Birmingham

Art’s Not Meant to be Easy

Posted on by Platypus Man

A few months ago, while we were spending a couple of days in Birmingham, we stumbled across a piece of public art that is as controversial as it is unusual. A Real Birmingham Family, by sculptor Gillian Wearing, depicts two local sisters – each single mothers, one of them heavily pregnant – with their two children. Cast in bronze, the sculpture was erected in Centenary Square, prominently positioned in front of the Library of Birmingham, in 2014. A storm’s been raging around it ever since.

Most of the figurative public art found in cities and towns across the UK features folk who might loosely described as representatives of ‘the great and the good‘, although, to be blunt, a number of them were neither great nor good, but simply had an effective PR machine behind them!

Representations of past and present royalty, politicians, war heroes, cultural and sporting icons, and sundry local bigwigs clutter our public footways. Their subjects are predominantly male and overwhelmingly White, and the statues seemingly yell “look at me, look at me, aren’t I important!” to anyone glancing in their direction. Diversity is in short supply, and the sculptures mostly seem detached from the realities of everyday life. So I’m left wondering, what about ordinary folk? Where are the statues depicting people like me and you? Don’t we count too? What about our lives?

Similar thoughts may have crossed the mind of managers at Birmingham’s Ikon Gallery of contemporary art in 2011, when they initiated a process to find a “real” Birmingham family to model for the sculpture. Nominations were invited, but what constitutes a “real” family was not specified. From the nominations received four families were shortlisted, with the eventual winners being selected by a panel of community, cultural and religious figures. Here’s what the curator of the Ikon Gallery had to say about the winners:

“Their story is compelling and says much about contemporary Birmingham. Two mixed-race sisters, both single-parents with happy, lively young boys, who identify themselves strongly with the city of their birth. The variety of nominations to ‘A Real Birmingham Family’ has shown us that while the traditional, nuclear family may no longer be the norm, the ties that bind us together are as strong as ever.”

Stuart Tulloch, quoted in the Birmingham Mail 28 August 2013, retrieved 17 November 2022

It’s evident from Tulloch’s statement that A Real Birmingham Family is a million miles away from the typical statue found on the UK’s streets. They are not drawn from the dubious ranks of ‘the great and the good’. Rather, in the nicest possible way, the Jones sisters and their kids are just ordinary people, a loving family supporting one another and living the best lives they can, even though the path they have taken does not conform with long-standing societal norms. Surely this something worthy of celebration?

And yet the sculpture has drawn stinging criticism from some quarters because, as one commentator has claimed, it is “a sad betrayal of the traditional values that held great communities like Birmingham together…[and] a totem for extreme feminists who more and more argue that women don’t need men at all.”

Anyone who knows me will not be surprised to learn that I don’t see it that way!

If the artist’s intention was to propose that single parent arrangements are inevitably superior to traditional, nuclear family set-ups, then there might be cause for complaint. But surely that isn’t what Wearing’s work is telling us? What she seems to be saying is that while most of us – I suspect – have been raised in a nuclear family, alternative family models can also be successful. Her piece is a commentary, an observation of one way in which families can function effectively in the 21st century. Other options are also available!

I fully understand that this piece of public art may be uncomfortable for anyone wedded to tradition, for anyone who instinctively believes that the old ways are inevitably the best ways, or indeed the only acceptable ways. But by seeking to challenge careless stereotypes and preconceptions, Wearing is doing one the jobs that it is an artist’s duty to perform: she is making us reflect, making us debate, making us think critically about the world in which we live, even if the process is painful. Art’s not meant to be easy.

Birmingham, the Venice of the North. Really?

Posted on by Platypus Man

In some circles Birmingham, a city in the English Midlands just 50 miles / 80km from Platypus Towers, is referred to as The Venice of the North. Really? Venice, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is one of the premier jewels in Europe’s cultural crown, “an extraordinary architectural masterpiece in which even the smallest building contains works by some of the world’s greatest artists such as Giorgione, Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese and others.” Birmingham, however…

Difficult to believe this was taken in the very centre of Birmingham, the UK’s “second city”, population 1.15 million

Although its origins are much older, Birmingham owes its prominent position to the Industrial Revolution. Central to the city’s growth was the production of metal-based goods. It became known as “the city of a thousand trades”, where a myriad of small workshops employed skilled craftsmen to manufacture high quality finished products. It was dynamic and prosperous, but it was no Venice!

Comparisons with Venice are woefully wide of the mark, except in one particular regard: canals. Venice is a city of canals, and Birmingham too has a web of waterways dating from the 18th and 19th centuries. These were excavated to bring in the raw materials needed by local workshops, and to carry away the finished goods they produced to markets throughout the country.

Pretty soon, Birmingham was at the heart of the national canal network. The city thrived, and the nation’s canals bustled with activity. But the development of railways in the mid-19th century heralded a change in fortunes for the canal network locally and nationally. Rail transport – and later, transport by road – proved quicker and therefore cheaper than the carriage of materials and goods by water. Birmingham’s canal network declined, and by 1980 all commercial traffic had stopped.

Once the lifeblood of the city, Birmingham’s canals morphed into fetid rubbish dumps and the warehouses lining them became neglected eyesores, derelict and anachronistic. They served no real purpose, and it’s easy to imagine that some bright spark might have thought it would be a good idea to fill in the waterways and bulldoze the associated buildings.

But fortunately, the City Council recognised that if they were sensitively restored, Birmingham’s canals could help drive the city’s regeneration. Work began in the late 1980s, and when we visited a few months ago we were able to see how this far-sighted vision has been put into practice.

Historic toll house, where users of the canal once paid for the privilege

Gas Street Basin is the hub of the city’s canal network, located in what is today the heart of Birmingham’s cosmopolitan nightlife and shopping districts. Here we walked along towpaths lined with vibrant cafés, bars, restaurants and modern buildings, and were also pleased to spot some fine examples of historic canal architecture. Several narrowboats were moored in the basin, adding to the area’s quaint charm.

As we continued our stroll along the towpath, past modern developments that included the International Conference Centre, the National Indoor Arena and the National Sea Life Centre, we encountered plenty of pedestrians and dog-walkers, and some cyclists and joggers too. All were taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, away from the noise and mayhem of the frantic city centre streets.

Gas Street Basin

Meanwhile, colourful narrowboats chugged slowly along the waterways, offering holidaymakers and tourists an unexpected perspective on what is known as the UK’s “second city” (after London, of course!).

Along the way we stopped off for a drink at one of Birmingham’s most distinctive historic buildings. The Roundhouse was built in 1874 as a giant stable complex where 50 horses that worked on the canal could be housed. The need for the facility is long-gone (none of the narrowboats now using the canals are drawn by horses), and for some time the future of the building was in doubt.

However, creative minds have come up with a way forward: now run by a charitable trust, the Roundhouse has been repurposed as a visitor centre, café, display space and offices. It also acts “as a launchpad to explore Birmingham’s brilliant stories and place…[offering] canal-based kayaking, city walking tours, [and] boat trips.”

The Roundhouse, which once provided stabling for 50 working canal horses

As we enjoyed our mochas there was time to reflect on what a good job the city authorities have done in revitalising Birmingham’s canal network and infrastructure. While Birmingham is clearly nothing like Venice, the canals give the city a distinctive character that reflects its unique heritage. A canal network dating back over two hundred years could have become a serious burden to the city and its people in the 21st century, but visionary, enterprising developments have turned it into a genuine asset. Well done, Birmingham, I salute you!

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Postscript: Venice of the North

Birmingham is not the only place that has been labelled the Venice of the North. Other nominees include Saint Petersburg (Russia); Amsterdam (Netherlands); Giethoorn (Netherlands); Bruges (Belgium); Stockholm (Sweden); Copenhagen (Denmark); and Alesund (Norway). To which I can only say, get a grip, guys. Each of these places has its own merits, and should stand or fall by those merits rather resorting to spurious comparisons with another, very different place!

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Saving the Raging Bull

Posted on by Platypus Man

Art comes in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes it’s very surprising, occasionally awe-inspiring. Take Raging Bull, for example, the 10 metres high sculpture that starred in the Commonwealth Games opening ceremony earlier in the year. Weighing in at 2.5 tonnes the armoured bull has a massive wow factor, so when we visited Birmingham a few weeks ago to see Chris de Burgh in concert we were determined to spend a spare morning tracking down this modern masterpiece of mechanical public art.

The sculpture is made mostly out of machinery sourced from factories in and around Birmingham, and is intended as a symbol of the city’s journey through a turbulent past to the present day. It was designed, built, and mechanised by a team of around 60 people from UK-based special effects company Artem. The head, legs and tail can be manoeuvred by a crew of puppeteers and technicians, aided by a tractor unit cunningly concealed beneath the body. It can also breathe smoke and flash its eyes red. It is, as today’s kids would probably tell you, proper awesome!

Towering over Birmingham’s Centenary Square

Unsurprisingly, Raging Bull made a huge impression when he entered the arena at the opening of the Commonwealth Games, striding majestically across the running track towards the centre of the stadium. But he has a softer side too, as another YouTube video demonstrates:

But what is surprising, however, is how those in positions of power totally failed to predict the likely public impact of this colossal mechanical sculpture. No provision was made to put it on permanent display after the Games had ended, and Raging Bull was destined for the scrapyard.

Looking down on Raging Bull from one of the upper floors of the Library of Birmingham

However, when Brummies – that is, the people of Birmingham – learned of his intended fate there was an outpouring of protest, in part no doubt because the city has a long association with bulls. Birmingham’s primary retail complex, the Bullring, is built on land where – between the 16th and late 18th centuries – bulls were baited prior to slaughter in the erroneous belief that this would tenderise their meat. Thankfully this barbaric practice is now outlawed, but echoes of it survive in the name of the modern shopping centre (mall) and in the bronze bull statue that was erected there in 2003.

Not the Raging Bull! This bronze bull statue in the Bullring Shopping Centre is by Laurence Broderick. Although splendid, it’s just modest in size when compared with Raging Bull! IMAGE CREDIT: “Bullie – the Bullring bull – The Guardian – towards the West Mall” by ell brown is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

In addition, Raging Bull was widely seen by locals as a positive symbol of their – and, indeed their city’s – qualities of determination, persistence and strength. Brummies felt they could relate to him and perceived him as something to be proud of, to treasure even. So, when more than 10,000 people signed up to a campaign to save him, it became clear that a rescue mission was required.

To buy a bit of time while a plan was worked out, after the Games ended he was moved temporarily to Centenary Square. This was where Mrs P and I were able to see him, albeit as a static work of art rather than a walking, smoking, glowing monster. Never mind, he was magnificent just the same.

Behind Raging Bull is the Hall of Memory, a war memorial completed in 1925 that commemorates the 12,320 Birmingham citizens who died in World War 1

At the time of writing a final decision on just where Raging Bull will spend the rest of his days has yet to be made. It appears that his huge bulk, as well as the need to protect him from inclement weather, is presenting a few challenges! An indoor home of generous proportions is clearly required.

Raging Bull gazes out across Centenary Square towards the magnificent Library of Birmingham, the largest public library in England. It opened in 2013.

Raging Bull was removed from Centenary Square at the end of September, and for now languishes in an abandoned carpark next to a portable toilet, under the watchful eye of a security guard! Things may currently look bleak, but the city authorities are adamant that his future is assured. They’d better be true to their word. Although a bit unconventional, Raging Bull is a wonderful work of art, an inspiring creation that we simply cannot afford to lose.