It had all the makings of something brilliant. Allen Ginsberg, LSD and the holdings of the National Museum of Wales. The ingredients for museum magic had all been carefully selected, and yet, the end flavour was something quite bland. This was the overwhelming, or perhaps underwhelming would be a more apt description, feeling that I was left with on leaving the latest exhibition to fill the contemporary art wing of the National Museum. Wales Visitation: Poetry, Romanticism and Myth in Art starts with a bang, and then fizzles into familiar territory and oft trod paths. It had the makings of brilliance, the end result was someway short. The latest exhibition to occupy the first floor of the National Museum takes its inspiration from a poem, crafted by Allen Ginsberg during an LSD driven journey through the Black Mountains. The poem itself is a giddy but recognizable work. There is no doubt that the verses of Wales Visitation are ones which embrace the ancient landscape through a subverted lense of perception, and yet, the reality Ginsberg creates is one that will trigger the memory of anyone to have taken a walk through that same setting. The Welsh landscape, as inspiration, sets the tone for the gallery themes to come. Sadly though, the altered realities enjoyed in the verse, have little impact on the interpretations to come. Wales Visitation certainly opens impressively. Visitors are unavoidably confronted by a giant projection of Ginsberg. This frantic, bearded face looms over the entry way, leaving those who enter in little doubt as to who has provided the initial inspiration for the overall exhibition. Opposite Ginsberg’s projected performance, are Thomas Jones’ The Bard, and Iolo Morganwg’s bardic alphabet. It all resonates with elements of Ginsberg’s poem and mention of bards, and connects the 1960s work with a historical Welsh narrative of poetic imaginings and bardic tradition. It serves as an effective juxtaposition and, for the National Museum, a reasonably innovative opening to an exhibition. Sadly, from this point on, everything becomes terribly safe and common. While the inclusion of several offerings from Graham Sutherland certainly further the concept of the Welsh landscape inspiring artists, Sutherland’s very inclusion serves to undermine any sense of challenge that this exhibition might pose, put simply, we have been here before in this museum. Once more, Richard Long’s Blaenau Ffestiniog Circle is rolled out, just as it was when the contemporary art galleries were first opened three years ago. The same might be said of the ever wonderful Glory Glory by Laura Ford. This fantastical reimagining of traditional Welsh costume adds a sense of the macabre and the uncanny to the exhibition, but it is far from a new addition to these galleries. Perhaps though it is not so much the familiarity of the works of art on show here, but the way in which they are displayed. Walking through the gallery, I kept asking myself ‘where is the LSD?’ Not wanting the National Museum to plunge headfirst into the inconceivable, I had at least hoped that the exhibition design would have challenged me as much as the collections. In the end, Wales Visitation becomes a harmless, standard exhibition. No chances are taken, nothing about the exhibit stands out as distinctive or, frankly, memorable. It’s a terrible shame, because when I first became aware of the concept, I wanted to be challenged, I wanted to be wowed. Ultimately, I wanted the National Museum Wales to show us that its approach to contemporary art displays could amount to something more than pattern match programmes. The collections allow for the memorable, but Wales Visitation becomes Wales Forgettable all too quickly. A side grumble – there is a wonderful family guide available, complete with a miniature cartoon Ginsberg. It’s wonderful in its whimsy, but the guide seems most accessible (in terms of being physically obtainable for visitors) only when having worked through two-thirds of the exhibition. For many, by the time they find this brilliant little trail, they are almost at the end of the entire exhibit already – another disappointing oversight.
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With the start of March, so ended the life of archaeology in the National Museum Wales, in the city centre at least. A farewell event was hosted on the 5th, with some of the most notable figures in archaeology in Wales assembling to explore the collections once more, before they are packed up, for theoretical display in St Fagans. I say 'theoretical display' quite cynically and sincerely, because it would appear that very little of the national archaeology collection will actually appear on show once the new St Fagans opens for business, but more on that later. I've been to plenty of gallery openings over the years, but the closure of Origins was something quite unique. Some in attendance jokingly called it a wake, other meant it quite seriously. Platitudes were afforded to what has stood out as one of the most effective and innovative displays of archaeology certainly in Wales, if not further afield as well. Total visitor figures of 708,000 were cited, a remarkable number. Given such clear popularity for the Origins gallery, the question should surely be asked once more, why oh why is archaeology being packed up and shuffled away into the back cupboard of St Fagans' holdings. Roughly a hundred individuals came to send the archaeology displays on their way, and a frequently somber mood, equally gave way to merriment, as old faces were seen for the first time in many years. The 'wake' was split into three sections, an initial talk, followed by an opportunity to walk through the exhibition once more, before closing with a session considering the planned future exhibitions for St Fagans. This final element was originally pitched as a Q&A, an opportunity for concerned voices to raise their views regarding the seemingly shoddy treatment of archaeology. The Q&A however did not happen. Perhaps it was for the best that the Q&A was hastily abandoned. That is was, perhaps reflected the mood of the crowd. Few voices present who I engaged with could present a positive view on the move from city centre to St Fagans. Indeed, most voices were those of fear, that archaeology would face a future in the shadows, overwhelmed by St Fagans' remit for social history. A quick view of the proposed new galleries for St Fagans did little to dispel any such concerns. Thematic rather than period driven exhibitions are proposed, in which archaeology will certainly play a part, but it is clear that the archaeology collections will play a supportive role, rather than be a distinctive element within the new museum. Certainly, there will be much much less on display than there ever was in Origins, and that is a great shame given the quality of the collections held in Wales. So, Origins is gone, or in the process of going as exhibitions are stripped down, and objects boxed up. Below are a selection of images from the archaeology displays as they once were, a reminder of when archaeology had a central role to play. Take them in, because, sadly, it would seem that we will not have the opportunity to enjoy the display of Welsh archaeology in such quantity or quality, for a very, very long time. There has been plenty of reason to grumble about the National Museum Wales of late, certainly if you are an archaeologist. One of the things that I have found most troubling about the closure of the archaeology gallery, is that a major part of the Welsh story will be lost to audiences in the city centre. A museum stacked with international art collections is not a National Museum, it is a National Gallery - an institution which serves a very different purpose. That being said, a National Gallery which explores Welsh themes would be no bad addition to the Welsh landscape, and is a concept which frequently generates excitement in Senedd debates (coming up once a year or so). When the contemporary art gallery opened in the National Museum Wales, it did so with a notion that this space would allow the museum to explore Welsh artists and Welsh works of art. In the early days, this was achieved quite effectively. However subsequent exhibitions have includes 'The Queen: Art and Image', 'Pop and Abstract' and of course the Artes Mundi prize displays - all of which were highly questionable in terms of their relevance to an exploration of Welsh themes, certainly Welsh artists were ephemeral contributors at best to such displays. Officially launching tomorrow though, is the 'Wales Visitation: Poetry, Romanticism and Myth in Art'. It is, I would argue, the first National Museum Wales exhibition to be inspired by the use of LSD, it taking its inspiration from Allen Ginsberg's 1967 wanderings through the Welsh landscape. I'm looking forward to getting down to the museum next week, but I've heard bits and pieces about the collection, which will include the likes of 'The Bard', and a Mari Lwyd. I'm hoping for something wonderfully bizarre, but first and foremost I'm hoping for something Welsh. Early indications suggest that this exhibition will do just that, and my hope is that this becomes the norm, rather than the special. You will find lots of voices who will, unofficially of course, state their concerns about the changes taking place in Cardiff - but unless there is change at directorate level, a 'museum of art' is exactly what Cardiff will become. If that is to be the case, it is of increased importance that such themes and concepts are explored in the National Galleries - Welsh archaeology is about to be jettisoned from the National story, were the same to be said of Welsh narratives generally, it would be a great shame indeed. Such ideas may seem OTT, but the National Museum I walk through today, seems to have less and less to do with Wales with each passing year. So, here's hoping for good and freaky, but above all, Welsh things with 'Wales Visitation', and an emphasis on such themes for the future. Wales Visitation: Allen Ginsberg
White fog lifting & falling on mountain-brow Trees moving in rivers of wind The clouds arise as on a wave, gigantic eddy lifting mist above teeming ferns exquisitely swayed along a green crag glimpsed thru mullioned glass in valley raine— Bardic, O Self, Visitacione, tell naught but what seen by one man in a vale in Albion, of the folk, whose physical sciences end in Ecology, the wisdom of earthly relations, of mouths & eyes interknit ten centuries visible orchards of mind language manifest human, of the satanic thistle that raises its horned symmetry flowering above sister grass-daisies’ pink tiny bloomlets angelic as lightbulbs— Remember 160 miles from London’s symmetrical thorned tower & network of TV pictures flashing bearded your Self the lambs on the tree-nooked hillside this day bleating heard in Blake’s old ear, & the silent thought of Wordsworth in eld Stillness clouds passing through skeleton arches of Tintern Abbey— Bard Nameless as the Vast, babble to Vastness! All the Valley quivered, one extended motion, wind undulating on mossy hills a giant wash that sank white fog delicately down red runnels on the mountainside whose leaf-branch tendrils moved asway in granitic undertow down— and lifted the floating Nebulous upward, and lifted the arms of the trees and lifted the grasses an instant in balance and lifted the lambs to hold still and lifted the green of the hill, in one solemn wave A solid mass of Heaven, mist-infused, ebbs thru the vale, a wavelet of Immensity, lapping gigantic through Llanthony Valley, the length of all England, valley upon valley under Heaven’s ocean tonned with cloud-hang, —Heaven balanced on a grassblade. Roar of the mountain wind slow, sigh of the body, One Being on the mountainside stirring gently Exquisite scales trembling everywhere in balance, one motion thru the cloudy sky-floor shifting on the million feet of daisies, one Majesty the motion that stirred wet grass quivering to the farthest tendril of white fog poured down through shivering flowers on the mountain’s head— No imperfection in the budded mountain, Valleys breathe, heaven and earth move together, daisies push inches of yellow air, vegetables tremble, grass shimmers green sheep speckle the mountainside, revolving their jaws with empty eyes, horses dance in the warm rain, tree-lined canals network live farmland, blueberries fringe stone walls on hawthorn’d hills, pheasants croak on meadows haired with fern— Out, out on the hillside, into the ocean sound, into delicate gusts of wet air, Fall on the ground, O great Wetness, O Mother, No harm on your body! Stare close, no imperfection in the grass, each flower Buddha-eye, repeating the story, myriad-formed— Kneel before the foxglove raising green buds, mauve bells dropped doubled down the stem trembling antennae, & look in the eyes of the branded lambs that stare breathing stockstill under dripping hawthorn— I lay down mixing my beard with the wet hair of the mountainside, smelling the brown vagina-moist ground, harmless, tasting the violet thistle-hair, sweetness— One being so balanced, so vast, that its softest breath moves every floweret in the stillness on the valley floor, trembles lamb-hair hung gossamer rain-beaded in the grass, lifts trees on their roots, birds in the great draught hiding their strength in the rain, bearing same weight, Groan thru breast and neck, a great Oh! to earth heart Calling our Presence together The great secret is no secret Senses fit the winds, Visible is visible, rain-mist curtains wave through the bearded vale, gray atoms wet the wind’s kabbala Crosslegged on a rock in dusk rain, rubber booted in soft grass, mind moveless, breath trembles in white daisies by the roadside, Heaven breath and my own symmetric Airs wavering thru antlered green fern drawn in my navel, same breath as breathes thru Capel-Y-Ffn, Sounds of Aleph and Aum through forests of gristle, my skull and Lord Hereford’s Knob equal, All Albion one. What did I notice? Particulars! The vision of the great One is myriad— smoke curls upward from ashtray, house fire burned low, The night, still wet & moody black heaven starless upward in motion with wet wind. I finally managed to get down to the Wallace: The Forgotten Evolutionist? exhibition in the National Museum Wales a couple of weeks ago, the temporary display having been in Cardiff since October (and due to close in the second week of March). Alfred Russel Wallace has always been a fascinating individual, certainly for his work on evolution theory, but also, from a personal perspective, for his treatment as a Welshman. On this topic, the exhibition in Cardiff is a brilliant exercise in claiming an individual for Wales, or at least selling a particularly Welsh narrative, on fairly flimsy foundations. The exhibition in general is an engaging but brief work, shuffled back to the very deepest part of the Natural History galleries. Built around four to five central themes, the exhibition explores the activities of Wallace in Wales in some detail, before focusing in on his time spent travelling overseas, finally looping around to the publication of his works, and the reception of his and Darwin’s theories (with very brief mention of spiritualism included). This is a text heavy display, and frustratingly repetitive on occasion. A wonderful gallery of cartoons interpreting the major stages of Wallace’s life split the exhibition, are certainly amusing (and arguably far more engaging than the reams of text), but rehash much of that which is covered elsewhere. What seems oddly lacking though are the physical testaments of Wallace’s work, the natural history collections. Where animals collected by Wallace are on display, they are on occasion respective of the way in which Wallace may have collected and stored his samples. A central display case makes no attempt at sentiment, with birds laid out flat with identification tags, as if part of a scientific collection, rather than staged in posed positions. Yet such displays are infrequent. Where the exhibition boasts of Wallace having collected some 125,000 species, and over 1000 species new to science, there is only a small handful of these examples for visitors to engage with. Whether this was for issues of sensitivity, or simple practicality is unclear, but it does seem a missed opportunity given the overall tone of the exhibition. In terms of the Welsh question, the first third of the gallery is important. There is no doubt that Wallace spent time in Wales, having been born and then spending the first few years of his life near Usk in south east Wales. However, the bulk of his youth was spent on the other side of the border (albeit close to Wales) and then later in London. It would not be until Wallace neared his twenties that he would return to Wales to work, and the period in which he was surveying sites in Wales amounted to little more than five years in total. The first third of the gallery however is devoted almost exclusively to these (so called) formative years. At various points, the exhibition alludes to the Welsh connection, with the opening text panel gambit citing ‘Welsh Beginnings’. Charting his movements around Wales, working in Neath and surveying the surrounding landscapes, this section of the exhibition ends by stating that: ‘There is no doubt that Wallace’s time working and living in Wales played a pivotal role in his development as a leading naturalist and social thinker.’ Before the exhibition ends, the museum proudly states that Wallace’s achievements were ‘not bad for a self-educated man from Usk in Wales’. While the museum does not make the final leap of claiming Wallace as a Welshman (which interesting the Independent did in 2013), it is not far off it. Now, the one thing I suppose I should make clear, is that this is not really supposed to be critical of the museum. We have a long standing tradition in Wales of making the most of any Welsh connection we can find when it comes to individuals of repute and events of significance. What this does serve to illustrate though, is the ease with which a museum can spin and weave an interpretive narrative to serve its own purposes. In embracing the work of Wallace in a Welsh context, Wales suddenly has a ‘pivotal role’ to play in the theory of evolution. This may not be entirely inaccurate, but equally it is not entirely accurate either. What it is, is a narrative choice, one designed to justify the Welsh connection, and, presumably, attract visitors on these grounds. Wallace becomes a Welshman in this exhibition, not through such a status being explicitly stated, but certainly through its implicit telling. That is not to say that Wallace can’t or should not be presented as a Welshman, simply to say that there are a very many other ways in which the story could have been spun. The Natural History Museum’s treatment of Wallace certainly does not dwell on the Welsh connection for very long, but then Welsh connections are no priority for a London museum. In this respect, the National Museum Wales does a very good job indeed of almost telling us that Wallace was a Welshman. Six and a half years ago, one of the most engaging and innovative displays of archaeology seen in Wales was opened. In 2007, the Origins Gallery in the National Museum of Wales became the home for the national archaeological narrative. Having previously been stretched out over multiple floors and several galleries, the archaeology collections suffered from a change in museum strategy, and were relocated into a much smaller display area, into what was always intended to be a temporary exhibition. Come the 2nd of March, 2014, there will be no doubt as to the temporary status of this display, it will close, permanently. With the closure of the Origins gallery, the city centre museum will bid farewell to the displayed archaeological materials. This is particularly significant because since the very earliest days of the national museum project in Wales, archaeology has been a significant contributor to the museum displays and collections. With Mortimer Wheeler at the helm, first as a Keeper of Archaeology, but later as Director of the entire institution, the archaeological narrative played a defining role in considerations of what Wales was built on, and where a sense of Welsh identity came from. No more. In the coming years, the redevelopment of St Fagans will come to fruition, and in one form or another, archaeology themed displays will find a new place of residence. It waits to be seen what level of prominence this narrative will have in a site that continues to struggle in efforts to shake off long standing associations with folk narratives. Yet this is the climate into which archaeology will, in the future, be seen and explored. Only time will tell if this is going to work out well for archaeology in Wales, and while there are many who have voiced concerns about this shift, we can now only get behind the project, and work hard to ensure that archaeology becomes a centre piece of the new St Fagans, rather a neglected side show, hidden in the background. For now though, we need think less of the future for a moment, and take advantage of the amazing resource that we have in Wales while we still can. At time of writing there are only 25 days left in which the Origins gallery can be explored. While St Fagans will certainly display some of these collections, it is currently impossible to say when these items will be accessible for public consumption again. The likes of the Capel Garmon firedog, the Roman Leopard Cup, stones from Bryn Celli Ddu, and the ogham marked standing stones, are only a small selection of the world class archaeological collections on display in Cardiff. Wales is culturally richer for their display. Equally, we are worse off for their now inevitable retreat. At Caerleon, University of South Wales, we have made consistent use of the Origins gallery, in terms of aiding student understanding of the early Wales narrative, but also in the exploration of a wealth of display and interpretation issues. It has been a tremendous and valuable resource on so many levels, and from a very personal perspective, I will sincerely lament the loss this archaeology gallery. So, while you still can, I implore you to visit this gem of a collection, ponder both the archaeological and museological issues, but most of all, enjoy it, as there are few finer displays of archaeology to be had on this island.
'Heritage' Minister John Griffiths views the Mold Cape.
Be forewarned - there is a touch of the angry rant about this one, though I prefer to think of it more as a passionate perspective. I find the Mold Cape troubling, a beautiful, inspiring, technically brilliant, but ultimately troubling object. For the next few months, you can see the Mold Cape in Wales. Take the chance while you can, such occasions are few and far between, and duration of such visits are frequently ‘blink and you miss it’ moments. Before you know it, it will be packed up, shipped off, and back on display in London. Yet the ‘return’ of this object to Wales, initially to the south and then up to the north, does not really feel to me like something that should be celebrated. Instead it should be something that forces anyone in Wales with a love of culture, archaeology, or Welsh history in general, to ask some serious questions, of the object, and perhaps ourselves. I won’t disguise my delight at being able to peer at the cape at close quarters in Cardiff this week. It is a stunning example of Bronze Age gold working, and rightly placed in the company of the British Museum’s – ‘A History of the World in 100 Objects’ series. I had the comfort and space to explore the object for roughly half an hour during this last week [while managing to drop into the Origins Gallery at other points in the week as well], after all, there was next to no one else looking at the object while I was there, so no competition for viewing rights, no shoulder barging required. And while twitter trends are probably not the most reliable means of gauging public interest in an object or collection, a grand total of some twenty tweets on the objects return to Cardiff, at the very least indicates that the social networking communities are yet to be inspired by the cape coming to Wales. So why the lack of interest? Perhaps I should put my cards on the table, if you hadn’t already guessed it, I strongly believe that this object should be living permanently in Wales, if anything, Welsh museums should be loaning the object to the British Museum and not the other way around. I have never bought into the notion that this key Welsh object being displayed in central London somehow does anything beneficial for wider appreciation and understanding of Welsh archaeology/history/culture. Yet, what might be perceived as a lack of interest at the cape’s return, perhaps indicates why it should not be here, if audiences in Wales don’t care enough to come and look, what right do any of us have to argue for its return? Well, plenty of right. I have long feared that the disconnection between audience and object is symptomatic of the lack of engagement between audiences in Wales, and Welsh history. How are Welsh children, year on year, supposed to be encouraged to engage with our prehistoric narratives, inspired by the great artistic achievements to be produced on Welsh soil, when the greatest tangible products of those periods are behind glass case, some 150 miles away, in another country? This factor I fear is the key component in understanding why interest is so ephemeral. How might we be expected to launch a meaningful repatriation campaign when so few people in Wales seem to have any awareness that this object originated in Wales? The Mold Cape troubles me, because it should be in Wales, we should be fighting for it to be in Wales, but we don't, and we seem to have no inclination to ever do so - a situation which will only be reinforced through the continued absence of such works in Wales. Political representatives in Wales seem pretty happy to go along with the status quo as well. Culturally, we remain the junior partner, in spite of a decade of devolution. This is the ideal opportunity for political and cultural voices to make the claim – but none will. In turn, this should really challenge us to ask why bother loaning the object in the first place? If we don't care enough to fight for Welsh cultural heritage to be on Welsh soil all the time, why should we then care about such items dropping back in for several weeks – as suggested above, having spent some time with the collection in Cardiff, it seems that we don't care, and that should be the most troubling element of all. We should value the Mold Cape, we should appreciate its return, but then we should do one of two things. Fight for its return, or try to understand why we are content in Wales for such objects to reside outside of the daily reach of Welsh audiences? One or the other should be considered essential for the future of archaeological and cultural collections in Wales. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Welsh heritage is winging its way around the world in the name of culture and, perhaps more pressingly, economics. ‘Wales, Land of the Red Dragon’, the title of the new exhibition to be hosted in China’s Three Gorges Museum, is the latest in a series of Welsh Government led efforts to develop trade opportunities on the back of cultural programmes. Following in the footsteps of National Museum impressionist art collections farmed out to all corners of the United States, and the Smithsonian Folklife Festival, trade delegations and conservators alike have packed their bags and shared a taxi to a foreign destination, all in the name of enhancing the Wales brand abroad. Many in the museums and heritage sector back home in Wales might raise an eyebrow though, as during a time when the museums and, in particular, art sectors are being squeezed to the point of oblivion in places (look no further than Newport’s art gallery), the very same resources which are being used to sell Wales, are suffering back in Wales. Whether we consider the fate of temporary art exhibits in Newport following a few years on from the use of ‘Welsh’ art collections to woo the American markets, or we dwell on National Museum collections being presented to potential partners in China at a time when jobs and wages are being trimmed in the very same institution, the message is conflicting. The Welsh heritage resource has certainly been identified by the current Labour administration as having the potential to aid in the fostering of foreign relationships, but it remains unclear whether or not, be it at national or local government level, this promotional position will have any meaningful long term effects for the heritage being used. It is difficult to imagine any cultural institution having too many qualms with being made use of on the international stage for the promotion of a nation. Yet those same institutions might question whether the commitment to the Welsh heritage resource is being matched at home in terms of funding and legislative priorities. At the same time, can we question what version of Wales will be put forward to Chinese audience? The National Museum website talks of telling the Welsh story in full, but bolds the periods of ‘Roman occupation to the English conquest’. Will China see a vibrant contemporary Wales, or a Wales trodden on by repeated visits from aggressor states? Remembering the Dazu rock carving exhibition that visited the National Museum from China shortly before the 2011 referendum on Welsh law making powers, it was an exhibition stunning in quality of content, but disappointing in terms of scale – it was a very small exhibit for all the fanfare it received. Will Wales’ contribution be similar in scale? If so, how effectively will it represent the ‘unique character of Wales’? Or will this instead be an exercise in object display? The exhibition in the Three Gorges Museum in Chongqing officially opens tomorrow, and feedback will be awaited with great interest. |
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