jane brocket

extraordinariness

  

[little apple in Big Apple]

Although I am very find of ordinariness, there is nothing like a big helping of extraordinariness to help me compare and contrast. (Before I go any further, though, I have to say I have a bit of a thing about the word 'extraordinary' as I cannot bring myself to say out loud. I think this is because I hear it so often in discussions and on the radio when it is articulated in a very theatrical way as 'extrorrrrrdinary' and is so over-used in some quarters that it often means the opposite.)

 

[old reflected in new, Park Avenue]

Anyway, something that is absolutely, truly, magnificently extraordinary with as many rs as you care to insert, is the architecture in Manhattan. Arriving in NYC is one of the most exciting experiences imaginable; all those sky-scrapers laid out on the long trestle table of Manhattan, looking like every film made in the city that you've ever seen. It is so cinematic that it has an air of unreality about it, as though it couldn't possibly have been build by ordinary humans.

 

[towards the older end of Fifth Ave]

But, of course, the architects and builders of Manhattan were, and are, both ordinary people and quite extraordinary visionaries, and on my recent visit I started to consider for the first time the types of personalities that commission, design and build these phenomenal structures.

 

[needle-thin apartment block near Madison Square Garden]

These are huge, imposing, revolutionary, exciting, awe-inspiring structures.

 

[Empire State Building]

And I am beginning to suspect that it requires a gigantic ego not only to conceive of such scale, but to convince others it must be built, and then see the project through to the very end.

 

[The Standard Hotel]

My guides to the huge buildings and massive egos were Eric P. Nash and the MAS book which are excellent. The former gives the the history, characters and battles, the latter ensures you never miss a good skyscraper when walking past it (shockingly easy to do after a while when you start to take it all for granted).

 

[attempts to humanise the Trump Tower]

My photos were all taken on an iPhone because I wasn't on my own and stops for photography weren't easy. But in fact it turned out that NY is the ideal subject for Hipstamatic fun and games; I have seen so many old/grainy/filmy/wierdly lit/cartoon/atmospheric films and photos of the city that it was interesting to see how the app captures so many recognisable effects.

 

[brand new, near Bryant Park]

 

['Atlas', Rockefeller Center]

 

[Rockefeller Center]

And here, to conclude on the subject of extraordinary visions and egos, is a list of my favourite Manhattan films, each with its very own visual style:

An Affair to Remember, Laura, Holiday, The Big Clock, Rear Window, The Thin Man, When Harry Met Sally, Manhattan, Easter Parade, North by Northwest, Barefoot in the Park, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Pickup on South Street, Annie Hall.

...and five good things on wednesday

1. The crochet

The more I look at them, the more I like and appreciate old-fashioned crocheted 'granny square' blankets. It seems they appear everywhere these days - I even spotted one in a scene in Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (no doubt an acrylic number as the film was made in1964). This could be because I'm noticing them for the first time or maybe because people becoming far less apologetic about the wonderful mismatches of fibre colour and displaying their previously hidden gems now that crochet is out of the closet once more. I found these great vintage blankets on eBay when I went in search of inspiration and confidence. Because that's what they are really all about: confidence to crochet as you please and to use up yarn, and not to fit in with others' ideas of what constitutes good taste and grown-up colour schemes.

2. The inspirational book

This talk of colour and confidence brings me neatly onto the next good thing which is Color by Kristin Nicholas. Now this, too, is really about confidence, and seems to me to contain enough material for two or three books which makes it amazing value. It's about colour, design and the joy of knitting, and I found goodness knows how many great ideas and inspirations in here - and that's without even looking at the patterns themselves. 

3. The vintage film

As I am very much aware of my own vintage status at the moment, when I discovered Hell is a City, a film made on location in Manchester in 1959, I knew I would be watching a little bit of my own history. And, sure enough, the film is packed with the Manchester landmarks of my childhood (and a number of unplaceable 'Manchester' accents). Great stuff. (It also led me to the fascinating and painstakingly researched website I have linked to - just one example of how the internet is so brilliant for sharing esoteric information. Without George Nixon's meticulous research, I would never have known that a house I walked past many a time as a child is a location in the film.)

4. The unironic CD

So while I buying the Dolly CD (see yesterday's post), I thought I might as well have a look at the Johnny Cash offerings. I grew up thinking Johnny Cash was all about 'A Boy Named Sue', the 1970s 'Man in Black'  and bad TV shows, but in the last couple of years - mainly via the Bob Dylan Theme Time Radio shows - I have come to realise that there was/is a much greater significance to Johnny Cash than I'd previously suspected. This was underscored by Walk the Line (even though I had to fast-forward the druggy bits, just as I had with Ray, because they make me feel quite ill) which was a revelation. This means I can alternate ironic but brilliant Dolly with the unironic and similarly brilliant Johnny, and really go country in the car.

5. The history

My natural inclinations and interests tend towards the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, but having gone to university in one of the most beautiful Georgian cities in England and having lived in various beautifully proportioned, high-ceilinged, sash-windowed houses with original heating (ie none), I am nevertheless drawn to the eighteenth century as a period of transition and taste. Amanda Vickery is an entertaining and readable historian with a genuine and highly engaging enthusiasm for domestic life (she also wrote and presented a wonderful Radio 4 series). Behind Closed Doors is an illuminating study of Georgian home life, with a particularly interesting chapter on 'What Women Made' which takes a new (and sensible) approach to understanding women's crafts and domestic accomplishments at that time.

and one for good luck: the genius

To mark his 75th birthday, BBC Four is having an Alan Bennett fest this week. His work ages beautifully, or maybe it just doesn't age at all, and is still as fresh, funny and moving as it ever was. What a treat to be able to watch and listen to a cornucopia of marvellously crafted plays, talks and monologues.

watch with mother

Sometimes there is nothing better than watching something with a teenager because they have the most acute vision of any age group. I find teenagers see it and tell it like it is, and this is a Good Thing when applied to a match, a film, a TV programme or even an advert (but perhaps not so great when applied to parents). SoI find it highly entertaining and instructive to watch something with one of mine (what they think of watching with mother remains more of mystery).

I watch sport with Tom, I watch scary films with Alice, and I watch musicals with Phoebe. Last night we couldn't bear yet another miserable murder series on TV so she dug out the DVD of Hard Day's Night. What a great choice; funny, frantic, full of energy and songs to which we know all the words. Really, though, this is a visually brilliant film with all sorts of unusual camera angles and beautifully choreographed scenes. Phoebe fell about laughing at the Fab Four's daft quips and their deadpan delivery. And I was asking myself why I'd always thought Paul was the fabbest when in fact it was clearly John.

It made me realise that even though she's quite young, she and I have already built up a good list of favourite musicals that are just the thing to watch when there are simply too many detectives and dead bodies on television. So here is our top ten:

Hard Day's Night (1964): Obviously. 

The Pajama Game (1957) : probably our top favourite for reasons completely unfathomable to the rest of the family. I love the colours and the costumes and the Bob Fosse choreography. Phoebe adores the numbers with John Raitt and Doris Day.

Calamity Jane (1953): rip-roaring songs and Doris Day challenging gender boundaries (as if).

Easter Parade (1948): fantastic costumes and Anne Miller with dogs to match her outfits. 

Meet Me in St Louis (1944): a little over-long so we usually watch it in several bursts, but always with the 'Trolley Song' which then filters through the house for days afterwards. 

Hairspray (2007 and 1988): either version as it hasn't dated, but we do like John Travolta's dresses  in the recent remake.

Oklahoma! (1955): mostly for the music as the rest isn't quite as good in the film as it is on stage. 

Singin' in the Rain (1952): the almost perfect muscial, according the Phoebe. 

West Side Story (1961): over-the-top and stagey, but brilliant . 

Some Like It Hot (1959): not technically a musical, but with plenty of music and utterly watchable every time.

So there we are. Which musicals would/do you watch with your mother?

star stripes

 

Alice and I went to see Coco Before Chanel at the weekend and thought it all very lovely and good, but with nowhere near enough about the way Coco Chanel developed her ideas, created her designs, and incoroprated her inspirations into her clothes. In short, we would have liked to see a lot more in the atelier and a lot less in the bedroom. 

But the love interest longueurs gave me plenty of time to consider the details that we did glimpse, and I was once again bowled over by the beauty of simple, striking, timeless stripes, seen in the film in the Breton sweaters worn by the fishermen and then on Coco Chanel herself (who wears hers loose and cinched at the waist with a belt, so looks nothing like an old sea-dog). For years I, too, wore stripey Breton sweaters and long-sleeved tops (and no doubt looked more like an old sea-dog than Coco Chanel) after first discovering them on French exchanges to St Nazaire. And I still love blue on white stripes.

When I was making quilts for my book, I was thinking about stripes a great deal, and went looking for more inspiration. I found plenty in the deckchair and hammock fabrics sold by Deckchair Stripes, which has to have the best selection ever. I bought a swatch pack which contained a strip of every fabric they sell, and had a great time sorting them out and playing with stripes - making pictures that resemble the great canvases of Bridget Riley and testing out their infinite variety.

 

And agreeing with Coco Chanel that stripes are complete stars.

easter parade

An Easter parade of tulips picked from the garden this morning. They are flowering earlier this year than last; the spells of very cold weather must have prompted them into action. If I had an Easter bonnet, I would trim them with bright tulips. As I don't, I'll just watch Judy and Fred in Easter Parade with Phoebe, who loves the old musicals as much as I do. 

sweeteners

  

I have to finish [writing] a book by the end of January. There we are, I've said it, so now I'll have to do it. And as I very much want to get it done, I need to offer myself some sweeteners to make sure the process is bearable. I have absolutely no problems with January treats - the month positively demands them - so this is how I've sweetened a bitter pill so far:

Not exactly sweet reading but gripping stuff, The Suspicions of Mr Whicher is a marvellous investigation by way of a notorious murder case into Victorian society, detectives and detective fiction, suspiscions and fears.

A jaunt to the amazing Wallace Collection to catch the brilliant Osbert Lancaster exhibition before it closed. An opportunity to imagine lavish London life in the nineteenth century - just bowling up in Manchester Square with its atmosphere of high society, tiaras, carriages and royal liaisons is to be whisked away to a different time.

Watching The Bishop's Wife while hand-quilting my nth quilt for the quilt book, and trying to keep an eye on Cary Grant's profile/ice-skating and my stitches at the same time. Something had to give, and it was the stitching.*

Listening to the fascinating BBC Radio 4 programmes about Darwin. Now there's a man who knew how to put a vegetable garden to good use.

And finally, although I baulk at the idea of Easter eggs in the shops in January, I have bought a whole bag of sweeteners. These solid little Lindt eggs were my favourite Easter treat when I was little and I adored the colours of their delicate foil wrappings. I still do.

*I know it's not Cary doing the spectacular showing-off and twirls (it's a much shorter body-double), but I love watching his easy style when it's clearly him on the ice.

next year i am looking forward to...

...more spectacular amaryllis flowers. This is 'Bolero', my first amaryllis of the winter; very pink and very lovely, and a perfect shade for toe-nails in summer 2009.

...painting my toe-nails similarly shocking colours when they come out of sock hibernation.

...knitting something other than socks. This is a definite as I have signed a contract to start writing a knitting book later in 2009.

...finishing the books I am writing: a book for Hodder and a quilting book for Anova (Collins & Brown).

...reading more 'domestic' literature using Nicola Beauman's brilliant book for guidance. I've been so busy with other things recently that I've missed true immersion and escapism in excellent writing.

...escaping into film, too. I have a large backlog of Cary Grant/Alfred Hitchcock/films noirs to watch again. Rear Window calls.

...looking through my study window in spring at the tulips we planted.

...planting more low-maintenance but beautiful plants. I feel 2009 will be the year of the hydrangea and the dogwood. Vibrant, wonderful habits, of interest most of the year.

...not competing with my new plants.

Happy New Year.

turning up the heat

Right, well, after yesterday's sugariness, I need to turn up the heat and spice. Cooking with chillis (home-grown and with a real bite despite the cool summer) always cleanses the system after an overdose of sweet stuff and this worked brilliantly last night.

And Liza, I'll have you know that my hot pash for Cary Grant is in no danger of burning out. After reading your comment, I scurried off to watch Only Angels have Wings and it reaffirmed everything I already knew. That he's the best. Even when he wears far too much eyeliner and very high-waisted trousers.

middle of the road

When we were growing up, the worst insult my brother could hurl at me was to call me 'middle-of'-the-road'. I hated it and retaliated loudly, but deep down I knew it was true. Try as I may, I could never enjoy really off-beat music or books or, conversely, staid, conservative stuff. I was stuck in the middle, and even though the middle-ground is very wide, I still felt horribly aware of my taste limitations. (Not that my brother was particularly revolutionary or avant-garde, either. He just knew how to wind me up.)

I know I've been very rude myself about the ultimate middle-of-the-road film Mamma Mia! I've cringed at the idea of a film full of Abba songs (I was not so middle-of-the-road that I liked them first time round - I truly detest them). I've said things like 'not over my dead body', 'never in a million years' etc etc. And everyone else has gone on raving about it, telling me how many times they have been to the sing-along showings at the cinema, enthusing about the marvellous Meryl Streep. Even Pierce Brosnan came up smelling of roses, and that really did put me off. 

Why, then, did I buy the DVD  last week? I kidded myself it was to take to my Mum's (and leave there). I told everyone they could have a preview as long as I wasn't in the room. So what's my feeble excuse for watching it? Well, I wasn't feeling great and I needed something to watch on a miserable, cold, grey Saturday afternoon. But mostly I have to admit I wanted to know why it has been such a ridiculously huge success.

And now I know why. I just loved it. Simon loved it. I even cried at the toe-nail painting scene/song.

Oh, goodness me, will someone please shunt me out of the central reservation before I get stuck here for all time? There is no hope. My brother was right all along.