Where there's muck ...

Oh, dear ...

An artist's impression of the proposed 'Science City'.
Sunshine courtsey of global warming.

Another master plan for what little remains of this historic and, at times and places, beautiful city. Get the 'full' (sic) story here.

I note that one voice remains to be convinced:

"Nick Kemp, who leads Newcastle Council’s regeneration scrutiny panel, welcomed the overall “positive” move, but argued that clarity was needed over some of the developments. 
He questioned the “obsession” with plans for a conference convention centre on Gateshead Quays, saying he had seen “no response still as to what other options were considered since the location is an accessibility nightmare and the infrastructure required will add massively to the cost”. – The Journal Ibid.

I do not see a glittering career ahead for Mr Kemp, somehow. He had better learn to toe the line and quick.

Schemes like this (and there are many, with all the U.K. regions involved in a pitiless battle to make themselves attractive to scarce 'inward investment') make money for professionals – consultants, building conglomerates and planners. Less frequently they pay for themselves and leave something useful behind. Too frequently, they do not. Newcastle is currently awash with three decades worth of unlet office blocks, some brand new.

The announcement in the Journal casually throws in this gem:

" [The scheme] will prioritise efforts to build new business premises on either side of the River Tyne, set up a new home for the cultural sector in the Ouseburn, ..." 

'New' will amuse many. The Smazz Jazz organisation has been putting on national quality performers at the Cluny venue over the years. Recently the Arts Council North turned them down for a measly sum of money. When I last looked, Cluny, set up by arts activist's and paid for chiefly with their own time and money, was in the Lower Ouseburn . The Waygood Affair is a saga in itself – I will not say much except that it does not sit well with these soothing words of a pay off for the arts in these ambitious schemes; surely, people are getting wise to the use of the arts as a fig leaf for rapacious developers? Artist led organisations must be waking up the realities of jumping into bed with developers whose main task is to attract corporate investors? "He who pays the piper" is another saying which still has life in it.

Meanwhile, another round of gimcrack building is being planned as we sleep.

It will all end in tears ...

"Dear Sir ..."

Tipped off about an article in today's Newcastle Journal I could not resist writing them a letter. Had to be by e-mail.


I wrote as follows:


"Oh, dear. Arts bosses don't think the arts contribution to the success of the north east's drive to re-make itself in a post-industrial world has been sufficiently acknowledged? Been there, done that.

At a swanky conference held some years ago in the hallowed halls of St James Park, I met with the 're-buff direct' when I gently (or so I thought) pointed out this fact to a V.I.P. with friends in the then government. "How interesting" I said, "that it is artist's whose enterprise has lead the way in inner city re-generation".

This was not what the V.I.P. wanted to hear at all. Having just made a presentation that emphasised the need to lure the corporate names of the British High Street to open yet more factory scale retail outlets on Tyneside, the last thing he wanted to learn was the scruffy and unwashed also had a role in economics. I was treated along with the rest of the table to a tale about an exhibition put on in the city of some whacky Teuton who had sliced up his own guilt-ridden body and photographed the results for public delectation. That was art as far as he was concerned. And me shot down, if not put in my place. He had taxpayers money. Lots and lots of it and he wasn't at all interested in the arts.

It is also a trifle late in the day for the Newcastle city fathers (sic) to wring out their hearts over  the benefits of tourism and culture. Their lasting contribution to both has been acres of ferro concrete, inner urban motor ways and a remarkable 100 per cent record in planning re-development: Everything they have touched is dross. Newcastle has the least good modern architecture of any major city in the U.K. for its size and has demolished plenty of splendid buildings in the pursuit of "progress" a word it might have almost single handedly emptied of significance. The irony is, had they done nothing it would actually have been less damaging to the cities prospects in the 21st century."

Bloomin' luverly

A welcome heat wave brought out crowds last weekend, coinciding for many students with the end of term and the run up to summer.

Since I am a man of a 'certain age' I think it inappropriate to photograph hordes of semi-undressed young people (and certainly never children), so you'll have to summon up the picture of groups lazing about all over the "threatening"* green sward for yourselves!

To help you I have uploaded a recent set of images to this blog's flickr feed.

*As described to me in person by a PR representative working on behalf of developers Metnor Group plc, at a public presentation of Metnor and Northumbria University's plans to build over the open space.

Late in the day

The rain stopped and the sun broke through scattered clouds; weather more like a traditional April day than one in May. I grabbed my camera and hurried down to Battlefield where I hoped I would get some photographs before the cold winds stripped the blossom from the trees.

The rain had freshened up the new green foliage and the slanting evening sun did the rest.

Here it is –"threatening" (©Metnor plc) Battlefield, "in need of landscaping".

'Scene of the crime'. (See previous post.) No Siamese, no Magpies, all quiet.

Result!

Ash in 'flower', and, finally, but no means last this year, leaf.

Siamese, if you please!

A clacking so like the old (very old!) football rattles I used to hear as a child, long before footballers were paid more than Prime Ministers' and rattles were confiscated at the grounds as dangerous weapons. The noise around the clump of trees was coming from a pair of Magpies ironically; ironically, since rattles were first developed in farming areas to scare away birds from crops.

This pair - devilish handsome, but so disliked by the 'fashionable intelligence' – were kicking up quite a symphony. The clump of trees lies just on the edge of Battlefield next to a busy road, yet it increasingly resembles the entrance to a country lane. Who ever had the foresight to plant trees here should live to see this, I thought. A act of faith indeed. Now the trees are large enough for Magpies to build in their branches. And for an unwelcome 'guest' to poke about in also.

I spotted the reason for the commotion high above me, a lithe, creamy coloured creature with an Egyptian profile, but named after a place much, much further east. Siamese, if you please! The combination of sound and colour were exotic. Just above the intruder I could make out a rudimentary nest. Magpies, in common with other members of their tribe, the crows, are clever animals. They build superbly and, unusually, constructing from sticks a large domed nest with, as it were, a 'front door'. I doubt this pair had anything as yet, except eggs perhaps, and I think their feline visitor would not be interested in those.

As I watched (but did not interfere) the cat spun and twisted easily from branch to branch as it approached the problem of descent, languid and unhurried.

I did not wait to see it drop, gracefully I imagine, to the ground.

Leaden skies made me leave my camera at home. Pity, since the blossom is out all around and beginning to fall. All too briefly, the froth of pink, white and cream will be gone. Meanwhile, the trees are thriving and the views across Battlefield are framed in bright fresh foliage. Even the laggardly ash trees are in leaf now.

Magpie Pica pica (photo:www.squidoo.com)