Film studies

Great news about £8 million being awarded to my old next-door neighbour the Whitworth Art Gallery. The money, from the Heritage Lottery Fund, will go towards the long-awaited MUMA-designed extension, which will double the public space and introduce a new main entrance into the building from Whitworth Park. An art garden will also be created, which sounds very pleasant; read more on the project here.

If you fancy seeing the Whitworth before the changes get underway, combine your trip with the free Unravel drop-in workshop taking place for one day only in the gallery this Saturday (26 February), 11am-4pm. Follow @unravelfilm on Twitter for updates.


The Unravel project aims to create an epic 16-hour hand-painted film that correlates in length to 874 miles - the distance from John O'Groats to Land's End. Winner of the Deutsche Bank Award for Art at the Royal College of Art 2010, Unravel is involving as many people as possible across England, Scotland and Wales in collaboration with national film venues, art galleries, community spaces and educational institutions.

The organisers Chris Paul Daniels (my pal Jo's cousin, I believe), Maria Anastassiou, Mark Pickles, Jo Byrne and Manchester-based Kelvin Brown say: "Unravel aims to turn the viewer into the maker of the work in a literal 'hands-on' way. We hope that these events will be an entertaining, informative and inspiring introduction to film-making, providing an informal setting for people to interact with each other as much as the project." Enjoy!

Two wheels good

It's the last Friday of the month tomorrow, meaning it's Bike Friday and Critical Mass, more about which you can read in this previous post.

To get you in the mood for a day on two wheels, I thought I'd share some cool cycling sites I've had the pleasure of acquainting myself with in recent months, plus this photo taken on a recent trip to Belfast.


First is Mancunion bicycle-based art project Papergirl Manchester (@PapergirlMCR) that's been bubbling away over the summer and building up to a special exhibition at Soup Kitchen starting on 1 October. Also on a creative tip is Messenger Town, which describes itself as "the journal of cyclogeography" and has loads of interesting snaps by bike couriers all over the shop (recently featuring our very own Rainy City along with our equivalent across the Pond, Seattle).

And it's not all about getting down and dirty with the grease monkeys, my fashionista friends, or kitting yourself out top to toe in nasty hi-vis. If you happen to be in the Big Smoke, VeLo Loves The City has some damn handy links, from bike shops and cafes, to other bike bloggers and handy bag stockists (you can also follow them on Twitter at @VeLoLovesCity). For more on cycling with style, check out the likes of London Cycle Chic (@LondonCycleChic) and US-based Chic Cyclists.

Now, this is brilliant. You never know when it's going to happen, or where, or indeed why, but every cyclist knows that at some point (and usually quite often), they will get grief from a motorist or be pissed off by a pedestrian. Dawn (@dawnhfoster) at A Hundred And One Wankers feels your pain, and is encouraging everyone to name and shame the worst offenders through the medium of the Worldwide Wankers map. I feel this might come in handy at some point...

...in the meantime, why not join the Contemporary Cartography Bicycle Tour, which coincides with the publication of the new art map of Manchester and Manchester Weekender. It sets off from Whitworth Art Gallery next Saturday at 11am. Art and cycling: we like.

Atomic Bohm

Earlier today, I managed to swing by Manchester Art Gallery for a wander around their latest exhibition, A World Observed 1940-2010: Photographs by Dorothy Bohm.

Admittedly, it took me a while to get down there. This, in fact, was my third attempt. I went to the preview last week, but I didn't get to pre-view a lot due to the distraction of free Peroni and some rather in-depth discussions about the architectural practicalities of the glass structure linking the old art gallery building to its modern sister. (I noticed some shattered high-up panes today, actually.) Next, I promised to go on the show's first day open to the public, then found myself sidetracked by a nice new pair of pumps.

Anyway, better late than never, I say, and I'm actually glad I went under my own steam. Less crowds harping on about depth of field (I imagine), plus it's big. HUGE! There's so much to see, it's almost overwhelming. I'm so pleased it's running until 30 August as it gives me plenty of time to revisit and perhaps concentrate on the bits I liked best, namely the street photography Bohm took up in the late 1950s, firstly on black and white film and later using Kodak colour. While I agree with Bohm's own assertion that she prefers B&W because of "the abstraction of tones", her early Kodak prints prove that saturated colour holds its own subtleties.


Various themes run through the show (curated, incidentally, by Dorothy's daughter, Monica Bohm-Duchen), with definite categorisation: from the lovely "human interest" shots (mostly unposed, in direct contrast to Bohm's original portraiture business on Market Street; more about that on the Dorothy Bohm in Manchester blog) to the rather less intriguing still lives and snaps of billboard models. The final section is a study of modern-day Manchester, but I think it might well be the collection of reflections, shadow play and trompe l'oeil murals that I give more attention to on my next visit.

Image: St-Jean-de-Luz, France, by Dorothy Bohm © Dorothy Bohm Archive

Exchanging glances

If you have never before wandered the ringing marbled halls of Manchester's Royal Exchange theatre, it is worth going merely to peruse the building. Watching a play here is even better: until 8 May, I can recommend The Comedy Of Errors by some bloke called William Shakespeare. The usual high standard of costumes and props (although the Perspex box is still perplexing me) is combined with some fantastic acting; so much so the olde worlde language and those darn rhyming couplets really don't detract after the first scene is out of the way.

But back to the structure, which has a fascinating past. Starting life as a bustling commodities exchange at the height of Manchester's industrial prowess, the Levitt Bernstein-designed seven-sided in-the-round internal auditorium you see today was completed in 1976, after the shell had lain empty between 1968 and 1973, when a bunch of thespians took up residence. At this juncture I'd very much like to utter the word "juxtaposition", but I'm guilty of using it too much, so I'll let this picture do the talking.


My dad tells me he saw old happy-clappy campaign singer'n'banjo player Pete Seeger in concert here back in the day; I can't stand Little Boxes, it affected me deeply as a child, but his final gig was apparently played with Arlo Guthrie, who I love (I was introduced to him by a Frenchman with a glass eye via The Story of Reuben Clamzo & His Strange Daughter in the Key of A, and I absolutely dig the ditty Alice's Restaurant Massacree), so I guess I have to let him off.

Anyway, that's by the by, and I don't even know if my dad is remembering the right place as I can't find no reference to it on the interweb and he's [whisper] getting on a bit, y'know? (You sure it weren't the Free Trade Hall there now, Paw?) Back to the building, and I learnt recently, while researching a bit of work I did for an upcoming online tourist attraction, that it took a direct hit in the Blitz, with further damage being inflicted when the IRA bomb thankfully took the hideous whirlwind that was Shambles Square out of our lives forever in 1996. Following renovation to the beautiful glass and ironwork dome (one of a few round these parts), which actually moved as well as shattered, the theatre flung open its doors once again in 1998. Phew!

Wall-to-wall hotties

Thinking I was running out of time, I finally got round to seeing Walls Are Talking at the Whitworth Art Gallery - but, happily, it seems to have been extended to the end of August, allowing me the chance to make a return visit if I so desire. It may be necessary - there are various parts to the show, exploring topics varying from imprisonment to sexuality, with some overspilling the usual temporary rooms, and I'm not sure I absorbed them all fully first time round.


The Whitworth is the ideal place for such a project. The university-affiliated institution has an international reputation for its large collection of decorative arts, including wallcoverings and textiles, and this temporary exhibition gives it a chance to show some of these off while also borrowing a selection (thanks, partly, to the V&A in that there London) and commissioning a few more.

There's a diverse range of works, including pieces by artists such as Andy Warhol and Damien Hirst and patterns by designers such as William Morris and Timorous Beasties (who have been mentioned before on this fair site, and whose London Toile, pictured, I subsequently noticed adorning the peeling walls of The Deaf Institute, where I went for a post-art lunch). I was particularly taken by a monochrome strip of repeating pairs of eyes (rolls for sale in the shop for £29), Thomas Demand's Ivy wallpaper (now dramatically choking the entire South Gallery) and David Shrigley's Industrial Estate, with its modern architecture critique (the juxtaposition of the identical buildings but differently labelled warehouse and whorehouse made me laugh).

Our relationship with wallpaper has often been uneasy; it has always been ambiguous. By the late 20th Century, wallpaper had become a bit of a joke in artistic circles, a cliche with connotations of kitsch. But during the last 20 years, artists exploring themes of home, memory and identity have created installations with backdrops of specially designed wallpaper.

This introduction at the entrance held sway with me and made me think of my new friend David Wightman's Behemoth series at the Cornerhouse back in November. I'm going to tell him to come to this; I think he'll like it.

The lady doth protest...

The People's History Museum reopened at the weekend, after closing in 2007 for a top-to-toe overhaul and the addition of a completely new structure to the old building. The juxtaposition is intriguing: inside, the red brick, steel girders and green and yellowy tiles, a bit like those lining the walls at the Victoria Baths, contrast pleasingly with the white walls, brushed silver metal detailing and fancy big plate glass windows looking over to the funky new filing cabinet courts. Outside, the oddly bulbous rusted cladding is a strange addition to the original two storeys, but it tones in somehow and at least it's something different in these days of homogeneous architecture.

Unfortunately, the displays themselves are a little less impressive than the place in which they're housed. Despite the bespoke space, the objects on show and information boards seem a bit crammed in and it's also so dark I found myself modelling an unattractive squint most of the time. Nonetheless, downstairs in the Changing Exhibition Gallery, the current show Carried Away is an interesting collection of black and white photographs taken at demos in the 70s and 80s; the Greenham Common protesters held my attention for a while there.

Flash point

Bumbling around in the snowy dusk on my way back home from the Cornerhouse on Saturday, I decided to take a slight detour to check out CUBE artist-in-residence Andrea Booker's off-site installation; the SOS sign I was telling you about last week. Plugged in and slowly flashing away, it will be sending a subliminal message to drivers fighting their way along the Mancunian Way until 5 January. I was slightly underwhelmed, but now I hark on't, I must've seen it before as I seem to remember thinking it was a bit odd. And then instantly forgetting about it. Subliminal, indeed...

Entitled Apollo Theatres (for why, I can't say), it's up near the top of the squat white Art Deco-style box that used to house web company Moonfish and is currently undergoing a "rebranding" as part of the seemingly stalled First Street development to become EASA HQ; headquarters for the European Architecture Students Assembly 2010. So now you know.


This isn't my pic, by the way. It is neither snowy nor dusk.

What's your sign?

Popped over to CUBE earlier to check out the third annual Open show before it gets tidied away on Friday. Can't say I was blown away by it, but there were a few entries that stood out as being more than just a Blue Peter project (Paul Haywood and Maxine Kennedy's Salford Red 2007 paint chart being one and Norbert Francis Attard's colourful building-specific installations, including some in Liverpool, being another. Huh, perhaps I have an obsession with colour as well as books this week). Mr Words&Fixtures seemed to like Brian Rosa's Palimpsesto Urbano: Mexico City 2008-9; a series of urban landscapes showing the reappropriation of various materials (including old election posters, billboard ads and roadwork tape) as screens and shelters. But if Mr Words&Fixtures wants to tell you about it, he can do his own blog, right?


Downstairs is a special corner set aside for work by CUBEOpen 2008's winner and current artist-in-residence Andrea Booker. This is where the words come in: last year, it was her bright orangey-red SOS submission that caught everyone's eye. The three new installations are perhaps more subdued being white or clear, and use (I quote the blurb) "reclaimed and abandoned commercial signage salvaged from buildings in Manchester and Salford" to spell out a lit-up ONCE; SPILT MILK in glossy white (you might even say milky) enamelled letters, and a purposefully bent and damaged FRAIL. Apparently, "Booker supplants the original and intended message whilst retaining its connovative one, and in doing so makes a statement about social identity and displacement". Oh yeah. The exhibition also includes mock-ups of delapidated sites around the city which she aims to liven up (albeit temporarily) with her messages; keep your eyes peeled over coming months...

A lovely toasty feeling

Here's a great pic of a great building: the Toast Rack in that funny no-man's land opposite Platt Fields Park between Rusholme and Fallowfield. I used to live in Fallowfield as a student (I know; I really am a walking cliche sometimes), so the Hollings Campus, as it is officially known, was a fixture on my daily commute for a year. It's one of a kind. I hope they don't pull it down, as is threatened.


I'm an architecture fan but no architecture student, so for more on this "perfect piece of pop architecture", check out the Manchester Modernist Society website. Here there is a great write-up about the history of the building and a warning on its uncertain future, plus some links to other articles and blogs paying tribute to the Wilmslow Road icon.