Thursday, May 1, 2025
Blog Page 580

Reclaiming the Moment

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Lavinia Greenlaw’s latest collection of poetry is scattered with moments built from the ruin of memory. Writing in response to, and so to some extent against, her father’s decline into dementia, the poems seem born out of a need to reclaim moments of pure sight from the vastness of her days. The collection thus becomes a salvage from the wastes of time, a writing against decay, and a demonstration of the necessity of poetry.

The two halves of the collection, one focused solely on her father’s memory-loss, the other more generally on life and love, make for a poised and nuanced whole. Whether reflecting on the loss of a father, in the personal if not the physical sense, the collection offers a generous redress to the trauma of knowing and loving when all love is doomed to end in death, and all knowing in forgetting.

One poem in particular, ‘The Break’, offers a gentle rumination on pain and its inevitability, drawing out moments of tension in the speaker’s relationships with those she loves, against a backdrop of emotional and mental instability. The act of reaching out is complicated by the fact that our days become unsynchronised, even with those we are closest to:

People nodded and moved on. What else could they do?Hold me? Through each and every day? They had their own days.

Such observations come as a revelation amidst Greenlaw’s deftly handled imagery. Her use of imagistic precision coupled with moments of unbridled confession makes for a poetry of tensions sprung and unsprung, coiled and blooming, like carnation Catherine-wheels. In Greenlaw’s hands one gains the impression of a poet self-consciously reducing her words and her images, holding back from total effusion; it would be unnecessary, as she has the ability to invest power into three lines, dropped like an ink-spot on the page.

Each half of the collection complements the other, and a subtle dialogue can be observed between the two. The first, ‘The Sea is an Edge and an Ending’, ends on a note of uncertainty; ‘Will you stop leaving now?’. The question could just as well refer to the poet’s imagery as to her father, as questions of loved ones and moments lost become blurred with questions of the nature of poetry itself. This sense of childhood abandonment and language’s implication in it suggests that poetry, as well as the father-figure, is vulnerable to memory’s decay. The second part of the collection, meanwhile, ends with a direct rejoinder to this very uncertainty. These are the concluding lines to a playful exposition on the nature of the poet’s medium, words:

ABANDONMENT

And yet

Thus, Greenlaw’s collection, through a succession of precise images, and careful explorations of our personal relationships, presents poetry as an uneasy, but ultimately worthwhile monument, built with the triumph over time in mind. Her father may slip from her into illness and forgetting, but her poems remain forever in her grasp, her words the final frontier against oblivion.

The Funny/Not Funny Exercise

But it was just a joke, I say to myself in the dark room. A horrible, horrible joke.’

What makes David Sedaris such a master of his craft is his ability to make, not horrible jokes, but brilliant jokes about horrible, horrible things. This latest collection of essays, out now in paperback, doesn’t so much take aim at as spool out the horrors of family, loss, Trump’s America, and the inevitable decline into old age. Sedaris writes with such natural wit that one wonders whether he actually sets out to be funny, or whether his inner monologue coalesces into poised, perfectly level and almost painfully self-aware observations entirely of its own accord. Especially for Calypso unlike his earlier, less internally focused works – this question is a legitimate one. Comedy here is not the object but the lens; one which frequently leaves Sedaris the man, his actions and his relationships, at the very least singed by its glare.

The central drama of Calypso is the suicide of Sedaris’ younger sister, Tiffany. The essays don’t all explicitly address her death. The first of the collection sees him extolling the middle-aged pleasures of owning a guest-room – but of course, the essay also operates on another level, to explore Sedaris’ fear and unease with his ageing family and self. His construction of multiple semantic fields in which to play around is so seamless it’s almost undetectable as he shifts from layer to layer, seemingly without breaking a sweat: ‘Yes, the washer on my penis has worn out, leaving me to dribble urine long after I’ve zipped my trousers back up. But I have two guest rooms.’ However, Sedaris occasionally and masterfully delivers a gut punch of emotional intensity unforeseen and undetectable until it suddenly arrives, leaving the reader reeling. Tiffany’s death is one such instance, and even more so is Sedaris’ description of the last time he saw her, in the antepenultimate essay ‘The Spirit World’. These moments are, crucially, humourless. Sedaris delivers these blows without any fancy footwork, straight and abrupt.

It’s a comedic formula we see cropping up more and more: the Funny/ Not Funny exercise. Phoebe Waller-Bridge explains the challenge as ‘How do you make an audience laugh in one moment, then feel something completely and profoundly different in the next?’. With Fleabag, Waller- Bridge used this as a founding philosophy, building a TV show which defies easy-labelling, and, like Calypso, is centred around a deep and un-funny trauma. The laugh/cry formula (to put it crudely) can easily become a cheap trick, fulfilling neither its comedic nor its dramatic potential. Its success is a testament to the talent of those who successfully employ it, as Tig Notaro did in her landmark set Live in 2012, introducing herself on stage ‘Good evening, hello, how are you, I have cancer’, and as Hannah Gadsby so triumphantly did in Nanette. In Calypso Sedaris displays an unwillingness to cleave to the constraints of comedy writing as a genre, but what marks these essays out from the stylings of Notaro and Gadsby is his quasi-weaponization of humour as a vehicle to eviscerate his own flaws. Calypso is both funny and heart-breaking, but at its core it is deeply, uncomfortably personal; one wonders how on earth Sedaris will follow it.

Review: The Reunion(?) – ‘a subversive new take on the classic murder mystery’

The opening night of the absurd comedy The Reunion(?) had your reviewer and the rest of the audience in fits of laughter for a good ten minutes—the last ten minutes. If the play were a joke, these last ten minutes of comedic gold would be the punchline to a good 40 minutes of setup. Of course, the play was littered with little knock-knock jokes, dirty ditties, intentionally awful puns throughout—sometimes to the extent that I suspected there was a quota to be met. But the real comedic force was the plotline which builds up slowly with thorough character development, culminating in a series of genius Chekhov-inspired twists and turns which catch the audience by surprise. This is when the play really comes alive.

This subversive new take on the classic murder mystery genre revolves both in terms of plot and mise-en-scène around the cadaver of billionaire Sebastian Coxcomb (though I heard Cockskin), played by Tommy Hurst, which has recently been admitted to the aptly named funeral home Cloak and Hearse. Although you probably won’t guess whodunnit, events unfold in a predictable yet intriguing fashion, becoming increasingly ridiculous—just like the disparate cast of characters who are introduced one by one with extraordinary back-stories and captivating asides.

Energetic acting from each member of the Oxford Revue produces a devilish contrast to the darkness of the story line and serves to imbue each character with its own distinct brand of quirk. I must commend Kathryn Cussons, who plays Coxcomb’s wife Jennifer, and above all Bernard Visser, who plays George, for their rare mastery of their characters’ accents. Good rehearsing and a refreshing lack of first-night mishaps allows the discord amongst these bereaved souls to confuse your attempts to identify the killer.

Inevitably, a few of the many jokes peppered through the play tonight met with a reception that was painfully flat, especially before the audience had had a chance to warm up. But the troupe would soldier on seamlessly like professionals. Although not quite reaching Gary Oldman’s level, special mention must go to Tom Saer and Angus Moore who play the eponymous funeral directors. A hilarious dynamic emerges between Tom playing Cloak, an enthusiastic Frankenstein-wannabe, and the desperate attempts of Angus’ character, Hearse, to control his co-worker and keep a lid on the chaos that ensues.

The sound and lighting of the stage is flawlessly executed. Before the play, the claustrophobic Burton Taylor Studio’s stage eerily lit with organ music resonating – but these are remakes of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody and other pop songs, cleverly hinting at the morbid quirkiness of what’s to come. The sparse decoration that befits a struggling funeral home helps to create a spooky atmosphere as does the single spotlight focused on the corpse. Will Hayman, director of sound and lighting design, is clearly adept at his job and he makes cautious use of his skills by deferring some sound effects to the actors on stage for added comic effect.

For a play with such ridiculous plot twists, The Reunion(?) has rather stern origins. Writer Tommy Hurst adapted one of his more serious works on toxic masculinity and the influence of greed with the help of fellow co-writer Bernard Visser and comic inspiration drawn, worryingly, from a real-life funeral parlour. The duo let the play remain a parable of sorts, but the main draw is the humour. All in all, The Reunion(?) is a compelling antidote to Trinity stress with fast-paced, laugh-a-minute banter – but beneath all the jokes offer a sliver of the original moral tale of greed, especially religious and corporate greed, which is still annoyingly relevant to today’s society.

May’s gone, who’s next?

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When Theresa May sashayed onto the stage at the Tory party conference like a wilting scarecrow, we all knew her days were numbered. She has indeed resigned her premiership and the speech which closed with choked tears provoked guilt from those who loved her, indignation from those who loathed her and chaos from those around her.

The question now turns to who should succeed her as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Indicating a preference for the Tory leadership race is like being asked to pick your favourite muscle wasting disease. Rees-Mogg gives off the air of a butler in a porno and the general public hate him nearly as much as he presumably hates himself. The more ‘moderate’ candidates are unlikely to be successful as the truth is, Tory members won’t want a Remainer in charge, so Rudd’s out the running.

Rory Stewart’s probably slightly too short but has the advantage of being politically under-exposed and so no one has had the chance to hate him yet. He is also an Old Etonian (yes, another one).

Sajid Javid reportedly left his more than comfortable £3 million-a-year banking job to pursue a political career and so we can safely assume he’s moronic. That leaves us with more than a few other candidates to choose from.

Dominic Raab is in camp ‘free market economics’ and has recently been interviewed and photographed by The Times with open cook books and pastel haze kitchen walls. His tidy haircut and uncontroversial views might be exactly what the party is looking for, so he is definitely a candidate to keep an eye on.

Michael Gove at first glance seems like a strong candidate; suitable Brexit credentials, plenty of ministerial experience, and the ability to speak in public. However if your second glance falls upon his face its easy to lose faith in his ability to run the country.

Nobody seems to quite understand how we found ourselves here, in this pitiful condition, where our leaders admit failure and only in their final moments allow the veneer to slip, baring behind it the exhausted and tortured face of a woman whose tenacity has crumbled like Vince Cable’s withered, decrepid joints.

Remember when we all thought that Jeremy Corbyn was an unelectable half-regurgitated vegan Ché Guevara? Oh, how times have changed.

The Tories must feel like Jeremy Corbyn was that kid they bullied at school who has shocked everyone by turning up to the reunion with an attractive spouse and a Maserati (in reality he has a bicycle and his only long-lasting companion is his pet cat, but the point remains he is probably sat smirking as only a man of his nauseating sanctimony can).

Perhaps we may have to admit to ourselves that Boris may rise to power. Boris has essentially become the crazed caricature of himself, blustering and bombastic, the Bullingdon Old Boy really does have a chance and would enter EU renegotiations with no-deal on the table.

Ultimately, I look at politicians as people who genuinely believe they are doing the right thing. Demonising MPs as people who want to strip the NHS, divert money away from schools and punish those on welfare serves only to agitate a political environment predicated on division rather than cooperation. I should imagine that the last few weeks of May’s tenure were like being on Deal or No Deal but in every box there was a high definition photograph of a dog turd.

Whether it’s Boris, Moggy, Raab, Javid or whoever the Tories choose, it is safe to say we’re f**ked.

Why we must pay college staff a decent wage

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Last week, a friend and I proposed a motion to the Lady Margaret Hall JCR to tell our college to pay all of its employees the Oxford Living Wage. After half an hour of questions, amendments and procedural motions, the motion passed effective this upcoming Michaelmas.

The Oxford Living Wage is currently £10.02. This is the figure that the Oxford City Council believes is necessary to afford to live in Oxford, a town that is consistently ranked amongst the most expensive in the UK to live in. Paying our scouts, catering staff, and maintenance staff this wage should not be optional. It is what they require to be able to afford to live and being paid this wage is tantamount to a human right. Paying this figure is not giving our scouts a bonus, or extra money for a holiday; it is ensuring they can afford food, housing, and clothing for themselves and their dependents. It’s making sure they can afford to heat their homes and pay for their children’s school trips. Colleges also benefit as it has been shown that by paying this wage, staff turnover is much lower.

Deciding to pay this wage should not hinge on anything else. Colleges owe an obligation, as do all employers, to pay their workers what they require for their basic needs. Just because they can pay them less, doesn’t mean they should. Currently, the National Living Wage is only available to those 25 years and older. Therefore, it tends to exclude catering staff who are often younger than this. Further, colleges pay those aged 18-20, £6.15, and those aged 21-24, £7.70, simply because they can. However, they ought to criticised, because whilst it is legal, it does not account for the reality of the situation.

The reality of the situation is this: by not paying the Oxford Living Wage, colleges are, by definition, paying their workers a poverty wage. It’s really that simple.

But the question is why should we support motions such as the ones proposed to LMH and St Hugh’s JCRs thus far. After all, a JCR exists to represent the student body of a college, not its employees. Plainly, the answer is because where there is a marginalised group who lack support or a voice, we must step in and fill in that void. There were concerns in the St Hugh’s JCR that this is patronising to the people it is intended to support. However, this can be easily avoided if the group are consulted with ahead of any JCR action resulting from the declaration of JCR support. JCRs are set up for students but where we witness inequality in our own colleges, we have a duty to act. Further, many colleges hire students on a casual or part time basis, and supporting such motions can also help ensure colleges are also paying students fairly.

I first got involved with the campaign after witnessing a protest by Oxford students outside the Clarendon Building. For months they have been trying to pressure the University to roll out the wage to all of its staff. It’s a difficult issue to advocate for, especially as many colleges outsource their catering or housekeeping, and therefore do not have the direct authority they require to increase the wages of their staff. However, even in such situations, colleges can absolutely still pressure the subcontractors to pay the living wage, or they could simply introduce it as a clause within their future contracts with them.

Being paid the living wage should be a right for any worker and anything that us students can do is helpful in ensuring that, at least, at our university, that the people who make Oxford what it is, are being paid enough to ensure they can afford basics. Oxford would not function without our scouts, porters, or catering staff.

One of the arguments against the motion at the LMH JCR meeting was that the extra cost of implementing the living wage would be passed down to the students via increases in college rent. This argument assumes the two are mutually exclusive and as if it is a zero-sum game. Oxford colleges can afford to pay their workers a fair wage and provide affordable accommodation, it’s just a matter of if they want to. In practical terms, many colleges would be hesitant about significantly increasing rent – due to student backlash.

However, say if it is indeed a zero sum game and if colleges were to find that increasing rent is the only way to be able to afford to pay the Oxford Living Wage, then regardless, paying workers a fair wage is something that holds absolute priority and should never be something we are willing to compromise on. If consequently, students find it difficult to afford these, most probably marginal, increases in rent, they have access to both college level and University level hardship funds as well as a multitude of bursaries and scholarships, all of which can help with these costs; and incidentally, all things that underpaid college staff do not have access to.

Of course, many people are sceptical that college administration will even listen to students on such issues, this is always a possibility when JCRs take a stand against college staff on anything that relates to administrative matters. The reality is that we cannot know for sure if they will hear our concerns or if they will take any action. However, by continuing to propose such motions to our JCRs, we ensure that, at least, there is a chance that something positive will happen and this chance and optimism is better than doing nothing at all.

I hope that we begin to see more such motions advocating for the Oxford Living Wage being proposed across Oxford. The City Council currently pays all of its employees this wage and some colleges pay the wage for a proportion of their employees already. However, there is a lot of work to be done and I think that anything students can do to aid this process is helpful and valuable. As a generation, we often criticise large corporations for underpaying their workers, but sometimes we forget that it is happening on our very own doorstep.

Do the EU elections matter?

YES – Dominic Brind

Much of the coverage in the run up to the EU elections seemed, for the second biggest exercise in democracy the world has ever seen, muted. As the entire continent turned out to vote for the people deciding many of policies that govern all of our lives, we here in Britain seemed almost disinterested. Perhaps that’s simply the fatigue that comes with the total political chaos we’ve experienced over the last few months, as the government loses vote after vote and we seem no closer to leaving the EU.

But despite that, these elections do matter. They matter firstly because they represent, in the minds of many at least, an opportunity to test the waters over Brexit. How else can we explain the disintegration of both the Labour and Conservative vote share.

Many people are approaching this vote as a referendum on Brexit, and that means whatever the result we know that there is significant desire to change our current strategy. With the success of the Brexit Party and the Remain-backing Lib Dems, it is obvious that the current policy of trying to force dodgy deals through Parliament is no longer sustainable. A historically high turn out only reinforces the idea that the political establishment have lost control over Brexit.

This populist surge isn’t an exclusively British phenomenon, even if it is being worked out most prominently in the UK. The EU elections provide an opportunity to test the water everywhere. The success of the RN in France, for example, should encourage us to look beyond the Brexit Party as a local development. Across the continent, people are dissatisfied with the political status quo and are increasingly willing to vote in radical alternatives. The European elections are the public giving their verdict on the balance of power in Europe, and it is essential that politicians listen.

But beyond the broader, long term political implications, these European elections do have concrete consequences. In the run up to the referendum, it was shocking to me how few people seemed to understand or really care about the workings of the EU.

Yes, it’s a large bureaucracy which can seem Byzantine at times but so are all governments, and this election seriously affects how the entire structure is run. These elections are crucial, for example, in determining who will be our next Commission President.

The two main candidates, Frans Timmermans and Manfred Weber, whilst moderate in tone do have significant disagreements about how the EU should be run.

Timmermans, a left winger from the Netherlands, leans towards working with the populist left led by Alexis Tsipras’ Syriza, whereas Weber doesn’t. Timmermans is also far more likely to pursue countries legally when they break EU law. Weber has not excluded working with the populist right, whereas Timmermans has said he will not govern with their help. Ultimately, this is a battle between moderates, but one which have wide ranging consequences for the future of the EU and its approach to the populist threat it faces. So these elections matter, not only for this parliament but for the future of European politics in general.

NO – Luke Dunne

We live in an era of political crisis after crisis. Whereas often you have to wait years for something genuinely important to happen in politics, crucial votes seem to crop up almost weekly. I want to suggest that, in that context, these elections don’t really matter.

They do obviously matter insofar as the subtly shifting balance of power in the European Parliament may or may not precipitate regulatory changes blah blah blah. But this is both boring to talk about and not really the point of this article.

I want to talk about whether these elections say something important about British politics, and whether we should take them as indicative of any new information about what the public things.

Much of the analysis around the rise of the Brexit Party and success of the Lib Dems has rested on the idea that this ‘really shows how dissatisfied the public are with the current handling of Brexit’. Now, without wanting to seem glib, I really don’t think we needed an election to tell us that. The fact that we have had to extend Article 50, had the government’s main (read: only) policy voted down three times and had a Prime Minister resign over Brexit is probably enough to tell us things aren’t going swimmingly. And any further conclusion we might want to draw about how we should progress is almost certain to be unsubstantiated.

Even though the turn out for this election was higher than previous Europeans, it’s still considerably lower than a general or than the referendum. And what does it mean to vote for the Brexit Party or Lib Dems in any case. Do all Brexit Party voters favour a no deal? Do all Lib Dem voters favour remaining no matter what?

Plenty of Brexit Party supporters seem to support a different deal, as do many Lib Dems. Just what that deal looks like is up for question, but the point remains that this election is not in any sense a rerunning of the EU referendum. But because, perversely, the focus of the election was so firmly based around Brexit, it’s not clear that we have really learnt anything about any other policy area either.

Hands up who knows what the Brexit Party’s stance is on workers rights? No, me neither.

If the European elections can tell us anything, it’s the sorry state of British politics. Our biggest institutions – our schools, our welfare systems, the NHS – lie crippled by austerity and neglect. And the democracy which exists to fix them has been poisoned by the runaway train of demagoguery that is Brexit. As an electorate, we have forgotten to focus on anything else. These elections don’t really matter, but of course that’s really our own fault. We now know that people want us to get on with Brexit, but we’ve known that for the last three years. Ultimately, these elections were an immense democratic undertaking that are yet to really tell us what people want – as futile an exercise as any

A new era for English football

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Later this week (as I write this) Europe’s two largest finals, the Champions League final and the Europa League final, will be contested by four English sides for the first time in history. Liverpool’s match-up with Tottenham Hotspur will be the first all-English encounter in the Champions League final since 2008. Gone are the days of Barcelona’s possession-based, tiki-taka style football, which led the Catalan side to three Champions League titles in six seasons between 2005 and 2011, in addition to the Spanish national team’s success in two successive European Championships, and the 2010 World Cup. We witnessed how the more physical German football overtook the likes of Barcelona, through the 2012-13 season’s all-German affair in the Champions League final, which was followed up with a world cup success just one year later. In the five years that followed, there was complete Spanish dominance, resulting in four champions league trophies for Real Madrid, and one for Barcelona, including two all-Spanish finals.

This, however, brings me onto Madrid. Given Liverpool’s near-miss in the final last year and their reappearance in this epic, it suggests that English football, and particularly Klopp’s football, has driven the English to the top of the pile in European football for arguably the first time in 11 years. We must not ignore Tottenham, an English side who had never before qualified for the Champions League on the last occasion that there was an all-English Champions League final. Along with Arsenal’s success against Italian powerhouses Napoli in the Europa League, and Chelsea overcoming similar opposition, this indicates that a new era for English football has begun.

While we can identify many factors in the recent growth and success of English football, including the increased expenditure by both Manchester City and Liverpool, we need not look much further than last summer’s World Cup, which saw the English national team reach the semi-finals for the first time since 1990, an unexpected success for the country. They followed this by reaching the semi-finals of the UEFA Nations League, due to be played in the next fortnight, which would see them win their first International trophy since the World Cup in 1966. Whilst this is far from certain, their progress thus far indicates that Liverpool, Tottenham, Chelsea and Arsenal’s success in Europe this year has not been fortuitous – the competitiveness of English football has increased both with investment and the emergence of English players, such as Dele Alli and Trent Alexander-Arnold, who have played a pivotal role in both their sides’ appearances in the Champions League final. It is also important to consider that the UEFA Super Cup has never been competed by two English sides, until this year, where it is a certainty. It will be interesting to see whether the English clubs can continue this superiority in the following years, or whether their legacy will fade rather quickly, as did Bayern’s European dominance following the 2012-2013 season.

England’s unexpected run to the World Cup semi-final has contributed immensely to the momentum of English clubs this year in Europe’s two main competitions. Last summer saw the emergence of midfielder Ruben Loftus-Cheek, who put in a series of promising performances on the International stage, and has this season been an important presence in the Chelsea first-team especially towards the latter part of the season in which they secured a top-four finish and reached the Europa League final. In the same vein, Callum Hudson-Odoi, despite not being included in last summer’s world cup squad, has featured frequently throughout Chelsea’s Europa League campaign, spurred on by an encouraging international debut in a 5-1 England win against Montenegro. Hudson-Odoi has tallied four goals and two assists in just 416 minutes in the Europa League this season, showing his importance to Chelsea’s play, which will be of great importance in the final this week. The experience for capped England players, such as Dele Alli and Harry Kane, will be of utmost importance going into the Champions League final this weekend. Having played on the world stage and just fallen short, these English players have the opportunity to go one better and win the greatest prize club football has to offer.

One of Tottenham or Liverpool, and one of Arsenal or Chelsea, will win the Champions League and the Europa League respectively, in what will prove to be a year of English conquests that very few could have foreseen. It appears as though English football is creating a sphere of influence – with Liverpool eliminating Spanish giants Barcelona and Tottenham eliminating German league table leaders (at the time of the fixture) Borussia Dortmund, the English sides have proven they can beat anyone in Europe. A new English dynasty has begun, but one question still remains: who will take the crown?

Beyond the surface level: which court is the ideal one for tennis?

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Few major sports are defined by their playing surface in the same way that tennis is. True, the slim margins of cricket or golf for instance are regularly determined by the smallest detail in the playing surface; but that surface is, at the very least, materially consistent for both sports (with the exception of sand and water hazards in golf, which are meant to be avoided anyway). Indeed, that tennis is played on a variety of surfaces, each of which has its own characteristics, has pervasive effects on playing style (amongst other things).

The International Tennis Federation recognizes ten different surfaces. The three main ones are obviously clay, hard and grass, and they are considered to have a slow, medium and fast court pace respectively – not that play pace is the sole defining characteristic of these court surfaces. These make up, of course, the three different grand slam surfaces: there’s the meticulously-manicured grass lawns of Wimbledon – the oldest of the Grand Slam tournaments – there’s the blue hard courts of the Australian and U.S. Open and there’s the striking red clay courts of the French Open – this very week enjoying its opening tournament week.

Interestingly, Grand Slam surfaces have changed frequently over their histories, rendering the notion of a “master of all surfaces” a relatively modern concept. While Wimbledon has always been played on grass, the Australian Open switched from grass to hard courts in 1988. In its early years the French championship alternated between clay and sand/rubble courts. The US Open is the only major to have been played on three surfaces; it was played on grass from its inception until 1974, clay from 1975 until 1977 and hard courts since 1978.

Relevant to the present situation, with Roland-Garros being contested over the next two weeks, it is often levelled at certain players that their games are one-dimensional – or specialised to a specific surface. Eleven-time French Open winner Rafael Nadal is regarded as “The King of Clay”, with his impressive achievements on other surfaces subsequently overlooked by some. So why does this phenomenon exist, and which surface provides the truest test of a tennis player’s abilities?

First there are clay courts, considered the slowest out of the three due to their composition – multiple layers of crushed and compressed shale, stone and brick topped off by a thin layer of red brick dust. The top layer attaches to the ball and adds more friction which translates into slower and higher ball bounce as well as longer rallies. This is an effective test of tennis strategy, giving players the flexibility to play a greater variety of strokes and have a more controlled game – one in which they really need to construct points well since it is not so easy to hit a winner and usually it takes a combination of good shots to win an exchange. Equally, clay courts take away many of the advantages of big serves, which makes it difficult for serve-based players to dominate on the surface. Instead, the high bounce and slow court speeds are favoured by baseline players that boast strong, heavy top spin on their shots as well as offensive baseliners with height because the high bounces land in their hitting zones, allowing them to strike the ball cleanly and more powerfully. Indeed, with rallies generally running longer and the slippery nature of the surface, it is said to be the most physically demanding of all the surfaces. Therefore, from an athletic standpoint, clay courts test players’ physical abilities massively.

Grass courts, likewise, are relatively rare due to high maintenance costs as they must be watered and mown often, and take a longer time to dry after rain than hard courts, for example. For Wimbledon, a precise eight mm (0.3 inches) of lawn is rolled out on top of layers of stone and hard-packed soil. Grass is perceived to be faster due to the way balls tend to slip or skid on contact, creating a lower exit angle. Therefore, points are usually very quick as fast, low bounces keep rallies short, and the serve plays a more important role than on other surfaces. Grass courts tend to favour serve-and-volley tennis players since the quick bounce and faster pace of play gives the returning player little time to react to the serve and often even less time to set up for a passing shot. Generally, grass courts place an emphasis on reaction speeds, anticipation, guile and power with a small margin for error, as powerful serves, slices and speed are rewarded on this slicker court. However, grass courts (just ahead of clay courts) are the most changeable of the three surfaces since they are highly susceptible to the wear and tear of recent play. Moreover, the ball reacts on grass courts in accordance with the weather, feeling heavier and slower on damp cold days and lighter and faster on warm days. Therefore, the irregularity of a tennis ball’s bounce and behaviour on a grass court places an emphasis on skills of reactivity and improvisation.

Finally, there are hard courts, for which an acrylic top coat is applied on top of layers of asphalt and foundations. The amount of sand used and number of coat layers can either make the surface play slower or faster. Court pace can generally range from medium-slow to medium-fast paces between clay and grass, just as ball bounce exists between the trajectories of the two other surfaces. Because hard courts produce the most consistent ball behaviour since it is a consistently hard and flat surface, they tend to accommodate aggressive and offensive baseliners who hit high-risk shots. Given that hard courts like those at the Australian and U.S. Open are the most common type of court in both recreational and professional scenes, and can be used all year round, they are the most democratic of the courts, providing an equal opportunity to various types of playing styles (baseline players, service players, volley players, etc.) and encouraging players to develop an all-court game.

Although there are naturally other considerations to take into account – that of durability, likelihood of injury etc. – it is still difficult to stipulate which surface-type is “better”. However, out of the three, surely hard court, as the most equalising and balanced of the surfaces, must act as the most accurate test of tennis ability?

OUCA candidate removes ‘Defeat the Cucks’ campaign page

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A candidate for Political Officer for the Oxford University Conservative Association deleted a campaign Facebook page on which he pledged “To defeat the cucks and usher in a new golden age of soundness” just hours after its launch on Wednesday.

Candidate Iván Simon advertised what he referred to as “The official 2019 campaign for sound leadership and sounder port.” He further urged voters to “Vote IVAN for PO because you’re worth it.”

In a video posted on the page, Simon specifically referenced a ban on “Slav Squatting” on tables at OUCA’s Port and Policy as a catalyst for his run, accusing OUCA President Ellie Flint of “oppressing our meme culture”.

This video has also since been deleted. It is unclear whether Simon is still running for Political Officer.

Before being deleted, the Facebook page appeared to have been “Sponsored”, a feature which allows page administrators to pay to promote their pages.

But, speaking to Cherwell, OUCA President Ellie Flint said: “I am aware of a campaign page that was set up on Facebook by a member of OUCA. The page was in breach of our constitution regarding electoral publicity, and has since been taken down.

“The campaign was based on allowing Members to stand on tables at Port and Policy, which is currently not allowed, due to the risk of damage to St Giles’ Church Hall.”

The political usage of the word “cuck” originated on 4Chan’s infamous “Pol” board and is popular with the Alt-Right online.

Iván Simon was contacted for comment.

The Art of Money

Art has long had a complicated relationship with the idea of excess. On one hand, when it is preoccupied with reality, it seeks to reflect and contain what it represents, but on the other, it often preoccupies itself with what is larger than life, and seeks to push at boundaries. These boundaries can involve scale or subject-matter, but often value, in both a monetary and intellectual sense, is the line that contemporary artists habitually toe. In fact, it could be argued that it is art’s job to challenge bourgeois notions of moderation, economy or the depressing paltriness of ‘good taste,’ as it invites us to put a price, sometimes excessive, on its output.

When Damian Hirst’s diamond-encrusted skull sculpture, For the Love of God, was sold for $100 million, there were predictable cries of outrage about the unhealthy preoccupation of contemporary artists with their wealthy collectors and their own self-enrichment. It all seemed so antithetical to the more egalitarian spirit of the twentieth century. The piece was roundly condemned as an egregious example of bling – it was garishly vulgar, and its promotion by Hirst was little more than a publicity stunt.

And yet these reproofs overlooked the point of the work. The skull beneath the jewels represents the ultimate momento mori and is reminiscent of Dutch Vanitas paintings of the seventeenth century that featured the excessive trappings of wealth displayed alongside human skulls. Both Dutch paintings and Hirst’s skull remind us that life is transient, death is certain, and worldly excess amounts to little more than meaningless vanity.

Like Hirst’s work, the Vanitas paintings by masters such as Evert Collier are not without their own complicated paradoxes. As the Catholic indulgencies in Renaissance art gave way in Northern Europe to the strictures of Calvinism, society was meant to deplore human depravity and sinfulness. And yet the rich middle-class merchants who purchased art – paying princely sums for the privilege – were able to flaunt their wealth by hanging these beautiful still-life pictures on their walls. The paintings mocked this practice: the inclusion of skulls, rotting fruit, burnt-out candles, and other references to mortality was a way to denounce excess and foreshadow an earthly ending. Put another way, costly paintings of treasure were themselves treasured even as a love of treasure was censured in them.

Unsurprisingly, the purchaser of For the Love of God was reportedly an investment group, and there is a rich irony in the idea that a piece that speaks of human acquisitiveness in the (literal) face of mortality should be the subject of temporal commercial speculation. But perhaps the artwork’s fate adds another dimension to its message. The artist has his cake and eats it of course – he has enriched himself by commentating on the vanity of riches, and in the end, as with much contemporary art, the message becomes subsumed beneath the weight of the notion that art is really only ‘about’ itself. The piece is not therefore without a kind of self-referential humour. When the sculpture was first exhibited, Hirst was asked by journalists what his next subject would be. “Two diamond skeletons shagging” was his joking response, and the real target of the joke was left for us to contemplate.

Then, with the news last week that Jeff Koons’s stainless steel Rabbit sculpture had sold at auction for $91 million, notions of value and excess entered a new and fascinating dimension.  In one way, the precious stones studding Hirst’s work have straightforward, recognisable worth. Similarly, a Dutch master’s Vanitas painting, almost magically realistic, demonstrates a labour-intensive worth. The same cannot be claimed for Rabbit.

As the current exhibition of his works at The Ashmolean shows, Koons’ preoccupation with kitsch, the tacky and cheap-looking objects of everyday life, is reversed into highly valuable art. While some critics point to the influence of childhood memory and the monumentalizing of ephemeral subjects as markers of Koons’ aesthetic, there is little doubt that the principle preoccupation of the artist is with the purpose of art. He considers what art is about, what qualifies as art, and what is qualified by it.

The excessive monetary value placed on his work clearly forms part of this commentary, and in some ways, it tells us what art is not about. It is not simply about materials (even if it is about materiality), it is not about noble subject matter, it is not about the sublime, it is not even about the hand of the artist in the creation of the work itself, as Koons famously delegates the physical making of it to others. Like Warhol, Koons explores the no-mans-land between fine art and popular culture, and like Duchamp, he challenges pre-conceived ideas about the worth that Western culture has conferred on what artists produce.

So is the excessive monetary value placed on some art a signifier of the grotesque, of the decadence, debasement and degeneration of our culture? Or is it in some way a validation of it? For some artists, cashing in on the elevation of ‘bad taste’ into art is accidental, a mere function of Western capitalism that they must represent in their work, and have represented by it. As Grayson Perry put it, the auction price of an artwork is one of the metrics that carry weight in the art world.

In the end, the fact that a self-proclaimed “anti-elitist” artist like Koons can now only be collected by billionaires and hedge funds is funny, and perhaps we shouldn’t over-intellectualise the joke. As Oscar Wilde said, “Moderation is a fatal thing, and nothing succeeds like excess.” While there exists a surplus of money in some quarters, however inequitable that might be, there will also exist art that both discusses and absorbs it.