another blog in the wall....THE SUNDAY ITEMS: # 37 ARTHUR DECO: 30s ICON

My parents were Modernists. They didn't like antiques very much, nothing old and dark, nothing old- fashioned and redolent of their own parents' Edwardian sitting-rooms. Light, bright and stylish, to a degree, light oak not mahogany; Formica, not scrubbed or stripped pine, on the kitchen table. So when the 60s came along, and they happened to enter a decade of relative affluence through my father's business acumen, they bought a grander house and swept away much of their existing furniture. This was the furniture they had bought to set up house when they were married in 1938, which of course was still in the hey-day of Art Deco; so they had been Modernist then, too. Ironically the new house had been built in the late 20s and contained a number of Deco features which would have provided the perfect backdrop to their 'old-fashioned' furniture. Amongst the treasures which a dealer carried away for very few pounds was a classic deco dining suite, now worth thousands.

This picture is not of that table, but it is a similar shape and size: octagonal, massive, but without the gorgeous tiger-stripe veneer around the edge of the table top that ours had, though the same kind of orangey overall colour. There was a matching sideboard in the same finish which is harder to recall but I think it was reminiscent of a cinema organ, early Odeon period. It did have a brooding presence in the dining room, as though it might suddenly light up, and a seated, dinner-jacketed gentleman rise up through a trap-door, and strike the opening chords of "Oh I do like to be beside the seaside" or "Lili Marlene". I dimly remember that it had gorgeous handles, something like this:

I was very fond of the table. Its sturdy supports had no need for a brace between them, and so that space became a cave, a space ship, a hideout for a little boy seeking to avoid instant retribution for some crime; or an older boy wanting to concertedly suck Polo mints, one after another, to disguise the smell of his father's Senior Service cigarettes on his breath. Maybe this fondness stopped the usual process of becoming inoculated against one's parents' taste in things (or is that just our family?) Years later, in the late 60s, Deco became rather fashionable once again. Credit where it's due, my then partner, RSP, re-introduced me to it. Her brother was married to JSP, who has been a celebrity for a long time now, but who is such a shy, quiet, and self-effacing soul, eschewing all publicity, that she would hate me to identify her. If you've seen her on Loose Women you'll know what I mean (Oops!). Anyway, back in 1969/70 she was a mere magazine journalist though already with her eyes on the prize, and hanging with the cool people. She was very thick with Zandra Rhodes, for example, who was a fellow guest when we were invited to lunch at their new house in Limehouse, to find that we were the only people there who weren't famous, or about to be. It's quite chastening to find that the wittiest thing you can find to say is "pass the salt, please" - if you can get a word in edgeways.

Anyway T & JSP were well ahead of the game and had loads of beautiful Deco furniture and objets d'art. Pride of place would be a 3-piece suite virtually identical to this chair, which is as pure deco as you can get.

JSP also had a collection of Deco plaque/heads (there's probably a name but it eludes me) and a lot of Clarice Cliff pottery:

I have a few pieces of Deco, bought when it was cheap and not so fashionable, and just manageable from a student/postgrad budget. I have one fewer of them than I did have - because a very nice 30s novelty teapot 'walked', taken (I think) by a former tenant who I would never would have suspected of having such good taste, but obviously had an eye for value: I bought it in Edinburgh in 1972 for £12 and it would now be over £100. It was a racing-car design with the number-plate: OKT42

I particularly like this Deco wooden dish, bought in Oxfordshire in the middle of a very low budget road movie (though with no camera). The neck says 'swan' but the colours say 'duck'. Twitchers please resolve this for me in the comments section at the end of this post.

Time's wingéd chariot seems to go round the block and run you over: there have been at least two 70s revivals since the 70s, for example. Deco is less faddish: you can see its influence in fashion and design constantly, ever since, so it is for ever revived and celebrated through its continuing influence. Way Deco!

Some people may enjoy this film, some critics did; I might have done if it had been radically cut, by about one third. It's a kind of road movie about a group of young people travelling around selling magazine subscriptions door to door, allegedly for charity or to support education but actually a rip which only benefits the sleazy organisers. But the scam is not the main theme of the movie; that is the interaction between the group members, and the action constantly cuts back to their conversation while driving in the minivan (trsl: minibus). These scenes are so samey - and extremely protracted - not to say boring, that the viewer's stomach sinks when another one comes around. Is this Groundhog Day 2? Good casting (e.g. Shia LaBoeuf) and good individual performances, and clearly a great esprit de corps among the cast, but these are squandered by self-indulgent direction/editing (or complete lack of). Good for those cineastes with very high boredom thresholds or time on their hands: the film runs for two and three quarter hours - which is a marathon, but sometimes it seems so much longer.....

The Ungrateful. I think this candidate for Room 101 might be on many people's list, it recurs so often on our crowded roads. With cars parked on both sides of the street there is sometimes only a single carriageway left between them. Two cars approach each other, one has to give way, and find a space to drive into - or maybe even reverse out of the 'tunnel'. The other speeds by without a glance, or smile, mouthed 'thank you', nod, wave, thumbs-up or gesture of any kind to acknowledge the fact that you put yourself out for them. It's somehow annoying - and counterproductive: it makes it less likely that you'll do it again. Whereas that slight response, the small nod or hand-gesture reassures us that our concession is appreciated and worth making. It oils the wheels and both parties experience some pleasure in their co-operation. As Ray Henry, The Sage of Finsbury Park says: "civility costs nothing".

Thursday: driving down Burnley Road I could see in the distance a chorus of blue beacons flashing, by the tube station: accident or 'incident'? Drawing level, there were 4 police Transits and a squad car. Five officers of the big variety were surrounding and handcuffing this skinny white teenager and bundling him into the back of one of the vans. He must have done something terrible to justify this huge overkill of men and vehicles. Or possibly they just misheard the call and thought they were going to arrest a black suspect?

from the man who single-handedly undermines Darwin's Theory of Evolution:

“Number one, I have great respect for women. I was the one that really broke the glass ceiling on behalf of women, more than anybody in the construction industry.”

“You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young, and beautiful, piece of ass.”

“Our great African-American President hasn’t exactly had a positive impact on the thugs who are so happily and openly destroying Baltimore.”

"My IQ is one of the highest - and you all know it. Please don't feel insecure about it, it's not your fault"