The Library of my Dreams

I went to the opening of the new Library of Birmingham yesterday and came home feeling full of inspiration. Malala Yousafzai gave the opening speech and the whole event felt very emotional. I kept thinking about past openings of Birmingham's public buildings - buildings that are so much part of the city's landscape and culture - and felt really proud to be there.  

Once inside, we were completely bowled over. It is an incredible building - stimulating and fun and, in Jo's words, 'the library of my dreams'. I was especially pleased to see so many of the library's collections of eighteenth and nineteenth-century journals out on the shelves. The building is both futuristic and reminiscent of the past and the materials used feel beautiful and solid - there's a lot of wood and stone. The outdoor areas are green and calm; there's a huge music library and film-viewing pods; the children's library is colourful and comfy. Around every corner and curve is something new and quirky. We spent about three hours just walking around yesterday and still didn't get to see everything. I'm really looking forward to spending lots of time there discovering new stuff.    

But is it art?

Last weekend we went to see the Shimabuku exhibition at the Ikon gallery. I am so often disappointed by exhibitions at the Ikon - although I've never been able to pinpoint exactly why. Perhaps it is the way they are curated, or the kind of artists they choose to exhibit. Whatever the reason, I frequently come away from an Ikon exhibition with a feeling of emptiness. The exhibitions seem somehow slight, flimsy and pointless.

So when Mark suggested we visit the Ikon last Sunday afternoon with Naomi, I was more interested in browsing in the gift shop and trying out the new Ikon cafe than in the art. But we dutifully went up to the gallery space, promising ourselves cake as a reward for traipsing around the exhibition. 

At first, I felt as baffled and excluded as usual. It all looked depressingly familiar - the usual post post-modernist nothingness. But I spotted a nice pale greenish glow coming from a room, showing some kind of film. It was a calm space - underwaterish - and the film was accompanied by some pleasing music, so I sat down and watched the film with Naomi. 

I couldn't really make out what was going on initially. Some fish were swimming around in the sea and something like a rock or pebble seemed to be suspended in the water. The fish circled it and occasionally gave it a little head-butt. Then Naomi said, 'it's a potato!' And it was - a great big potato! We giggled for a bit and I found myself completely entranced.

As we came out of the room, I noticed the neon sign just outside - 'Shimabuku's Fish and Chips'.

There were lots of other silly things to see and play with - Mark briefly became part of the exhibition as he tried to squeeze his body through an elastic band, while several people looked on in amazement (and amusement).

We also hit some balls with golf-clubs.

I had a great time - it was fun and absurd and it made me smile.

I have come to the conclusion that what is missing from the usual Ikon exhibition is a sense of playfulness and fun. A lot of current modern art is just ridiculous (in my opinion) but acknowledging that is what gives Shimabuku's work a meaning that is lacking from Ikon's average offerings, which take themselves way too seriously.  

Incidentally, I like the new cafe too. A bit more down-to-earth than its predecessor - and very nice cakes!

Still knitting

It has been noticed recently (by my lovely niece) that I haven't blogged about knitting much lately. So I thought I'd give you an update.

I'm currently knitting a jumper using some beautiful yarn that I bought in Paris a couple of years ago from Lil Weasel - a gorgeous knitting boutique in a very French shopping arcade.

The yarn is incredibly soft and light so I'm attempting to make a slouchy top in one piece to avoid spoiling the drape with seams. I'm making the pattern up as I go along however, so success is far from assured!

On the Pleasure of Pym

While on holiday recently, I read these two Barbara Pym novels. I've always loved Pym's writing - even though her novels are very much mid-twentieth century, the silliness of academic egos and surburban etiquette that she writes about are still very relevant to my life today. These novels are from opposite ends of Pym's career - Crampton Hodnet was the first novel she wrote in the 1940s (although it wasn't published until the 1980s after her death) and An Academic Question was written in the 1970s. But both novels are warm and witty and explore human failings so affectionately. I love the way she gently pokes fun at the pomposity of the well-educated and on the tangles that even the most serious and sensible can get into about the appropriateness of a brightly-coloured dress.  

Highland Adventure

Just back from our Highland adventure where we walked up and down mountains, through gorges and waterfalls. The landscape is incredible.

We managed to do Ben Nevis early on in the trip. Here's the start of the path...

 

... half-way...

 

... nearly there...

 

... to find snow at the summit!

We also took the ferry to the Isle of Rum, pop. 42. Mark was briefly tempted to give it all up and make it pop. 44 but the midges and lack of shops (one shop that only opens for 2 hours a day - and that's during high season!) put me off.

But while walking through the Nevis gorge on our last day, I realised just how much I was falling for the Scottish Highlands - we'll certainly go back.

summertime

Just got back from a lovely week in Cornwall, where we swam in the exotically aqua ocean at Carbis Bay and went for long walks along the South West Coastal path. We patted dogs of all shapes and sizes, including the 'rock dog' (a very useful landmark on the walk from St Ives to Zennor) and this crazy woolly dog with a skinny tail, who lives in an idyllic fisherman's cottage in Penberth Cove. Wish I lived there too...

Put Some Effort In!

My job involves a lot of sitting at a computer, either at home or in the office, so as the academic year has come to an end it has been lovely to get outside and do something more active.

During May I joined three of my colleagues in training for the Bewdley 'Pub and Club' Regatta, which involved five one-hour rowing lessons on the River Severn before we rowed in the Regatta on June 1st. We were knocked out in the first heat but I think we rowed really well! 

Rowing is hard work and while some of our training sessions were on beautifully sunny afternoons, most of them were on wet, cold evenings when the last thing we wanted to do was mess about in boats. The day itself was warm but the river was fast-flowing after a lot of rain. The cox kept yelling 'put some effort in' and I can tell you that we all did!

As if my arms, legs, back and hands hadn't had enough by then, I spent the following week in the garden doing a job I've wanted to do for a year. Since we laid some turf over a large patch of ground that was left after Mark had dismantled an old out-building brick by brick (he literally has the scars to prove it), I've been wanting to shape the lawn. The fine weather and the quietness at the office has meant that I've finally had the time to do it. 

It was fiendishly difficult but at least the previous week's rain had softened the ground. After cutting the one half in a pleasingly organic curve, I kept having to run into the house to look out of an upstairs window to check that the other side matched! So, in the past few weeks I've learnt how to row, my garden is finally coming together and I've slept like a log!