How robots will eat our jobs

How robots will eat our jobs

From around 8 am and throughout the day, our avenue is busy with deliveries – vans (mainly white, some liveried) bringing Amazon packages, Ocado deliveries for the posh people up the road or Asda shopping for the students, and much else besides. Continue reading “How robots will eat our jobs”

News from Nowhere: a triumph of patience and hope

News from Nowhere: a triumph of patience and hope

News from Nowhere sign

If you live in Liverpool, love books and are radically inclined, you will be familiar with News from Nowhere, the iconic bookshop that has survived recessions, fascist attacks, and the decimation of independent book retailing by online tax-evaders.  On Sunday I attended an inspiring event at the Bluecoat to celebrate the astonishing fact that News from Nowhere, 40 years old this May, is now Liverpool’s oldest bookshop. How’s that as one in the eye for multinationals, neo-liberalism and austerity?

WeBe40 radical bookfair and forum was a day of events, including talks and readings by authors and poets, displays of radical books and a small exhibition of photos and memorabilia reflecting the bookshop’s history.  I went along to the afternoon session in which Bob Dent, co-founder of News from Nowhere back in 1974 recalled how his dream of opening an alternative bookshop grew from the experience of selling radical newspapers on the streets of Harrogate and running a stall while a student at the LSE.  Speaking alongside Bob was Ross Bradshaw who worked worked in radical book-selling for seventeen years before moving into publishing, and who recently bucked the trend by opening Five Leaves, the first independent bookshop in Nottingham since 2000.  The session was chaired by Mandy Vere, a member of the women’s cooperative which now runs the store.

Manchester Street

Manchester Street, first home of News from Nowhere, in 1964 (photo from Streets of Liverpool)

Both speakers provided humorous and entertaining accounts of their experiences in the radical book trade.  Bob took us back to May Day 1974 when News from Nowhere first opened its doors on Manchester Street. After joining the May Day trade union march from Islington down to the Pier Head, Bib arrived at the freshly-stocked one up, one down shop to find that he couldn’t get in.  After phoning the joiner who had fitted the door he realised his mistake – he was turning the key to the right, when he should have been turning left.

But the dream of opening a radical bookshop began much earlier, in the unlikely setting of the streets of staid and conservative Harrogate. It was the late sixties and as a teenager Bob was developing a lively interest in dissenting ideas.  But where to find the literature to fuel his curiosity?  There was certainly no radical bookshop in Harrogate (neither then, nor now). So he began selling radical newspapers on the streets, an experience, said Bob, which taught him the two qualities that are essential if you’re in the radical book trade – patience and hope.

Later, as a student at the LSE, he ran a weekly stall in the Students Union selling Peace News and literature produced by the libertarian socialist group Solidarity that had attracted Bob’s attention with their emphasis on workers’ self-organisation and critique of both Leninism and Trotskyism.  It was at the LSE that Bob teamed up with Maggie Wellings, who would play a key role in founding News from Nowhere.

News from Nowhere 2

The move to bigger premises: Bob and Mandy outside the second shop on Whitechapel

Maggie shared with Bob the dream of opening an alternative bookshop.  While still students at LSE, they began to plan.  It was Maggie who came up with name for the shop, taking it from the Utopian socialist novel by William Morris.  Bob liked it, too, because of its suggestion of retailing news and ideas from no one particular source.  As Ross Bradshaw explained in more detail in his own presentation, many towns had left-wing bookshops in the late sixties, but invariably they would be party bookshops, run by the Communist Party or other left-wing groups. Instead, Maggie and Bob envisaged a shop that sold anything critical or alternative.

News from Nowhere 8

Bob Dent (speaking) and  Ross Bradshaw at the Bluecoat event

Bob described how he and Maggie boned up on the mechanics of the book trade.  Getting the stock was the easy part: left-wing parties would not ask for money in advance, while back then book publishers would let you have books on a sale or return basis once you had overcome the hurdle of selling their first consignment – and paying for it on time.  The big problem was the money to get started.  In the end, Maggie’s mum (who owned a Chinese restaurant on Bold Street, near where News from Nowhere is now located) lent the pair £1000.

So, with stock acquired, bookshelves knocked up by a local joiner, and cheap premises found on Manchester Street, the story of News from Nowhere began.  A poster to advertise the shop’s opening was silkscreened, based on Walter Crane’s 1894 engraving ‘Workers’ May Pole’, its ribbons declaring the ideals of the socialist lifestyle: ‘Eight Hours’, ‘Leisure For All, ‘Adult Suffrage’, ‘No Starving Children’, ‘Work for All’, ‘Neither Riches nor Poverty’, and ‘The Land for the People’.

Walter Crane, Workers' Maypole, 1894

Walter Crane’s 1894 engraving ‘Workers’ May Pole’

That was where Bob Dent left it in his talk: turning the key to the Manchester Street shop that afternoon, on 1 May 1974.  Mandy Vere – who joined the shop in 1976 – has continued the story of News from Nowhere in a chapter written for Utopia, a collection edited by Ross Bradshaw.  There, she notes that in the early days about a thousand titles were stocked and takings were around £150 a week, ‘kept in a biscuit tin’.  Wages were taken from the tin as necessary.  The shop was so small that (and I remember this quite vividly) staff had to squeeze onto a bench in the window to work.

I had forgotten, until a question from the audience jogged my memory, that The Liverpool Free Press, a wonderful local newspaper started by investigative journalists from the Liverpool Echo, Brian Whitaker and Rob Rohrer, had tiny offices upstairs.  In 1977, News from Nowhere moved into larger premises around the corner in Whitechapel, allowing the stock to be expanded and better displayed.  There were exhibitions (for example, of Don McCullin’s photographs for Jonathan Dimbelby’s book The Palestinians), and even room for coffee-making facilities and a sofa.

News from Nowhere 3

Moving day, 1977

This was the time when News from Nowhere was involved in establishing Liberty Hall, an alternative political and social club cum cabaret which met every Sunday evening downstairs in the Everyman Bistro.  Two doors down Whitechapel, Colin Wilkinson and his Open Eye team had moved into old pub premises, using the space for photographic exhibitions, video training, and a cafe.  In another spin-ff from News from Nowhere, Another View Film Society was established to screen radical political films at Open Eye, often introduced by directors such as Nick Broomfield (who shot his first two documentary films in Liverpool).

News from Nowhere 5

Inside the Whitechapel store

News from Nowhere had always operated as a collective, but in 1980 the shop registered as a Workers’ Cooperative, and, after Bob left in the mid-1980s – evolved into a women-only collective, as it is today.

News from Nowhere 4

Bob and Mandy outside the Whitechapel shop: Bob with his enter who dares stance!

The Bluecoat had organised a small display of photos and memorabilia from the shop’s archives (the source of most of the images in this post).  One item on display was this early product of Bob’s journalistic career – a feature from February 1983 describing the attacks made on the shop premises by right-wing extremists.  The 1980s were a time when News from Nowhere – along with other radical bookshops across the country – endured a campaign of violence, arson and intimidation.

News from Nowhere 7

 Bob Dent’s story in 1983 for the Liverpool Daily Post about the right-wing attacks on News from Nowhere

In her survey of the history of News from Nowhere, Mandy Vere notes that one of the most popular items that the shop sold in the 1980s was the pastiche of the poster for the film Gone with the Wind, in which Ronald Reagan sweeps Margaret Thatcher into his arms beneath a mushroom cloud with the strapline, ‘She promised to follow him to the end of the earth.  He promised to organise it.’ I still have the copy I bought there.

Reagan Thatcher Gone with the Wind poster

Gone with the Wind, both of them

In 1989, weary of the dilapidated, leaky and rat-infested premises on Whitechapel, the collective finally moved into a bright, refurbished shop on Liverpool’s busy, bohemian Bold Street with an even bigger range of books and a dedicated children’s’ area. But ten years later disaster almost struck: the arts organisation that the collective had been sub-letting the shop from had, it transpired, defaulted on the rent.  Now the property company wanted them out.

At this same moment, a health food shop down the road was closing down, and the owner of the site, rather than lease the shop, decided to sell the whole building for £75,000.  At the time this was an unimaginable sum for an alternative collective to even think about. But, an enormous public response to an appeal – and a mortgage from the Cooperative Bank – meant that the building could be bought.  The new shop was opened by Alexei Sayle.

News from Nowhere 6

Grand opening of the current premises in 1996

That News from Nowhere should have outlived nine other radical bookshops in Liverpool and survived in a period when more than a hundred similar bookshops have disappeared nationally is remarkable.  I can only pay tribute to the vision and dedication of Maggie Wellings, Bob Dent, Mandy Vere and all the other members of the collective who have taken the shop from strength to strength through the decades.  It’s a fine achievement and has been an enormous contribution to the political and intellectual culture of Liverpool.

One personal example of how important an independent bookshop could be in those far off days before the internet.  Soon after the move into the Whitechapel store, Rita had tried everywhere – unsuccessfully – to obtain the then-definitive collected works of Russian poet Osip Mandelstam, published in America by Ann Arbor.  She sought Bob’s help, and – several weeks later – the edition arrived in the shop.  I think this is a story, too, about the excitement there was in getting hold of relatively obscure items – an excitement that just can’t be experienced in these times, when one click can get anything you want, instantly (mea culpa!).  While Rita was seeking out obscure Russian poets, I wanted a definitive triple LP of Charlie Parker’s Dial recordings that I’d seen in Amsterdam.  Geoff Davies at Probe Records, the independent equivalent on Clarence street of News From Nowhere, obtained it for me.  It took about six weeks – but the joy of holding in your hands something that you could have found nowhere else in Liverpool was indescribable.

News from Nowhere has survived against the odds in enormously difficult conditions for alternative booksellers and publishers, as Ross Bradshaw outlined in his talk.  There are new challenges to face now, not least internet competition and rapacious competition in book publishing that makes it hard to see how independent publishing can survive.  But, Ross Bradshaw concluded his presentation on a positive note, quoting these words, written by William Morris in The Dream of John Ball in 1888:

I pondered all these things, and how people fight and lose the battle, and the thing that they fought for comes about in spite of their defeat, and when it comes turns out not to be what they meant, and other men have to fight for what they meant under another name.

Meanwhile, Many Vere ended her account of the shop’s story with these words from Bob Dent back at the beginning:

To help us create that better world which William Morris envisaged in News from Nowhere, we need ideas which counter the prevailing ideologies. Access to alternative, creative, radical ideas which help us challenge the different power structures of society is not a sufficient condition for changing the world, but it is a necessary one.

News from Nowehere Bold Street
The present News from Nowhere on Bold Street

See also

Art Turning Left: a doctoral thesis on the gallery walls

Art Turning Left: a doctoral thesis on the gallery walls

Je participe

Je participe … Ills profitent: Atelier Populaire poster, Paris, May 1968

Visiting Art Turning Left, the current exhibition at Tate Liverpool, feels more like being asked to read a doctoral thesis that has done its darnedest to impress by referencing a wide range of esoteric sources alongside the obvious ones.  The exhibition subtitle – How Values Changed Making 1789-2013 – provides a hint that this will not simply be a display of left-wing art, rather that it is more concerned with questions about how socialist artists have tried (and still try) to change the way art is made and distributed in order to match their political and ethical principles.  A fair amount of the art on display is of dubious merit, some of it ephemera of only historical interest or curiosity value.  Nevertheless, there is much here to stimulate and intrigue.

Reinforcing the sense of attending a seminar, the exhibition (actually co-curated with Liverpool John Moores University) is not arranged chronologically, but thematically – divided into several sections that each begin with a question. The primary purpose of the art on display is to illustrate seven existential and philosophical questions about the relationship of art (and the artists who make it) to the struggle to change capitalist society.

At the outset the curators identify three core values common to left-wing ideologies: the belief in equality rather than hierarchy, the quest for social progress over the status quo, and the conviction that the benefits of collectivism and solidarity outweigh the advantages of competitive individualism.  The purpose of Art Turning Left is to explore how these values have affected the way that artists committed to them have approached the way in which they make their work.

So … let’s begin the seminar.

Banner for The Worker’s Union -  Solidarity of Labour, after Walter Crane c. 1898

Installation view: banner for The Worker’s Union, Holloway branch, ‘Solidarity of Labour’, after a design by Walter Crane, c 1898

Can art affect everyone?

Can art really be for everyone? The first thing you see as you enter the exhibition is an installation – dominated by a huge trade union banner – that suggests possible answers to this question.  Like the rest of the exhibition it creates incongruous juxtapositions of media, time and place.  Francesco Manacorda, artistic director of Art Turning Left, has explained how this particular installation attempts to show how the value of equality has led artists to utilise approaches like the:

Extraordinary use of public space (such as in the reproduction of Walter Crane’s images on union banners), by bringing art to a larger group of ‘users’ (for instance in the Bauhaus’ use of industrial production …), or using live performance and publications to stimulate the viewer as an active reader of art, as with Bertold Brecht’s theatre and poetry.

Walter Crane, whose design Solidarity of Labour’ is incorporated in the banner for The Worker’s Union that dominates the opening installation, was born in Liverpool and was famous in the late 19th century for his illustrations for children’s story books.  But he also illustrated socialist pamphlets and produced political cartoons for publications such as The Clarion.  Like his friend William Morris he was a member of the Arts and Crafts Movement.

Walter Crane, Solidarity of Labour, 1889

Walter Crane, International Solidarity of Labour, 1889

Crane used his art for the advancement of socialist values and placed it at the service of the trade union movement.  Crane’s design ‘International Solidarity of Labour‘, depicting workers of all continents united, was adopted as a symbol of international unity and the power of collective action, and – until the onset of war in 1914 – was incorporated widely into trade union banners, such as the one displayed here.

Bertolt Brecht is well known for his theatrical technique of alienation, designed to encourage the theatre-goer to become an active participant rather than a passive viewer of a stage spectacle. Alongside examples on video, this installation also features from several collages from The War Primer,  a work which Brecht compiled during World War 2 and published in 1955. As in the theatre, Brecht aims to break the illusion of a standard photo collection by juxtaposing war photographs with poetry and captions that encourage readers to do more than glance at the images and to reflect on the brutality of war and its connection to capitalism.

Brecht Liverpool

Bertolt Brecht: collage from ‘The War Primer’

Among the selection from ‘The War Primer’ the curators have aptly chosen one collage in which Brecht has combined a photo of Liverpool, presumably taken from a German bomber during the wartime raids on the city.  The caption reads: ‘Liverpool harbour, England’s second biggest, is well-known to be the target of many German aerial bombardments and took many direct hits.  This photograph gives a clear picture of the harbour – the smoke at the top shows that it has just been visited by German bombers’. Beneath photo and caption, Brecht has added a few lines of poetry:

I am a city, but soon I shan’t be –
Where generations used to live and die
Before those deadly birds flew in to haunt me:
One thousand years to build.
A Fortnight to destroy.

Next to the Brecht we find examples of the work of the Modernist graphic designer, Gerd Arntz who was a leading member of the Gruppe progressiver Kunstler Koln (the Cologne Progressives), a radical group of artists who were active in the Weimar years.

Gerd Arntz, The Third Reich, 1934

Gerd Arntz, The Third Reich, 1934

The Cologne Progressives were active in communist trade unions, making prints and posters (usually from woodcuts or linocuts) that promoted worker’s revolution by calling for workers to abandon parliament and form worker’s councils.  Their goal was to use art at the service of the revolution, and to that end Arntz and his fellow artists invented a visual language able to communicate ideas visually to everyone, avoiding art elitism and designed for mass distribution.

Later, in collaboration with Austrian sociologist Otto Neurath, Arntz developed Isotype, a universal, transnational visual language of repeatable pictograms that could be used to address issues such as social inequality, exploitation and war – the forerunner of modern infographics.

The Third Reich is a prophetic vision of the Nazi regime then in its infancy. Hitler is at the top of a pyramid, above capitalists, military and judges. At a lower level, SA guard the concentration camps and employees work in armaments factories where the Communists are trying to inform them. Produced in 1934, Arntz said of the print:

The fact that the whole composition is a bit crooked, gives a ‘falling’ impression, is on purpose. The Third Reich wouldn’t last very long, I thought then.

Several examples are displayed from Society and Economy, a series Gerd Arntz worked on with Otto Neurath from  1925 to 1949.  In Strikes, against an abstract background of factories, raised red fists illustrate the post-war strike statistics for Great Britain, France and Germany.

Gerd Arntz, Strikes, 1930

Gerd Arntz, Strikes, 1930

In the photo of this installation (above) a gigantic photo of a man’s face stares out across the room.  This is an image from a series made in the 1970s by Braco Dimitrjevic called Casual Passer By.  The artist took photos of anonymous people which were then enlarged to monumental proportions and displayed in public places, such as on hoarding on public buildings.  The idea was to give the common man a status normally accorded to celebrities of historical figures, and to highlight the fickle nature of a society which glorifies famous people.

Braco Dimitrijevic, Casual Passer By, displayed at Trinity College Dublin, 2011

Braco Dimitrijevic, Casual Passer By, displayed at Trinity College Dublin, 2011

Do we need to know who makes art?

Now here’s something I recall well! A left-wing student at Liverpool University at the same time as the May events in Paris in 1968, I was enthralled by the posters that came out of Atelier Populaire, established by art students and protesters in the Ecole des Beaux Arts on 16 May with the aim of producing bold, uncompromising graphic art that expressed the defiance of workers and students whose protests seemed to bringing France to the point of revolution.

Atelier 2

A display of Atelier Populaire poster art

Hundreds of silkscreen posters – ‘weapons in the service of the struggle’ – were created anonymously and distributed for free. No one was allowed to sign the work and the gallery was the street where the posters were pasted for everyone to see. This was self-consciously art produced collectively rather than by a single person. The Atelier promoted the principle that everyone could come and produce art work. The silkscreen machines were there for everyone to use to express themselves.

Atelier 1

A display of Atelier Populaire poster art

Just two years later, in our own struggle against Liverpool University’s links to South African apartheid, we used the same methods as the Atelier to get our message across.

Can art infiltrate everyday life?

This question is one that is uppermost in the minds of revolutionaries, especially after they have achieved power.  In an ironic parallel to the utilisation of artists in the service of consumer advertising in capitalist society, the curators offer a response from avant-garde artists in post-revolutionary Russia. I must admit that Productivism was an ism that I hadn’t previously heard about – a movement of artists who advocated the move of ‘art into life’, arguing that the role of the artist was not to paint or sculpt, but to play an active role as co-workers in the factories helping to build a new world by designing objects which could be easily manufactured and which had a practical use in everyday life.

One such artist was Aleksandr Rodchenko who, in 1921, went into partnership with the futurist poet Vladimir Mayakovsky to offer what was, in effect, the services of an advertising consultancy to state enterprises suddenly facing competition from private enterprises that Lenin, in a reversal of Bolshevik policy triggered by food shortages and famine, had announced in the New Economic Policy.

Rodchenko and Mayakovsky designed posters or packaging for products such as cigarettes, bread, sweets and biscuits. Against those who condemned advertising as irredeemably capitalist, Mayakovsky argued that ‘it is necessary to employ all the weapons used by our enemies’. One example is displayed here: the design for an advertisement for the Moscow agricultural industry cafeteria, produced in 1923.

Aleksandr Rodchenko

Aleksandr Rodchenko, design for an advertisement for the Moscow agricultural industry cafeteria 1923

A more interesting example of Rodchenko’s work was a series of posters illustrating the history of the Bolshevik party, incorporating archival images, excerpts from newspapers and other documents. Rather than imposing an overarching narrative, Rodchenko’s design encouraged viewers to immerse themselves in the historical material, sift the evidence and make their own assessment.

Curiously, though there many examples in the exhibition of artworks from the early years of the Soviet Union, the curators have made no mention of the fate of many of the avant-garde artists who at first enthusiastically supported the revolution.  No mention, for instance, that towards the end of the 1920s, Mayakovsky became increasingly disillusioned with the course the Soviet Union was taking under Stalin, finally killing himself in 1930.

Alexander Rodchenko, History of the VKP(b), 1926

Alexander Rodchenko, History of the VKP(b), 1926

Does participation deliver equality?

If the ideal of creating art anonymously and collectively represents the rejection of the romantic and bourgeois notion that art is the the product of individual genius and self-expression, it follows that projects which encourage the widest participation in the process of making art must represent a means of achieving that ideal.  Art Turning Left offers several examples of schemes from different times and situations that have pursued this goal – not all of them convincing.  There is William Morris rejecting of mechanised production and establishing methods of  producing beautiful things such as textiles and wallpapers which avoided worker alienation by fusing craft values and artistry with modern production techniques. And there’s the Worker Photography Movement which mobilised amateur worker-photographers to document the social evils of capitalism in the 1930s.

Art Turning Left offers several other examples of schemes that have aimed to widen public participation in the making of art. Judge for yourself how convincing they are.

Deller 1

Display of examples from Folk Archive, Jeremy Deller and Alan Kane, 2000-2006

Folk Archive is a mixed media presentation from an archive compiled over six years by Jeremy Deller and Alan Kane documenting ‘the rich and varied visual culture that exists in the UK outside of the art world which would not normally be seen in a gallery context’. Items displayed here are from the sections of the archive relating to Home, Performance and Politics, and include graffiti, painted eggs, costumes for village festivals and protest images. The central banner was made by Ed Hall who made banners in his garage during the 1980s for trade unions and political protests.

Folk Archive was acquired by the British Council in 2007 and has been made accessible to the public in the form of a self-contained touring exhibition and through an online virtual exhibition.


Ruth Ewen A Jukebox of People Trying to Change the World, 2011

Ruth Ewan’s installation, A Jukebox of People Trying to Change the World, consists of  a jukebox that contains an ongoing archive of protest and political songs.  It is presented as a participatory work in that visitors are invited to browse through the pages of the index and select and play the music of their choice (!) while, in addition, Ewan  welcomes suggestions for songs to be added to the collection.

Jukebox 2

There’s a lady plays her favourite records
On the jukebox every day.
All day long she plays the same old songs,
And she believes the things they say. (The Kinks)

Arranged in categories such as, poverty, feminism, peace, civil rights, ecology and slavery are songs by a wide range of performers from different cultures and traditions. All of the songs address social issues, some directly political and related to specific subjects or events, whilst others are vaguely utopian or carry a universal message. Ewan describes her practice as being ‘conceptually led but socially realised’  with ‘audience participation and engagement’ playing an important part in the creation of her work.

As for me – I can’t see the difference between this and me making a playlist for my mp3 player and, like countless others, sharing it via social media.

My Room

 My Room, 1982, created at the Black-E community arts centre

My Room was created at Liverpool’s Black-E community arts centre in 1982 inspired by Virginia Woolf’s essay A Room of One’s Own, and begun during a week long celebration of the centenary of Woolf’s birth.  Over the next six months, participants were invited to pick a space and create something to place in it which said, ‘This is my room!’

Hmmm… But then, I think, as I sceptically inspect this object, it was never intended to be an exhibit in an art gallery.  The same is true for a great many of the other exhibits here: their authors did not intend their work to be displayed in this way – indeed, in many cases, utterly rejected the idea on political grounds.  Which is what makes this exhibition such a curious experience, the thought constantly occurring that it would have made a better book.


William Morris, Rose and Thistle textile design, 1881

Can pursuing equality change how art is made?

From those pretty questionable examples, we move on to a more convincing set of exhibits that explore schemes to create equality of access to the means of artistic production and thereby increase the agency of ordinary people.

We’re on firm artistic ground with William Morris.  But, lest we forget, Morris was a Marxist and revolutionary. In How I Became a Socialist he wrote:

What I mean by Socialism is a condition of society in which there should be neither rich nor poor, neither master nor master’s man, neither idle nor overworked, neither brain-sick brain workers, nor heart-sick hand workers, in a word, in which all men would be living in equality of condition, and would manage their affairs unwastefully, and with the full consciousness that harm to one would mean harm to all—the realization at last of the meaning of the word COMMONWEALTH.

Morris believed that the most critical problem in capitalist society was the alienation of workers caused by the division of labour.  Who can gain any pleasure from work if it involves the endless repetition of the same monotonous movements? How can a worker feel any sense of pride in the job if they have no sense of how their actions contribute to the final product?  Who can feel other than cheated when the wage the boss pays isn’t enough to buy the thing you’ve helped to manufacture?

I accounted the greatest of all evils, the heaviest of all slaveries, that evil of the greater part of the population being engaged for by far the most part of their lives in work, which at the best cannot interest them, or develop their best faculties, and at the worst (and that is the commonest, too) is mere unmitigated slavish toil, only to be wrung out of them by the sternest compulsion, a toil which they shirk all they can– small blame to them. And this toil degrades them into less than men: and they will some day come to know it, and cry out to be made men again, and art only can do it, and redeem them from this slavery; and I say once more that this is her highest and most glorious end and aim; and it is in her struggle to attain to it that she will most surely purify herself, and quicken her own aspirations towards perfection.
– William Morris, Hopes and Fears for Art, 1880

From the 1860s, Morris, at first in partnership with Ford Madox Brown, Edward Burne-Jones, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and others, established his own company to create and sell hand-crafted stained glass, carving, furniture, wallpaper, carpets and tapestries.  On display here is Rose and Thistle, a hand-printed design on cotton from 1881, and a wallpaper sample book from 1905, along with printing blocks.

The Morris Company was organised so that artists and craftsmen could work together with a common purpose, with every employee fulfilling their potential according to their level of ability.  Morris explained the political thought that underpinned Morris & Co in How I Became a Socialist:

The love and practice of art forced me into a hatred of the civilization which, if things were to stop as they are, would turn history into inconsequent nonsense, and make art a collection of the curiosities of the past, which would have no serious relation to the life of the present.

But the consciousness of revolution stirring amidst our hateful modern society prevented me, luckier than many others of artistic perceptions, from crystallizing into a mere railer against ‘progress’ on the one hand, and on the other from wasting time and energy in any of the numerous schemes by which the quasi-artistic of the middle classes hope to make art grow when it has no longer any root, and thus I became a practical Socialist. […]

Perhaps some … will say, what have we to do with these matters of history and art? We want by means of Social-Democracy to win a decent livelihood, we want in some sort to live, and that at once. Surely any one who professes to think that the question of art and cultivation must go before that of the knife and fork (and there are some who do propose that) does not understand what art means, or how that its roots must have a soil of a thriving and unanxious life. Yet it must be remembered that civilization has reduced the workman to such a skinny and pitiful existence, that he scarcely knows how to frame a desire for any life much better than that which he now endures perforce. It is the province of art to set the true ideal of a full and reasonable life before him, a life to which the perception and creation of beauty, the enjoyment of real pleasure that is, shall be felt to be as necessary to man as his daily bread, and that no man, and no set of men, can be deprived of this except by mere opposition, which should be resisted to the utmost.

Morris’s ‘true ideal’ was set forth in the utopian vision of  News From Nowhere, the novel written by Morris and initially published by his Kelmscott Press in 1893.  There’s a copy here, open at the frontispiece to display its woodblock title page, ornamental lettering and typeface.

NFN Morris

News From Nowhere, Kelmscott Press edition, 1893

The Worker Photography Movement began in Germany and the USSR in the early 1930s before spreading across Europe and the United States.  The movement spread through Communist-affiliated groups, and encouraged worker-photographers to expose, in a ‘hard and merciless light’, the iniquities and social ills of capitalism:

Photography has become an outstanding and indispensable means of propaganda in the revolutionary class struggle.

AIZ Magazine, 1931

AIZ Magazine, no 38, 1931: 24 Hours in the life of a family working in Moscow

The display presents examples, from Germany and the United States, of the kinds of photo essays which the movement’s worker-photographers produced.  They reminded me of some of the best of the photo spreads in Picture Post magazine in the 1940s and early 1950s.  I’d like to see more of this work.

How can art speak with a collective voice?

The curators respond to this question with examples of projects which have sought to express or document the collective experience, rather than that of the individual.  The best-known example is that of Mass Observation, the British movement of the 1930s which aimed to produce a collective picture of British society which was ‘of the people, by the people, and for the people’. The pioneering social survey organization was founded by Tom Harrison, Charles Madge and Humphrey Jennings (who compiled Pandaemonium, the documentary history of the Industrial Revolution that, decades later, was the inspiration behind Opening Ceremony for the London Olympic Games, crafted by Danny Boyle and Frank Cottrell Boyce) with the aim of producing an anthropology of the British people and giving a voice to the under-privileged and often ignored working classes.

On show here is documentation from the project which among a wide variety of methodologies, asked people to keep diaries of their daily routines, and employed teams of anthropological observers instructed to observe behaviours such as:

the behaviour of people at war memorials; shouts and gestures of motorists; the aspidistra cult; bathroom behaviour; beards, armpits and eyebrows; anti-Semitism; the distribution of the dirty joke; female taboos about eating….

Humphrey Spender, This is Your Photo, 1937

Humphrey Spender, This is Your Photo, 1937

There are examples of the photographs which Humphrey Spender took in Bolton for Mass Observation, including one of chalked graffiti in a wall, entitled This Is Your Photo. Mass Observation was interested in graffiti because it could be seen as a type of primitive art.

Then there are a couple of the paintings made by Julian Trevelyan while he was working for Mass Observation in Bolton.  Trevelyan was the first artist to be recruited by Mass Observation in 1937. In Bolton Trevelyan recorded his observations of ordinary people going about their lives in photographs, water-colours and collage. In his autobiography, he recalled carrying with him a suitcase of scraps and magazines, scissors and glue to his chosen site. He would work on the spot, battling with the elements and often attracting attention of inquisitive passers-by.

Rubbish May be Shot Here 1937 by Julian Trevelyan 1910-1988

Julian Trevelyan, Rubbish May be Shot Here, 1937

The locals commented that he had caught the mood of current anti-litter campaigns in Rubbish May be Shot Here and accurately conveyed ‘the worker versus royalty feeling’ of Coronation year.  Most of the cut-out heads in this collage are taken from newspaper photographs of the coronation or represent successive generations of the royal family. The smiling child, however, is taken from a Shredded Wheat advertisement captioned ‘the food for general fitness’.  Trevelyan contributed three paintings to the International Surrealist Exhibition in London 1936, and this collage follows the classic surrealist technique of combining different realities. Rubbish May be Shot Here is, the curators suggest, ‘revolutionary in both form and content: hierarchies are subverted, pomp and pageantry ridiculed.

Office of Useful Art

The Office of Useful Art: rules to live by

In an adjacent small room is the Office of Useful Art which I learn promotes the new movement of Arte Util or Useful Art. The Office is not an art installation but a working room that acts as part of a long term campaign to develop a renewed understanding of art, as a process that plays a fundamental role in shaping the world; that has a real effect in peoples lives. The project is a collaboration with Grizedale Arts, based in the Lake District, and Liverpool John Moores University – part of a five year project with the Internationale Confederation of European Museums.  The Office will function as a recruitment centre for the Association de Arte Util (Association of Useful Art), with the aim of developing an active community of people committed to art that works to effect change and is valued for what it does.

Are there ways to distribute art differently?

In her review for the Observer, Laura Cumming notes that Art Turning Left ‘asks whether art can find alternative distribution systems outside the market and gallery circuit, and then presents a wall of almost parodically obscure artist-run newspapers as if this was any kind of answer’.

True, but that frustrating room also contains the exhibition’s one true masterpiece which is presented also as a convincing historical answer to the question, ‘Are there ways to distribute art differently?’

David, Marat

Jacques-Louis David and studio, The Death of Marat, 1793. ‘n’ayant pu me corrompre ils m’ont assassine’: ‘they could not bribe me, they murdered me’.

Painted in the months after Marat’s murder, David’s work has been described as the first modernist painting, for the way it ‘took the stuff of politics as its material, and did not transmute it’.

Not by pleasing the eye do works of art accomplish their purpose. The demand now is for examples of heroism and civic virtues which will electrify the soul of the people and arouse in them devotion to the fatherland.
– Jacques Louis David

Created in response to the murder of the uncompromising political theorist and journalist Jean-Paul Marat in 1793, David’s painting became an iconic image of the French revolution. With the artist’s permission, the painting was copied in oil and reproduced in engravings that were distributed throughout the land. It is probable that the painting on display in the Tate is one of the copies, and examples of the engravings made of Marat’s head are shown alongside.


The Tate welcomes fellow socialists!

Seminar over and with my brain screaming, ‘Enough!’, I made my way down to the foyer where I noticed the Tate’s welcome sign. Has it been adapted specially for this show – or has it always had this radical edge?  A relaxing lunch followed, and then I went to one of the film screenings that accompanies this exhibition.  It was Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000, directed by Alain Tanner and scripted by Tanner and John Berger in 1975.  I hadn’t seen the film  – which follows eight key characters, all in their twenties or thirties, and affected  in some way by the events of May 1968 – since it first came out.  But – more about that in my next post.

See also