The Cycle of Life

Arboretum 6th March 2012

Having been preoccupied with other matters for a number of months, I've realised how much I've missed my walks in the park.

Today was a beautiful day: blue sky, bright sunshine, and quite warm, so I decided it was time to get back to the Arboretum.

After queuing behind too many students with too much money to spend (that's a bit judgmental isn't it? I apologise), I picked up my coffee from Costa's on Goldsmith Street (ideally placed for where I wanted to go), and headed for the park. My favourite bench was free, so I sat down and watched the world go by (actually this was about six people as the park was surprisingly quiet). Basking in the early afternoon sunshine, my mind turned to thoughts on the philosophy of life. Being me of course meant that none of these thoughts were particularly original.

Springing into life

The park was coming to life: bits of blossom here, a few buds there, and flowers poking their heads through the grassy slopes. How different this was from just a few weeks ago.

Where once there seemed only death, now there is vibrant life, and it will only get better. A young couple walked past with a visible glow on their faces. They were pushing a brand new pushchair, with a baby inside who couldn't have been more than a few weeks old.

My sister would have passed on about the same time that this baby was born, and so the cycle of life continues. None are exempt from being part of this cycle: our time is up, and we are replaced on this earth by someone else, and so it has ever been. Tragedy for some, and joy for others.

Sitting on that park bench and pondering the meaning of life, I thought how truly "classless" birth and death really are. Life sometimes can be dominated by class: does it exist, and if it does, where am I on the class ladder? But in birth and death none of that matters. The poorest and the richest persons in the world all appear in the same way; where they appear is of course very different, but the physical act of birth is the same for all. Similarly with death; where we die, be it a mansion or a gutter is of course different, but the physical expiration of life is the same. We are all united in birth and death, so don't you think that it's a great shame when this equality in between these two events is forgotten?

Philosophers have written much over the centuries about the essence of life, with most of it being incomprehensible to the ordinary person. Others, however have captured something that is understandable.

The singer/songwriter, Seasick Steve wrote, "I came into this world with nothing, and I've still got most of it left". I think that he had a good perspective on life. For Reba McEntire, it was, "To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone". While to Albert Einstein, "If A equals success, then the formula is: A = X + Y + Z, where X is work, Y is play, and Z is keep your mouth shut". 

How we live between the cradle and the grave is important, and as Mae West says, "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough". Human beings have many views on life, and often it's not related to one's social condition. Some are upbeat even when they're suffering in life, while others are downbeat, though they seem to have everything that others crave.

In my favourite TV programme of all time, The X-Files, the dialogue goes, "Life... is like a box of chocolates - a cheap, thoughtless, perfunctory gift that no one ever asks for, unreturnable because all you get back is another box of chocolates. So, you're stuck with mostly undefinable whipped mint crap, mindlessly wolfed down when there's nothing else to eat while you're watching the game. Sure, once in a while you get a peanut butter cup or an English toffee, but it's gone too fast and the taste is fleeting. In the end, you are left with nothing but broken bits filled with hardened jelly and teeth-shattering nuts, which, if you are desperate enough to eat, leaves nothing but an empty box of useless brown paper". How terrible it is to view life like this.

In 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone', J K Rowling wrote, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live". That's it isn't it? The part between birth and death is life. We can't do a lot about the beginning and the end, but we can about the piece in the middle. It too is part of the cycle of life. There is joy in birth, and sadness in death, but in a recent bereavement, I've learnt the comfort of Dr Seuss' words, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened". 

Having just re-read this blog, I'm sure that my reader is asking, what the hell is he talking about? Hey, it's "philosophy", you're not supposed to understand it.

Eulogy for Sue

After nearly a year of battling with lung cancer, my sister Sue finally lost that battle and passed away on the 20th February 2012 at the St Giles Hospice in Whittington, Staffordshire, with her funeral taking place on the 1st March.

Though she was only there for three nights, it was her wish, that if she was unable to cope at home, then she would like to be at the Hospice. Like thousands of other people, I cannot speak highly enough of Hospice work. Sue managed to attend about half a dozen sessions at the Day Hospice, once a week, and to receive home support until she was unable to cope. The quality of care could not be matched, and I will be forever grateful to them.

The present St Giles Hospice is a modern state of the art facility, that was first opened in May 2010. It is called The Compassus Centre, named after the Latin noun which means "a deep awareness of the suffering of others and a desire to alleviate that suffering". Awareness and alleviation is something that they do in abundance, and if you have to lose a loved one, then you want them to be peaceful and pain free. Below you will find a brief tour of the St Giles Compassus Centre.

Sue and John

The photograph opposite was taken two weeks before Sue died, and was one of the last few days at her home in Lichfield.

Apart from it making me realise that I must lose some weight, I treasure it as a captured moment when brother and sister are together. We haven't always been close, but the past twenty years in general, and the last twelve months in particular were very precious, when perhaps we got to know each other in new ways. I gave a three minute Eulogy at her funeral service where I tried to say how incredibly proud I was of my sister. This blog will simply expand on that theme for the benefit of her family and friends, but will still only give a brief picture of her life.

We were born and brought up in the small village of Penycae in North East Wales. I arrived in this world in 1947, and Sue in 1951.  When Sue was about three or four, we moved from a small cottage in the village to a small holding just outside the village. She loved it there, and in spite of fairly spartan conditions, there were many happy moments.

She loved feeding the chickens, and being with the few animals that were around the place. She also proved to be very useful to my friends and I. She would be placed in goal when my friends and I were out in the fields playing football. But I think that judging by the number of times she mentioned this over the years, the experience may well have traumatised her.

When she was just gone seven, we moved back into the village, and our father died. She attended Penycae Junior County Primary School from 1958 to 1962, and in a future reference, the Headmaster of the school wrote that Sue "was a pupil who applied herself diligently to her work, and showed great promise of becoming a competent scholar. Sue was a thoroughly reliable girl who seemed more mature than the usual in her attitudes towards her studies".

The words application, diligence, competence, reliability and maturity, were to be used many times by others over the coming years. I'm very proud of her for that. Sue was the intelligent one in the family, and it was a great day when she passed the entrance examination and went to Ruabon Girls' Grammar School. In the summer of 1966 she achieved nine passes in O'Level subjects, with I remember, Latin being one of her favourites. In 1967 the school became a comprehensive, and it's name was changed to Ysgol Rhiwabon (Ruabon School). In the summer of 1969, she obtained A'Level passes in English and Geography, with the latter being particularly mentioned. The then Headmaster wrote that Sue "was a quiet, pleasant, unassuming young lady who was a most helpful prefect in the Upper 6th". 

Leaving school in 1969, she went to live in Oxford and did a two year Cartography course at Oxford Polytechnic. She left there with a Diploma in Cartography, and I have in my possession her final piece of course work for that Diploma, which I must say is a beautiful piece. She went to work for Lovell Johns Ltd, a cartographic company in Oxford.

Passport Photo 1980

Over the next 37 years Sue had a variety of jobs with various levels of responsibility, and in them all proved herself to be very competent. I think that because it was also in my area of interest that I was particularly proud of the fact that between 2004 and 2010, that she was a part time tutor teaching employability skills to 16-19 year olds wanting to enter the Construction Industry, and part time tutor in numeracy as a basic skill to those who had missed out on education.

Her level of interest and commitment to this work was shown when my son, daughter in law and I were clearing out her flat. (And I can't thank them enough for the amount of help that they gave me). The amount of paperwork from that period was incredible. On that point, if Sue had a downside, it was that she was a hoarder. There were even empty envelopes from forty years ago, and nothing she ever received seemed to have been thrown out. I'm sure that the amount of paper that we sent to the furnace, would have generated plenty of energy for Lichfield.

Take one look at Sue's CV, and the thing that strikes you is that from leaving school in 1969 until 2007, her life was one of constant study and betterment. I am so proud of her for this.

BA Honours 2004

Among the many qualifications that she gained, I am particularly proud of the Diploma in Cartography in 1971; the Institute of Managers Certificate in Computing and Management Information gained in 1995; her European Computer Driving Licence gained in 2003/4; the PGCE awarded in 2007, and above all of these was something very special to Sue.

I was immensely proud to be at Trentham Gardens, Stoke on Trent in July 2004 to see Sue receive her BA (Honours) in Business Studies from Staffordshire University. It was a lovely day; Sue was so happy; photos were taken, though I had to force her to get the official one done; refreshments were devoured, and "The Old Fashioned Love Band" were playing New Orleans Jazz, and I paid £10 for one of their CD's. I couldn't have been happier for her.

I wish that I could speak more about her friends and her social life, but I don't know enough about it. That's one major regret that I have, that we spent too many of those important years apart. But none of that diminishes the love, pride and respect that I have for my sister. At the funeral service last Thursday, I finished my brief Eulogy with these words, which I will also use to close this blog.

St Giles Hospice, Whittington

Above all of the things that I am proud of with Sue, I am immensely proud of the way that she dealt with her illness. Twelve months ago she was told that she had lung cancer: what followed was a series of fairly invasive tests to determine the type, then a lengthy treatment programme. A week before Christmas she was told that the treatment had not worked, and that she possibly had about two months to live. Throughout all of this she was strong and positive, and I can only remember one day, near the end of her life, when through frustration at her bodily weakness, she was irritable. Sue spent the last few days of her life at St Giles Hospice in Whittington, which is where she wanted to be. Sue was no saint, but I am, and will always be massively proud of my sister, Sue.

Sue front right, date and venue unknown

Happy Days

More Happy Days

Caring! Who Cares?

Hospice in Staffordshire

The aim of keeping people in their own homes for as long as possible is very laudable. It also happens to save the tax-payer billions of pounds, as it relies heavily on the dedication and commitment of mostly family members, to support the input from professional organisations.

Carers are recognised for the work that they do, but not sufficiently rewarded. Most of course don't even think of reward, they are there to support their loved ones, and to do whatever it takes to make their lives comfortable. I have always admired the work of carers, and a recent experience has increased my admiration ten-fold. I'd always worked in the "caring" professions, but caring for a loved one seems a million miles away from my daily work.

My sister is seriously ill. She was diagnosed with cancer a year ago, and just before Christmas, after extensive chemotherapy treatment, was told that it was unsuccessful, and that there was no more that could be done. She took the news with remarkable strength, and apart from a few down days, has been positive throughout. But her body has weakened, and life has been a struggle. Just over one week ago she went into hospital to have a 'stent' inserted into a blood vessel to try and increase the flow of blood into one of her arms, which had become virtually dead and useless. This hasn't worked. After two days she was discharged without a care package in place, despite this being constantly mentioned. You see, I was there, and could stay at her home.

The next five days were the hardest, and most emotionally draining of my life. Professionals came in, assessments were done, care packages were agreed; she must have independent living you see, but no one seemed to be listening to me. My sister is not one to make a fuss, she would down-play her problems, but I knew the times she'd fallen and I'd have to pick her up. She couldn't get out of a chair, off the toilet or out of bed - I had to help her. I tried to get this message across, but the care package would deal with this you see. Someone would come in first thing to get her out of bed and bath her. Someone would come last thing at night to put her to bed, and meals would come during the middle of the day. All very laudable, but this contact would probably be for no more than a couple of hours a day; what of the other twenty two hours when she would be on her own? I felt that in her condition she was a danger to herself, and needed to be somewhere where there was twenty four hour care. Today, she went into the local Hospice, but I don't know how long for, and the worry of her being at home may start all over again.

During the five full days with my sister, I seemed to be on the go for 16 hours a day, and even at night, could not sleep very well because of listening out for her. Then I felt guilty; it was only five days, but I was struggling,  and was I thinking of myself and not my sister? Other people were spending years caring for someone, and I couldn't cope with five days. I was ashamed and guilty, and nothing would take that away. I love my sister to death, and all I want is for whatever time she has left, that it is comfortable, and pain free. I don't think that's too much to ask. I don't want pity or criticism, but I do want the role of carers to be recognised. My brief role as a carer has made me want to find out more about carers; who they are and what they think.

In June 2008, the previous Government published a Carers' Strategy, called, "Carers at the heart of 21st century families and communities: a caring system on your side, a life of your own". The strategy set out an aim that by 2018:

• carers will be respected as expert care partners and will have access to the integrated and personalised services they need to support them in their caring role;
• carers will be able to have a life of their own alongside their caring role;
• carers will be supported so that they are not forced into financial hardship by their caring role;
• carers will be supported to stay mentally and physically well and treated with dignity.

As part of this strategy, a survey was conducted by The Information Centre for health and social care, called "Personal Social Services Survey of Adult Carers in England, 2009-10", and published in June 2010. The survey found that 12% of people over 16 were caring for a sick, disabled or older person. This equates to 5 million carers in England. The full report can be found here. A few of the headline findings are of interest.

• Nearly half (49%) of carers who responded to the survey were aged 65 or over, 44% were aged 45-64 and the remaining 7% were aged 18-44.
• 56% of carers spent 35 hours or more per week looking after or helping the person they were caring for, 49% spent 50 hours or more caring, and 37% of carers spent 100 hours or more per week caring.
• Almost three quarters (73%) of carers said that the person they were caring for lived with them.
• 36% of carers who responded to the survey said that the overall quality of their lives was either good, very good or could not be better, a further 47% said their quality of life was alright, and the remaining 17% said it was either bad, very bad or so bad it could not be worse. 

This last point related to how the carers felt about their quality of life. While just over a third felt it was good, nearly a half said it was alright; are they playing it down here? The 17% who felt that their quality of life was bad or very bad, which if extrapolated to the whole caring community would mean that around 850,000 adult carers were suffering through their caring responsibilities. To me that is one hell of a figure. 

The 2008 Carers' Strategy has many good points, but let's try and get them actioned before 2018. 5 million adult carers (not to mention young carers, who are a different subject), need the level of improved support that is envisaged. All I can say to finish is, thank god for carers. 

Lakeside Wonder

DH Lawrence Pavilion

Being a man of leisure brings huge compensations. I'm free to do what I like, when I like. I don't even have to plan very much. I get up in the morning, and wonder what I will do today. Just going with the flow is quite liberating after a life time of deadlines and clock-watching.

I began the day having coffee in West Bridgford with friends, and as we were leaving, a new exhibition was mentioned about midwifery which was being held at the DH Lawrence Pavilion in Highfields Park by the University of Nottingham. So I would head there as it was a new exhibition area for me, and definitely a subject matter that I hadn't considered before.

University of Nottingham with Highfields Park in
the foreground

Highfields Park and the University Park are often confused as they are next to each other. The University Park is where the University it situated and it overlooks Highfields Park.

The latter park has nothing to do with the University, and was bought by Sir Jesse Boot (founder of Boots the Chemist) in 1920, and later donated to the City of Nottingham who have responsibility for its upkeep. He stipulated that the area must be free for ever for the residents of Nottingham to roam in.

The City has been very fortunate over the years to have two outstanding benefactors in Sir Jesse Boot and Sir Harry Djanogly, who have contributed millions of pounds towards leisure, education, employment and the arts.

Mothers and Midwives

The DH Lawrence Pavilion pictured above, is the last piece I believe, in the creation of the Lakeside Arts Centre, situation around Highfields and University Parks. I found my exhibition in the Weston Gallery at the Pavilion, and it was called, "Mothers and Midwives".

Though a small gallery, I must say that it was a very interesting history of maternity in the East Midlands, with many fascinating documents on display from the University's archives. It was well put together, with two areas being of particular interest to me. One concerned the reasons why midwifery became a medical rather than a domestic event.

There is a talk next month given by the curator of the exhibition and called "Home to Hospital" - I may not have the courage to attend. The other interest was on the subject of male midwives. I had unthinkingly assumed that this was a fairly modern thing, but apparently it certainly goes back to the 17th Century. On returning home I read a number of Internet articles giving the views of would-be Mothers on this, and though the majority were in favour, others were quite strongly opposed to it. A good exhibition though.

Chinese Photographs

On leaving the Weston Gallery, I noticed that in the next gallery, The Wallner Gallery, there was a Chinese photographic display as part of celebrating the Chinese New Year.

2012 is the Year of the Dragon, which for some strange reason pleased me, and the University, along with various City and Borough Councils are celebrating this fact.

The photographic exhibition is described like this. "This stunning series of photographs are taken from a vast collection of images by the two documentary photographers Yuan-Hsiung Wang and Xue Qian. Both are concerned to capture the rapidly changing nature of the environment and the way of life and culture of some of the 56 different ethnic groups who live in China".

The photographs are a mixture of people and landscapes, and they are breathtaking. There is one shot of a brilliant red countryside, which is the result of the natural red soil turning even more red following rain. It is awesome, and I wanted it. This exhibition was an unexpected delight.

Trent Building, University of Nottingham, taken from
across the lake

Coming out of the DH Lawrence Pavilion, I decided that as it was beautiful and sunny to go and sit by the lake. The information board said that the walk around the lake was a distance of about 1.25 miles, so I decided that as this was a day for new adventures that I would make the walk.

By the end my feet were telling me that this was way longer than 1.25 miles, but over the last couple of years I've come to mistrust my appendages, so I believed the City Council. I think that Highfields Park has now replaced the Nottingham Arboretum as quite my favourite park in the City. The lake has a few islands, bridges and masses of wild life. The path around the lake is simply wonderful; in parts you could almost believe that you are in lonely woodland, which must be exacerbated when leaves are on the trees.

Up to 2001 there was a pleasure boat that took parties of people around the lake, and I believe that the Council are seeking funds to renovate the "Maid Marian", and to start the trips again. I do hope that they're successful. I know that I'm fairly easily pleased, but today has been another great day in this wonderful City. I've exercised, enjoyed the beauty of nature, and been challenged by art. Going with the flow was a good choice.

Here's a few more of my photographs around the lake in Highfields Park.

Reflections on Nottingham

River Trent, Nottingham

In a few days time I will have been living in Nottingham for two years. Family issues and other interests have meant that I haven't blogged for over a month, and my loyal reader has probably passed on to pastures new. However, I thought that I'd return to the blog with some reflections on Nottingham.

I moved here in January 2010 following early retirement from a job on the South Coast. After twenty years there, I needed to get away, and Nottingham was ideally placed to be nearer my children. I don't see me spending the rest of my life here, as I feel that there's perhaps one more move left in me. When and where that move will be is anyone's guess, and I'm certainly not in any hurry.

For those who don't know this area, technically I live in the Borough of Rushcliffe, in the County of Nottinghamshire, as the River Trent separates us from the City of Nottingham. The County Council is controlled by the Conservatives, who though having 20 seats more than the next largest party, have a small overall majority of 3. The City Council is quite different, in that out of 55 seats, 50 of them are Labour members, which means that they have total control. Being a political sceptic, the policy differences between the parties are not easy to detect. Long gone are the days of ideological battles over state ownership, welfare, health, employment and education. Previous Labour Government wooing of 'middle England' and 'big business', saw an end to all of that. Now it's not about ideology, but packaging and presentation. This is one of the reasons, where apart from doing one's duty with a cross at the ballot box, I have little interest in politics.

A month away from blogging has obviously not cured my tendency to meander towards a point. So here's my reflections on the last two years. I love Nottingham. There is so much of beauty and interest here. Where I live in West Bridgford is a few minutes away from Trent Bridge, which I have to go over every time I go into the City. From the bridge you can almost touch Nottinghamshire County Hall, Rushcliffe Civic Centre, Trent Bridge Cricket Ground, Nottingham Forest Football Ground, Notts County Football Ground, and the 'world renowned' Trent Bridge Inn, which was recently bought, and beautifully restored by Wetherspoons. I have spent many hours walking in both directions along the River Trent, and I never tire of doing so. Also close to the Trent Bridge is the entrance to the Nottingham canal, which makes its way through the City centre, a mile away. I have often walked along its path, which is made even more interesting by the boats and fishermen.

St Mary's Rest Garden

Being a country boy at heart, the open green spaces in the City have been a particular joy. The Embankment along the river, and the Memorial Gardens just off it are always a delight, particularly in the Spring and Summer.

My local park is Bridgford Park just behind our shopping street, and while not big, has been a solace in the early evening Summer sunshine. In the built up Victoria area I found St Mary's Rest Garden, next to the Victoria Park. I take a longish walk from home to get to it (it's obviously quicker by bus), but I have found it to be so peaceful, which some might find a bit strange given its location. And of course to top it all is my favourite green space of all, the Nottingham Arboretum, which I have mentioned many times in my blogs. In addition is the University Park where the main campus is of the University of Nottingham, and which is open to the public. And there is much more. I have often thought that there is more access to green spaces in many Cities than there is living in the country, because so much there is privately owned. So, I love Nottingham because of its waterways and green spaces, but there's more.

Nottingham High School

Being someone who loves beautiful and historic buildings, I have been in my element these last two years.  Among the favourites that I've visited have been Nottingham High School, Bromley House subscription library, the Arkwright and Newton buildings, Council House, and the beautiful buildings on the divide between King Street and Queen Street.

The Lace Market area is particularly rich in heritage, with St Mary's Church, the Galleries of Justice and the former lace making building owned by Thomas Adams, which backs on to Lace Market Square. There's many more that I have enjoyed looking at, and looking around. Of course, no mention of buildings would be complete without mentioning Nottingham Castle. I wonder if this building comes as a bit of a disappointment to some visitors, as the reality of the building is far from what visitors would expect a castle to look like. It may be now more a palace than a castle, but it's still a magnificent building, and a very fine museum.

On the arts side, I have made regular visits to Nottingham Contemporary, New Art Exchange and very recently the Djanogly Arts Centre at the University of Nottingham. There is also much to do with Theatre, Cinema and the live music scene. Nottingham undoubtedly has its problems, and no doubt that this blog comes over as a bit of a love-in, but this is how I genuinely feel about the City and the surrounding area. I hope that 2012 will be as enjoyable as 2010 and 2011.

And from the film Robin Hood - Prince of Thieves,

Sheriff of Nottingham: Wait a minute. Robin Hood steals money from my pocket, forcing me to hurt the public, and they love him for it?
[Scribe nods]
Sheriff of Nottingham: That's it then. Cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and orphans, no more merciful beheadings, and call off Christmas.

The times they are a changing

Bob Dylan's iconic song still sounds great. "The times they are a changing". This is a rather poor excuse for a lead in to a blog, as I just wanted to play it again. The first part of this blog could be described as payback, while the second part presents me with a moral dilemma. The first may be seen as petty, while the second as pretty awful.

You see, for years I went to extraordinary lengths to avoid street canvassers and charity co-opters. You know the street canvassers I mean. People with clip boards asking you for a few minutes of your time. They want your views on shopping habits, television viewing or a plethora of additional subjects. The charity street collectors have become known as "Charity muggers", or "Chuggers" - a title that most charities are not fond of. These are mostly young people earning around £6 or £7 an hour who stand on the streets of towns and cities up and down the land trying to separate you from your money. The causes change, and depend on what tee-shirt they're wearing that day. They don't work for the charity that they're collecting for, but for a "face to face fundraising company" who are commissioned by the said charity. They are almost always bright, cheerful, and for some, persistent. Over the years I have avoided them like the plague.

But the times they are a changing. It's payback time. Now, no one seems to want anything to do with me. The street canvassers ignore me, and the Chuggers don't give me a second glance. I've become so pathetic that I now head straight for all of these canvassers and collectors, giving them every opportunity to engage with me. But nothing. I am no longer part of someone's demographic target. You'd think that after years of giving them all the cold shoulder that I'd be pleased, but strangely I'm not. There's just no pleasing some people is there? It seems that I've been discarded; no longer relevant, and no longer wanted. Ah well, maybe AgeUK will be represented on the streets soon - surely I'll have a chance there?

Image I didn't want to show

From one type of charity fundraising to another. And this is where I have a moral dilemma. I have worked in charities most of my life, and I know what it's like to have to raise money. But where should the line be drawn below which you shouldn't go?

Let me take as an example child poverty in Africa. There is no doubting that the situation, particularly in Sub-Saharan Africa is horrendous. The facts are staggering; the need is evident, and the statistics of which can be found on many web sites. And it's here that my moral dilemma begins, and is in two parts. How do you present that need, and what is being done to meet that need?

I usually have my tea about 6 o'clock and sit down to watch a bit of television. I've become increasingly concerned over the last few weeks at some of the TV advertising. It was particularly apparent last night. I was watching a channel which is dependent on advertising. In an hours programme there was four advertising breaks. Each one featured the charities Children in Need or Water Aid, and this at a time when families would be sitting down together (at least those families that still operate as a family). The adverts had images such as the one above, basically of dying children. The images, voice over and choice of music were all designed to illicit an emotional response from the viewers, and with the timing of the adverts, I can only assume that the target was the whole family, children included. I've done advertising courses, and understand some of the philosophies involved.

The images are undoubtedly designed to shock, and to make us pick up the phone there and then and commit to giving £2 to £3 per month. If shock tactics are required for people to respond to need, then it is an indictment on our society. I've worked in charities where disturbing images of human beings could easily have been used, but I've refused to go down that route. I've preferred another way of visualizing need, and how that need is met, and it's not one of shock. Children in Need or Water Aid may well be hugely successful through their advertising, but I find them offensive - a word that I use very reluctantly. This is the first part of my moral dilemma.

Sub-Saharan Africa

The second part asks what is being done to address the need? There is poverty across the world, but there is often a focus on the plight of those living in Sub-Saharan Africa.

For as long as I can remember there has been famine in Africa, and every year there are appeals to address that need. My reader may well remember the 13th July 1985 when money was raised particularly for the famine in Ethiopia. This was the dual-venue concert held at Wembley Stadium and in Philadelphia, and called 'Live Aid'. It raised about £150 million, and was said at the time to have "changed the perception of Africa". This was now over 26 years ago.

The current British Government has committed £203 million a year until 2015 to parts of Africa, and who knows how much is being provided through national and international not-for-profit organisations. No matter how much is given, the need doesn't seem to diminish, and more is required. On its Facebook page, the Department for International Development says, "We're helping people to lift themselves out of poverty, for good". Their relatively short-term plans for some of the most deprived areas of the world are to be applauded. They are working in partnership with the Kenyan Government to improve the long-term prospects of farmers and local communities which I've no doubt will bring an improvement. The building of wells by the likes of Water Aid is no doubt an excellent step forward, and for relatively small amounts of money, hundreds of lives are saved. Save the Children's child sponsorship scheme will also improve the lot of the 5,000 or so involved at any time. But what of the future?

Despite billions of pounds and dollars being poured into Africa over the last few decades, we are still being inundated, every year with appeals for yet more money. Kenya is working with others, but what of their neighbours? What of those countries still riddled with violence, or those with allegations of corrupt Government against them, or those who may be just simply incompetent? If individual countries don't change, why should the situation in those countries change? We save a few lives; improve the lot of others, only to find that they are quickly replaced by more people in need.

Here's where I have a dilemma. I don't want my money to go to countries dominated by violence and corruption; they should be sorted out before they should expect international aid. But, the plight of those living now in poverty and deprivation is so horrendous, that they cannot be ignored. I cannot punish the poor, the hungry and the dying because of the actions of those who rule over them. So until something is done about "regime change" in some areas, I guess we're going to have to put up with daily requests to dip into our pockets and purses to meet the needs of the world's poor.

It may be right that in many ways, "The times they are a changing", but in respect to world poverty, they are not changing at all, or at least not quickly enough.

What is it about art?

Nottingham Castle

Do you often ask yourself questions? I do. The older I'm getting, the more questions I'm asking. Yesterday, I rambled on about the question, "What is a book?". I've another question today, which I'll come to shortly.

What drives us to ask questions? See, I even have a question about questions. Someone once said, "The cure for boredom is curiosity; there is no cure for curiosity". Curiosity may have killed the cat, but isn't it the driving force towards enlightenment?

Life has developed; inventions created; philosophies expounded because man has been curious, and this curiosity has allowed us to reach beyond what we can see, and touch new ground. Curiosity makes us ask questions. My question today is a simple one, "What is Art?".

Exhibition Brochure

I keep delving into subjects that are outside my knowledge zone, but I'm curious you see. Today's question arose as I was sitting in Nottingham Castle. Slight pause here. It should really be called "The Ducal Palace", as the actual castle was destroyed about 350 years ago, with the present building being completed as a home by the 2nd Duke of Newcastle in 1678. Whatever, it is a magnificent structure, and will always be referred to as Nottingham Castle.

I was in the building to see an exhibition of some of Anish Kapoor's work. I'd previously seen one of his huge installations in the turbine room at the Tate Modern, and anyone who has visited the Nottingham Playhouse, will have seen his Sky Mirror on permanent display outside. His installations can be seen in many parts of the world.

The exhibits, by his standards are quite small, and they are really fascinating to see. A television was showing a BBC programme by Alan Yentob (I keep bumping into that man), which explored the work of Kapoor through interviews with him. I watched the whole programme, because it gave an insight into the mind of the man, and consequently some understanding of his work.

Part of the Exhibition 

As I wandered around the exhibits, I kept being reminded that to Anish Kapoor, "Art is illusion". Could this be easier to say for a sculptor of unusual forms, than say some of the 18th and 19th Century painters who's works were in adjoining rooms?

I went into one of those small adjoining rooms with its wonderful classical music quietly playing away, and gazed at the magnificent paintings on display. I swear that if the seats had been more comfortable, I would have dozed off, so peaceful was that moment. Instead, I was curious. To my right were old masterpieces; to my left was modern sculpture/designs/forms. All in the name of art. I was curious, not doubtful. What is art?

The Art History web site says, "Art lacks a satisfactory definition". Perhaps not all things are to be defined. It goes on to say, "It is easier to describe it as the way something is done, rather than what it is". Britannica Online says that Art is "the use of skill and imagination in the creation of aesthetic objects, environments, or experiences that can be shared with others". In a very interesting essay published in 1896, with the English translation published in 1899, Leo Tolstoy (1828 - 1910) wrote on the subject of art. You can read the full excerpts here.

"In order to correctly define art, it is necessary, first of all, to cease to consider it as a means to pleasure, and to consider it as one of the conditions of human life. Viewing it in this way we cannot fail to observe that art is one of the means of intercourse between man and man. Every work of art causes the receiver to enter into a certain kind of relationship, both with him who produced, or is producing, the art, and with all those who, simultaneously, previously, or subsequently, receive the same artistic impression". 

These feelings that the artist infects others with will be very varied, and to Tolstoy, the degree of the infectiousness of art depends on three conditions.

1. On the greater or lesser individuality of the feeling transmitted;
2. On the greater or lesser clearness with which the feeling is transmitted;
3. On the sincerity of the artist, i.e. on the greater or lesser force with which the artist himself feels the emotion he transmits.

 To Tolstoy, "this third condition - sincerity - is the most important of the three. It is always complied with in peasant art, and this explains why such art always acts so powerfully; but it is a condition almost entirely absent from our upper-class art, which is continually produced by artists actuated by personal aims of covetousness or vanity. The absence of any one of these conditions excludes a work from the category of art and relegates it to that of art's counterfeits. If the work does not transmit the artist's peculiarities of feeling and is therefore not individual, if it is unintelligibly expressed, or if it has not proceeded from the author's inner need for expression - it is not a work of art at all. If all these conditions are present, even in the smallest degree, then the work, even if a weak one, is yet a work of art". 

Mirrored Surfaces

In my humble opinion, Anish Kapoor embodies the three conditions of Tolstoy on which art depends.

I think that the publicity material produced for the exhibition sums it up well.

"Kapoor's works can be both mysterious and contemplative. One of Kapoor's lifelong interests is in the spiritual function of art and the exploration of universal truths.

His work is not about organised religion, but instead he is interested in belief, passion and experience. His work affords a space for silent reflection in our busy lives". 

The exhibition is on in Nottingham until the 11th March 2012. It is well worth seeing, and seeing more than once.