s rich reds.

The incident is described by Constable’s first biographer, Charles Robert: ‘Turner stood behind [Constable], looking from the Waterloo to his own picture, and at last brought his palette from the great room where he was touching up another picture. And putting a round daub of red lead, somewhat bigger than a shilling on his grey sea, went away without saying a word.’ Constable famously said of the incident, ‘Turner has been here and fired a gun’.

This cut-throat competitiveness in Turner gives us a unique insight to the way in which he shaped and continually fed his own reputation, securing a place for himself among ‘the masters’.

Perhaps the most strikingly beautiful Turner of the show is his ‘Snow Storm’. The rough brush strokes play with your vision, leading it through an intricate dance with no firm resting point. Every element conspires to sweep you up in its watery vortex. Indeed, Turner reportedly told a friend of John Ruskin that he ‘wished to show what such a scene was like; I got the sailors to lash me to the mast to observe it.’

The painting itself, with its textured rhythm gives a real sense of the briny lashings of a sea storm and the deep vermilion hues descending from a dark cloud instil a theatrical violence.

The exhibition also contains Turner’s series from Venice with their marmalade skies and bustling jetties. The accompanying masterpieces by artists including Titian, Poussin, Rembrandt and Rubens are worth seeing in their own rights.
Altogether this exhibition provides a fine reconsideration of Turner’s oeuvre and is entirely worth a short trip on the Oxford Tube.

Pop art certainly lives up to its name at the current Tate exhibition, attracting a large and varied crowd of people with its display of art, media, entertainment and sex. The exhibition brings together the best in ‘pop’ art from its 1960s beginnings with Andy Warhol through to the 21st century with artists such as Damien Hirst and Takashi Murakami.

The show succeeds in seamlessly bridging genre gaps and removing issues of categorisation, moving rapidly from video, music, paintings, sculpture, pornography, news clippings, collectable action figures, a room resembling an 80s disco and a fully functional shop… with a bit of art thrown in too.

The appeal of this exhibition for the less seasoned gallery-goer is its raw entertainment value. The show opens itself up to the same criticism as many of its lead artists – sensationalism and blatant capitalism, with displays such as Colley Fanny Tutti’s series of pornographic photographs of herself playing the role of prostitute and porno star, or Ashley Bickerton’s piece, which has a gauge valuing its current worth built in on the side. However, this is not at odds with the show as a serious curatorial endeavour. That this art is presented in rooms that resemble 80s discos more than the white cube walls of the rest of the Tate, allows it to be experienced in the way that it was created rather than through the lens of academia.

‘Pop Life’ presents an opportunity for the Tate Modern to live up to its objectives of making art accessible to a more general public, and create a platform for contemporary artists now. Rather than trying to make art accessible by having a nice restaurant, a boat to take you to the gallery and a great building, this is accessible art. In this regard, it feels like Tate has compromised somewhat.

Whilst the material on display feels like a fresh take on the pop art events of the recent past, situating Damien Hirst’s spot paintings next to a reconstruction of his performance piece from the 1992 ‘Unfair’ Art Fair, two identical spot paintings with two identical twins sitting directly beneath them, rotating with different pairs of twins in hourly slots.

The reference to Warhol’s multiple prints of the same celebrity and 1980s theories of the simulacra adorn the wall. This bringing to life of installation art and explanation with reference to the past, has a valid and useful place. But in contrast to this relevant history lesson, some of the other rooms can seem dated in their approach to a comparative history of art.

In the room dedicated to the history of Andy Warhol and the cult of the celebrity, the same material that has dominated all accounts and exhibitions of pop art since the 60s is repeated. The relevance of Warhol’s celebrity cult remains and can be seen throughout the rest of the show; it does not in my opinion need to be spelled out in the way that it is.

Warhol’s relevance puts the traditional art historical perspective back into what is otherwise an exhibition of renegade works. It casts the history book frame back over an exciting and interactive exhibition space in the manner of many recent Tate exhibitions, where curatorial concepts have seemed to dominate the bringing together of great works of art. This was the case with both the Futurism and the Constructivism exhibitions of early 2009.

The last room of the exhibition displays a Takashi Murakami music video. Kirsten Dunst in a blue wig and harijuku platforms blares out of a plasma television set; ‘I think I’m going Japanese, I think I’m going Japanese, I really think so’. Pop Life allows people to experience that art can be a shop or a video and that it is the word ‘art’ rather than the idea of a music video that is problematic.

These paradoxical concepts have always overshadowed the commentary on Pop Art. Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin’s work regularly appeared in the British tabloids throughout the 90s, with angry journalists asking the same old, tired question ‘is it art’. Pop Life doesn’t pander to these questions. Instead, it arguably shows where the value in contemporary art lies – in relevance,

entertainment and experience – and lets the viewer see it for themselves.
My lasting criticism of the show is its dependence on its curatorial past, which seems at odds with the intentions of the individual pieces in the show. For the viewer, this doesn’t need to detract from the overall experience.

The exhibition sells itself to you from the initial encounter with a human-size moulded manga girl, with Mr. Whippy like plastic milk streaming out of either breast to Keith Haring’s Pop Shop where you can buy a piece of the action in the form of children’s pin badges, t-shirts or inflatables.

When you leave the exhibition and cross Tate’s café area to the actual Tate exhibition shop, you are invited to buy postcards, posters, more Keith Haring work, as well as Tate commissioned Pop Life paraphernalia – such as an address book with the title ‘All business is good art’ on the front.

If you do proceed to the till with any such items, a glass cabinet to the left of it may catch your eye as it contains a giant ball constructed from felt flowers selling for £3,000, which of course is by Takashi Murakami himself – it doesn’t say how many of these are for sale at the official Tate shop, nor whether they offer home delivery. But the price tag firmly answers any question over whether it is art or not.

three stars

Pop Life is at Tate Modern until 17th January. Admission £12.50/£10.50

In the afterglow of the massive success of Supernova (his number one collaboration with Kanye West) Mr Hudson looks like a man returning home as he wanders into the Hobgoblin to meet me. He has worked with some of the biggest stars in R&B and tonight he’ll be supporting Calvin Harris. One thing is for certain: Mr Hudson opens up the possibilities for what you can do with an English degree from Oxford.

What is it like to be back in Oxford?

I come back so rarely, it’s always very moving to look around. It brings back lots of memories and ways of seeing the world. I’m reminded of blissful, lazy times but I’m also full of regret that I didn’t do more. I was just thinking, as I walked through town, I wish I’d got a first or a third. I wish I’d either just wallowed in English in the library, or just had an amazing time, and I did neither. I got a good 2:1. I survived. I was just one of the boys. It’s weird when you come back and don’t know anyone. I’m wandering down the street as an observer, not expecting to recognise any faces. It’s good to go away and come back.

How did you find studying here?

It’s funny to think how small my world-view was. At the time I thought I was more open-minded than my peers. I moved out of college, for example. Everyone thought Cowley was so street. I used to live half a mile away from college and people thought it was a massive trek. I was three minutes away by bike. I think living in college felt a bit claustrophobic at the time and St Anne’s was a big college. With the new album, I’ve been to Hawaii three times, worked in LA and New York, Chicago, Texas, toured Europe a couple of times. It’s blissful to come back and have a more focused world view.

Did you get into music while you were here?

I don’t know what it’s like now but back then there wasn’t really a scene that I knew of. I hid in my room and wrote songs. It wasn’t really until I left and moved to London that I really applied myself.
As ‘Mr Hudson and the Library’, we made the point of wanting to stick out like a sore thumb. We would play anywhere but the conventional venues. We had a residency at the Candy Bar (a lesbian bar in Soho), we played at my hairdressers, did a tour of libraries in England. We played anywhere that wasn’t a boring box where everyone else played.
And it’s funny, everyone’s like, ‘why did you ditch the band?’ as though I chopped their heads off – two of them left! The two founding members are still in the band. It’s just we don’t put them in the posters anymore.

What brought about the R&B sound of your new record, Straight No Chaser?

Well it was always there in the first record, it’s just evolved. Obviously having Kanye involved and working in America on his album and on Jay-Z’s album helped, listening to radio in the cab, nights out, watching music videos in hotel rooms. Coming back two or three years later, I think it would be a shame if I was making the same sounds. Do I have to be trapped in 2007 for the rest of my life? That’s wishing torture on me; I can’t do it, I’d rather go back to pulling pints and driving a white van (I’ve done a lot of shitty jobs).

Your work with Kanye West went to number one – any other people in mind you’d like to work with?

I’ve just done a duet with Estelle for her new album, and a track with N Dubz. I like to be in the studio, I like working with different people and producing. I’m not just always working on my own stuff. I’m not as narcissistic as that.

Your latest single is called ‘White Lie’ – what’s the worst white lie you’ve told?

I’ve told a lot. But really, white lies aren’t that bad. The song’s dark enough so I’m gonna think of something funny. This girl from St Anne’s has just come into my head who every lunch was a pound short and I suddenly realised, hang on, you’re making about £300 a year because no one ever asked for it back, but she obviously had the money. I used to lie all the time for tutorials when really I just didn’t want to read Middlemarch.
The darkness comes from considering the possibility that I might be a good man who does bad things or a bad man who does good things. Life’s not black or white, it can surprise you.

Schizophrenic Ray is released into the care of his brother Pete. He falls in love with Laura, who is trying to escape from her abusive ex.  Mental illness, sibling tension, dysfunctional relationships – can we say gigantic soap opera flop?

Actually, no. Some Voices looks unsentimentally at these themes without being unsympathetic. There’s a touch of humour and caricature to the characters, which blends nicely with the otherwise down-and-out realism of their roles.

Those roles are, on the whole, played well. Joe Eyre makes an excellent Ray after a stiff start. Probably more a prop than acting problem though, since the stiffness vanished later when he had something to do with his hands. Eyre as Ray is a lanky, gauche deadbeat, a mix of sullen and sensitive teenager. It’s an engaging performance, faltering only when he tries to switch to more upbeat registers.

Lindsay Dukes, on the other hand, doesn’t have any problem switching emotional gears as ‘hard nut’ Laura. Dukes tramples all over the battered woman stereotype with a credible show of fear and angry bravado against her abusive ex, Dave, played suitably boorishly by James Corrigan. Flitting between edgy cynicism and vulnerability, Dukes also brings out the best in Eyre’s acting, making this a bittersweet working-class romance.

And for this cast, at least, that romance seems to be central. The other main theme, Pete and Ray’s relationship, hardly moves forward. Jacob Lloyd as Pete keeps haranguing his brother, and it’s difficult to detect any fraternal love or internal life under all that bluster.

As for the mental illness theme, it might as well have been invisible. In fact I’d rather it to be completely invisible, rather than re-watch one scene where Ivan – another mental patient, played by Adam Baghdadi – declaims to an invisible audience while Ray shivers melodramatically. I know schizophrenia is a break from reality, but it shouldn’t break so hard from the overarching realism of the play. Especially when it flattens into stereotype.

But it says something about the strength of the script and the acting that even with two of the main themes sidelined, Some Voices is well worth watching. The only reason it doesn’t get four stars is because the cast keep rattling off their lines. Hopefully they’ll savour some of the moments more, and if they do, this will certainly be a production for you to savour too.

three stars

Autumn 1788: America has recently won the war of independence; a colossal blow to England’s national pride. The King, surrounded by bickering ministers and paranoid to the extent that he suspects his own son (‘the fat one’) of plotting his demise, is driven insane. At least, this would be the case were anyone able to diagnose accurately his indisposition. Beneath the comedy of Bennett’s play lies a study on the theme of madness, as well as a serious critique on the backwards medical practises of the age, of the backbiting prevalent in government.

Jonathan Tilley delivers a spectacular performance as George III, finding the perfect medium between humour and the portrayal of his crushing despair and inability to understand his rapid descent into insanity.

Inconsistent and somewhat dubious German accents aside, his supporting cast was strong; notably Thurlow (Dan Mclean), Dundas (Jonathan Worsley) and Pitt (Philip Aspin), whose dynamism and enthusiasm when together really brought the play to life. In contrast, the scenes with Fox (Tim Aldersley), Sheridan (Minoo Dinshaw) and Burke (Mark O’Brien) seemed somewhat wooden and flat in their execution. Mention must also go to Jack Rennison, who played very convincingly the part of Sir Boothby Scrymshir, the oleaginous sycophant seeking political gain for his socially awkward nephew, Ramsden (James Phillips), on the back of others’ misfortunes. The sparse set was generally used imaginatively and to good effect, meaning that scene changes were good in general, albeit occasionally hailed by unnecessary and overpowering renditions of choruses from Handel’s Messiah in an apparent attempt to confer stronger emotion.

There were occasional scrappy moments. Often actors blocked one another from view, or faced away from the audience while speaking. There also seemed to be technical problems to do with misjudged lighting and awkward scene changes. However we can probably put these down to first night nerves, and all in all, the production was captivating and impressive.

three stars