This shot was grabbed at the same Wallingford festival. I was patiently waiting for some close up shots with Plum Jerkum’s dancers when I turned round and caught these three laughing at their colleagues. Very Handy! Plum Jerkum is a Border Morris team from Eathorpe in Warwickshire. Their name is taken from a plum based Cider brewed from the Warwickshire Drooper plum, which has the reputation of ‘leaving the head crystal clear whilst paralysing the legs!!’ Their dancing showed no signs of such wear and tear!

Waving handkerchiefs and leaping around to traditional Cotswold Morris tunes may not seem like a ‘manly’ thing to do these days, but the tradition is still alive and well in many English villages in the summer months. August saw the forty sixth Towersey music festival take place in Oxfordshire, as usual, in very much inclement weather conditions. Still, it’s one of the few places you can rub shoulders with the Folk Music greats. I ‘bumped’ into both Martin Simpson and Martin Carthy without realising it – they were just strolling around with everyone else, eating take away festival fare and chatting with the crowd.

Apart from enjoying the excellent music and dancing, I was testing a Leica M9 Rangefinder coupled with a Zeiss 50mm Planar lens at the event. This shot was one of a series taken of the Moulton Morris Men’s set. The light was very flat at this particular moment, so I ended up shooting at f5.6 at 1/350th sec ISO 160. I was agreeably surprised by both the sharpness and contrast of this Zeiss lens, particularly in the colour images. This one, cropped from only about a third of the frame, is outstanding, the camera and lens combination rendering the foreground dancer in an exceptionally three dimensional, impactful image.

This image was ‘snatched’ in the lobby while I was actually thinking about the ‘geometry’ of the new space. It was taken on a loaned Leica M9 Rangefinder camera fitted with a Leica Summilux-M 24mm f/1.4 ASPH lens set wide open at f/1.4, hand-held at 1/350 sec; set at ISO 320 and shot RAW. The image is pretty much straight off the camera, having just been re-sized and cropped with a very slight wide angle geometry edge distortion correction in Camera RAW. No contrast or sharpening was applied. Given it was a first outing with this combination, I think the pairing has produced a superbly smooth and sharp result.

I took this image from the front row seats we managed to get, and I’m so glad we didn’t miss it. Liane is a natural, combining the elegance of Diane Krall, the emotional insight of Jane Monheit and the sheer energy and class of Ella Fitzgerald. A pianist from the age of three, she has undoubtedly become one of the top jazz player / singers in the UK and very possibly beyond, delivering, as she does, soulful, at times mesmerising interpretations of both new and traditional material. Her deft use of dynamics ranges from the most intimate of whispers to a giant, swooping, vocal gymnastic that has your pulse racing and your emotional circuits reeling, wondering what’s coming next. An evening with Liane is a veritable roller coaster ride of soaring, unbridled exuberance through tender, near silent melancholy and back again until you are completely exhausted, just listening to it! Totally thrilling.

Liane’s website can be found here and there are several performance clips of her work on YouTube, but none of these genuinely captures the spirit of her performance. Don’t miss one if she comes your way. In the meantime, try her interpretation of Caravan or enjoy this intimate, and reflective, bare bones session at a London Music School workshop for fellow artists, as she sings Tom Waites’ love song ‘Take It With Me’ or his ‘Picture in a Frame’ which she sings here with her husband Roger Carey (bass) and Mark Fletcher (drums), at the 2007 Brecon Jazz Festival. Finally, sample the reflective Liane on the ‘Wee Small Hours’ clip from Hawaii in 2009.

In an earlier post, I wrote about once owning a rather wonderful example of a Martin D-28, albeit very briefly. The ‘heavyweight’ sound it produced and its ability to project that sound to the back of a hall was stunning – a never to be forgotten experience. Mixed in with that memory are my distant recollections of Martin Carthy’s sound, Nick Jones’ sound and the magical Martin Simpson, among many others. I asked Paul if it was feasible to capture all of this in one instrument. He said the only thing to do would be to visit the studio and play a wide range of guitars until I found the one that most closely matched the sound I had in my head.

As a starting point, they would be able to suggest examples from several respected luthiers, but ultimately, comparative playability, tone, clarity, balance, projection, musicality and feel could only be judged by the individual player spending enough time getting to know the instruments and ‘whittling down the many candidates to a final choice’. Great advice. He was right of course, so I arranged to visit the studio in early March, and did just what he suggested – for nearly three days!

Before making the journey up to Weaverville, I called again and had several conversations with Steve Dembroski, his associate. Steve made a number of suggestions; instruments by Charis, Wingert, Eichelbaum, Blanchard, Maingard, Tippin, Applegate and Traphagen and that, as preparation, I should listen to them all using the recordings that were available on the Dream Guitars website, which I did.

So, finally, I arrived on the appointed day and after detailed introductions to the work of the suggested luthiers, their backgrounds, methods and examples of their work, Steve left me, for several hours, to play each candidate at length. It’s not easy to discriminate among a set of instruments of this quality. They are all superbly crafted, sound wonderful and play easily! Each has its strengths, individual voice and unique character. Handmade guitars of this quality are just so different from anything you find in the high street or even in the so-called premium marques. I recorded a brief interview with Steve to help convey their rather unique approach:-

The Decisive Moment

Nothing can quite prepare you for the moment you walk into the Dream Guitars studio. It’s a wonderful ‘shock’, when you see such a huge collection of superb instruments. Then, when you pick up the first one and begin to play, you instantly hear the difference between a quality hand-built guitar and what you find even in the best music stores. Charis’s Bill Wise speaks about his own surprise on such a first encounter on Charis’s YouTube channel video here.

Well, to cut a very long story short, after many hours of playing and discussions with Steve over the time I was there, I came down to a shorter list of Charis, Applegate, Petros and Ryan guitars. Each of which was beguiling in its own way. The Kevin Ryan example shown in the video interview was very tempting, but I was after a very particular sound and, although it was very close, it wasn’t quite what I wanted. It didn’t quite have the ‘weight’, particularly when using alternative tunings, such as DADGAD. Steve suggested another example of Ryan’s craftsmanship – a Nightingale Signature. Well, I was floored. It has a stunning, pianistic sound with the quality of treble shimmer and weight in the bass that I was searching for, coupled with superb string to string clarity and seemingly endless sustain. One in a million. It was made by Ryan in 2005 with a Brazilian Rosewood back and sides, a Spruce soundboard, Mahogany neck and Ebony fingerboard. It was in showroom condition, even though it was five years old.

Once I had played it, I knew it was one of those instruments you come across once in a blue moon. It was an easy decision.

Kevin Ryan talks about the current model and the design principles behind it, here. He has also described how he has innovated his designs to account for alternative tunings in an article published in Gearwire in August 2007:-

“Lawrence (Juber) knows so much about guitars; he started me on a trajectory to make me always innovate,” says Ryan. “He was into open tunings–he went from disdaining alternate tunings to championing them and he wanted a guitar tailored to alternate tunings.”

Most guitars are designed and braced with standard tunings in mind. Ryan had to innovate to create an “alternate tuning” guitar. There were lots of innovations but the main thing was the longer scale, the greater length of the neck. “Finger-style was new blush of romance–pioneers like Kottke–then guys found out this guy in California was building a guitar from the ground up for alternate tunings, with deeper body and curved back?”

Interest grew in Ryan Guitars. Ryan says that, when a string is tuned down it loses tension. You lose the “snap” to the note. “You get sound that is pleasing but you lack the fullness of note,” says Ryan. “Certainly C sus– but even tuning down a step to drop D–there is a sonority that is lost. There are exceptions. Some of the dreadnoughts.” With the longer scale the tension is higher. Therefore you do not lose the “snap.” This increased tension on the guitar is something of a liability. “With increased tension the guitar is harder to play but with proper relief, curve of fret board and lower action the strings vibration envelope is less.” says Ryan.

Something unexpected happened as well. “I didn’t expect it to be popular with standard tuning players.” says Ryan. The stronger attack and more inherent harmonicity, however, appealed to even those not using alternate tunings. Ryan compares the sound difference to a that between a spinet and a grand piano (a comparison he admits is overly dramatic).

These developments by Ryan have resulted in very fine guitars of extraordinary power, sonority and quality of tone and, it would seem that he is able to produce these qualities consistently, in each and every instrument. There is a beautiful example of a piece, written by Al Petteway, which nicely captures the Nightingales’ special qualities, called Smokey Mountain Morning on YouTube. It was recorded by JazzInc, a superb guitarist, who is well worth looking up.

I think I played my way all the way along the guitar racks until I found the Bourgeios. As soon as I picked it up I knew it was a ‘special’ instrument and I suppose it took me all of ten seconds to recognise how alive it felt. I must have lost the next hour just playing it and getting a feel for its special qualities. The owner of the store told me its background. It had been sitting in a collection, unused, until very recently and was underplayed and he thought that it would ‘open up’ when fully played in. He told me that it was hand made in 2002 by a luthier called Dana Bourgeios from Lewiston, Maine who makes about five hundred guitars a year from carefully selected tonewoods.

This guitar has an Adirondack (Appalachain) Spruce top and Bubinga (African Rosewood) back and sides. It resonates beautifully, with a full bass, a superbly balanced, sweet, singing treble with choir like overtones and outstanding sustain. In the store, it was one of those ‘decisive moments’, when you just know that something was meant to happen. So, of course, I made an offer and bought it. We talked for a long time about the various tonewoods used on the instrument and I learned a great deal from the owner, who was also a professional musician and guitar technician. When I got back, I contacted Bourgeios, and they told me that it was the only one they built with that exact combination of tonewoods – and it’s a real winner!

Here is what Dana Bourgeios has to say about some of his tonewoods:-

Eastern red spruce, also known as Adirondack or Appalachian spruce, was the primary topwood used by American manufacturers before World War II. Its use was all but discontinued due to over-harvesting of the resource but has recently been reintroduced thanks to 50 years of regeneration and to the legendary status that this traditional tonewood has attained. The small size of most logs and a shortage of wood conforming to market preference for even color and regularity of grain conspire to keep the price of red spruce extremely high.

Red spruce is relatively heavy, has a high velocity of sound, and has the highest stiffness across and along the grain of all the topwoods. Like Sitka, it has strong fundamentals, but it also exhibits a more complex overtone content. Tops made out of red spruce have the highest volume ceiling of any species, yet they also have a rich fullness of tone that retains clarity at all dynamic levels. In short, red spruce may very well be the Holy Grail of topwoods for the steel-string guitar.

And …. Here is what Rick Michelette (a Californian Luthier) says of Bubinga:-

Bubinga or African Rosewood is another fine tonewood that is harder and heavier than either Brazilian or Indian Rosewood. It produces a brilliant and distinctive tone. If it wasn’t such a pain to work with there would probably be a lot more guitars made out of this material (It’s difficult to bend, difficult to cut, difficult to sand or scrape…I think you get the idea). It’s interlocking grain when lacquered gives the most amazing visual effect. The mottled “Bees Wing” figure produces a kind of holographic look when the instrument is slightly rotated.  The beautiful mauve color ages into a gorgeous brownish-red. Despite our “love-hate” relationship with this wood, we do offer it as standard equipment because of its tonal quality and beauty.

And …. it plays beautifully and inspires you pick it up and try harder.

About 1965, I had one of those ‘Decisive Moments’ when I was fortunate enough to join up with a couple of musicians from my local folk club who were into American ‘old timey music’, New Lost City Ramblers style. We seemed to get on well, and at the instigation of Mike French, formed a Bluegrass band, with yours truly playing simple back up guitar – I was a beginner then, but had a good deal of help from Mike. We spent most of our time practising and studying the banjo player’s extensive collection of Library of Congress recordings and old songs on imported Folkways Records, practicing intensely and performing covers of Flatt and Scruggs, Stanley Brothers, BIll Monroe and The Country Gentlemen standards until we fell out and I went on to ‘concentrate on earning a decent living’. Listen to the Country Gentlemen’s ‘Happy, Sunny Side of Life’, Earl’s Breakdown and the sad ‘Bringing Mary Home’ to get a flavour of this driving style of banjo, mandolin, bass and guitar music from Appalachia.

I found this photo recently while clearing out the loft. It made me smile. It was taken by our local press, who published an article on our Bluegrass band, called ‘The Clay County Travellers,’ in 1967 – quite a novelty in those parts. I’m the skinny one in the middle with bright red hair playing our double bass; Geoff Treadway, the band’s real bass player, is on the right playing my guitar; on the extreme left is Richard Bull, who went on to become a famous session player and the bass player for the Kursaal Flyers, and the superb mandolin player and tenor voice next to him is Michael French. We played together for three years or so, until we fell out. The band went on to great success with another guitarist at its heart, Lynne Lewis, who was way better than me anyway!

After suffering withdrawal symptoms from not being an active musician for a couple of years, I settled down to study ‘fingerstyle’ guitar more seriously and immersed myself in developing a more ambitious playing style modelled on such greats as John Renbourn, Bert Jansch, Davy Graham, Rev Gary Davis, Big BIll Broonzy, Martin Carthy and Nic Jones, all of whom strongly influenced my playing and ultimate return to British folk music. I used to earn extra income teaching at the South East Essex Music College in those days, until I found myself needing a new musical challenge.

In the end I decided that English Traditional Folk was my real love and formed an Acapella Band with two friends from the College. We modelled ourselves on The Young Tradition (Peter Bellamy and Royston and Heather Wood) whose material was a blend of sea shanties, from Cyril Tawney’s recordings, farm workers’ songs from the traditional music of the Copper Family from Sussex, as well as songs recovered from Medieval times interspersed with instrumentals drawn from Martin Carthy and Dave Swarbrick. That was a fascinating time. We worked tirelessly for two years to get a repertoire to the right standard, but made only half a dozen performances at local folk clubs before work and study pressures forced us to stop, and stop we did, for over fifteen years!

The next time I was seriously to pick up the instrument was when I decided to turn to Blues and playing electric guitars, notably Gibson Les-Pauls and Fender Stratocasters. At that time I was inspired by Robben Ford, who is probably the best technician on the crossover between Blues and Jazz guitar playing I know. Listen to his second half solo on ‘Help the Poor’ and and the tone he gets on ‘He Don’t Play Nothin’ But the Blues’. Boy that man can play!! I even bought a couple of the same type of Fenders Esprits he used to play, in case some of that ‘magic’ might rub off on me. Hmmmm.

Albert Einstein understood the relationship we have with music. He once said “If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music, I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music…. I get most joy in life out of music.”

Other than a brief flirtation with the violin at school and dabbling at my Grandmothers’ pianos whenever we visited them, it wasn’t until I started work that I was able to buy my first instrument. A sixteen year old engineering apprentice earned just £3.50 a week in those days, out of which you had to pay for food, lodging and rail fares to London. It didn’t leave very much, so it took way too long to save six guineas (that’s £6.30) to buy the sunburst, steel strung, Selmer acoustic guitar from Francis, Day and Hunter’s music shop in London’s Charing Cross Road, one dark and rainy December night.

It didn’t last me long, but it got me started, and like many aspiring Hank Marvins, I worked my way through Bert Weedon’s Play in a Day and graduated eventually to John Pearse’s Folk Guitar course before I outgrew it and, anyway, the neck had started to warp.

By then, I’d seen its replacement in a local shop, which I financed on (ahem) ‘Hire Purchase’, only to find that I couldn’t afford the payments, so it had to go back. A year or so later, it was followed by another sunburst wonder, a Hofner dreadnought, bought new from a long since vanished music store in London’s Moorgate. This was the guitar that helped me start playing Bluegrass music. There’s an another post here that shows a friend of mine playing it while I’m hacking away at a double bass.

The Hofner was an inexpensive, factory built, laminated top / plywood back and sided stock guitar typical of the day, but all I could afford. It lasted well and I played it at many folk club spots until it was obvious that I needed something with more carrying power, that didn’t get drowned out by the 5 string banjo solos.

Along came an Epiphone dreadnought copy, built in Japan, but by the time it arrived, I had left the Bluegrass band (to earn a living) and was moving on to British traditional folk music of the sort popularised by Martin Carthy and Nic Jones, and also aspiring to play fingerstyle guitar ala John Renbourn et al.

By now it was 1971 and I was teaching guitar students in the evenings for extra money. I’d also formed an Accapella folk group with two student friends, and to go with the English traditional songs we had worked up a few hard driving acoustic instrumentals which went down really well in our club spots. It was then I decided to brave the ‘big purchase’ – my first quality guitar.

Having stared through many a music store window over the years, I thought it was time I took the plunge. My playing was coming along well and I felt I could do better with a quality instrument. So I plucked up the courage and went to Rose Morris, in London’s West End, many times until finally buying a Martin D28.

It was a stunningly beautiful instrument made of the finest tone woods and staggeringly expensive at over £2,000! In the early seventies that was an enormous amount of money, and yes, you guessed it, after a week I was suffering the most dreadful buyer’s remorse and took it back to the store feeling guilty beyond words for having been so extravagant. They were very understanding and, eventually, restocked it – for a fee. That was a day I have never forgotten.

There are three basic elements to the study of Shotokan Karate. The first is Kihon Waza, which means Basic Techniques, and Tai Sabaki which means Body Mobility. The second is Kata, or Form, which describes the practice of performing detailed sequences of basic techniques joined into a single continuous performance. The third is Kumite, or Sparring, which describes various forms of pre-arranged or freestyle training against an adversary.

Basic technique is of course the foundation for everything else and therefore constant and committed practice of basics is the only way to build the skill base necessary for the proper study of Kata and Kumite. That said, Kata is the element that interest me here.

The Importance of Kata

Most teachers of Shotokan Karate place great emphasis on the study and practice of Kata. It is generally recognised that Kata practice principally benefits the serious student in three ways:

• Kata improves the karateka’s speed, strength and balance, and
• Kata improves the effectiveness of the various techniques through analysing their practical application, and
• Kata improves the karateka’s ability to move quickly, efficiently and fluidly between techniques, maintain strong stances and therefore maximise both speed and power

Sensei Eneoda was a great supporter of Kata practice. He is quoted as saying …

“Live the Kata. Use all your power as if in life or death. This is something that sport karate does not have. This is why Kata is important. The body is trained, the mind is trained, the understanding of the technique deepens.

It is very important that the student understands the application of technique. Many times students do not understand Kata. They cannot see the meaning of the movement They see slow, broad movement. They may think Kata has no purpose.

As the student advances in his study, his understanding of the technique becomes deeper, more profound. Each technique, there are many, many techniques: kick, punch and block. Kata is to understand their purpose, to understand the many, many uses the techniques have and how to apply them. Without Kata training, one is not following the way of martial art karate.

Sport karate is not self-defense. It is a kind of test of ability, but ability of a different kind. In Kata one can find the answer. The Kata keeps the meaning of techniques deep. It makes one fresh to respond. Knowledge of the art increases. Self-defense is in Kata.”

(Kick Illustrated March 1983)

I’ve recently returned to the study of Shotokan Karate, and, as is the custom when returning after a long absence from training, adopted a white belt. This is not only a matter of courtesy to the Sensei but, probably more importantly, a sign of willingness to return to the status of a beginner. As such, and as I rebuild my fitness and stamina, I am studying all the basic Kata again. It amazes me that, after such a long absence, the body almost ‘remembers’ the movements, as if the techniques are somehow embedded into ‘muscle memory’.

Shoshin – Beginner’s Mind

As I work my way once again through the Kihon, Heian Shodan, Nidan and Sandan Kata, I am seeing them again in a different light – with ‘beginners mind’. It is sometimes tempting to feel frustrated at the so-called simpler Kata but, I for one, am delighted to focus on re-learning them step by step. Rediscovering them. Repeating them over and over again; each time finding small progress whilst rebuilding my ability to move slightly more quickly, slightly more smoothly and with greater precision, power and control. You can always find opportunities to improve – it’s just a matter of determined perseverance and focus.

This video of Heian Nidan, a basic 7th Kyu Kata, shows just why it is worth that perseverance. The karateka shown in this clip demonstrate all the characteristics discussed above and it gives a valuable insight into the technical precision, level of detail, speed and power that even senior karateka pursue in seeking perfection, no matter what level they have reached in their Shotokan training. You can immediately see the quality of these performances and if you were to compare these with that of beginners there is, naturally, a world of difference. Such examples can only serve to inspire one to achieve higher standards – in all aspects of Karate – but particularly in Kata.

The lake, or probably more properly, the tarn, is always on my list when I get to the Lakes. I usually arrive at it from the Loughrigg Fell climb, commenced in Ambleside. Loughrigg is only 1100 feet tall and makes an excellent first climb to get you in shape on your first day in the Lakes. It offers a fabulous view of Grasmere from the summit, followed by an enchanting walk down to Loughrigg Tarn, further on from which will be found Rydal Water, in all its glory. It’s a wonderful walk on a warm summer’s day and it’s no wonder that the spot was inspiration to such great poets as Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Sir Walter Scott. The image was taken in June 2007 at about 4.30am with a NIkon DX2.

The scene is shot from the beach at Elgol, looking toward The Cullins. It is a truly beautiful place. The image is the first in a series photographed in early September 2005. I know, it’s taken me a log time to get round to processing them. Anyway, here is the first of the series, the rest of which I will put into its own gallery a little later.

Then, as I stared at the felltop, in total silence, I remembered how, ten years earlier, I had climbed those two innocent looking peaks on my birthday. That was a tough day. It was a zen like experience, one step at a time, non-stop to the top. I remembered sitting on the summit, again in total silence, deciding what I was going to do for the rest of my life. Quite a day.

The permanent exhibition includes more than 120 of Botero’s own paintings, drawings and sculptures as well as 85 original works by such artists as Renoir, Monet, Degas, Matisse, Miro, Chagall, Picasso, Toulouse-Lautrec and Dali – all donated by Botero in 2000 when the museum was opened.

I found Botera’s work fascinating, some highlights of which can be seen below. There is a larger selection in my Gallery here. The museum is an absolutely ‘must visit’ treat and should be at the very top of every visitor’s list – the next being the Gold Museum, which is in the same part of Bogota, not far from the Botero.

If Botero’s work is unfamiliar, he is among Colombia’s most famous exports. He is the artist who ‘paints fat people’. His love of life and affection for Colombia and its people is revealed in every painting. He was interviewed in his Paris studio by Stephen Smith of the BBC in April 2007. In the UK, the closest we’ve ever seen to these ‘plump paragons’ is in the work of Beryl Cook from the early seventies. Her work has the very same irreverent sense of fun and ‘joy of life’ captured on the canvas by Botero and she has a similar preoccupation with the ‘larger form’ of her protagonists.

The painting on the left above is ‘Paraja Ballando’ by Botero and on the right is ‘Tango’ by Beryl Cook. Both artists are well worth further study, but back to the Botero Museum. There isn’t the space in this article to do full justice to what the exhibition offers. I could almost say that it’s worth going all the way to Bogota just to see it. All the work is presented so beautifully.

The photo above shows how you are greeted by Botero’s ‘El Estudio’ as you go into one of the main galleries. Botero is said to have painted himself into this particular piece (the artist on the left!).

My photo of Botero’s ‘Monalisa’, above, just captures the artist’s very smooth painting style, best revealed in his skin tones. Below is a shot of Salvador Dali’s ‘Bust – Retrospective of a Woman’ which is beautifully displayed in one of the many alcove displays one comes across during a tour of the galleries.

Finally, in this short review, I ought to mention the superb collection of sculptures which accompany the many paintings. The ‘Hombre. Mujer y Nino’, shown below, is just one example of the extraordinary work on offer.

Unlike the Royal Academy of Arts in London, The Botero Museum is happy for visitors to photograph the art, provided that no flash is used, so it’s possible to come away with some quality images to remember the wonderful experience to be had here. There were no guide books available in English, at the time, but there is an online gallery here and my photographs of selected pieces are in my Gallery here. Well worth a second visit whenever I’m next in Bogota!

The exhibition is often subject to adverse criticism, but it’s always worth spending the three to four hours you need to take it all in. Rachel Campbell-Johnston gives a brief introduction to it at TimesOnline, as does Jeremy Paxman at TelegraphTV. There is also a very interesting overview and some historical context in a five minute video on The Culture Show’s site at the BBC.

My favourite works in the 2009 exhibition were those by Allen Jones, John Hoyland, Tom Phillips and another Royal Academician, Michael Craig-Martin. Gallery I was hung this year by Allen Jones, one of my favourite modern artists. His extraordinary representations of the female form are infamous, but this year he showed some beautiful work in this room, among which pieces is ”Enchanteresse’, shown on the right. My favourite of his works though was without doubt ‘Showtime’. I was just amazed at both the idea and the sheer quality of the execution.

John Hoyland’s work is always striking and this year was no exception. His ‘Winter Tiger’, ‘Lost in Blue’ and ‘Mind Horizon’ were all a treat. There is an excellent interview with both John Hoyland and Allen Jones available here, which shows them preparing for this year’s exhibition.

Tom Phillips’ work ‘Wittgenstein’s Dilemma II’ in Gallery II, a three dimensional sculpture made of connected words wrought out of wire and fused together into a cube, was created to explore the famous philosopher’s proposition – ‘the limits of my language are the limits of my world’. Well said.

The RA doesn’t allow you to take photographs of the artists’ work, but I did manage to capture this image before being reminded of that constraint. It is Damien Hirst’s silver statue of the martyr Saint Bartholomew – skinned alive using the huge pair of scissors in its left hand, no doubt. I have to say it was just a shocking ‘in the flesh’. It reminds me of the engravings made by Arnaud-Eloi Gautier Dagoty in the 1770s, for example, ‘Ecorche’, a colour engraving which depicts the superficial muscles of a man from the front view.  Here is what Hirst is quoted as saying about the piece:-

“As St Bartholomew was a martyr who was skinned alive, he was often used by artists and doctors to show the anatomy of the human body and this is also what I’ve done.”

“He holds his own skin over his arm and he holds a scalpel and a pair of scissors in his hands so that his exposure and pain are seemingly self-inflicted. It’s beautiful yet tragic, and like St Sebastian his face shows no pain. I added the scissors because I thought Edward Scissorhands [the film character] was in a similarly tragic yet difficult position. It has a feel of a rape of the innocents about it.” (The Independent on Sunday, 9th September 2006)

It also reminds you of his giant, 35ft bronze statue of the pregnant Virgin Mother, one side of which had the outer layers removed to reveal the foetus, the woman’s skull, muscles and tissues. That towering work was the startling, courtyard centre piece of the 2006 Summer Exhibition. I think it would be safe to say that Mr Hurst’s work is an acquired taste; but you do have to admire the craftsmanship.

Last June I had been using a new Nikon D300 for landscape work when it dawned on me that it would be huge fun to pick up that interest again, but this time with a photographic emphasis. So I chose an event based at Snetterton in Norfolk, largely because I also wanted to see the Aston Martins race one another in the GT classes.

This image is one of selection of shots I took that day. There are several more in the Gallery that are worth a look. Be aware that they may take a few moments to download, so please be patient. Hopefully they’ll be worth the wait!

These images were taken on a recent field trip with master photographer Duncan McEwan to Harris and Lewis, two islands in the Outer Hebrides group which lie off the north western coastline of Scotland. The sequence begins with the famous Standing Stones, a 13 metre circle of 13 stones ranging in height from 1m to 4m hewn from the local Lewisian Gneiss. This circle, which dates from around 2000 BC, is in the centre of what is thought to be a distorted Celtic Cross. Its purpose apparently to mark out significant points in the Lunar cycle. The other images are taken from various points around the two islands.

While at school, like many other boys, I didn’t enjoy the rather inept ‘Art’ classes, but worked hard at technical drawing, eventually gaining a Royal Society of Arts certificate in it. I don’t remember exactly when I consciously ‘realised’ my much deeper interest in photography, but I do recall various attempts at drawing figures during my early teens, sadly with little success, so I knew I would never make an artist. Most of my teenage years were taken up with music, so I suppose it was in my early twenties that it came to the fore. I was teaching guitar classes in the evenings at the time, to make extra cash, but feeling that I wanted to explore other visual art forms.

Through reading photographic magazines I had become fascinated by photography, particularly photojournalism, and had invested in a Canon FTbN 35mm film camera as a first step. I was very taken with the work of the great photographers, who worked exclusively in monochrome, although I knew little about it at the time as would have been very obvious from my early efforts.

To me, there was something deeply appealing about conceiving an image, in the mind’s eye, finding the unique location or choosing the ‘decisive moment’, composing and exposing the frame and then working diligently from the latent film image all the way through to a beautifully printed, mounted exhibition print. I just didn’t have the first idea how to go about achieving it.

So I decided to join a local Photographic Society and went along to watch various competitions to get an idea of what was involved. I was hooked on my first visit. What I found there seemed to me to combine all the fascination of both art and technology rolled into one immensely satisfying challenge. I felt an immediate rapport with the aspiring photographers there, who were all steadily improving their capabilities through regular competition, feedback from fellow photographers and expert help from the masters.

I struck up a friendship with one Peter Gant, an elite photographer at the club, and pestered him with endless questions. For some reason he decided to mentor me. He generously volunteered to teach me the in-camera and film development techniques, the chemical formulations and workflow processes, as well as the darkroom, printing and mounting techniques, every part of which had to be thoroughly understood and repeatedly practised before I could even think of putting images in for judging and feedback. A priceless apprenticeship.

I was deeply fascinated, learned quickly and progressed rapidly under his guidance. Peter was then a Licentiate of the Royal Photographic Society working towards his Associate Panel examination and had succeeded in having his work published in various magazines. His style was similar to Bill Brandt, a world famous photographer known for his high contrast, intensely brooding images, an example of which (The Nude) is shown on the right. Peter had a unique, dark sense of humour coupled with a superb eye, always capturing the essence of a subject in a way that made you think more about the story behind the image. I was fascinated by both men’s work and diligently went about attempting to emulate it.

“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” he would say in the darkroom, pouring over his nth attempt to rescue one of my images after I had exasperated myself in my own darkroom and exhausted my skills, without success. Then he would produce a print that would just leave me – well, speechless.
A true Master.

I wrote earlier about how I was introduced to martial arts. Through those early training years I became deeply interested in every aspect of these ancient arts of defence, their origins, history and their development into today’s modern forms.

When I began my training, there was a popular interest in a man called Bruce Lee, who had played in various American TV series (The Green Hornet) in 1966/7 and had gone onto a famous film career in the East with ‘The Big Boss’, ‘Fist of Fury’ and ‘Way of the Dragon’ around 1972. It was his big hit ‘Enter the Dragon’, released in 1973, which cemented his fame in the West and gave rise to considerable popular interest in the martial arts. That wasn’t why I began training, but it did spur me on to follow through on an earlier interest in Judo. I had also been an avid follower of Akira Kurosawa’s film work and had been spellbound by Shichinin Samurai (The Seven Samurai), The Hidden Fortress, Yojimbo and Sanjuro, all starring Toshiro Mifune, which were difficult to see in those days unless you knew of The Scala in London.

To the uninitiated, the martial arts is all about the pursuit of violence. Those that think that, do not last long in a Dojo. The better informed often focus on the self-defence aspects, but actually, there is so much more to it than that. But it is where most people. myself included, begin.

Of course, when you start training in the martial arts, you become fascinated with its range of forms. Before I began karate training, I had a brief six-month attempt at Judo, which I eventually ‘gave up’, finding it uninspiring and unruly. I did, however, return to it some years later. When I first discovered Shotokan Karate though, in late 1973, it was completely different. I watched in amazement at the speed, agility and incredible balance of the students. Their persistence, dedication, and determination to master the complexities of the techniques inspired me to attempt the training myself. And so it began.

It started with the very personal challenge of Kihon, basic training – in stances, blocking, striking, focus and fluid movement. You become engrossed in performing the individual techniques. First you are happy just to keep up with your fellow students. Then it becomes more of a quest to refine the techniques, performing hundreds of repetitions in your attempts to improve. Very soon, though, you begin to appreciate that it is much more about mind, body and spirit and less about the techniques. Then, Kata gets a grip on you and you begin to see what it’s all about. Every step of the way, you feel like a beginner – no matter how much progress you make.

My first teachers were Bob Waterhouse and Dave Vaughan, both English, both at that time 1st Dan, both students of Sensei Enoeda, both excellent karateka in their own right. I studied under them at the Hassenbrook School Dojo, Stanford-le-Hope, Essex, with occasional guest lessons from Ray Fuller, now 8th Dan, and Dave Hazard, now 7th Dan, at as many training courses as I could afford. I made good progress, trained regularly and studied hard, reaching 4th Kyu (for the first time round) after two years work. I deliberately stayed at this grade for some time, preferring to consolidate my training and improve on it to the best of my ability.

About this time, I began attending Sensei Enoeda’s classes in London. In those days he was ranked 6th Dan and his Headquarters Dojo was situated on the very top of Marshall Street Baths just around the corner from Carnaby Street. Students of that time will remember the exhausting climb up those steep steps to the top of the building, the long, hard training sessions and the very public, freezing cold water ‘shower’ at the end, before rushing back to the office or running for the late trains home. The training though was unrivalled. To have the privilege of training under Sensei’s Enoeda and Sensei Tomita in those days was priceless.

This video was made many years after those early sessions but it gives something of the flavour of training in that famous dojo with the Master himself.

“The ultimate aim of Karate lies not in victory or in defeat, but in the perfection of the character of its participants.” – Gichin Funakoshi

Master Gichin Funakoshi is widely recognised as the founder of modern day Shotokan Karate. He was born on November 10th 1868 in the Yamakawa district of Shuri, Okinawa. He began his training under Master Yasutsune Azato at the age of eleven. Master Azato also trained Funakoshi in the Confucian classics. Later, he also studied with Master Yasutsune Itosu. He dedicated his life to the development and promotion of Karate training throughout Japan. Harry Cook’s superb ‘Shotokan Karate – A Precise History, 2001′ offers a detailed account of Funakoshi’s personal development and his eventual formulation of the style of karate which became known as Shotokan. As Cook observes;

In order to fully appreciate and understand Funakoshi’s Shotokan Karate-do it is essential to realise that, above all else, Gichin Funakoshi was a Confucian gentleman, or Chun-tzu. Becoming a gentleman, in Confucian terms, is not a matter of birth but is the result of the development of a number of ethical values. … Those who manifest these virtues in their character and conduct are considered to be Chun-tzu. …

The Five Characteristics

‘Chun-tzu’ can be translated variously as the gentleman, true manhood, the superior man, and man-at-his-best. Confucian teachings were focussed on ‘the gentleman’; the man of virtue. Confucius said “He who in this world can practice five things may indeed be considered man-at-his-best.” What are they?

Humility, Magnanimity, Sincerity, Diligence, and Graciousness. If you are humble, you will not be laughed at. If you are magnanimous, you will attract many to your side. If you are sincere, people will trust you. If you are gracious, you will get along well with your subordinates (James R. Ware, trans., The Sayings of Confucius, New York: New American Library 1955, p. 110). It is this type of man who can transform society into the peaceful state it was meant to be. In this quotation you can detect the roots of the Shotokan Dojo Kun.

The Ethics of Confucius

Confucius, born in 550 B.C., is considered the greatest of all eastern philosophers. His teaching forms the foundation of Asian philosophy and culture. Confucianism, as its founder taught, is not a religion in the traditional sense – it is an ethical code.

Three key principles are emphasized in Confucius’ teachings: the principles of Li, Jen and Chun-tzu. The term Li has several meanings, often translated as propriety, reverence, courtesy, ritual or the ideal standard of conduct. It is what Confucius believed to be the ideal standard of religious, moral, and social conduct.

The second key concept is the Principle of Jen. It is the fundamental virtue of Confucian teaching. Jen is the virtue of goodness and benevolence. It is expressed through recognition of value and concern for others, no matter their rank or class. In the Analects, Confucius summarizes the principle of Jen in this statement, often called The Silver Rule: “Do not do to others what you would not like them to do to you.” (Analects 15:23) Li provides the structure for social interaction. Jen makes it a moral system.

The third important concept is Chun-tzu, as discussed above, this represents the idea of the true gentleman. It is the man who lives according to the highest ethical standards. The gentleman displays five virtues: self-respect, generosity, sincerity, persistence, and benevolence. His relationships are described as the following: as a son, he is always loyal; as a father, he is just and kind; as an official, he is loyal and faithful; as a husband, he is righteous and just; and as a friend, he is faithful and tactful. Here again you can see the seeds of the Shotokan Dojo Kun.

“If all men would live by the principles of Li and Jen and strive to emulate the Chun-tzu character of the true gentleman, justice and harmony would rule the empire.”

The Five Ways

The Confucian philosopher Meng Tzu said that “A Gentleman (Chun-tzu) teaches in five ways. The first is by a transforming influence like that of timely, seasonal rain. The second is by helping the student to realise his virtue to the full. The third is by helping him to understand his potential and develop his talent. The fourth is by answering his questions. The fifth is by setting an example others can reflect upon and emulate. These are the five ways in which a gentleman teaches.”

Cook observes that all of Funakoshi’s writings are suffused with Confucian values and themes. His teaching methods were certainly derived from Meng Tzu’s ‘Five Ways’ as discussed above, and you can see how these concepts come together in some of the excerpts below. Ultimately, Funakoshi believed that; “true Karate-do places weight upon the spiritual rather than physical matters … that in daily life, one’s mind and body should be trained and developed in a spirit of humility, and that, in critical times, one should be devoted utterly to the cause of justice.”

What is Karate? (excerpts from Gichin Funakoshi’s ‘Karate-Do Kyohan’)

The tremendous offensive and defensive power of Karate-do is well known. Karate-do is an art with which one can defeat enemies with a single fist attack or kick, without weapons. …. [However] ….

True Karate, that is, Karate-do, strives internally to train the mind to develop a clear conscience enabling one to face the world truthfully, while externally developing strength until one may overcome even ferocious wild animals. Mind and technique are to become one in true karate.

Those who follow Karate-do must consider courtesy of prime importance. Without courtesy, the essence of Karate-do is lost. Courtesy must be practiced, not only during the karate training period but at all times in one’s daily life. The karate student must humble himself to receive training. It may be said that a presumptuous or conceited person is not qualified to follow Karate-do. The student must always be aware of and receptive to criticism from others; he must be constantly introspective and must readily admit any lack of knowledge, rather than pretending to know what he does not know.

Those who follow Karate-do must never forsake a humble mind and gentle manner. It is the small-minded individual who likes to brag upon acquiring some small skill, and those with little knowledge who carry on as if they were experts, are childish. It is because the large number of false martial artists in the world that the public tends to either to ignore the martial artist or to consider him wild. Therefore, many serious martial artists are embarrassed. Students of Karate-do should always keep these points in mend.

Those who follow Karate-do will develop courage and fortitude. These qualities do not have much to do with strong actions or with the development of strong techniques as such. Emphasis is placed on development of the mind rather than on techniques. In a time of grave public crisis, on must have the courage, if required for the sake of justice, to face a million and one opponents. For the Karate-do student, the most shameful trait is indecisiveness. ………

In a few words then, those who seek karate should not stop merely with the perfection of their techniques. Rather, I hope, they will dedicate their lives to seeking the true Karate-do. This is because life through Karate-do is life itself, public and private.

Karate-Do as a Defensive Art (excerpts from Gichin Funakoshi’s ‘Karate-Do, My Way of Life’)

I have always stressed the point in my teaching that karate is a defensive art and must never serve offensive purposes. “Be careful”, I wrote in one of my early books, “about the words you speak, for if you are boastful you will make a great many enemies. Never forget the old saying that a strong wind may destroy a sturdy tree but the willow bows, and the wind passes through. The great virtues of karate are prudence and humility.”

That is why I teach my students always to be alert but never to go on the offensive with their karate skills, and I instruct my new students that I will under no circumstances permit them to use their fists to settle personal differences. Some of the younger ones, I confess, disagree with me: they tell me that they believe karate may fairly be used whenever circumstances make it absolutely necessary.

I try to point out that this is a total misconception of the true meaning of karate, for once karate enters, the issue becomes a matter of life and death. And how can we allow ourselves to engage in such life and death confrontations often in our few years on earth?

Whatever the circumstances, karate must not be used offensively.

On Training (excerpts from Gichin Funakoshi’s ‘Karate-Do, My Way of Life’)

You must be deadly serious in training. When I say that, I do not mean that you should be reasonably diligent or moderately in earnest. I mean that your opponent must always be present in your mind, whether you sit or stand or walk or raise your arms. Should you in combat strike a karate blow, you must have no doubt whatsoever that that one blow decides everything. If you have made an error, you will be the one who falls. You must always be prepared for such an eventuality.

You may train for a long, long time, but if you merely move your hands and feet and jump up and down like a puppet, learning karate is not very different from learning to dance. You will never have reached the heart of the matter; you will have failed to grasp the quintessence of Karate-do. To be deadly serious, then, is not just an essential for a follower of Karate-do; it is equally essential in everyone’s daily life, for life is itself a struggle to survive. Anyone so complacent as to assume that after a failure he will have another opportunity will seldom make much of a success of his life. …..

Try to see yourself as you truly are and try to adopt what is meritorious in the work of others. As a karateka, you will of course often watch others practice. When you do and you see strong points in the performance of others, try to incorporate them into your own technique. At the same time, if the trainee your are watching seems to be doing less than his best, ask yourself whether you too may not be failing to practice with diligence. Each of us has good qualities and bad; the wise man seeks to emulate the good he perceives in others and avoid the bad.

….. I would like to reiterate that karate is not, and never has been, merely a brutal form of self-defense. On the contrary, anyone who has truly mastered the art of karate will take care not to venture into dangerous places or situations where he or she may be forced to put the art to use. …..

He who is aware of his own weakness will remain master of himself in any situation; only a true weakling is capable of true courage. Naturally, a real karate adept must refine his technique through training, but he must never forget that only through training will he be able to recognize his own weakness.

Master Funakoshi, Supreme Master of the Japanese Karate Association, died on April 2th 1957 just days after the Japanese Ministry of Education formally recognised the JKA. Above is shown Gichin Funakoshi’s Memorial at the Engakuji Temple, Kamakura, Japan.