Dickinson College Humanities Program in Norwich

Overall, I have really enjoyed being able to go to the theatre and compare the different productions that we have seen. But now that we have seen our last performance, I feel prepared and capable to tie in the themes that these productions present into a few of the overarching themes that we have experienced on the walking tours, class discussions, and readings. For time’s sake and space, I mostly would like to focus on The Pitman Painters and Blood Brothers in this particular post. The Pitmen Painters was undoubtedly one of the best straight-play performances that I have ever seen. The depth and layering of the dialogue really portrayed the time period in a realistic, yet humorous way.

This draws me to my next point: the playwright brilliantly conveyed the realistic themes of class struggles and economic differences while still managing to couple the drama with a relatable sense of humor. I felt that this performance creatively discussed the struggle and tension of the time. All of the men enjoyed painting, especially Oliver, and this simple act of painting morphed into a larger, more important symbol: a symbol of unfulfilled desire, and of the vain hope for a better future. As simple and unimportant as painting may seem to us now, it became an unmistakable symbol of class division throughout the play. For example, as much as Oliver wanted to paint, to leave the mines, and be paid for doing something that he loved, he was unable to liberate himself from the burdens of his class position. This internal and external struggle was highlighted by his benefactor, a woman of wealth who desired to collect his paintings. This brings up another distinction: while Oliver would be working tirelessly at painting, this wealthy woman would simply pay a small sum of money to collect his work and though he would leave the mines, Oliver would still be under the rule of another person. I think Oliver recognized that his paintings wouldn’t change his circumstance and in his mind he believed an escape from the mining world would be futile.

As a member of the audience, I can attest for the fact that I was hoping he would leave the mines, work as a painter, and become famous and wealthy enough to bring his friends out of the mines and support them until they were old men.  But this vain hope makes the ending even more jarring and eye-opening. We all hope that Oliver’s life will work out happily ever after, but in reality he was a slave to the constraints and prejudices of his class—much like the immigrants in London are still laboring under today. As a group we have traveled to market after market and it is here that I have noticed a vicious cycle. Certain people are always “the outsider” the “laborers” and it is generally frowned upon for anyone to try and move up the ladder, so to speak. Reaching way back to the beginning of our stay in London, we discussed Great Expectations. This same theme occurs in Pip’s life. People are to stay within their class and not deviate from the norm or else pain and struggle will befall them. Better to remain in one’s class with one’s struggles than to risk the climb to the top- to achieve more.

Overall, the Pitmen Painters offered me a visual and emotional insight into the plight of the lower class. I thoroughly enjoyed this play, and though it was essentially a work of art, a fiction, it was based on the lives of actual people.

Now the Blood Brothers on the other hand, lacked the heavy reality and depth that the Pitmen Painters possessed. Though I generally love musical theatre, this particular performance struck me as vapid…though I did notice a similar theme of class division. I don’t really feel the need to go into detail here simply because there was no real depth to the performance other than the fact that one brother struggled throughout his life and the other didn’t because of his wealth.

 Though the musical was extremely dramatic, it actually lost its sense of any authenticity that may have saved it from becoming complete crap. Now although I am railing on this, it also echoed the Pitmen Painters by emphasizing that class and wealth have a profound effect on the outcome of one’s life. These two plays, though both very different, have really helped me to connect and visualize the theme of class and economic struggle through both thought-provoking dialogue (mostly in Pitmen Painters).

Here are two very different quotes/poems about the British Museum (especially the Reading Room)

“If an army of monkeys were strumming on typewriters, they might write all the books in the British Museum”

-Sir Arthur Eddington

In this wonderful blog post, I think I shall convey my experiences at the John Soane Museum. Essentially this museum was founded by Sir John Soane who turned his home into an area in which artists and art lovers alike could come in and appreciate his collection of antiquities.

The overall effect was fairly awesome because this museum has such a variety of artwork, including roman, medieval, neo-classical, and Egyptian works of art. There were some really beautiful statues, pieces of stained glass, paintings, and various other ancient artworks. I also noticed that one of his more famous collections is from ancient Egypt…including a sarcophagus? It’s amazing to me what money can buy if you have enough of it.

Anyways– I just visited the website to get some more background on John Soane himself but there is not an exorbitant amount of detail on his life. They do mention, however, that he was a distinguished architect who designed his own house so that it may become “a museum to which ‘amateurs and students’ should have access”. He left his collection and house to the nation in1837 because after his wife died in 1815 he never remarried and decided to establish the house as a museum.

The museum is architecturally beautiful, filled with illusions and surprises everywhere. I guess my favorite thing about this particular museum was that John Soane had made an effort to share historic art with others, so that no matter one’s circumstance he or she could lay their eyes on ancient relics. This was the one really redeeming quality to this particular museum. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the actual art that was involved but to me, the most important part was that John Soane wanted everyone to benefit from his collection. Maybe by the time I got around to actually visiting it, I was pretty tired of museums in general. Room 26 informed me that they had seen so many museums recently that Jeyla woke up and asked both Anya and Audrey if they were in a museum. Despite the fact that this is a hilarious story and I laugh every time I think about it, I think the moral of what I’m trying to say is that we have visited so many museums that this particular one really didn’t stand out for me, as say, the Tate Modern. Overall, I appreciated the experience but wouldn’t revisit it. On the Brightside for those of you who loved it I think the website as an interactive tour you can take whenever your little heart desires! 🙂

I know that the Tate Modern was not a required blog post, however I had to write about it simply because it was one of the craziest museums I have ever been to. I am still debating as to how I feel about the overall experience…I mean, I really can’t decide whether I loved it or hated it.

 It was somewhat shocking at times and other times somewhat bland and even meaningless. But I briefly wanted to reflect upon the evolution of modern art and how it marks a change in culture and politics. I know very little about the modernist artists themselves, but this particular museum inspired me to do a little more research on the background of these artists so that I may be able to understand the meaning of their art a bit better.

What I discovered through some online sources about their biographies, is that many of them were creating their works based on their childhood experiences or the social and political reformation that took place in their native countries. They discussed the meaning of life, of art itself, of emotional and physical struggle. And all of these things were created and presented in a way that was completely unique to each artist’s style.

Not one art exhibit resembled the next (though I think I could recognize “movements” in the content of the pieces so to speak). Yet some were just disturbing and I think we can all agree on which one I’m talking about– so I’m really not going to go into another further detail to describe it.  Mostly I had to ask myself while walking through the museum: Is this art? It’s a really difficult question to ask oneself because “art” is subjective. What may be the most beautiful work to me, maybe another person’s idea of complete crap. But as I wandered through the Tate, I began to think that maybe modern art is simply taking what is abstract and turning it into the concrete, allowing the artists a kind of therapy in their process of creation. I read somewhere that the closest a man can ever get to childbirth is to create a work of art and I can see the truth in this statement, especially because some of my favorite works were done by male artists.  I can see the sweat, tears, blood, and time that went into the evolution of the art and I can see that there is an effort to make other people understand, to feel more than what a pretty picture on a wall may stimulate in the observer. Modern art to me, felt like a battle- a struggle for connection, a raw and untamed effort to make others understand something greater.

I guess overall, now that I have talked my way through the Tate, I have found that it has inspired more thought and reflection than any other museum. And for that, I think I may like modern art more than I first realized.

When you think about identity the person you are, the person you wish to become you never truly recognize that ultimately you have no control on your identity. What makes up one’s identity; Race/ethnicity, gender, sexuality, class, job, degree? The list can go on forever, and the major commonality among all of these aspects of one’s identity is that they are all socially constructed. You never get to decide what you wish to be, and it is unique. Of course not anyone person in the world is the same, but an individual is never able to define themselves without conforming to society in one way or another.

In the novel Second Class citizen Adah is trying to escape her confined gender role as a woman in Nigeria. In order to do so, she flees to Europe in search for a better life. She discovers that her societal role in Europe is far worse than it was in Nigeria and she is further oppressed because of what her identity. If we examine the oppression that Adah faces in both Nigeria and Europe we can get a better understanding of identity. In Nigeria the only obstacle that Adah faced was the fact that she was a woman. Adah was a much respected woman in her society, but because of her gender she faced oppression that affected her subjectivity in society. It is this reason that led her to flee to Europe. However when she arrived in Europe other parts of her identity was realized. In Nigeria Adah was just a rich woman, but in Europe Adah was a middle class black woman. This realization of her racial identity is something she never had to acknowledge because in Nigeria she wasn’t a minority, but when entering Europe her identity becomes altered. In essence she has not control of her identity because identity is not self defined. Identity is defined by society.

Everyone in this world from birth is given their name, gender, and sex. As they grow they are allotted a certain number of social constructions to add to “their identity.” No one born in today’s world can exist without being defined by society, and even choosing to remain as an “other “or remained undefined you are still conforming to a societal role. The human race has become so compliant on social construction, that they have become our norm. And what makes matters worse is that so many people are unable to realize that by simply existing they are being forced to conform to society.  To answer Jeyla’s question, Identity is always societal defined.

While you walk down the streets of London you will see; fashionable people, a variety of restaurants, small and big businesses, tourist venues, and of course pubs. But where as in America we have bars, Pubs are much more distinct. When you walk into a pub, you are not just walking into a social venue for you pleasure, because it is so much more complex. When one enters a pub they experience and deep rooted part of London’s culture, and might even discover what historical figures have done the same.

Having been to a few pubs, over these past four weeks, I can tell you first hand that when one enters a pub, it is unlike any other experience. The type of people that you will encounter will range in age, class, and ethnicity/race, but will all be seeking the same thing as you, a drink, and a good time. Something small yet so significant in British culture pubs serve as a venue for people to come together and simply enjoy the company of friends while unwinding from the stressed of the day. Although I am not a huge fan of beers, ails, or any other hardcore alcoholic beverages I will say that I thoroughly enjoy pubs.

It isn’t so much that I like being able to drink legally (although I do enjoy this very much) but the fact that there is a place where you can just unwind and enjoy the time spent with friends, reflecting on the days past. The overall atmosphere of a pub is what really adds to the experience, in that once inside can only be described as “chilled.” Pubs, are understandably a huge part of British culture, a distinctively the Court is a big part of Dickinson student culture. I guess it’s one of those things that you will have to experience yourself.

“Identity would seem to be the garment with which one covers the nakedness of the self, in which case, it is best that the garment be loose, a little like the robes of the desert, through which one’s nakedness can always be felt, and, sometimes, discerned.” – James Arthur Baldwin.

   We all identify ourselves whether it be through our gender, sexuality, nationality, race, economic status. Sometimes we make up our identity but often we feel pressured to identify with a certain group in order to feel a sense of security and comfort although having a certain identity does not always guarantee one comfort with the majority of the society. It has taken me a long time to gather my thoughts on identity because it seems that many “categories” of identity are superficial. Therefore, whenever I discuss identity, I try to focus on the individual. On individual’s “comprehension of him or herself as a discrete, separate entity.” As James Arthur Baldwin stated, identity is a garment that most of the the time covers the true individual. By our need to identify oneself we limit our being.

   Upon arriving to London, it seemed that most of the society identified themselves by simply their economic status. In a country where monarchy and class are in their prime, there seems to be a focus on whether one identifies as being in the higher, middle, or lower class. While being in London, we have been discussing the construction of identity for the individuals who have immigrated to England and the effect that migration has had not only on the first generation but on the second generation as well. We have read works such as White Teeth by Zadie Smith that explores the migration and adaptation to postcolonial Britain, where the identities of the characters are defined not only by their economical status but also by the color of their skin, their cultural beliefs, their religions, their upbringings. In White Teeth, the author decided to introduce a wide array of cultures present in North London and explore how they mixed in a country like England which is a country “with immigrants.” Englishman Archie Jones, the family from Bangladesh, the Iqbals, biracial Irie Jones who struggles with not only her identity, but her hair, Alsana Begum, the wife of Samad Iqbal, second generation brothers Millat and Magid who are expected to be unaffected by the Western culture are all part of this mix. Some of their challenges include keeping their traditions and religions as part of their identities. Yet again such task is very “superficial” where one assumes that religion and cultural traditions are not present if one is also adapting to their current country of residence. Second generation characters such as Millat, Magid, and Irie struggle between the expectations of their parents and the society with their own wishes and their own chosen identities. They were not able to wear “the loose garment” and shed their given identities due to their historical past whether it be their origin, national past, or family history.

   Irie Jones is introduced to us as a biracial teenager a daughter of the Englishman Archie Jones and Clara Jones, a former Jehovah’s Witness. Being a teenager and wanting to escape her given identity and fit in with the majority of the English society, she goes as far as straightening her hair but literary burning all of her curly hair off. Her need to limit her being by fitting into one category or the other causes her struggle. As readers we are exposed to Smith’s recollection of Irie, her obsession by the typical white family, her constant need for the separation from her parents, her need to look different in order to attract male attention. Alsana Begum, who was also married to Samad Iqbal, struggled by having the identity of a Bangladeshi wife. Although we as readers can see Alsana trying to break the barrier of being a quiet, submissive wife especially when it comes to making decisions regarding her twin sons, she is unable to break the barrier. She is reminded of her role, her identity by her friends, her husband, and her children. Alsana’s story is a great representation of what masculinity meant in postcolonial Britain where male superiority has existed for centuries, it is even more interesting that she was an immigrant whose own culture also places a focus on masculinity. Therefore, her struggle with her identity can not escape her. Neither Irie nor Alsana are aware of their separate entities of being individuals. They are so caught up in the identities given to them by their families that they forget to live. They forget to be themselves. Their identities are the opposite of being fluid, they are trapped.

   After trying to explore identity in White Teeth, I am still questioning identity. Is identity something that we ourselves choose or is it always the result of the society?

After all of this time spent in museums in London, especially the British Museum, I find myself asking just one question: How are they still allowed to keep this kind of stuff? I mean, I can’t exactly speak for the Greek government, but I imagine that they would want the sculptures taken from likely the most important structure in Ancient Greek history back. Oh wait, Yes I Can. Despite the fact that England’s age of Imperialism is most certainly gone and past, it is peculiar and almost funny to see that certain citizens of Britain are still holding to the imperialist mentality decades after their actual country gave it up.

In 1801, the Earl of Elgin decided that in order to prevent pieces of the Parthenon from being burned to obtain lime, he was going to excavate pieces of the temple and its sculptures to put under his protection. The only problem is that in order to protect them, he took them out of the country and sold them to the British Museum. Masked under the cause of protecting cultural artifacts, it is apparent today that it was nothing more than a trophy to liberate from Greece and its people. In fact today the term elginism means the practice of plundering artifacts from their original setting. So why is it that despite Greece’s continuous calling for the return of these artifacts that are rightfully theirs, England seems reluctant to give them up?

The answer seems to lie with everyone’s favorite blog topic: identity. There are some opinions that state that as a center of world heritage, Parthenon sculptures are better off in the British Museum that in the actual Parthenon. This probably would have been a valid argument at around the time that the marbles were actually stolen, but is laughable today. Playing the role of cultural center of the world, British supporters insinuate that Greece is in some sort of corner of the planet that doesn’t see anyone other than its inhabitants. This is the 21^st century. There are few people who live in Europe who cannot in a moment’s notice hop on a plane and be in Greece within a 24 hour period. The truth behind the matter is that there are those in Britain (mostly likely A.N. Wilson is one of them) that yearn for the time that their country moved and shook the very foundations of the planet with its actions, enabling to go into countries and plunder what they pleased. Instead, they live in a country whose capital city is kept afloat by the tourist dollars of the very people that they ruled not a few hundred years ago. Whether legal at the time or not, it is long overdue for the marbles to be returned and for some individuals to live in the present, regardless of whether they work in museums.

I can’t really say that today’s trip to the National Gallery was a highlight of my time in London.  As great as it is that the museum offers us a chance to view some of the world’s greatest paintings, it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea.  Personally I would have rather gone to the British Museum again.  Physical artifacts interest me much more than paintings.  Still, I won’ t pretend that I wasn’t moved by certain works of art.  They were few, but those paintings that did move me to some emotion other than vague interest I will always remember.

As one goes to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa, one goes to the National Gallery to see the impressive collection of Monets and van Goghs, and of course the immortalizers of the English countryside, Constable and Gainsborough (though perhaps the collection at the Tate Britain is more complete for these two).  I’ll admit that upon entering I did make a beeline for van Gogh’s Sunflowers.  It has long been one of my favorite paintings and seeing it actually sitting on a wall in front of me was an exhilarating experience.  His technique is just so interesting.  It’s almost pointillism (for those of you familiar with painting technique, or Sunday in the Park with George).  The few pieces of da Vinci’s artwork made me feel small, almost unworthy to be looking at them (you have to understand, for me da Vinci is a god).

However, I think what made me the most happy about this museum was one painting: A Young Woman Standing at a Virginal by Johannes Vermeer.  Perhaps I simply love Colin Firth too much (plays the role of said artist in the movie version of Girl with a Pearl Earring.  watch it.  it’s fantastic) but there is just something about Vermeer’s paintings that makes me want to crawl inside the frame.  Perhaps it is the fact that all of them have virtually the same background (he painted them all in his attic studio), or perhaps it is his use of color and the play of light against the figures in his work.  Perhaps it is the simplicity of the scenes themselves, the normalcy of everything.  Whatever the case, his work inspires me to go home and pick up a paintbrush.  His figures just seem so real, like people the viewer has met before but can’t place.  This work of art is what made me look back on this trip as an enjoyable one.  It’s hard for me to describe just how much I love his work, so seeing it was amazing. 

According to the Pitmen Painters art is supposed to make us stand up and take notice.  It’s supposed to make us feel something, something indescribable that is unique to the person viewing it.  Though I didn’t feel that way about many of the paintings in the National Gallery, the few that did left me feeling winded.  I’m not sure I would go back again, but I will definitely remember the feelings I had when viewing those paintings for a long time to come.

There’s nothing I love more than to be outside on a beautiful day. Growing up on the James River has allowed me to venture down for a “nature walk” whenever I’m home. I’ve been spoiled in that sense. So coming to London, a city full of parks seemed like a happy medium to me. I could participate in the big city scene and still enjoy my beloved green spaces. However, some of the parks have been ‘disappointing’ in that fact that they are so unnatural. What I mean by that is the exact planning and placement of walkways, restaurants, water features, ect. Sure, it’s a great place to exercise and push a pram along a scenic pathway (complete with perfectly manicured lawns!), but it’s not what I am looking for in my ideal park.  I can appreciate the effort and money the city spends on these places. It’s a great place to take a break from the hustle and bustle of London and sit on a wooden bench to read your paper. But I find it incredibly strange that people are almost discouraged from sitting on the grass. Instead, deckchairs are available for hire from April to September. Another thing that really bothers me is the rule against ball games. The parks are great place for a pick-up 5 aside football (soccer) match… oh wait, you can’t play ball in most of these places. Why? I’m the kind of person who goes to open green spaces to relax. When I go to a park I want to be able to run free, lounge on the grass, play games, read and generally cut loose. I feel like I can’t do that here. I’m directing most of this rant towards St. James’s Park and Regent’s Park. Great flowers, too many rules.

I participated in the “Parks” tour group last Thursday and I absolutely loved Hyde Park. This 350-acre space in the heart of London still has most of the aspects I just discussed, but it has another side. In parts of this former royal hunting ground the grass uncut and long, the people walk off the path and you can even go swimming in the Lido. Maybe it’s just the sheer size of the grounds, but this park just “feels right” to me; this is how a park should be. I also noticed the large variety of wildlife at Hyde Park. Besides the normal flocks of pigeons, there were also surprising amounts of waterfowl living in the Long Water. The variety of activities was also impressive. One can do anything form tennis to horseback riding in this park! I hope I can go back for a little bit tomorrow after lunch and explore a bit more. Although I have some problems with a few of the Royal Parks, I cannot deny that they are a wonderful addition to the city. I am looking forward to the open air of Norwich… at least I can play some football there.