Bard & Tew (Part 3)

With Mike Sanderson

The Bard was recovering, and decided, for the good of his health, to amble up to the windmill: something he hadn’t done for a while. And, of course, sitting in the midday sun, their backs against the old stones, staring up where the stocks used to be, were Tew and his grandson. As you would expect, ragged-trousered them both!

“Long time no see,” said Tew. “Likewise,” said the Bard. “Oh, and thanks for your call-out. Sort of sums up social well-being in action!”

“I liked what you wrote as well: about closing your eyes and remembering your first view of Tysoe. You asked what it was that made this place special; memorable; a place where you wanted to base your life. For me, it’s about the people, and their sense of community. A place to return to.”

“Aye. Even old Joseph Ashby talked about ‘the elements essential to the material and social well-being’ of the people – so it’s not as new-fangled term as you mighten expect,” said the Bard, wistfully.

“This NPPF puts it more drily, though – says how: ‘The planning system can play an important role in facilitating social interaction and creating healthy, inclusive communities’ – that, to me, is making places for people to meet, shop, work and play. Therefore,” added Tew, watching the sun drift behind a cloud, “we need to be active in making sure we all work together to keep what we’ve got; and build on that. We can’t just rely on philanthropy to keep Tysoe this way. The outside pressures for new houses might mean there are enuff of us to keep our school, and district councillor. That’s why we need our Neighbourhood Plan and for everyone in the village to have their say.”

“Nicely put,” said the Bard “and I say: all this walking and talking’s made me thirsty! The Peacock beckons I reckon.”

– Originally published in the Tysoe & District Record (August 2014: no.746)

Bard & Tew (Part 2)

With Mike Sanderson

The skies were leaden again. Rain teemed down. Again.

“See, it’s the climate changing!” said Tew. He was dashing, head down, and ran smack into the Bard. “That’s the trouble these days: everyone’s always rushing. Where has that timeless quality gone that you see in the pictures in the Tysoe oral history project? These qualities only flow from having a link to events and associations with other times,” muttered the Bard, emptying his wellies. “So what can we do about it?”

A mischievous wrinkled grin (much like a smiley) spread across Tew’s face. “Well, it’s simple really. We’ve known since there were only 3.6 billion people on the planet, that diversity makes our environment stable. This ’ere Neighbourhood Plan gives us our opportunity. We can designate things that are important to the village consciousness, that give us our diversity (the well-heads in the centre de ville, the allotments, playing fields, churches). We can also state that the design and form of buildings must have an alternative heating source to oil. Oh, I forgot, and be faced with local stone.”

“You’re suddenly very eloquent,” replied the Bard, with a frown. “But I agree. If we’d used our collective noggins, all those years back, then maybe we wouldn’t need an FSD! I know solar panels aren’t everyone’s cup of tea; but they could have made such a difference, long-term, if everyone had them. Even if some think it’s now too late, we should do our best to have a low-carbon future; and insulation, triple-glazing. In the long run it would help with people’s bills, too.”

And the moral of this tale? Well, unlike the NPPF ministerial foreword, which focuses on making our lives better, now: “we can be optimistic about providing our children with a way of life psychologically, intellectually and aesthetically more satisfying than our present one” (Ecologist, 1972).

– Originally published in the Tysoe & District Record (April 2014: no.743)

Bard & Tew (Part 1)

With Mike Sanderson

Tew had been thinking hard since the FSD skirmish on Oxhill Road. He had come across the Bard, out perambulating the Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB). “Good morning, Tew!” said the Bard, “I see you’re getting ready for the next harvest. What are you planting?” Tew responded, gazing towards his fields: “I’ve been persuaded to plant some of these GMO Ticky-Tacky seeds. They’re not what you’d call sustainable: but, give ’em time and there’ll be a whole estate of ’em – and they’ll all look just the same. Prime Minister is a big fan; and the high PanYan himself thinks they are as good as Hobnobs.”

Tew knew there had to be something in these so-called Neighbourhood Plans. They were brought in by the government back in ’10 to support their localism fad; but could actually confer a lot of power to the community. The problem was to get one before the ministry changed and it all started over again. The three strands of this localism gubbins were sustainable development; some climate change stuff; and a thing called social well-being (which reminded him how much he could do with a pint of Sewell’s Stout, right now). Tew and his colleague the Bard of Tysoe think it would be a good idea to get ruminating about these matters. Over the course of the next few months, we’ll be taking a light-hearted look at them – especially as there are lots of code-words and capital letter abbreviations (CLAs) to cope with (for example, the accursed FSD).

So this month, we’ll begin with ‘sustainable economic development’ (or SED). Tew came upon the Bard just down from Old Lodge Farm. As they stared across the Stour Valley at the setting sun, the Bard said wistfully: “So, Tew, what passes for SED in this neck of the woods?” Tew answered: “Well, you can see it below you. The ridge-and-furrow: that’s sustainable. They calls ’em Sustainable Drainage Systems (SuDS). That’s after they’ve grubbed ’em out and laid shingle tracks leading to ponds. Shows there ain’t nowt new.”

The Bard said – after a brief pause to watch a mewing buzzard fly by – “Well, that’s fine now; but what about in 10 or 50 years time: what would SED look like then, down below?”

“Um,” he said. “Me gran knew a thing or two. When she came here there were no gas, no inside loo, no pipes. There still ain’t no gas, and mebbee we’re still short of a few water pipes. So in my opinion, we need more houses to make things sustainable. But since there’s no gas, the new houses need more than one source of fuel. They need to re-use rainwater, too. ’Cos if they don’t have these things, then nobody young can afford to live here. There aren’t enough jobs either: so they need cars to go to work. What do you think?” “Well”, he replied, resting his chin on his gnarled stick, “if it ever stops raining and we see the sun again, some of those solar thingummies you have on your roof might work. And perhaps we could convert the windmill to generate some power or pump all this water away? Be good to have the bus come more often. But it doesn’t really need to be so big, does it?”

Tew said, “I read your piece on Seeger. Seems like Master Risktaker had it right, when he said: ‘the circumlocution officers quote the word ‘sustainable’ in their PDF documents, meaninglessly; but we need to give that word meaning’. We have to ask the rest of the villagers what they think. Light’s nearly gone; footpath’s a bit boggy down below. Mebbee that’s something else we should be doing for ourselves!”

– Originally published in the Tysoe & District Record (March 2014: no.742)

The return of the Night Wasteman – Sustainable Tysoe?

By Mike Sanderson

Tew sat on the ridge and furrow outside the manor. This site was now the infamous site of the first battle of the second English Civil War, or War of Localism. Ironic, really, as you could see the first battle site in the first civil war from here. Tew couldn’t decide whether he was a goody or baddy. Hence his contemplative mood.

Like everyone else he had been suffering the fallout from the banking crash of 08. Things were changing though. The bankers had placed a jet stream or flying island over the Vale of the Red Horse and blocked out the sun. They’d done this because they didn’t think the inhabitants had made enough PPI claims, which was the only way bankers could lend money after the government got on their case. Like many other government inspired initiatives this produced unintended consequences. The deployment of the flying island meant it had started raining heavily in 2012. Flooding was rife in the vale. Ridge and furrow (aka SuDS) had been ploughed out and what were SuDS? Anyway some investment bankers who weren’t in the PPI scam had turned their hands to speculative development (SD), as allowed under another government initiative (the bumPF). These bankers were known as Flashmen (hence the term, FSD). Flooding was bad for FSDs.

The field he was sat in was the site of an FSD. FSDs would lead to increased flooding in the vale. Now Tew knew about these things. His original role had been to recycle night waste. But now the speculators needed to dispose of the bumpf a different way because there weren’t enough SUDs. He could be back in business and move over to the dark side. All he needed was for black bins to be designated as night waste bins and the disposal of such waste to become a section 106 reserved matter.

– Originally published in the Tysoe & District Record (February 2014: no.741)

The good strife…

The modern artist must live by craft and violence. His gods are violent gods. Those artists, so called, whose work does not show this strife, are uninteresting.

– Ezra Pound

I was talking to a good friend of mine, recently – Duke Senior to my Jaques; or Corin to my Touchstone…? – about the conflict or strife that we both believe is at the heart of artistry. Having written, drawn, composed, and designed things for most of my life, I have always been interested in what motivates or fuels the process of creating. [Interestingly, ‘motivated art’ is defined as that “produced under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs” – but I think imagination, or whatever spurs one to produce something (hopefully, original and interesting), is medication (and motivation) enough: often pushing you in directions you would never have dreamed of, if not under its influence. (Although I am still convinced that I play the piano much, much better after two pints of Guinness, of course.)]

A lot of creative people I know, or have met, talk about “striving” for their art – but modern-day usage seems to have disunited the word ‘strive’ and its sister ‘strife’ (implying that one is good, one bad): even though both appear to have joint thirteenth-century origins in the Old French ‘estriver’. Strife itself, as a noun, is usually defined as “angry or violent struggle; conflict”; whilst striving, the verb, is about making “a great and tenacious effort”. Yin and yang?

Going back even further, Hesiod – who lived towards the end of the eighth century BC; and who I suppose you could call a ‘farmer-philosopher’ (whose natural successor, therefore, is Tysoe’s legendary character, Tew…) – discusses these two types of strife in his seminal Works and Days: classifying them as good competition and bad conflict.

So, after all, there was not one kind of Strife [Eris] alone, but all over the earth there are two. As for the one, a man would praise her when he came to understand her; but the other is blameworthy: and they are wholly different in nature. For one fosters evil war and battle, being cruel: her no man loves; but perforce, through the will of the deathless gods, men pay harsh Strife her honour due.

But the other is the elder daughter of dark Night [Nyx], and the son of Cronos who sits above and dwells in the aether, set her in the roots of the earth: and she is far kinder to men. She stirs up even the shiftless to toil; for a man grows eager to work when he considers his neighbour, a rich man who hastens to plough and plant and put his house in good order; and neighbour vies with neighbour as he hurries after wealth. This Strife is wholesome for men. And potter is angry with potter, and craftsman with craftsman, and beggar is jealous of beggar, and minstrel of minstrel.

– translated by Hugh G Evelyn-White

This isn’t to say that great works of art haven’t been inspired (if that’s the right word…) by great conflict – such as Pablo Picasso’s overwhelming Guernica; Benjamin Britten’s intense and moving War Requiem; and most of Wilfred Owen’s published œuvre (never to be surpassed…) – plus, of course, there have been official ‘war artists’: such as John Nash, Stanley Spencer, and Eric Ravilious. It could also be posited that this blog would not have existed were it not for the local war against unsuitable and unsustainable development….

I did write, though, in an earlier post, that my work “stems from antithesis, from conflict: whether flippancy and earnestness; art and science; good and bad; happiness and sadness”; and it is this inner friction, I suppose (combined with a wish always to improve, to learn) – rather than the external competition Hesiod describes – that often initiates inspiration, and then translates it into prolonged perspiration (usually interspersed with huge chunks of doubt…). As Blake put it: “Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.”

If I lost this urge, I would – having experienced it all my life – feel its loss as keenly as the removal of one of my senses. (And being hard of hearing – and currently completely anosmic: due to the ravages of some awful virus… – this isn’t just mere whimsy.) But do those who never (or infrequently) have such an impulse miss it too? I often hear people wish that they could play a musical instrument: but this is usually in comparison with someone who already does; and usually is mere whimsy.

The prompt for my discussion with ‘Duke Senior’ was the (apparent) lack of creativity of modern Denmark: apparently the happiest nation on earth – followed closely by Norway and Switzerland – and thus lacking “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower”. [I must admit that – as with the old challenge to list famous Belgians – I struggle to name any creative Dane since Carl Nielsen (whose Det Uudslukkelige symphony echoes the First World War…): apart from Arne Jacobsen – and he died in 1971!]

As Harry Lime says in The Third Man (an impromptu line, added during filming, by Orson Welles himself…):

You know what the fellow said – in Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace – and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

Although historically inaccurate, it does have a convenient ring of truth to it!

Does creativity really, therefore, require strife or conflict – internal or external – to exist; or even to succeed?

I believe it at least matters. And I believe it is visible; made manifest. It seems that in many of the arts – if not all – the artist has grown to be more important than the actual art, though; the idea more important than its implementation. There is no strife (and it could be said that the only god is Mammon); and I believe its absence in many glib, calculated, knowing – mostly modern – supposed works of art is also, therefore, visible: which is why I believe it “will undoubtedly be seen as crass and talentless; and will fall into the Room 101 of already-discarded, faded-from-memory, trash.”

It may be crafty; but it lacks craftsmanship. It may be artful; but it ain’t art.