The last snow brought us The Great Everdon Ice Festival, what would the next flurry bring? According to a neighbour we now had Narnia. An excited phone call told us the woods were a winter wonderland and that we should go – right now – and photograph it. So off to Everdon Stubbs we went…
– words by Paul
– pictures by Paul & Elizabeth
Such a magnificent stone stepwell was so unexpected in this remote village of mud-brick houses; it raised many questions. Who built it? Were there others? A month later I learned there were many others. Although none were quite like that at Adalaj, many were just as fascinating in similar settings throughout central India.”
Morna Livingston in the preface to Steps to Water
For some strange reason, baolis (stepwells) fascinate me. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the multiple repeat symmetry, or that they are so far from our Western perceived image of a ‘well’, or the simple beauty and variety of the structure, but whatever the reason, they do. In October 2010 we explored our first one, the Ugrasen ki Baoli (aka Agrasen ki Baoli) located in the cetnre of New Delhi and, due to the brilliant photograph, taken in 1976 by Raghu Rai (reproduced below), one of the most famous ones. This photograph is also likely to be a strong influence on my fascination.
Diving into the Ugrasen Baoli by Raghu Rai
The baoli is straight forward to find, being just south east of Connaught Place, with a helpful new sign pointing its whereabouts off Hailey Road. Or at least it was simple for us as it is marked on the Eicher city map and we had an excellent taxi driver who knew where Hailey Road was and found the turn. The nearest metro station is Barakhamba Road.
The site was being renovated by the Archaeological Survey of India when we visited with the introduction of new, stone, information plinths, with the period details dating the baoli to the fiftieth century.
Arriving mid-afternoon we found the site occupied by local teenagers. One of the younger ones insisted that he show me around the site. He was polite and friendly so I said yes. He then proceeded to take me around the site, chatting away as we went, from down the steps up to the higher galleries and around the back to the deep circular tank. He explained that the lack of water was due to the construction site behind the baoli stealing it. He then showed me a photo on his phone of what it looked like when it was full; the 1976 Raghu Rai photograph. Arriving back at the top of the steps he said goodbye and wondered off to talk to his friends, wanting no tip just happy to have told another visitor the story of the baoli.
Whilst the image of the baoli is know there is little written about it beyond the repeating of the basic details, well outlined on the site information board above. Lucy Peck’s Intach Guide (2010 update), which we have found the best general guide to the monuments of Delhi, includes the baoli but has little extra detail.
A better impression of the site is given in Sam Miller’s Delhi: Adventures in a Megacity. When he visited it during his exploration-on-foot of the city he is told by the watchman, Bagh Singh, that he is the boy in the Rai photograph (page 47 Viking Edition 2008). Miller’s book is in no way a ‘guide’ to the city in the conventional sense but we have used it as a signpost for visiting some of Delhi’s less well known places. It’s a well-put-together book with hand-drawn maps and small monochrome photos, written with passion and fascination. I would recommend it as the first book to read for anyone planning to visit the city, even before Dalrymple’s City of Djinns.
For more about the baolis of Delhi the always interesting The Delhi Walla has an article and we will be writing about some of the others later.
For those who want to know more about the history and construction of baolis we would recommend Morna Livingston’s Steps to Water: The Ancient Stepwells of India with excellent photography and plenty of interesting text (although it’s more accurately described as the stepwells of Gujarat and Rajasthan). This book we do want to use as a guide book for a tour around the country.
– words by Paul
– pictures by Paul & Elizabeth
From drought, to flood to ice festival.
Northants is one of the driest parts to the UK but since the rains in Autumn 2012 we have had a constant flood across one of the roads into our village. Not deep, but enough to cause serious waves when you drive through it. Little did we predict that the unexpected interaction of the flood and the current cold spell would create the Great Everdon Ice Festival.
Urbanized: a review
From the slums of Mumbai, via the successes and failures of South American cities, to the environmental challenges of New York and Stuttgart this compelling documentary illustrates the paradoxical relationship between the slow medium of architecture and the necessary futurism of the city planner; the landscape designer as hero, and villain.
Urbanized (2011) is the final documentary in independent filmmaker Gary Hustwit’s design trilogy after Helvetica (2007) and Objectified (2009). For this film Hustwit turns his attention to architectural design projects from cities all over the world
In looking at Mumbai, the film examines not the monumental architectural achievement of the Bandra–Worli Sea Link, but the slum developments of Mumbai, now familiar to many from Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire (2008), and the introduction of much smaller-scale raised pedestrian walkways. This selection typifies the focus of the film on the direct interaction of people with the infrastructure and flow of the city rather than on the isolation of the commuter. The Mumbai walkways show the good intentions of urban design, with its objective of providing a safe, attractive – and speedy – alternative to the car. It also exemplifies the potential for failure in urban design, the walkways having proved divisive by literally raising the middle-class above the slums and the city’s large poor population, making invisible both the problem of poverty and the need for a solution. This contrasts with the new raised walkways of New York City where, instead of preserving or erasing the derelict structure of the High Line, creative design has been deployed to transform it into something lovable. Starting at a very local, community level, the Friends of the High Line have reclaimed the disused tracks and created a space of relaxed, tranquil routes, and gardens that is used by all sections of city society.
A similar contrast between the successes and failures of modern urban design is shown by the film’s comparison of Brasilia and Bogota. For all Brasilia’s signature examples of the best of concrete brutalism the film argues that – as a city – Lucio Costa’s vision is a failure. As architect Jan Gehl observes, Brasilia looks fantastic from the air but is a disaster for people on foot, with endless miles to walk between Oscar Niemeyer’s monuments. It is a city that necessitates the isolating use of vehicles and thwarts human interaction. Bogota, on the other hand, is shown as a city that, with severely limited resources, has managed to balance the often conflicting needs of its many parts. This has been primarily due to the vision and drive of Major Enrique Penalosa and the decision to concentrate not on expensive and time consuming metro systems but on the use of an extensive guided bus system as the means of making the city into a whole, functioning, environment. The bus system was given a name, Transmilenio, as part of the efforts to raise its status. It functions like a typical underground train system, but above ground and on wheels – because 400km of Transmilenio can be constructed for the same cost as 25km of subway – and it is used by everyone, not just the city’s poor. Alongside the bus network, Bogota has introduced safe and comprehensive cycle routes, very visibly spending money on improving the quality and status of these routes, while cars are left in the mud.
The film’s talking heads and specific design illustrations are interspersed with superb wide-screen visuals. The cityscapes have the monumental scale and symmetry of a Gursky photograph and invite the viewer to pause and simply admire. This is in contrast to the disappointing and rather lacklustre score, which is generic and functional at best; even the Battles contribution is bland. Re-scoring by some someone with a better feel for the interplay between sound and vision, Mogwai for example, would better complement the high standard of all the other elements.
The structure of the film, providing multiple case studies and comparisons – both direct and implied – hangs together as a coherent narrative whilst viewing, and rewards further consideration by yielding many more useful connections and comparisons.
In Santiago, Chile architect, Alejandro Aravena explains that although the city needs to clear slums where there is no water or power supply, its ambitions for replacement housing outstrip available funds. The radical solution is ‘participatory design’. The city has built cheap housing on expensive land. The costs have been controlled not by building cramped, shoddy houses, but by building houses that are only partly finished. The relocated families are able to move into something habitable, that can be completed as they desire, and when they can afford it. Not only that, but they have been consulted throughout the process, making a choice, for example, between a bath and a water heater that would always have been wrong had it been left to the professionals.
If that fails to make it clear that the idea of a city cannot be separated from its people, the example of New Orleans emphasises the point. After Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans has been the site of some extra-ordinary new buildings (for celebrities, such as Brad Pitt), but these buildings have nothing to do with the residents and do not contribute to the process of (re)making the city. In other parts of New Orleans, where the residents wait for rebuilding, activist Candy Chan has taken to putting up stickers with the legend ‘I wish this was’ and providing a Sharpie for people’s answers. The responses provide a powerful insight.
These connections loop around, cross, interact, in a dynamic process that echoes the developing sense of what ‘city’ means. The accumulated glimpses of different cites from different perspectives add up to something surprisingly substantial, ‘Thirty-six Views of A City’, if you will.
Editorially there were very difficult decisions to make. The subject is huge – global – and all the information provided leaves the viewer wanting to learn more. The film, nevertheless, manages to provide both a global perspective and a coherent narrative position, and the desire to learn more is an inspiration, not a frustration.
“Opera in a greeting, four scenes and a farewell for 9 musical performers, choir with singing conductor, orchestra, a synthesizer player, 2 dance-mimes, electronic music (tapes), sound projectionist”
…plus a helicopter string quartet.
When we first heard about the intention of the Birmingham Opera Company to put on a complete performance of Karlheinz Stockhausen’s never before performed opera Mittwoch aus Licht we were intrigued. To be honest, we thought it sounded a ridiculous spectacle with unlistenable music but an event that should be experienced. We were right about it being an important experience but completely wrong about the rest: the music was varied, moving, exciting and funny.
It is all rather odd that we bought tickets for an opera, given that we don’t actually like opera. I have tried and have been to both traditional and modern operas at the ENO but opera is when we change Radio 3 for 6Music. We do, however, like classical music (contemporary & modern), electronica, experimental, rock, post-rock (and what ever label we are using now for weird-shit music). It turned out that approaching it from the modern/electronic music spectrum was better preparation than treating it as opera.
It was also more helpful to think of it less like ‘opera’ and more like a ‘city festival’, with its wristbands, merchandise table, porta-loos, temporary bar, long queues for Indian food in a tent, rain (but no mud) and a disused factory; much more Supersonic than Glyndebourne.
A big empty warehouse with, in the centre of the space, a liberal scattering of tiny stools.
Near the door two perfectly groomed Bactrian camels, standing so still that I disappointedly assumed them to be fakes.
People milling around looking a little uncertain.
The production takes place in what were the two giant warehouses of the now empty MacDermid Canning site in Digbeth. We are greeted by the sight of hundreds of camping stools and four giant screens in the corners of the building. The audience takes their seats and the lights go out.
Five hundred people sitting quietly in the dark. Listening. Breathing. All but eighty of them wondering what happens next.
Sounds. Lovelier than expected. Alive as they move around the space.
Tiny lights way overhead. Holes in the factory roof?
Sudden lights. Tableaux.
There then follows haunting and disturbing electronic music in the dark but with occasional spotlighting of people arriving for the parliament; people climbing walls, others sitting in forests, crowds moving through the building, a figure writing on a high office window and a spider-like creature that appeared to be creating the delegates.
Athletic young men scaling the walls, having a loud, noiseless argument. Adopting poses of studied, arrogant nonchalance.
Figures rising from the audience with outstretched arms. Moving towards. Something. Light. Sound.
God. On a TV screen. Or really there, at the high, high window. Lecturing. Explaining everything. Incomprehensible.
All the women in the world, all hugely pregnant, processing inexorably towards the men.
Flash foward? Flash back? Heading for apocalypse or surviving it?
An old woman sitting motionless, but for her hands which knit a vast writhing mass that births humans.
Dancing. Umbrellas that become radio dishes. Are they hearing the same thing The Audience hears? Strange. Soothing. Unifying.
All very effective – with clear and precise sound – and as the light slowly returns we are effortlessly guided next door.
Everyone rises. We’re a whole now. Moving together like. Them. Moving towards the light of a single doorway. Shuffling, but knowing we’re doing the right thing. Knowing that we’re no longer spectators.
Another vast space. A crazy paving of grey foam mats on a grey concrete floor. Surrounding, encircling, impossibly tall chairs in crayon yellow. A man with painted face ushers us all in.
Other people, all with painted faces, file in and take their places on the chairs.
The faces are flags. There’s Canada. Pakistan. Is that Greece?
We arrive in the world parliament chamber; an oval formed of high yellow step-ladder chairs (manufactured by a local firm I hope?) surrounding the audience sitting/lying on rectangular foam mats. The delegates slowly arrive, all dressed formally with faces painted in the flags of their country, both real and imaginary. We are then treated – and it really was a treat – to a debate about love sung by the members of Ex Cathedra, lead and commented on by the President (Ben Thapa).
Sitting up there amongst the clouds they start to sing. It’s glorious. They debate, argue, suggest. They begin to writhe and take off clothes. Some of these countries really like each other. Those deep voices over there give me goosebumps.
As the debate gets more and more passionate the delegates smear their face paint to become part of the world rather than individual countries. Musically this was probably the most impressive part as whilst I don’t like opera I do like large vocal works. The voices were universally excellent, with the President even able to Tweet during the session, before being called away to rescue his illegally parked car and be replaced by another delegate.
In the end it doesn’t matter that the leader is called away, because one of the other countries takes his place and slowly, steadily, working together, they achieve an accord. They reach out. Literally. Holding hands from chair to chair. And when they descend to earth, they shake hands with The Audience.
Orchestra Finalists
After the interval we return to the same room. But it’s a different space. Musicians dangle from the ceiling. There’s a cello and violins. A bassoon. And.
We lie on the blue mats, underneath the double bass.
It’s a relaxed carnival atmosphere. Lots of people laughing, taking photographs.
We return to what was the parliament building, now transformed into an open area with rows of blue mats for the audience to lie on and look up at the orchestra, each member of which was suspended on a trapeze. Things then just get more and more weird.
The largely perspex swings that the musicians sit on move up and down. The music moves between them too.
The trumpet, in his safari outfit, descends almost to the earth. The trombone swaps places with a swimmer – the latter ascends to observe from the ceiling while the former plays and splashes and pratfalls in an inflatable paddling pool that glides over The prone Audience. Cosmicomic.
One of the musicians throws playing cards that flutter to earth.
The double bass descends, ceding his swing to an astronaut. Like the trombone he glides over our heads, playing, yelling, being all manner of things.
Cast members are attacked by bees, birds fly overhead, aeroplanes are directed around the building. Musically the highlights are the Double Bass (Jeremy Watt) who is replaced on his trapeze by an astronaut and push on a platform over our heads, and the Trombone (Andrew Connington) who who takes a splash in a padding pool.
At ground level, demanding we divide our attention, there are people. They strike yoga poses. Or maybe they’re doing obeisance. They are beset by insects and try to protect us from them. Two undertakers process with great dignity and smoke issuing from their stovepipe hats. There’s only one mummy. And only one figure with a model aeroplane on his head.
Again there are umbrellas. Some of them shield us, but I dont know from what. I begin to regret that I’m still earthbound – lying down, as earthbound as can be – when all the music and the cool stuff is happening up there.
The piece is funny, engaging and inclusive but perhaps more memorable for the spectacle than the music which is somewhat episodic.
Quickly, they urge us. The helicopters are waiting.
We return to the camping stools for the centrepiece of the production: the helicopter string quartet to be played by the Elysian Quartet. This appears to be a somewhat odd format for the middle of a ‘concert’ as we have an introduction by the Radio 1 presenter DJ Nihal followed by a reality-style drive to the helicopters for the music. This is then followed by a Q&A with the Elysian Quartet (but not the pilots as they had to take the helicopters – from Arena Aviation – away from the terrible weather). This again made the event feel more like a day-long festival than a single performance.
The introduction and Q&A had the potential to be just awful but turned out to be both interesting and informing, putting the music in context and explaining the technology and feelings involved. This was a success for three reasons; 1) DJ Nihal was a relaxed and enthusiastic host, 2) the Elysian Quartet were as intelligent and engaging as their playing, 3) interesting and well articulated questions from the audience.
Four people in vests the yellow of Wednesday. They look so ordinary, so real, but they’re here to be extraordinary, to ascend in helicopters and, each alone in the sky, unite in performing the helicopter quartet.
They rush off, and their short journey is transmitted back to The Audience. It’s reality TV, so it feels less real than any of the other things we’ve experienced here.
Some reviews have been less than complementary about this section and from the video of the preview I can understand why, as all appear stilted and nervous. By the Friday performance all those involved were much more comfortable with each other and the audience, possibly assisted by the thought of near-death from the quartet due to the terrible weather! The pressure on DJ Nihal must have been immense, taking the role intended for Stockhausen himself and in front of 500 potential critics. I was impressed by how he conducted himself and managed this difficult segment.
Once they’re airborne and start to play, the music makes it real again. True.
There’s a screen in each of the upper corners of the cube of sound that contains The Audience. One screen for each of the quartet. The music moves between them. I learn to stop blocking the sound of the rotors and hear it as an integral part of the piece.
The musical part has also been criticised in reviews (see, for example, Andrew Clement’s otherwise complementary Guardian review) but I found it mesmerising with the interaction of the strings, rotors and voices creating a unique soundscape. You can watch the segment and buy a CD of a 2008 performance but this was all about the individual experience, greatly assisted by the Sound Projector Ian Dearden.
They return to earth and to us. They talk about their experiences. The Audience questions them and the information we learn, practical and spiritual, retrospectively becomes part of the music too.
Michaelion
Back again to that other space, the one that’s big enough to hold the World Parliament and suspend musicians. Now it just holds the grey foam mats and a distressingly bright light.
And then singers.
They push a platform forward into The Audience. Close to us, but not too close.
For the finale we are again on foam mats in the second space but this time, more conventionally, with a small stage at one end. As we sit we realise we are not the only ones come to see the election of a new World President, as around us are delegates in black formal-wear, splashed with yellow, sitting in rapture. This section is perhaps the most musically conventional for modern opera with London Voices singing with a small brass section plus synthesiser.
And finally Lucicamel enters, walking through The Audience, heading straight for us, and we’ve no place to go. Lucicamel takes evasive action and falls on my legs. Lucicamel is candidate for President of the World and it shits planets; somehow, I imagined it would be heavier. It rises and continues its progress to the platform where its hooves are burnished and it does indeed shit planets.
The singers, black-clad and each splashed with Mittwoch yellow, sing and leap and run and listen to the translated messages of a portable radio.
The plot is, in a word; bonkers. We have a planet-shitting camel called Lucicamel who gets drunk on champagne and dances with a trombonist before giving birth to the new World President who is receiving cryptic messages from a short-wave radio. Of all the sections this was the only one that felt slightly too long but was still interesting and the brass was excellent.
It concludes with peace. Harmony. A sense of catharsis.
We slowly vacate the space to subtle electronic sounds and the delegates wordlessly extolling us with slogans towards a better world.
We’ve seen something huge. Cosmic. Too big to comprehend, even in snatches.
Back on earth, there are messages on placards and on some level they make sense.
We gather together to celebrate the event; the audience, the singers, the musicians, the cast and the crew. Suitably enthusiastic applause is given to all and we drift off home, with a buzz that the rain cannot disperse.
“The 36 delegates collaborate, despite themselves, in harmonious hubbub; sounds collaborate with each other to create new sounds: the strings with the chopper blades, the sounds of the trapezes with field recordings; and the helicopter string quartet manage to stay together despite the longest odds. And of course just staging the thing is a major feat of co-operation, as BOC’s curtain call, at which cast members outnumber audience members, makes clear. That this unpretentious company can swing through one of modern music’s most intimidating frontiers, and do so with such gritty panache, is remarkable. Luzicamel kosmisch Geräusch Galaxiescheich!”
The second review is from Leo Chadburn in The Quietus, a blog that more normally covers rock/alt music (written for, er, people like us) and his conclusion is:
“Not only has everyone involved in this piece staged the unstageable, they’ve done it with generosity, understatement and humility. I don’t imagine anyone who saw this event will forget it anytime soon. More than that, it would be nice to think that this project goes someway to dispelling the idea of Stockhausen as a formidably unapproachable and ridiculous figure. [...] Or, at the very least, may it be an inspiration for everyone to start listening to the work of a master with fresh ears.”
We would also recommend that you view Pete Ashton’s pictures from one of the rehearsals which capture some of the energy and give an insight into some of the technical production including showing the Director Graham Vick. For photographs from a performance we would recommend the set from Katja Ogrin (who’s photographs are used in The Quietus review above).
Mittwoch aus Licht is yet another example of how Birmingham can put on exemplary, innovative arts events, to rank, for example, alongside Blast! (2007) and The Rice Show (2008). We can only speculate as to what comes next, but experience shows that it will be unexpected but wonderful.
This was an event that we felt privileged to be able to be part of. We may not like opera but we will now go to anything that Birmingham Opera Company produce (an effect known as ‘Stockhausen Syndrome). We will need no other information before buying a ticket. And who knows, we may even start to like opera.
Living on a raft
To get from Mandalay to Bagan in Burma/Myanmar there is the quick and costly aeroplane or there is the very slow but cheap bus. We, however, took a third alternative: a boat down the Irrawaddy river, leaving at 7.30 and taking about 10 hours for the journey.
Early morning departure
An early arrival at the boat was essential to get one of the good seats, the ones with a view and shade, and eventually we set off down the river.
In the control room
The journey down the river is calm and mostly unchanging, with the occasional temple complex and a stop to buy bananas. We were surprised that the boat had a small kitchen producing tasty versions of the ubiquitous fried rice or noodles, served with, as always, Myanmar beer.
Along the shore
First stop
The appearance of two large steel bridges interrupted the languor of the voyage. The first of these is the Ava Bridge at Sagaing built by the British colonial government in 1934, destroyed during World War II and re-built in 1954 by the Myanmar Government as a 16 span rail and road cantilever bridge. This is soon followed by the new, majestic, Ayeyarwady Bridge, opened in 2008 with a length of 1.1Km. The light was such that both bridges looked as if they existed in the distant past.
A tale of two bridges
Timeslip bridge
New and old
We were treated to a number of excellent sunsets in Myanmar but the one awaiting us at our destination was probably the most spectacular of all.
Light on the water
Land of the two suns
End of the journey
And in the fading light we arrived at the ancient temple region of Bagan.
There are more photographs of our river journey here and here.
Photographs of our Myanmar trip can be found here and here.
Monk, alone
The fire
Between 4-5pm (local time) on Sunday 25th July a fire started around the entrance to the Wangdue Phodrang Dzong in Western Bhutan. Fanned by high winds the fire rapidly destroyed the administrative offices before spreading to the rest of the complex. A chilling video on Facebook shows the entrance already destroyed and the fire raging in the main religious centre of the dzong. The mostly wooden structure was destroyed but fortunately no lives were lost. The cause of the fire is as yet unknown, although there is some speculation that an electrical fault was to blame.
Destination Dzong
To be restored
Following the fire the Prime Minister Jigmi Y Thinley made a statement that the dzong would be re-built. Whilst the building was destroyed it is reported that, thanks to the actions of the monks and fire-fighters, all the sacred relics were saved and that even some of the wall paintings survived the fire. There is more on the fire and the rescue operation here.
Bhutan does have some experience in this type of restoration as on April 19 1998 the Tiger’s Nest Monastery (Taktsang Palphug), perhaps Bhutan’s most iconic site, was also destroyed by fire. Restoration work was difficult, as the monastery is 900m above the floor of the Paro valley, but it was re-opened in 2005. Whilst no photographs are allowed to be taken inside this picture shows the quality of the re-built monastery.
No longer standing
Dzongs
The building destroyed is a dzong, found only in Bhutan and Tibet, which is a type of ornate fortress. Defence, however, is only one of its functions as it is equally an administrative and religious complex with courtyards, temples, offices, and monks’ accommodation. The Wangdue Phodrang was founded in 1638, when dzong architecture was at its zenith, and in this case was probably built originally for defence being on a high ridge, described as a ‘sleeping elephant’ above two rivers. The dzong has been destroyed by fire before, in 1837, and badly damaged by an earthquake in 1897. There is more on the origins and history of the dzong at Kuenselo Online.
A balcony
The visit
We visited Wangdue Phodrang Dzong in March 2011 in the middle of a major renovation project, partly funded by the Government of India, which was started in May 2009 and was due to finish in June 2013. The pictures below give some impression of the architecture and working of the dzong.
Architectural features
Golden doors
Decent
Happy jack
Wall painting
On the balcony
Around the dzong
In or out
Prayer wheels
On the wheel
Revealed
We can only hope that some of these have been saved.
You can see further pictures from our Bhutan trip here and here.
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