Cubism and mathematics

Taken from Fragments of the Universe, an article in the review section of today’s Guardian:

We can’t go around every day acknowledging that space and time are a continuum. We know clock time is a convention but that is no help when you’re late for a meeting. In the same way, the insights of cubist painting are useless. It doesn’t help to know that the form you call a bottle is really a little universe of hardness, transparency, tubular geometry, containing taste, memory, and all the other things a cubist painter finds in a bottle on a cafe table. Cubism is as spiritual as it is scientific. To live the cubist way would mean to be alive to the texture, weight and fragmentary beauty of the world. It would take for ever to appreciate a bowl of fruit.


Dogville (2003)

Part of the Odeon’s projection season, it goes without saying that there were a grand total of twenty people there to watch the film, of which only 8 made it through to the end. Perhaps this is partly due to the length of it all – 3 hours is at least half an hour too long and the division into 9 chapters and a prologue lets you know how slowly things are progressing.
Enjoyable, challenging, worthy of analysis. Why call the male lead Tom Edison. Are we saving grace or condemning her? Whichever way, the Guardian isn’t overly enamoured with things, but they are more seasoned with this type of film. Perhaps I was feeling a knee-jerk reaction to a flying of the artistic flag at the Odeon. After all, Guildford doesn’t see many things like this, does it?
Directed by Lars von Trierimdb and amazon


An interesting article in the Guardian today talks of the legacy Tony Blair could leave behind if had the courage of his convictions concerning Europe. This quote stood out:

There is a vast informal alliance of Blair-haters in the country, from tax-revolting Middle Englanders to the anti-war movement. A referendum on Europe has a high “come on then, punch me if you dare” component. And Tony, they dare.

Actually, the tax-revolting middle-Englanders are the same people who were involved in the anti-war movement. If you said that a rise in taxes were to be used to help find wmds in Iraq, they would revolt. There is no consistency, apart from that which always looks out for number one.
So yes, they dare because they have nothing to lose: they, the middle-Englanders, will moan regardless.

The cost of making a film

News on the BBC today says that the cost of making a Hollywood film broken the $100m barrier. Of the $100m (£55m) spent, some $63.8m was spent on actually making the film and $39m to market it.
Doesn’t that just say everything about making a movie in Hollywood? Is what a movie has to say to its audience roughly proportional to twice the means by which it tells audiences that the message is so potentially worthwhile to them that they should part with their money?
And whilst we are on the subject:

The average cost of a movie ticket rose again in 2003 to $6.03 (£3.35).

£3.35? How about £5.50 with student discount at the Odeon or £6.50 for a full-price adult ticket? How about £10 for any screen in London’s Leicester Square? How about not bloody likely?

Sound and fury

Howard Jacobson’s article in the Independent’s Iraq one year anniversary “special” has really hit home. I have always respected Jacobson’s pieces and for a long time bought the Independent on a Saturday for the sole reason that it was the only place to find his weekly column.
His article highlights for me everything that was wrong with the mass demonstrations concerning the war, which forms a smaller part of the problems with society – I would even go as far as to say humanity (with a small h and a capital one) – in the age of our “spiritual” war.

So here we are again, united in rage and impotence, sharing the unshareable grief of peoploe we do not know. ‘Tears shall drown the wind’, Macbeth says, imagining pity in the future tense, but the pity of it is that while we may drown the wind, we cannot drown the deed. There is starting to be a terrible familiarity about all this…Some of it our doing, some of it not. Though there are many among us who would say we are the architects of everything that befalls us now.

Is it really a year since we invaded Iraq? Without the dates in front of me, I’d have guessed less: say, eight months since the first bombs fell on Baghdad, seven months since we pulled down the statue of the dictator, and about six weeks since we found the man himself in a rat-hole and opened his mouth for the whole world to look into. Whether these are calendar estimates – one’s usual reluctance to admit the passage of time – or whether they reflect a feeling of dissatisfaction with what’s been achieved, I’m not sure…

…I am certain of one thing – that over the last year we have made a dog’s dinner of ourselves.

He is certainly right about the passage of time. The routine of our daily existences makes it difficult to distinguish one weekend from the next: how could it possibly be easy for us to distinguish one month from another when we are so routed in that which we do?

We are a more horrible country to live in that we were. Since by that I mean more horrible intellectually and spiritually, and even socially, I accept that I am open to the charge of mere velveteen pessimism. If you want to see horrible, try walking through Baghdad after a suicide bomb has just gone off. But there is no point in pretending all is well with us because we are not – or yet – a battelfield. That our time will surely come, I know nobody doubts, whatever the irresponsible words of people who would have us believe that terror is just a mote in the eye of Tony Blair. How do you “exaggerate” the threat of terror? Because only hundreds and not thousands dies in Madrid, does that mean we have been fretting unnecessarily? Will it console their families to be told that the environment poses an even greater thret?

I have often wondered: in whose interest is it to harbour fear? Obviously, “terrorists” will benefit from this mindset, but such introductions to articles do not help the situation, despite the rest of the article making reasonable points.

But there are other injuries you can suffer anyway, other scars you can bear, and emotionally we are the walking wounded – more intolerant of one another as the result of Iraq, more self-righteous, quicker to sneer, less mannerly in our political and media discourse, more watchful of what we can and cannot say around a dinner table, more fatalistic, less convivial. If I have to hear one more person tell me we must understand the underlying causes of terror… But there you are, my friends think I have grown callous. While I think they have regressed to moral infancy.

…When you are not entirely sure whether it should be peace or war, the default position is peace. I accept that. But September 11 had happened, and better to be safe than sorry. Cut off future supplies, sever putative alliances, stop up the ingresses and egresses of terror. Nothing else mattered. And yes, of course, there is always the danger you will make things worse. But what is plan B?

The anti-war demonstrations were largely a disgrace. I do not doubt the sincerity of many of those that went on them, but I believed then, as believe now, that they should have thought twice about the associated causes they were sponsorgin whenever they marched. I mean the unthinking anti-Americanism, the kneejerk anti-globalism, the sentimental Third World-ism, the adolescent relativism – Blair equals Bush equals Saddam Hussein – and of course the anti-Zionism, which took no account of history and consequences and reasons why. I say “associated” causes not because they were inextricable in truth, but because that was how they were presented.

The latter points can not be argued with. Any demonstration at which the Socialist Worker Party are present – which is to say most of them – is hijacked for some supplementary purpose or other. Do they not appreciate that by diluting the process of a demonstration with their “associated causes” – no matter how important or justified they may be – they are diluting the motivation behind the demonstration, which is to say another perfectly important and justifiable cause.

Things that might look the same, however, are often not the same at all. Many a good cause founders because it lets itself be looped into the daisy chain of ideology, and peace a year ago was one of them. It didn’t lose everybody. I know people who abominated the hijacking of the Iraq issue by agitators who saw a chance to propogandise against America and Israel and whoever else was on the menu of the wicked, yet who marched and looked away. But it lost me. Not in their name the war; not in my name the daisy chain.

Every time I turned on Question Time or the like, there were [the people] that stamped and jeered the moment anyone so much as glanced at the argument for war. Whereas let a speaker dip no deeper into his rhetorical bag of tricks than to call Blair a liar, and you would have thought Demosthenes had stood up and spoken.

At the best of times, I disapprove of opinion-spouting programmes. Opinions are the least worthy part of us, and why we should applaud a person merely for holding an opinion idential to our own I have never understood. Mainly, though, it is of no account: they shout their shout and we move on to something else. But Iraq had the whole country by its ears and suddenly the discourse of intolerance, in which you were blind unless you saw as you were meant to see, had turned universal. Ironical, of course, that this seeing as you were meant to see was being passed off as dissent. In fact I have never seen this country so obedient as it became, and has remained, since we first started to debate the Iraq war. True, it is not Tony Blair we obey. But if you’re slaves you’re slaves, no matter who your master is.

There was a time, too, since we are now remembering a golden age before Iraq made a laughing stock of us all, when accusing politicans of lying and spying was something we grew out of in fourth form. Of course politicians lie and spy…

…Whether we made the decision, as a nation, not to grow up long before the Iraq war, I can’t say. But we had certainly begun to immerse ourselves in children’s literature. It would be interesting to know if we’ve been reading even more of it in the year just gone. Without doubt, anyway, there is a correlation between what passes as political opinion at the moment and the contents of children’s books. Good versus evil. Nice people against bad. Our hearts on our sleeves. And nothing we can’t understand.

In Dr David Kelly we found a hero to match our children’s literature expectations. An unworldly, boffinish, avuncular fellow…pitched against dark machinations that were the undoing of him. When it became evident that it wasn’t quite the true story, we stopped reading. Indeed, rather than accept a version of events to the contrary to the fairy tale we’d constructed, we tossed another fanciful character, that once nice but not nasty Judge Hutton, into the flames ourselves. A low moment in our history, the near unanimous cry of “whitewash”! A nation with its mind set like a trap. “Whitewash, whitewash! Bliar, Bliar!” Tell us the story we want to hear, or tell us nothing.

Myself, I spent the first days after the publication of the Hutton report barely able to breathe. Misanthropy I have known before, but this time I did not simply hate the species to which I belonged. I couldn’t recognise it. Who were they? Who were these people who believed that an inquiry was meant to be the expression of their own views, who thought a finding was something already found, who cried foul the moment their conclusions were not concluded? It was like a bad dream. I would wake and discover it hadn’t happened. But I woke to hear it being opined that Andrew Gilligan had sort of, in a manner of speaking, to all intents and purposes got it more or less, give or take, approximately right. As though careless approximation had not been the nub of the things from the start!

After centuries of the British believing that rectitude resided with us alone, here we were finding it exclusively somewhere else. At a stroke, there was no horrid deed unless we did it, and the only villain of the peace was us [and] we had seen the lights and been born again. Hence the consciousness of revelation that radiated from out faces as we marched to peace, shoulder to shoulder with those who would “smash Israel”, those who would save the planet with lemon drizzle cake and lentils, and the schoolkids who couldn’t spell their names or tell you woh Churchill was but who were suddenly historical know-alls.

…A year on, or two and a half years on, depending on when we started counting, there is little to be cheered by. That things will get worse before they get better, I do not doubt. Iraq will bedevil the American alliances for years to come, and there is no shortage of commentators who will take pleasure in that. Bring it on! Bring on Doomsday! And in the meantime, whatever the authorities do to make life safer for us here will be read as incursions into our civil liberties.

Forgive me if I laugh at the phrase “civil liberties”, for what is liberty of any sort worth once a bomber has done their work? To me, the human rights arguments have never looked more threadbare. The concept of human rights assumes we know what humanity is, and share it. This much only to we share – that we number among us some who will randomly damage the innocent in reparation for the damage suffered (or imagined to be suffered) by themselves, and others who not only find that twisted logic seductive, but even, through the publicity given to their “empathy”, encourage it. Which means, since no man is an island, that we are not, as a species, entitled to the liberties we claim. We have reneged on the deal, and, as to out entitlements, gone backwards. Protection: that is all we have a right to ask for now. And if that means protection at any price, I for one will pay it. So yes, that’s where we are one year on: we are one year less civilised than we were.

Independent on Sunday

The Independent on Sunday has undergone somewhat of a transformation since I last picked it up. Despite the cover price rising from £1 to £1.40 in what seemed like a very short period of time (less than one year, my sense of time tells me), my loyalty to the paper was maintained not only by the arts (and in particular film) writing, but also the wonderful design.
(My weekly purchase of the saturday version, however, did not continue, despite the weekly column of Howard Jacobson only appearing in that paper, mainly for the notable lack of content when compared to, say, the Saturday Times or Guardian).
Today’s paper and re-design was initially very disappointing: my favourite section – LifeEtc. – and my favourite supplement – Talk of the Town – have each been discontinued and amalgamated into a hybrid magazine supplement, known as ABC (arts, books and culture). The rest of the paper is relatively unchanged, meaning that the Sindie comprises: the main news section, sportsweek, timeoff (the travel section), business, the Sunday review and ABC.
I was never a fan of the Sunday review, except for Eating Out by Terry Durack, the lost world of Michael Bywater and her indoors/him outdoors by Emily Perkins and Simon Carr respectively; which is to say that I don’t like all those parts that can only be fitted in to the sunday review and not included successfully elsewhere. My fear was that ABC, therefore, was going to be too much of a mismatch, resulting in some sort of compromise affecting the arts coverage with the introduction of some wishy-washy, wallpaper-esque “you must buy this”, supposedly life-enhancing design waffle. To my surprse and relief, this has turned out not to be the case and depsite the slightly inconsistent maintenance of the Talk of the Town design jarring with the old LifeEtc. layout, the magazine has turned out to be a compact (read handy) and still enjoyable read.
The paper is of the usual grainy, matt finish – exactly that of the sunday review – which has taken away some of the appeal of TotT, but now that this supplement is available throughout the country instead of just inside the M25, some of the north-south divide imbalance has been redressed. Plus, I assume that the new supplement is cheaper to produce and will therefore halt any cover price increases for the long-term future.

Same-sex marriages

An article in today’s Independent reveals that same-sex marriages are on the increase and are apparently becoming big business. Nearly 1000 couples have “tied the knot” since partnership ceremonies were introduced two years ago:

Although partnership ceremonies have no legae effect, that will change if if the Civil Partnership Bill announce in the Queen’s speech is passed. Same-sex couples who legally register their relationship will have the same rights on tax, benefits, inheritance, property and pensions that heterosexual spouses enjoy.

Which is all very well but for the reason that marriage is an institution that has been steadily declining since the 1970s and the number of divorces has quadrupled since 1960. Though I support the calls for equality rights for same-sex couples, any changes in the law will, I am sure, initially see thousands of couples marry, only to find themselves suffering the same sorts of divorce rates amongst heterosexual couples.
Though the institution of marriage does not currently allow same-sex unions, the societal aspects of such a union do not change, no matter what the benefits of such unions being allowed are, and same-sex couples are as likely to “divorce” as heterosexual ones.