Butterfly · Mind

Illustration: Georges Barbier. Comment below if you want to be added.

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." - Anais Nin

"If you go down on a woman, you get a crick in the neck. If you go down on a man, you get lockjaw." - Tallulah Bankhead

I've just been looking at a feminist LJ community that has some very dodgy ideas. For example, they do not recognise reverse sexism or reverse racism on the basis that the perpetrators have to be in a position of power to qualify for this term, ie, they might be prejudiced or discriminatory, but they are not sexist or racist. The sad truth is that minority and oppressed groups often oppress others. The gay community, for example, can be notoriously biphobic, and gays are in a position of power on their own turf. No group is devoid of bigotry, and as a feminist, I do believe that women can be sexist towards men as well as other women, and can be in positions of power over someone else - at home, school, or in the workplace. The same is true with racism. And racism on this side of the Atlantic extends to include white Scots, Irish or Welsh who have in some way been subject to English prejudice. But the same is true in reverse - English people can suffer from racist abuse in Scotland etc. We call it racist, we recognise it that way. To avoid these issues is really about claiming the power to name and shame, and denying someone else the right to do so in reverse. It's about the victim as oppressor, not oppressed. It's about manipulating the argument to your own advantage and refusing to see your own shortcomings. I belong to a number of minority or 'oppressed' groups, but even in the face of prejudice, I wouldn't call myself a victim. The best thing is to learn from the experience, and not treat anyone else the same way. Everyone is prejudiced or ignorant of aspects of other groups' lives and circumstances. No matter how well meaning we try to be, we're always going to get it wrong some of the time.

I had no intention of joining the feminist forum. I went in out of curiosity, and knew from the subtitle of the community that I wouldn't like it: 'Comforting the oppressed, and oppressing the comfortable.' That's the sort of thing that would be greeted with howls of derision by the feminists I know. I clicked the user info, anticipating some horrendous manifesto and set of rules - I was not disappointed. Also, if you want to join, you have to email them first, telling them why you're a feminist and so forth. Presumably, this is just in case you're really a man, or possibly the wrong sort of feminist, like me. I gave up, reminded of the days of jackbooted radical lesbian feminists who used to object to bisexuals, lesbian erotica, lesbians in miniskirts or makeup, and lesbians dancing suggestively. I distinctly remember a disabled woman being thrown out of a women's event in England in the eighties or early nineties for dancing suggestively with her partner. I thought we'd seen the last of this crap. On this side of the Atlantic the 'lesbian sex wars' as they were known were fought and won by the liberal feminists, and anyone else wearing a miniskirt/makeup/strap-on who didn't like being told what to do. Sometime after that, one of the most notorious English revolutionary (radical) lesbian feminists emigrated to Australia. When I heard the news, I felt very sorry for the Australians.

There's a former Big Brother contestant-turned-celebrity in the UK who has just been given a couple of months to live. Her name is Jade Goody, and she's 27 and suffering from cervical cancer which has spread to her bowel and groin. She has two young sons, and in spite of being diagnosed with cancer last August has continued to make a reality TV programme about her life. Her main aim, now, she says, is to make as much money as possible so that her boys are taken care of. Jade Goody is the sort of working class celebrity whose rise to fame through reality TV has created as many detractors as admirers. The former see her as part of the famous-with-no-talent brigade, whereas the latter see her as a survivor who has fought her way to the top. Consequently, the recent announcements regarding her cancer have sparked a great deal of sympathy and shock, given her age, but also some of the most venomous comments I have ever seen on the internet. Troll posters on message boards hide behind their anonymity and report on their hope that she will die and take her boys with her - that was just one vile remark on AOL last week, before her prognosis. As much as the internet is an important means of personal expression, it has also become a breeding ground for cowards and bullies. How many of those who wished Jade Goody dead, when there was still a chance her treatment might work, now regret their words? Judging from some of today's nastier commments, I doubt they care.

There's a Korean horror film I love called A Tale of Two Sisters which is beautifully made and has quite an emotional ending. Though horror, it's not gruesome, and doesn't have the ghost train jokeyness of so many Hollywood teen films. It's about two sisters who return, apparently from an institution of some kind to their father's home where they're welcomed by their stepmother, a very ambivalent figure. There's an extra presence in the house, but also one of the characters is actually a ghost, though they don't know it themselves. It's cleverly done and there's a waltz that plays again and again throughout the film. The walls of the rooms have flowered paper that gets increasingly busy as the film goes on - making the interiors seem more and more claustrophobic. I love good horror, and it's one of the best I've seen in years.

I'm not a chickflick fan and I wouldn't have bought this at all if Brokeback Mountain had been in the shop, which was what I was looking for. Sweeney Todd caught my eye - I like Tim Burton/Depp/Bonham-Carter - but I don't like musicals by and large and besides, the DVD was overpriced.

So there I was thinking I'd buy a film, but with nothing I really liked - they don't do foreign language films at our local supermarket. There were films featuring lots of pumped up men on the cover - adolescent male fantasies about saving the world. The sort of films which prove Jennifer Jason Leigh true when she said that the purpose of an actress in a Hollywood film is to make the leading man look heterosexual. I don't like testosterone films. Nor do I do chickflick, romantic comedies with 'cute' bland anorexic actresses batting their eyelashes at the camera. Anne Hathaway was a lot like this, though perhaps not exactly anorexic - still, they say the camera puts pounds on you. God knows what she looks like in real life.

I find the fashion industry desperately shallow and the models horrifyingly thin and unhealthy looking. The Devil Wears Prada was therefore a risky choice for me, and by and large it was okay but nothing more. Perhaps it was only meant to be lightweight but I suppose I'd hoped for better because it was sold as black humoured. The last black comedy I watched was Shadow of the Vampire and it was brilliant and wickedly funny, plus it showed how silent films were actually made while illustrating the vampiric nature of cinema itself. The Devil Wears Prada fell radically short of this. I hadn't read the book so had few expectations. Meryl Streep was the saving grace, but I found myself wishing the film was more about her. She was by far the more interesting character.

I've been thinking a lot recently about old Hollywood and the fabulous roles there used to be for actresses like Bette Davies, Joan Crawford, etc. They played really strong women, and yet today, actresses are meant to look frail, even ill (the obsession with thinness), and to act or be shot in a cutesy way that makes me wonder what happened to feminism. Meryl Streep had some great roles when she was younger. Where are the parts for older actresses? In France mostly. Charlotte Rampling must be sixty or so now and she still gets to play sexy roles there. In Hollywood the very idea of a sixty year old actress seducing young men in films would probably horrify or seem perverted in some way.

My overwhelming feeling about Hollywood is that a sizeable proportion of what they produce is very gendered, and if you don't buy into silly boy shoot'em ups or girlie flicks, you're pretty much screwed. Which is why I prefer European or Far Eastern cinema.

One last word on The Devil Wears Prada - Hathaway was portrayed in a cutesy sentimental way that probably doesn't work so well on this side of the Atlantic. I think she would have been likeable enough if they had tried a little less harder to make her so. It seemed to indicate a lack of trust in the actress, the story, or the viewer, or perhaps all three. Acting styles though have changed since the nineteen-seventies. Realism and naturalistic acting don't seem to count for much anymore. And the actors themselves are less real - they look like they've been punched out of a mould, they seem so airbrushed and false. I honestly can't tell most of the Hollywood actors and actresses apart in photographs, and I don't know who half of them are.

I've been posting friends only recently, but I'll leave this one open.

Watched Hitchcock's Rope last night. Farley Granger looked so cute. I hadn't seen the film in years and it occurred to me that there are parallels in the story with Donna Tartt's novel, The Secret History. In both cases posh American students are fed dodgy elitist ideas by a tutor which leads to them going on to commit murder. One of Tartt's students is gay too, though the homosexuality theme is so repressed in Rope which is a shame because it would have been a better film had it been out in the open. The cutting of shots when the camera focuses on someone's back didn't quite work - it was too obvious. But I still like the film a lot.

I was at the dentist yesterday for a check up and he was singing the praises of Brokeback Mountain - "It's about love!" he declared, all impassioned. I've never seen the film since I knew it had a miserable end, which put me off. I read the novella years ago, but don't recall much about it.

I read Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar last night. I wasn't sure if I'd like it, but it was beautifully written. The sad part was that Plath killed herself within weeks of its publication. I'm wondering whether to read Zelda Fitzgerald's Save Me the Last Waltz next. I haven't had time for reading in the last few months.

Monument to actor-manager John Henry Alexander, who invented the great gun trick where you catch a bullet between your teeth. He and another man competed for the same theatre, and Alexander ended up with the basement. The clientele of the other theatre upstairs sometimes lifted the floorboards and poured water down on the customers below. Alexander eventually took over the entire building and renamed it the Theatre Royal. Unfortunately, sixty-five people were crushed to death during a false fire alert and Alexander never recovered from the shock. Close up of the inscription on his tomb:



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Yesterday I read up some more on Mackintosh and Macbooks, only to discover that Mac versus Microsoft appears to be nothing less than the clash of two religions. On US Amazon things got very heated indeed on the discussion boards, the same dipstick males arguing their points, always afraid that someone else will have the last word on the subject. Snide comments were sent in both directions, accusations of unfounded elitism towards Mac users, utter derision at Microsoft users. For heaven's sake, we are talking about rival computer systems. Why are so many people, especially those in possession of Y-chromosomes, so attached to the specs of their gadgets? Is there any subject more boring than the size of someone's Ram, or their processor speed? Yes, their make of car, their particular (D)SLR camera, the lens it uses (the bigger the better), or the contents of their music collection.

I once knew a guy who had every piece of music and every video he owned catalogued. He even had a typed list of all the Simpsons episodes he'd taped off the TV, together with their exact length right down to the last second. He presented me with this list to which I was supposed to ooh and aah in admiration. Well, I humoured him, but what was really going through my mind was, 'What the fuck?'

So, yesterday, I was reading the haverings of these Mac versus MS idiots, and their tedious point scoring and realised that there is a cultural gulf here that I shall never even attempt to bridge. Since I've known males who don't give a damn about such things, I don't think it can really come down simply to gender. Which is just as well because otherwise I'd have to say that it's a miracle there are any heterosexual women left in the world. If some of these men were as clued up on the specs of their washing machines, their cookers, their vacuum cleaners, and most of all their partner's sexual anatomy, there would be far fewer divorces. Instead, they sit in their studies playing with their computers, locking horns online and comparing specs down at the pub. They collect obscure information on football teams, etc that is absolutely no fucking use to anyone, and act as though a war has just been lost when their team of eleven men in short trousers loses. Boys, there are many among you who are nuts, totally nuts.

A Girl of the 'Sixties', 1899, oil on canvas, 81.3 x 61.0 (Glasgow Museums and Galleries)

NB The colours of this reproduction are slightly warmer than they should be. And the streaking in the puffed sleeves is a result of scanning and not part of the original.

The most important woman artist in Glasgow at the turn of the last century, she was the eldest of twin girls born on 15th July 1869. She first attended the Glasgow School of Art at the age of 18 in 1887, and in 1896 acquired her own studio at 175 St Vincent Street. She married a gynaecologist turned painter and died on the 4th June 1904 at the age of 34. She was pregnant with her first child and her husband seems to have attended and signed the death certificate. He survived her by only a few years, marrying a young singer months before his own death. His wife remarried in November of the same year after selling the house and all Bessie and her husband's paintings. This may be one of the reasons why so little documentary evidence remains of Bessie's work and life. Apart from a few letters and photographs, there are no sketchbooks and no diaries. Her early death was considered a great loss to Scottish art, but typically for a woman artist she was almost forgotten decades later.



E.A. Hornel, Bessie MacNicol, 1896, oil on canvas. painted in Hornel's studio. Japanese kakemono in the background.

Please note rude male art critic of the period:

'Mr Hornel has grown impatient at sitting, for the expression on his face, Napoleonic in its strength, the forelock carried down the ample brow is not of a meek and saintly colourist. Probably Mr Hornel would make reply that he does not want to pose in such a role. What one can feel is that the lady artist has not sufficiently interpreted the bright intelligence with which he is not less assuredly endowned.' Glasgow Herald, 1897.

Bessie writing to Hornel about the portrait:

'I had David Gauld up seeing your portrait. He said he wished I had painted it in greys and purples. Also, wanted me to take out the palette & to paint the coat a grey black. Of course that is quite another story - at least Gauld's way of telling the story.'

MacNicol's personality has been described as fun-loving, full of life and high spirits. In another letter to Hornel, she writes:

'John Keppie came up to see me the day after I returned from Kirkcudbright, & was inviting me to go for a cycle run with him. I have got a new kind of cycling skirt, which is divided, so far up, but is just like a walking skirt when I am standing. I put the Mater into fits when I was in the shop buying it, by dancing a hornpipe behind the woman's back. They are like wide Jack Tar 'bags'. I am getting on splendidly & am quite a scorcher. I have not gone more than 10 miles but can pass machines & people without running them down for certain.'

Though she died young, in less than 12 years Bessie exhibited in Scotland, London, Ghent, Munich, Dresden, Vienna, St Petersburg, Pittsburg, and St Louis. There's a self-portrait of Bessie MacNicol at Glasgow Museums and Galleries.

Information on Bessie from article by Ailsa Tanner in Glasgow Girls, edited by Jude Burkhauser.

The old Odeon, Glasgow, formerly the Paramount. Once a glamorous movie palace, later the interiors fell into the more mundane look of a multi-screen. Finally closed its doors last year.

Have just finished reading a great historical novel about the French Revolution called A Place of Greater Safety by Hilary Mantel. Quite a few of the characters leapt off the pages, and there's a lot of historical detail and information on the progress of events. She mixes different writing techniques, but it works well in delivering an account of three of the main protagonists - Danton, Camille Desmoulins, and Robespierre, who is probably the hardest character to portray.

The novel is very large - almost 900 pages, and each page has a decent amount of text. It's probably not for the faint hearted - because of the amount of historical and political detail, and the length, but if you like big books and want to immerse yourself in a big cast of characters, and you have an interest in history, you might like this one. It's certainly got high review ratings at Amazon UK. The novel was published 15 years ago but is still in print.

I’m hardly online at all these days. When I do go online the traffic is sometimes too slow, it takes forever to do anything. So my holiday from blogging is set to continue a while longer. By the way, if you know anything about Windows Vista, check out the post I did just before this one - I'm looking for people who know something about Vista in case I buy a new machine.

I’m posting some photos of Loch Lomond here. I visited Balloch recently and took a two hour cruise on the loch. It was great standing up front and feeling the wind in my face. Blows away the cobwebs after being indoors too much. There were jet skiers, motor boats, and people picnicking on the islands in the loch, their boats moored on the shore. One of the islands has a nudist beach - no, I didn’t see it let alone take photos - another has a colony of wallabies which I sadly did not catch sight of. I would have loved a photo of a wallaby, but they’re very shy creatures apparently.

Loch Lomond lies within easy distance of Glasgow, and has a lovely golf course by the shores which was the site of the Scottish Open. There’s one or two castles overlooking the loch that I saw - including the ruins of Lennox Castle, on one of the islands. The mountains that overlook the northern parts of the loch rise to over 900 metres or 3000 feet. It’s the largest lake in Scotland and runs for about 39 kilometres or 24 miles. Loch Ness, though smaller, is much deeper, and is therefore the largest volume of freshwater in the UK.


The Maid of the Loch paddle steamer.

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Hope everyone is well.

I'm wondering whether to buy a new computer - specifically a laptop, but I'm wary of Vista. So many products apparently do not yet have upgrades available for Vista, and some reviews I've read of Vista totally rubbish the operating software. I also want to know if anyone buying a machine with Vista preloaded has had to register the software on the internet in order to get it fully operational. If I buy a new machine, I may not connect it to the internet for a while, so I don't want any hassles over internet registration. I'm planning to keep the old machine online and use the new one - if I purchase one - away from the internet. The problem I anticipate with Vista is the need to download service packs in order to correct any bugs in the software. Does anyone know anything about Vista, whether it's very buggy, and crashes alot, etc?

Meant to write this yesterday: On the boat back from Arran on Sunday we were sitting next to two women both of whom were reading the latest JK Rowling novel. My ten year old niece noticed, and though she isn't a book reader, she suddenly announced that she'd looked up the end in a friend's copy and -X- dies. Imagine waiting years for the last book and just as you're settling down to read it someone tells you the ending. Fortunately I don't think her revelation was one of the biggest twists at the end. The women looked so engrossed in their books, perhaps they didn't hear.

Building medallion. Its neighbour was 'Science' but was unfortunately out of focus. I'm taking time off from LJ again for a couple of weeks. Catch up with you all soon.

This is one of my favourite cinemas, also the tallest in the world. It has a huge number of screens and a spectacular view of the city from the glass walled escalators and the upper floors. It shows World Cinema as well as more commercial stuff. The other one I love is the Glasgow Film Theatre, which is from the 1930s and a listed building. It focuses entirely on foreign language, arthouse and classic cinema and is situated on Rose Street, at the bottom of Garnethill, an area of Glasgow that used to be knicknamed Little Montmartre.

Yesterday I went to the GFT and saw Paris je t'aime. Though I really liked the film, I found the initial scenes a bit contrived. Some of the stories were great though - the one about the two mime artists was hilarious, as was the scene in the Tuileries subway (directed by the Coen brothers), and Tom Tykwer who directed Run Lola, Run did a great one with Natalie Portman and Melchior Beslon, a blind actor. These scenes were so speeded up that the viewer gets quite a lot of visual information about that particular narrative. Consequently it seems to take up more of the film than it actually does.

For more info on the film check the official website:
http://www.firstlookstudios.com/pjt/

Before and after the film I took some photos of Glasgow's streets and buildings.


One of the terraces in Garnethill


The city centre.


The sun setting behind the city centre.


City centre.


The former Beresford Hotel, popular with American GIs during the Second World War. Formerly a students' hall of residence too, now an apartment building.

Glasgow School of Art side/west entrance. Alternative infrared version behind cut ( here )

Forgive my Austin Powers moment, but I've been playing with infrared today and I think I may have fallen in love with it. There's something very quiet and still about infrared photographs I've seen. A subtle difference from ordinary black and white. Not that I've seen much infrared. Will have to look into it more. Right now it's a digital filter option on the computer, but it would be interesting to shoot on infrared film one day.

My best laid plans for working on the novel today fell apart - though strictly speaking I had the time and space, visiting relatives may have contributed to my lack of concentration. Went for a walk instead - really needed the exercise since I've been cooped up all week. Faffed about a bit on Paintshop. I added the black borders to these photos because they were blending into the white background of my journal. Not sure about the borders - perhaps they are a bit thick.



Glasgow street - looking across Sauchiehall Street junction from Garnethill.

Glasgow School of Art side entrance - manipulated negative of day shot. Came up with it by accident, but might play around more when I have time to see if I can improve it a bit.

Went up to Sauchiehall Street last Friday afternoon to take a look at the area around the Glasgow School of Art. Took a few quick reference shots. Then popped into see some of the students' silversmithing exhibition, though did not have time for the textiles exhibition. Also had a look round a private gallery nearby. Sat for a while in a large bookshop/cafe browsing through architecture books - saw a great one on homes by Oscar Niemeyer - and drinking hot chocolate with cream on top, and eating mini chocolate muffins. Later went to see La Vie En Rose at the Glasgow Film Theatre. Brilliant biopic of Edith Piaf, and a fabulous performance by Marion Cotilliard. Picked up a programme for next month and there's loads more films I want to see. Also need to visit the art school, especially the Mackintosh Library. Will probably take more time off LJ, but still pop in now and then to see how everyone is doing. Other than that, watching Rome on TV - I rarely watch TV but am enjoying these lusty violent shenanigans! All the actors look as if they're having a great time, especially James Purefoy as Mark Anthony. Great lines so far:

Mark Anthony: Amnesty! I'll eat his liver!

Servilia: Address me by my name again and I'll have your tongue nailed to a wagonwheel.

This is just to say I'm taking a break from LJ for the rest of the month. If I have time I'll pop in to catch up with other people's journals. But I absolutely must focus on the book for now. I'm having to be very strict with myself!

Back in July. Which is only two weeks away anyway. Unless I have something very important or urgent to say before then - though I can't imagine what that would be!

Hope you're all well and creative, etc.