Yorkshire Wildlife Park opened in 2009 on the site of a former riding school and petting zoo, and has grown steadily ever since. We aim to visit several times each year, to check up on old friends and to look out for new kids on the block. And I’m delighted to report that thanks to a couple of old friends getting it together there is indeed a new kid on the block, in the form of Carlos, a beautiful young Venezuelan Red Howler Monkey.
Carlos was born on 29 April 2023. He was exactly 5 months old when this photo was taken.
This species of howler monkey is native to the western Amazon basin, in parts of Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Brazil, where they live in the tree canopy. Their diet consists largely of leaves, supplemented with a mixture of nuts, fruits, seeds, flowers and small animals. Howlers are named for the ear-splitting guttural roar that males produce to mark their territory and warn off potential intruders.
Venezuelan Red Howlers can live up to 20 years in the wild, but have become increasingly rare due to hunting and habitat destruction. Collections in zoos and conservation centres are therefore an important insurance policy helping to support the long-term future of the species. Yorkshire Wildlife Park is home to England’s only Venezuelan Red Howlers, and the good news is that the adult monkeys who live there have been doing their bit to boost numbers.
Carlos was born at the end of April 2023, the second child of mum Tila and dad Geronimo. Their first offspring was born in October 2021, and Yorkshire Wildlife Park was understandably proud that this ground-breaking birth of a Venezuelan Red Howler Monkey had taken place on their turf. Within a few days the Park was sharing Tila and Geronimo’s news with the world, telling anyone who cared to listen that their son was to be named Pablo.
Interestingly, Pablo is now called Pabla and is referred to as Carlos’s big sister. Oops! Media releases in the days following the birth of baby Carlos were quick to point out that “It’s still too early to tell the sex of the baby”, implying that keepers may have been a bit too eager to do just that when the first youngster was born. It wasn’t until nearly three months after his birth that Carlos’s gender and name were revealed on Facebook, accompanied by a piece of video footage clearly showing him to be a very well endowed young man – no mistakes this time!
The top left and middle left photos were taken on 6 July 2023, when Carlos was just 68 days old! He was almost 12 months old when he was pictured hanging upside down (top right). In the remaining two photos he is 5 months old.
The name Carlos was apparently chosen to reflect the monkey’s Hispanic heritage, while at the same time marking the fact he was born just a few days before the UK’s new king was crowned. But whether King Charles III is amused to have a red-haired, prehensile-tailed, ballsy baby monkey named after him must forever remain a mystery.
Mrs P and I first encountered Carlos in early July 2023, just a few days before his gender and name were announced to the world. Although he clearly wanted to remain close to his mum most of the time, he was already demonstrating an adventurous spirit when he set off to explore the trees growing in his enclosure. His agility was plain to see, as was his burgeoning manhood – check it out by following the link to my short video on YouTube.
When we visited Yorkshire Wildlife Park again two weeks ago Carlos had clearly grown in both size and confidence. As my video shows, he strutted arrogantly about the place like a teenager of our own species, fearlessly challenging himself to scuttle along – and dangle precariously from – ropes that are strung across the Red Howlers’ enclosure. What a great guy he’s become.
Watching Carlos’s performance, as well as the antics of his parents and sister, is a real joy. I wonder what new monkey business they’ll be up to when we next pay them a visit?
Many of the UK’s grand stately homes rely on entrance fees to pay for their upkeep. And their owners have long recognised that a few random yuletide decorations, plus the occasional fir tree draped in flashing lights, are a sure-fire way to boost winter visitor numbers and income. After all, we Brits are creatures of habit – we’ve seen all of this a hundred times before but, what the hell, it’s the season of goodwill so we’ll gladly pay to see it again somewhere else. And so it was that this year Mrs P and I ended up at Burton Constable Hall. 
Located in a sparsely populated corner of East Yorkshire, Burton Constable Hall dates from the mid-16th century. A couple of hundred years later it had become unfashionable, and so was substantially redesigned and rebuilt in the 1760s by owner William Constable (1721-1791) to give us the building we see today.
The exterior of the Hall is impressive, but not nearly as spectacular as its interior. Some of the stately homes we have visited over the years at Christmas have gone so overboard with their seasonal decorations that the rooms themselves have almost become invisible. You could be anywhere, with the merits of the buildings becoming lost beneath a mound of gaudy yuletide bling.
Fortunately this was not the case at Burton Constable, where the grand rooms remained the stars of the show. The Christmas trees – often tucked away unobtrusively in corners – and other decorations we encountered were well executed without being excessive, discreet seasonal additions that in no way detracted from the Hall’s Georgian elegance.
Having said that, we look forward to returning at another time of year, when Christmas is but a distant memory, to focus exclusively on Burton Constable’s history, architecture and design. This is an exceptional building, regardless of the season of the year, and deserves to be better known than appears to be the case.
And with that, it’s time for me to sign off for 2023 by thanking anyone out there who ever reads or comments on this blog. Your continuing interest has helped keep my spirits up throughout another challenging year. It’s my absolute pleasure to wish you a Merry Christmas, and Happy & Healthy New Year. See you in 2024, guys!
By late November Christmas is already impossible to avoid. Television channels are boasting endlessly about their holiday schedules. Shops are groaning under the weight of seasonal goodies. A yuletide wreath, laden with holly and ivy, is proudly displayed on a neighbour’s front door. And in stately homes up and down the land the Christmas lights and decorations are going up, sending their electricity bills through the roof. But no worries – we, the paying public, will cover the cost!
Castle Howard is a grand stately home in North Yorkshire. Dating from the 18th century, it’s said to be one of England’s finest historic houses, set in a parkland dotted with lakes, fountains, temples and statues. Twelve months ago we were fascinated by a television programme revealing the extraordinary lengths to which its owners go to attract hordes of additional visitors during the Christmas season, so this year we vowed to check it our for ourselves.
Every year Castle Howard selects a new theme for its Christmas celebrations, and in 2023 it is Peter Pan’s turn to put on a show. Here’s what the visitor guide has to say about it:
This year we fly to Christmas in Neverland, entering the world of J M Barrie’s boy who never grew up. It’s a world of sparkles and shadows, of pirates and mermaids, of shaggy dogs and Darlings, where dreams and reality fade imperceptibly from one to the other. Where better to find the story of daydreams made real than in the fantastical surroundings of Castle Howard?
Source: Printed guide for visitors to “Christmas in Neverland” at Castle Howard
Wow, they don’t lack ambition, do they? And modesty’s clearly not their strong point either! But is all this hype justified by the reality of Castle Howard’s extravaganza? Read on and find out.
Sadly, things don’t start well. We’ve already bought timed tickets over the internet, which should allow us to walk straight in at our allotted hour. But when we arrive queues are snaking out of the entrance into the courtyard, and it’s 30 minutes or more before we can get out of the cold and begin our tour.
My cynical outlook on life quickly leads me to conclude the underlying problem is greed, too many tickets sold in a feverish attempt to make as much money as possible. As it happens, a friendly member of staff suggests the problem is a coach full of visitors that has arrived late and thrown the rest of the day’s schedule into disarray. Hmm, OK, sounds plausible…maybe.
But anyway, all things must pass, and in due course we get into Castle Howard and begin our exploration of Neverland. And now I have a confession to make…Peter Pan’s never appealed to me! Don’t know why, but the concept of a perpetual child, his fairy companion and random pirates, Lost Boys and crocodiles leaves me cold.
On the deck of the Jolly Roger, Captain Hook’s pirate ship
So although a series of more than a dozen extravagantly dressed rooms and other spaces are designed to take the visitor chronologically through the Peter Pan story, it doesn’t really work for me as I’ve never read the book or seen the film. I must therefore judge what we see at Castle Howard simply as a visual spectacle, regardless of the links to J M Barrie’s tall tale.
The mermaid’s bedchamber
As it happens, the spectacle is, well…spectacular. Although I don’t know the story I can appreciate the tableaux depicting it, including a bath-time scene, the deck of a pirate ship, a mermaid’s bedchamber and a dining table set out with a lavish Christmas feast.
Bath time!
With a nod in the direction of the Disney movie, there are also some action scenes created through the projection of moving shadows on to brightly lit walls and ceilings. These include the fairy Tinker Bell flitting hither and thither, and Peter Pan and the evil pirate Captain Hook fighting with cutlasses. It’s all very entertaining, enthralling visitors both young and old. At one point an enormous shadow crocodile appears out of nowhere and snaps his jaws at the horrible Hook. Go on my son, do your worst!
The cutlass fight between Captain Hook and Peter Pan, cleverly depicted in moving shadows
Clearly, no expense has been spared to create a festive atmosphere in Castle Howard’s Neverland. Coloured lights and lavish decorations abound, just what we need to get us in the mood for Christmas. And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it. The world’s in a bad way right now, and an afternoon’s innocent escapism offers a welcome break from the relentless torrent of bad news that threatens to drown us all.
Table laid for the Lost Boys’ feast
Well done, Castle Howard, for this brave attempt to raise the spirits of your visitors. Even the queues didn’t spoil our day there – it’s the season of goodwill, after all, so I’ve forgiven you! But we must make a return trip at another time of year, so we can fully appreciate the house itself without being distracted by all that gaudy Christmas bling.
We took a day trip to Yorkshire Wildlife Park last week. It was great to catch up with their iconic critters, a couple of which – Amur Tigers and Warty Pigs – have featured in earlier posts on this blog. But there was a new exhibit that also caught the eye. As well as investing in 21st century wildlife and conservation, the Park has also been throwing money at Pangea, where kids both young and old can get up close and personal with the dinosaur of their dreams.
Dilophosaurus
When we visited the Park in December for its annual winter Festival of Lights and Lanterns, illuminated dinosaurs were much in evidence. But although the seasons have changed since then, and the Christmas lights have been packed away, the prehistoric presence remains. According to the Park’s website, Pangea “is home to over 30 life-sized moving ROARING dinosaurs! From the terrifying T-Rex to the villainous Velociraptors, you will find everyone’s favourite Jurassic characters in the heart of Doncaster!” Plainly dinosaurs are for life, not just for Christmas.
Big, fierce and scary, dinosaurs fire the imagination. I’m sure some of the youngsters who visit the Pangea exhibit come away with a secret dream to become fossil hunters, spending their lives searching for the remains of the iconic, long-gone beasts. It’s an enticing notion, but the reality is very different. During our many trips to the USA, Mrs P and I have visited several dinosaur fossil sites. Here, eager visitors are greeted by a near-incomprehensible jumble of fossilised bones, and maybe a few random, indistinct dinosaur footprints.
The search for dinosaur fossils is challenging in the extreme. Fieldwork invariably takes place in harsh, remote landscapes that are a world away from the comforts of 21st century living. The work is slow and painstaking; meticulous attention to detail and the patience of a saint are essential attributes of any wannabe dinosaur hunter.
Vernal Dinosaur Quarry, Utah (1996)Footprint at Dinosaur Ridge, Colorado (2018)
Big, ground-breaking discoveries are thin on the ground. Most days on site must be a tedious slog, groundhog days with added blisters. When the sun goes down there’s often little to show for the day’s efforts, maybe just a few more fragments of disarticulated bone that seem to bear little relation to the dreadful dinosaurs that roam our imaginations.
Few of us have the skill-set or temperament to become palaeontologists, so the display of dinosaur skeletons in museums has an important role to play in helping us understand and appreciate the world of dinosaurs. But even those skeletons have their limitations, and this is where exhibits such as Pangea come into their own.
Brontosaurus
Yes, Pangea is sensationalist and shallow, but it does bring home to visitors just how amazing dinosaurs really were. The brutal brontosaurus*, the towering tyrannosaurus and the staggering stegosaurus are given scale and context by the exhibits at Yorkshire Wildlife Park. I defy anyone to view them without thinking “Wow! Creatures like this once roamed our Earth? Really?”
Apatosaurus
Pangea is a fun, low-effort learning experience. Wearing my intellectual, pseudo-academic hat, I do wish there was an additional exhibit replicating, or based upon, one of the dinosaur discovery sites we’ve visited, so that visitors could gain some basic insights into the realities of palaeontology. I know that will never happen, but although it is a lost opportunity – in my humble opinion, anyway! – Pangea does have real value in increasing popular interest in, and knowledge of a lost world.
Velociraptor, with Tsingtaosaurus behind
Dinosaurs have been reborn at Yorkshire Wildlife Park, and I’m pleased to have made their acquaintance.
Top Left: Tsintaosaurus. Top Middle: Pachyrhinosaurus. Top Right: Ankylosaurus. Bottom Left: ? Bottom Right: T-Rex.
* OK, for anyone reading this who knows their stuff about dinosaurs, I acknowledge that the brontosaurus wasn’t actually brutal. It was a herbivore, albeit one with a HUGE appetite. But the writer in me loves the way the words “brutal brontosaurus” roll off the tongue. Sometimes, you have to sacrifice just a tad of truth on the altar of alliteration!
While Brits will know it only too well, overseas readers may be unaware that – due to the knock-on effects of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine – the UK is in the middle of an energy crisis. Prices have gone through the roof, and we are warned that energy rationing, through a rolling programme of power cuts, is a real possibility if there is a prolonged cold snap later this winter.
Everyone is being urged to be energy aware, and to cut down on power consumption if at all possible. But you’d never know that there was any problem at all, if you were basing your opinion on the Festival of Lights and Lanterns at Yorkshire Wildlife Park (YWP).
As I’ve written before, I have some reservations about keeping wild creatures in captivity (don’t we all?), but YWP seems OK. The animals are plainly well cared for, with plenty of space to roam. Importantly, the Park supports a number of conservation initiatives to breed highly endangered species in captivity, and seeks to educate visitors about their plight. But conservation costs money, so managers are happy to embrace initiatives that will attract paying members of the public through the gates. And what better way, at this festive time of year, than to flood the place with countless coloured lights?
We went to last year’s Festival of Lights and Lanterns, and had a great evening. It’s not the most obvious way to celebrate Christmas, but it worked for me and countless others too. Giant, glowing coloured lanterns were distributed throughout the Park, representing some of the critters living there, including polar bears, tigers, giraffes and okapi, and a few others that just wouldn’t feel quite at home, such as whales! There were even a few dinosaurs, poignant reminders of the world we have lost.
The regular critters – tigers, giraffes and the like – were back in force for this winter’s Festival. It was good to see these old friends, and also pleasing to note that last year’s favourites had been recycled and not simply trashed. But the big change, for the 2022/23 season, was in the population of dinosaurs, which seems to have exploded over the last few months!
And don’t the visitors love them, T-Rex and Triceratops, and all their brutish buddies? Children looked on in awe, and adults lapped it up too, a welcome opportunity to escape – if only for an hour or two – the stresses and strains of life in the UK at the end of 2022. Just for a short while it was possible to forget the energy crisis, and bathe irresponsibly in the light of a thousand colourful lanterns. But spare a thought, if you will, for YWP’s Director of Finance…he may be in for a few sleepless night when the Park’s next electricity bill arrives!
Although Burton Agnes may sound like the upper crust villain of an Agatha Christie novel, the reality is altogether more interesting. Built between 1598 and 1610 near the village of Driffield in the East Riding of Yorkshire, Burton Agnes is a magnificent Elizabethan mansion that’s been associated with the same family for over 400 years.
Although the Hall is now managed by a charitable trust, the family still lives there. To help cover the cost of its upkeep, paying visitors are invited to have a poke around this Grade I Listed architectural masterpiece. And, inevitably, the period before Christmas is a great time to pep up the income stream.
The Great Hall
This, of course, is nothing unusual. Up and down the land the good, the bad and the ugly of British stately homes open their doors to the Great British Public at this time of year, anxious to milk the cash cow that is Christmas.
Some do a great job, investing heavily to decorate their mansions with festive frivolities that are sure to get their visitors into the mood for Christmas and, hopefully, will encourage them to return the next year. Others, I suspect, do the absolute minimum that they calculate is necessary to prevent the paying public demanding its money back.
Burton Agnes, which we visited a couple of weeks ago, felt like good value for money. The place was tastefully, but not excessively decked out in seasonal finery. They say that “less is more”, and whoever planned the Christmas decorations here clearly understands the benefits of measured restraint in such matters. The seasonal adornments seemed in tune with their setting rather than simply overwhelming it, which has been the case in some of the places we’ve visited over the years
To be honest, I would normally find it difficult to feel festive in mid-November, but by the time we left Burton Agnes I could happily have polished off a plateful of mince pies and knocked out a verse or two of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Roll on Christmas, I’m ready for you now!
The White Drawing Room
And, just as important, our visit to see the Christmas decorations also served as an introduction to a truly spectacular building. The Great Hall is just that, a masterpiece of plasterwork and panelling. The Long Gallery, with its barrelled ceiling, is light, airy, elegant (and very, very long!), while the White Drawing Room is comfortably tasteful. Although the decorations were great to see, the quality of the building itself shone through clearly.
Above: The Red Drawing Room. Below: The Long Gallery
Burton Agnes has been described by the author Simon Jenkins as ‘the perfect English house’ and as one of the twenty best English houses. I’m not sure about that, but I do know that there’s lot to admire in it. Mrs P and I have agreed that we’ll make a return visit at another time of year when the Christmas decorations have been removed, so we can get to know it a bit better.
Abbeydale Industrial Hamlet, which is located close to Sheffield in the northern English county of Yorkshire, is one of the most complete early manufacturing sites in the world. From 1697 to 1933, scythes and other edged tools were made there. In its heyday this was a place of intense activity, where generations of skilled and unskilled people spent their entire working lives. Furnaces belched out heat and smoke, while forges and grindstones powered by four waterwheels – fed by the nearby River Sheaf – were used to pound and sculpt the steel into shape.
Workshops to the left. Beyond them, the Counting House, and beyond it some workers’ cottages
At its peak, in the middle of the 19th century, Abbeydale produced thousands of high-quality edged tools every year. The scythes made by its workforce were an essential tool of farm labourers, used to clear the land and harvest the crops grown on it. Many of the scythes were sold in the UK, while others were exported to the far-flung corners of the British Empire, including Australia, India and Canada.
Early in the 20th century the demand for hand tools began to fall as mechanised alternatives became available. The Abbeydale works finally closed in 1933. Restoration of the site began in 1960, and the Abbeydale Industial Hamlet Museum opened ten years later.
Closer view of the Counting House (left) and workers’ cottages (right), dating from the late 18th century
The Museum comprises a range of preserved buildings arranged around a grassed courtyard. The doors to these buildings are invitingly open, and in some of them the visitor can learn about the process for making a scythe. There were several distinct elements, starting with the making of blister steel. This would then be converted into crucible steel, which was later forged into blades. Finally, the blades would be sharpened on large grindstones, and then chemically treated to prevent rust.
Grinding wheels, once used to sharpen the blades manufactured on site
The workshop buildings boast various tools and pieces of machinery, some modest in size, others large and imposing, all unfamiliar and vaguely threatening to this impractical 21st century Platypus Man. Who knew that making an item apparently so basic as a steel blade could be quite so complicated?
A stack of used clay pots (crucibles), in which crucible steel was made. Crucibles were made on site and had to be discarded after being used twice.
Another door off the courtyard leads us into a worker’s cottage, immaculately dressed to give a glimpse of life in the mid-19th century. Somewhat grander, and set out as it might have been towards the end of the 19th century, is the Master’s House. There is also a Counting House, dressed as it might have been in the 1920s, the office where the works foreman and his clerk carried out administrative tasks essential to the running of the enterprise.
The Tilt Forge, where steel was shaped into the required size and shape of blade
Abbeydale is a fascinating, informative place to visit, offering glimpses of a way of life that feels very alien today. But I can’t help thinking it’s a somewhat sanitised account of how it was “back in the day”. Although on special occasions some of the machinery is still operated by volunteers, during our visit it lay silent. Surely, Abbeydale was never silent? And what about the heat of the furnaces, and the stink and the smoke and the filth, all of which were part and parcel of everyday life when this place was in business? None of this was evident or even hinted at when we were there.
One of four waterwheels on site. These powered various pieces of machinery used in the scythe-making process.
And the neatly grassed courtyard that sits at the heart of Abbeydale looks totally incongruous. Grassy green lawns in the middle of a chaotic industrial 19th century industrial site? I don’t think so! Clearly the courtyard, as well as the tools, bits of machinery and buildings lovingly preserved on site, tell only half the story.
Interior of one of the three workers’ cottages on site. Built in 1793, these housed keyworkers such as the grinder and forge man. Labourers would have lived elsewhere, somewhere less comfortable!
There must be at least a hundred reasons why it would not be possible or desirable, nor even legal, to faithfully recreate the realities of the day-to-day life of Abbeydale in its prime. That’s OK, the Museum still serves an important purpose as a learning aid for young and old alike. But we must never allow excellent museums like this – and for sure, Abbeydale is an excellent museum – to tempt us into becoming nostalgic for the world we have lost.
Interior of the Manager’s House, built 1838-42. Definitely a step up from the workers’ cottages.
Today, Abbeydale looks quaint. It’s well ordered, clean, immaculately presented and eerily attractive. It seems like a rewarding and comfortable place to earn a daily wage, and to live. But have no doubt, life was a living hell for the people who once worked there, engaged in hard and dangerous manual labour every day while earning a pittance. Never forget this, please, if you ever get the chance to visit Abbeydale, or any similar industrial or living history museum. Exhibits like these tell the truth, but never the whole truth.
Yorkshire Sculpture Park is the gift that keeps on giving. Although it’s featured in two previous posts – you can read them here and here – there’s still more I need to say about YSP. Our latest visit was in September last year, when we explored parts of the park that had so far eluded us. In the process we got acquainted with the work of Damien Hirst, not to a mention a monstrous handbag and a plethora of hats.
Let’s start with the handbag. Bag of Aspirations by Kalliopi Lemos (b. 1951 in Greece) is fashioned from steel, although it’s painted to look like leather. Here’s what the YSP website has to say about it:
Bag of Aspirations is a vastly scaled-up version of the famous Birkin handbag made by French fashion house Hermès. This expensive and highly sought-after bag has become associated with luxury and exclusivity, and embodies the values and desires of a consumer culture. Lemos often investigates how such trends in society affect and frame women in particular, exploring the way femininity is constructed and defined by narrow and restrictive ideals of beauty and behaviour
So, far from being frivolous, this monstrous handbag is making a serious point about 21st century society. Who would have guessed? Not me obviously: I saw the piece and just couldn’t help grinning. You see, Mrs P recently downsized her handbag but ever since has complained that it’s simply too small to hold all those bits and pieces that a girl just has to have with her at all times. I took one look at Lemos’s big beast of a bag and thought: there’s your solution Mrs P, but good luck carrying it!
But enough of this handbag nonsense, let’s move quickly on to Damien Hirst (b. 1965). Hirst rose to prominence in London in the late 1980s, and is one of the most notorious artists of his generation. He’s also said to be the UK’s richest living artist. His reputation precedes him: any man who displays whole animals pickled in formaldehyde and calls it art inevitably courts controversy, so we were intrigued to see what all the fuss is about.
First, it should be noted that no animals were pickled in the creation of Hirst’s works on display at Yorkshire Sculpture Park! However, they do make one hell of an impact. Standing 10 metres high, the Virgin Mother looms over the landscape in which it stands, and given that the skin has been peeled back from half the torso to reveal a foetus curled within the womb it’s also very hard to ignore. The pose reportedly echoes that of Degas’s Little Dancer of Fourteen Years. However, unlike Hirst’s sculpture, Degas’s piece is fully clothed, has no skin hanging off and doesn’t appear to be with child, so the resemblance – in my humble opinion, anyway – is somewhat superficial!
Virgin Mother by Damien Hirst
Do I like Virgin Mother? Strangely, I think I do, even though on one level it’s macabre, even a little grotesque. For me it argues that beauty is only skin deep, and that if we are truly to understand what is before us we need to be sure to look beneath the surface rather than rely on what is in plain sight.
On a somewhat similar theme, Myth enables us to see beneath the skin of a unicorn. And we learn that even iconic mythological beasties depend on a framework of bones, tendons and muscles in order to do whatever it is that unicorns do. Again, Hirst reminds us not to be seduced by appearances, however romantic, and to look instead for the earthy reality that normally lies hidden from view.
Myth by Damien Hirst
Altogether more challenging is the statue of a disabled child that Hirst calls Charity. The 7 metres high, painted bronze sculpture may look oddly familiar to anyone who was out and about in the UK in the 60s and 70s, being based on the Spastic Society’s charity collection boxes that could be seen at that time on high streets up and down the land.
But times change, and so too do judgments as to what society does – and does not – find acceptable. The word “spastic” is today regarded as grossly offensive, and the charity that bore its name is now called Scope. And the design of its collection box also looks as if it comes from another, less inclusive age, an age when disabled people were regarded merely as objects of pity, poor vulnerable souls totally dependent upon the charitable handouts of others.
Charity by Damien HirstRear view of Charity showing the collecting box forced open and stolen coins scattered on the plinth. A crowbar rests against the girl’s back.
One may question why Hirst chose to imitate a negative image of disability that many people now find offensive. Crucially, all is not as it seems. Seen from the rear we notice that the gigantic collection box has been broken into, with coins scattered around and a crowbar left behind. Clearly this is not in any sense an homage to the original collection boxes, but an invitation to think about how society views disability.
The break-in fundamentally affects the meaning of the sculpture. For me it says that the negative portrayal of disability inherent in the original collection boxes – which reflected views that were widespread within British society at that time – was in itself an act of theft, stealing the dignity and self-esteem of the very people the boxes were designed to support. Other interpretations are possible, and Hirst’s piece remains controversial within and beyond the disabled community. But although it’s not a comfortable image, if the artist’s primary intention was to stimulate debate and reflection about disability Charity certainly succeeds.
The Hat makes the Man by Damien Hirst
Another painted bronze by Damien Hirst – The Hat Makes the Man – is altogether more playful, suggesting that, although he normally keeps it well hidden, the artist does have a sense of humour. This bizarre, disjointed piece was apparently inspired by a tiny Max Ernst drawing dating from the 1920s. It features a plethora of felt hats, interspersed with the occasional straw boater and random sawn-up pieces of wood. Sigmund Freud, the famed founding father of psychoanalysis maintained that hats are a symbol of repressed male desire, so I’m not quite sure what to make of the fact that – although I haven’t a clue what it means – this sculpture really appealed to me!
Network by Thomas J Price
Another of the sculptures that I liked a lot was Network, by Thomas J Price (b. 1981) There’s been a lot of controversy in the UK recently about who is – and is not – represented in public art. In particular, there have been loud protests that although sculptures of men who made huge fortunes from the slave trade in the 17th, 18th and early 19th centuries can still be seen, their victims are invisible. For this reason Price’s three metres tall sculpture of a casually dressed man of African (Caribbean) heritage studying his mobile phone seems to hit just the right note.
One of Mrs P’s favourite pieces was Wilsis by Jaume Plensa (b. 1951 in Spain), one of a series of heads of young girls from around the world, with eyes closed in a contemplative state. Intriguingly the view from the front appears traditionally three dimensional, but viewed from a different angle it’s plain that the statue is almost flat. Standing at over 7 metres tall, Wilsis makes a stunning impact within the lightly wooded landscape.
Wilsis by Jaume PlensaThis side view shows Wilsis to be almost flat
Next on this whistle-stop review of our most recent visit to Yorkshire Sculpture Park, consider The Garden of Good and Evil by political activist Alfredo Jaar (b. 1956 in Chile) . It references secret one metre square detention cells (aka “black cells”) reputedly used by the CIA around the world. It is partially hidden within a lake, reflecting the fact that these secret centres are also hidden.
The Garden of Good and Evil by Alfredo Jaar
The Garden of Good and Evil makes uncomfortable viewing once you understand what has inspired its creation. But let’s end this post with a feel-good sculpture. Sitting, a monumental work by Sophie Ryder (b. 1963) is fashioned from wire and divided into two sections by a split that is clearly visible from the side. The anthropomorphic figure combines the head of a hare with a body modelled on Ryder’s own, and dominates the surrounding parkland.
Sitting by Sophie Ryder
Ryder is fascinated by hares, and features them frequently in her work: you can read more about what they mean to her here. But while I fully understand that for her the piece has great symbolic significance, for me the main point is that Sitting is exquisitely beautiful. This plainly isn’t true of all the sculptures at YSP, some of which are more intellectually challenging than aesthetically pleasing. And it is this sheer range of artistic endeavour that makes Yorkshire Sculpture Park such a great place to visit. so Mrs P and I will be making another return trip very soon!
FOOTNOTE TO REGULAR READERS OF THIS BLOG
Spring is in the air, the days are getting warmer and my excuses for not painting the bedroom and tidying up the garden are wearing a bit thin. So, for the next few months, I intend to post on this blog every 14 days – rather than weekly as now – publishing early on Wednesday mornings (UK time). Weekly posts will resume in late autumn…always assuming, of course, that I’ve finally finished decorating the bedroom!
According to the Chinese calendar, a few days ago the world transited from the Year of the Ox to the Year of the Tiger. At Yorkshire Wildlife Park (YWP), however, it’s always the year of the tiger. Or, to be more precise, the year of the Amur Tiger, three of which currently call the Park home.
The Amur Tiger, also known as the Siberian Tiger, is one of six tiger sub-species, and is the largest big cat in the world. Adult males may weigh up to an impressive 200kg (440lb). These are majestic, iconic animals, and YWP visitors can often be seen gazing in awe at Vladimir, Sayan and Tschuna as they prowl around their ample enclosure.
Our consciences may be troubled at seeing such magnificent beasts living behind a fence, but the sad truth is that those tigers are lucky to be alive at all. In the 1940s the Amur Tiger was teetering on the edge of extinction. Fewer than 50 individuals remained in the wild at that time, after decades of political instability that had seen Russia bloodily reborn as part of the Soviet Union.
The Soviet Union had a wretched reputation in the latter half of the 20th century. Those of us who lived through the Cold War, wondering anxiously when the Kremlin’s missiles might come a-calling, don’t have particularly fond memories of the Soviets. On the face of it, theirs was not a regime that would be expected to place much emphasis on wildlife conservation.
But when it came to saving the Amur Tiger, the Soviet Union certainly stepped up to the plate. In 1947 they gave full protection to the tigers living within their borders, the first country in the world ever to do so. Killing tigers was outlawed and hunting of their main prey species, boar and deer, was restricted.
Government intervention came just in time and numbers have recovered, albeit very slowly. By 2005, the population of wild Amur Tigers had reached 330, and according to a recent report in the Moscow Times is now estimated at over 600.
So successful has the recovery been in Russia that a few Amur Tigers have now crossed the border into north-east China. The Chinese government is encouraging the process through the creation of two new nature reserves, one of which (the Tiger and Leopard National Park, or TLNP) is 50% larger than the USA’s wonderful Yellowstone National Park.
Meanwhile zoos throughout Europe, including Yorkshire Wildlife Park, are participating in a European Breeding Programme which acts as an insurance policy potentially supporting numbers and genetic diversity in the wild population.
In 2015 one of YWP’s females (Tschuna) gave birth to three cubs called Harley, Hector and Hope. The youngsters are now grown up, and have been dispersed to zoos in other parts of the world as part of the ongoing species breeding programme. This all happened some time before I retired from work and so, sadly, Mrs P and I never got see them. But we’re regular visitors to Yorkshire Wildlife Park these days, and are hoping for another similarly “happy event” very soon.
One day, maybe, such captive breeding programmes will be unnecessary, and the encouraging news emerging from Russia and China offers some cause for optimism on this count. In the meantime, however, it’s good to know that places like Yorkshire Wildlife Park are doing their bit to protect the future of this magnificent species of big cat.
You can enjoy some film of YWP’s tigers by clicking on the link below to my short video on YouTube.
Yorkshire Wildlife Park has plenty of iconic critters that are certain to impress visitors. The black rhinos, polar bears and Amur tigers, for example, are guaranteed to provoke appreciative oohs and ahs from delighted punters. But there’s other stuff too, animals that are pretty much unknown to all but the most dedicated wildlife geeks, animals that are maybe a bit more difficult to love. Warty Pigs, for example. I mean, whoever heard of a Warty Pig? And who cares?
I care! It’s true that Visayan Warty Pigs aren’t obviously cute or charismatic, but so what? All living things are intrinsically valuable, worthy of our respect and protection regardless of their looks or lifestyle. And there’s a reason why we’ve never heard of them: they’re all but extinct in the wild, and hail from the Philippines, a little known and unglamorous part of the globe that few of my fellow citizens could locate on a world atlas even if they’ve heard of the place at all.
The Visayan Warty Pig is classified as “critically endangered.” It is endemic to six of the Visayas Islands in the central Philippines, but is believed to be extinct on four of these. Their natural habitat is the rainforest, but between 95% to 98% of it has been lost to commercial forestry and slash-and-burn farming. With their natural food sources severely depleted, the pigs have resorted to raiding cultivated land, and are consequently persecuted as agricultural pests. They are also hunted for bushmeat.
There seems little doubt that, without a major conservation effort and captive breeding, the Visayan Warty Pig is doomed to extinction. Fortunately, there are many programmes, both in the Philippines and in zoos across the world, that are dedicated to saving the species.
And here’s where Yorkshire Wildlife Park is doing its bit. We’ve visited YWP several times over the last couple of years, and have been pleased to see a decent-sized group of adult females and youngsters going about their business in the ample, wooded Warty Pig enclosure. They are feisty, entertaining animals and you can enjoy some of their antics by clicking on the link below to my short video on YouTube.
The adult male – which boasts impressive facial warts, as well as a stiff, spiky crest of hair – lives next door to the main family group, replicating behaviour in the wild where males live apart from the females most of the time.
The male plainly knows his stuff, and his managed encounters with the females have produced multiple, humbug-striped piglets. My brief research on the internet confirms that other zoos are having similar breeding success, suggesting that Visayan Warty Pigs can thrive in captivity. Hopefully, one day, some of their descendants can be reintroduced to the wild, where they rightly belong.
Now I'm 64 