Summer Arts Review by Theo Park

Arts Review

Arts Review â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Fourth of June 2011

Contents Future Issue Pages 4 - Fourth of June special 6 - The future of the book industry 8 - The Children of Hurin 10 - A new type of art gallery 11 - Polar Ice 1 12 - Criticisms of the Tate Modern 14 - The music scene in 2300 15 - The declining record industry 16 - What music is missing 18 - Three advances in film 19 - Dark Romance 20 - The Fashion of Joe Nickols 22 - The final pages

Editorial Dear Readers, This will be the last time I ever put pen to paper (or rather finger to keyboard) for the Arts Review, and there are some mixed feelings. It’s been a hairy ride, to say the least. Shouting matches and arguments have abounded, and paper-size disputes and articles drafted on deadline day have been the least of our worries. But by far the biggest calamity came in the publishing of last half’s issue, which was tragically late due to an attempt to switch printers, only to discover (after three weeks) that the new printers didn’t do Half-Berliner (our size, and that of the G2). We’ve all learnt a lot. And that extends further than just how to appease inDesign! There have been a lot of changes: James Hogan joined the team slightly late, the location of our offices has changed, we’ve had more and more people writing for the magazine, and we’re featuring boys’ art work and photos much more. There have been key people who’ve stood out along the way, though, to whom I want to dedicate this last issue: to Dr. Gonzalez-Medina, whose last term this is, but who has worked tirelessly to proofread and fact-check every inch of the magazine and come to terms with every sentence; to Harry Eagles and Laurence Booth-Clibborn, who’ve put their heart and soul into the magazine, despite all their other commitments; to Hamish McLaren, Eugene Loh, Charlie MacKeith, James Hogan, Hisham Zaman, because, simply put, I couldn’t pick better colleagues, to Mr. Hearsey, for always being on hand at just the moment we need him; to the Printers, for being more reliable than us all; and to everyone who subscribed to the magazine (and some of you who didn’t!). I’d like to go out by leaving a message to the next editors; something which, in the season of public exams, no Etonian wants to hear, but is probably the most important advice anyone could give: it’s taken us three goes to get it perfect, and to narrow the time we need to a week and a half. So whatever you do, be prepared! Theo Park

The Arts Review is: The Arts Review would like to thank: SEH, JLG-M, ARML, the Design Department, Jo Illiff, James Hogan, Hisham Zaman, Jo Nickols, Tariq Mir, Zander Sharp, Michael Stacey, Foxy, Dan Byam-Shaw, John Clark-Maxwell, Pop, Hamish Park, Derrick Rose, The Score, Tolkein, John Cage, Tracey Emin, Modest Mouse, Dracula, the printers, and everyone in the team! THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THE ARTS REVIEW DO NOT NECESSARILY REFLECT OFFICIAL SCHOOL SENTIMENT

Arts Review - Lent 2011

Head Editor: Theo Park Editors: Harry Eagles, Hamish McLaren, Charlie MacKeith, Eugene Loh Designer: Laurence Booth-Clibborn Master-in-Charge: JLG-M

A Fourth Of June Special

A Fourth of June Special

The Future of Eton response to bullying has been a very quick one; the reaction to antisocial behaviour just as fast. In the process, the social dynamic within the school has changed, and whether this is for the better is something that many students currently debate.

Tariq Mir sets the traditions to rights

Everything ages with time – even Eton. We, as students of the academic institution, are perhaps severely oblivious to it until the point that one becomes an OE and leaves, and then returns for one’s 25th reunion dinner. Immense changes are overtaking the town, as well as the school, and it seems appropriate to address them on the fivehundred and seventy-first 4th June celebrations! Within the confines of Eton, rumours spread incredibly fast – and in my five years, some have been ridiculous and others, quite imaginable. One has to ask what defines the school: the times past or the future? Some might argue that, with the fast-progressing world, Eton should keep up, move alongside the global advances of technology, science, politics, economics and so on. To some the institution seems unchangeable, as it continues to maintain its traditions and heritage; but others would say that changes occur on a daily basis, from the approaches to pastoral care to the installation of new facilities and technologies to improve teaching. The expansion of the school seems inevitable. The potential building of a new

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Modern Languages Department and Divinity schools as well as a new assembly hall to replace the current Birley Schools is one that will be seen in the next decade; and an extension to the gym facilities is one that many regard as a necessity. But whilst expansion of facilities is most certainly a good thing, I would say that the future of Eton will definitely see a social change as well. Social attitudes within Eton have changed vastly, especially in the past thirty years. The social dynamic includes the arrival of students from foreign and state schools, diversifying the school as a whole – even in the past five years the changes have been dramatic. But traditions such as Pop and Sixth Form Select, are they due to change? In passing, conversations on the nature of authority have occurred. Should Pop become more diverse in terms of who is elected? Should Sixth Form Select have more authority? Should the dynamics within the House change? Thirty years ago, hierarchy was something that was intrinsically necessary in the relationship between Blocks; but now, it doesn’t seem as apparent – or am I making a major generalisation? The

Another change is the equalisation of the arts and sports. Within the school, it seems that sports are valued very highly, acting as a means of increasing one’s social reputation. But what about the nature of the work of the Musician and Thespian? Shouldn’t their work be just as valued as the ambassadorship of the Sportsman? Something that time and time again arises in conversation is whether drama and music should be actively given as much importance as Sports. In many ways, this is something that the school should actively try to revolutionise. However, there is a great penchant within the studentbody itself for sports. For many, sport represents one’s active participation with the school and other students, whilst music and drama are merely seen as hobbies or extracurricular activities. Future generations of students must be encouraged to realise that music and drama also play major roles within the school dynamic. Having said all this, though, there is a high regard for the arts and an increasing appreciation for them. More and more people attend concerts and plays; and this is due to more and more people actually having the confidence to try something new and different. Eton does have a future. Changes are evident everywhere, and Eton is striving, like the rest of the world, to keep up with them. Of course, we play a role as well: we must encourage positive change, combat negative attitudes and transform them into something that future generations of Etonians will truly be able to benefit from. The Eton we are leaving behind will be different in ten years’ time, though the bricks may be the same, and the Founder may look as majestic as usual in School Yard.

“Ultimately, Eton is a fast-changing, fast-growing school. I pray time only betters that.” Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Literature

A Literary Armageddon Theo Park’s fin de partie The end of all things is apocalyptically foretold in brief images on the side of a temple, somewhere in Mexico. 2012 is undoubtedly a big year, no less because of the Austerity Games, but largely because everything comes to a head. In 2011, every event, natural or otherwise, that the words ‘catastrophe’ or ‘disaster’ might encapsulate, much like the Olympics, is occurring with heightened frequency. The house physically shakes in a thunder storm, a house in South-East England, all across the world there are real disasters: droughts and floods in Australia, birds dropping from the sky (over 2,000,000 found dead on beaches in groups of over 40,000 or more), earthquakes in Chile, China, Japan, Argentina, Iran, America, New Zealand, Fiji, Indonesia and Mexico. And last year was a year when ‘The term “100-year event” really lost its meaning’ according to the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency. Is 2012, as a result of these events, to be the year that, instead of Teen Wolves leaping onto our screen, or Little Red Riding Hood falling in love, we’ll be bitten back for real? I want to know because I think things are getting so much better, and so much worse, because things are changing, and it feels like any day might be the Rapture, or Armageddon, or just another heatwave, another fight at home. Everything seems

10 simple sentences their list of objections to liberty, kindness and African Americans. Instead of theologians writing 300-page books about an active theology they practise as if it were passive, as if all it asked them to do was sit behind a desk writing books for other theologians, we might have people prepared to tell us what their problem is in words set down. I think the physical book can only last for so much longer. There will be useful howto guide collections, that people might download as ebooks, there will always be celebrity biographies (though I still haven’t worked out who reads them,) and I think there will be physical literature. But I believe that most things will be short pamphlets, or documents available online. Perhaps the only books we’ll have will be graphic or holy.

poised to happen, but it never seems to happen like that. The personal downfall of a man is best depicted in Blaise Cendrar’s Gold. In a short space of time, with the discovery of gold, the lead character’s earnings are wiped. And, through events like the financial crisis which we find ourselves in, looking ahead to the possible default of America over the next ten years, and to the financial security of knowing that, if we can afford a house in ten years’ time, it’ll only be because our parents are paying off mortgages worth more than

the houses they own. Modern society is just that narcotic hit, it has just that same injection of gold, an astronomical growth in resources that throws up all order, for better and for worse, and we now depend on it. But people don’t sell books or films any longer, not ones where anyone loses. Everyone’s beautiful and everyone wins. 2012 looks set to be an apocalyptic year for everything, because people no longer want to read a book, to sit down and digest that content. They want something short, something smooth, that plays to a fantasy, and what a better place to find that than the internet. Most people don’t want anything other than to know more about their favourite characters, to imagine what Master Chief would be doing in this situation, or to explore some erotic adventure. And no-one needs 100,000 words to do any of those. No-one reads 100,000 words. You’re sitting there, hopefully, reading this from cover to cover. I have to do the same once every three months, so that I know exactly what goes on in the magazine, as I am accountable for everything. But it’s a hard task. Would you rather sit and gossip,

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go out and play sport, do your work and, when all that’s over, sit back in your room and watch a film because it’s all that you have the strength to do? Everybody knows that a film isn’t perfect. We turn to these things to get away from it all, to imagine ourselves in our own little worlds, where everything runs swimmingly, and so, unsurprisingly, on some level, a movie always has to fail. The better ones, like Source Code or Limitless, leave you dreaming of a good life, refreshed in the sunshine, thinking just how wonderful everything is; but they’re still simply someone else’s closed-off world. The book can never be replaced in that sense, because you have the opportunity to really be the character. Having been to the London Book Fair this month, I can tell you that literature doesn’t have one clear, uniform direction. People in the industry are unsure, hesitant, with ideas and theories, but nothing concrete. People are showing off iPads and Kindles, transferring back catalogues, but most people still wouldn’t

read one. It’s telling that the very people who recommend the Kindle say that they can’t handle it, because it’s so unwieldy, and prop themselves up on a pillow in bed so as to be able to read it without getting tired. How do you become absorbed in a book the holding of which tires you? Books need an apocalypse. They need to use the media not to become oneperson adventures, or simply a medium for celebrity sales, but to bring all the aspects of the world together. Think of an MMORPG, a game that combines as many aspects of life as it possibly can, and ties them together. Now imagine a book that does the same, that isn’t about one character, that reads as the story of connected parts, changes its reading, reacts to the reader. In a generation where we have to say everything in a hundred and forty characters or less, why ask for symbolism, when a good half of your audience can’t understand it and the other half are too tired? Imagine people speaking their minds, kind of like Fox News putting into

It’s interesting that there are pretty few new ideas out there. Whether it’s the Festival of Britain at the Southbank and we’re treated to glitter on houses. Or whether it’s a royal wedding that we’re expected to celebrate as if it were fifty years ago, when honestly we shouldn’t care; we should be happy for them, and move on. It seems to me that the newest ideas there are revolve around the oldest. New films rehash the same Aristophanic narrative structure with new technology alone driving the exact reworking, every new book seems more and more like an iteration of the Mills & Boon series, and every video game seems to be the same as the previous. Something’s happening, though, and films are starting to live up to expectations. Though I might not claim that any or all of them are good, there are thousands of new songs every week that we’d each be happy to listen to. It would be strange if literature did nothing, when things seem to be coming to this inorganic head, when inequality seems to be reasserting itself, when the engine of social mobility has turned round and seen its driver flee, when political unrest is just as it has always been, despite a thousand organisations to fix everything. In the words of Pink: ‘it’s a war right now.’

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Literature

Tolkien’s last tale Hamish Mclaren looks at Tolkien’s darkest work The Children of Húrin is a little known text, compared to such canonical Tolkien works such as The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings or even the relatively obscure Silmarillion. The first drafts of The Children of Húrin were completed by Tolkien in the years following the end of the Great War. Tolkien’s works, especially The Children of Húrin and The Lord of the Rings carry distinct echoes of this brutal conflict which had unfathomable impact upon his life. Whilst fighting as a signals officer amidst the horror of the Somme in 1916, he contracted trench fever and was invalided home away from the barbed wire of the front line upon which so many of friends perished. He himself remarked, ‘by 1918 all but one of my close friends were dead.’ It is thus unsurprising that this book, written so soon after the war, should be so dark in tone. The Children of Húrin is not a natural creation; it was collated and edited into a coherent narrative by J.R.R. Tolkien’s son Christopher from raw manuscripts which his father had worked hard at in the closing years of his life. Once J.R.R. Tolkien, much to his mingled distaste and delight, had had fame and success gradually bestowed upon him by the burgeoning popularity of his other well known Middle-Earth novels, he returned to his early post-war work and rewrote it, and, as Christopher observes, ‘greatly enlarged it in complexities of motive and character.’ As in all other books relating to Middle Earth, The Children of Húrin owes a great debt to Anglo-Saxon and Norse literature: Tolkien was consumed by a passion for such works, becoming professor of AngloSaxon at Oxford University and a fellow at Pembroke College. Echoes of Arthurian legend can be discerned in the course of the narrative and indeed in the language itself, which is distinctly stilted so as to as-

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sume an evocative epic tone, as if it were indeed a piece of Saxon literature or even that of the Homeric tradition: ‘Marrer of Middle-earth, would that I might see you face to face, and mar you as my lord Fingolfin did!’ Just as in Beowulf, an epic Old English poem greatly respected by Tolkien, the hero of The Children of Húrin, Túrin Turambar fights and slays a savage monster of truly vast proportions. The Grendel of Tolkien’s tale is the sly dragon Glaurung sent by Morgoth, the first dark lord, with the purpose of destroying the two children of Húrin, the man who dared defy him. The narrative is inexorably driven onwards by the curse Morgoth lays upon Húrin’s family; as Morgoth himself promises with vicious rage, ‘my thought shall weigh as a cloud of Doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair.’ Thus the narrative takes on the form of a tragedy: the high house of Húrin is laid low by savage degrees until, at last, as Húrin himself gazes on in horror, chained in a promethean torment to a rough-hewn seat, his children, ‘die without hope, cursing both life and death.’ More cruelly still, Morgoth then releases Húrin, a broken shadow of a man, who wanders crazed across Middle-Earth, drawn to the grave of his son Túrin. There he finds his wife, Morwen, pitifully awaiting him, utterly destroyed by grief, and as dusk gathers pace she expires in his arms and thus completes Morgoth’s curse; ‘The sun went down, and Morwen sighed and clasped his hand and was still; and Húrin knew that she had died.’

“Yes, I will drink your blood...I will slay you swiftly” Cruelty and death abound throughout the narrative, which revolves around Túrin and his sister Niënor, both the progeny of Húrin. Even at the moment of appar-

ent triumph, when evil seems to have been overcome, or at least momentarily checked, the hero is beset by an inescapable fate: ‘he heard the feet of his doom overtaking him’; for as he lies in a ‘dark swoon’ in the carnage of his triumph his wife takes him for dead and casts herself to her death from the heights of a waterfall. Thus upon his reawakening he is struck not by joy and celebrations but by this frightful news which flings him into a wild frenzy so that he too comes to an end by hurling himself upon his sword. Indeed the twisted nature of the plot is further convulsed by the ghastly dramatic irony that Túrin’s wife, who is pregnant with his child, is in fact his sister Niënor. With sly malice the dragon Glaurung, possessed of cruel intelligence, casts upon Niënor a spell of forgetfulness, thus leaving her oblivious to the knowledge that she even has a brother. Túrin, the elder of the two siblings, left his pregnant mother at an early age to hide from Morgoth’s questing hatred, and thus he is ignorant of his sister’s face. Chance throws them together and, since Niënor is bewitched and Túrin ignorant they act upon the instinctive love they feel for one another and marry. The truth of their incest is revealed to Niënor as she crouches, weeping over the unconscious figure of Túrin whom she believes to be dead; Glaurung, who lies sprawled nearby mortally wounded from Túrin’s blade, imparts this final poisonous seed of knowledge to Niënor;

Just as Beowulf possesses a magical sword, Hrunting, with which he slays the monster Grendel, his even fouler mother and finally a ferocious dragon, so too does Túrin carry a charmed blade. Gurthang, however, unlike Beowulf, Túrin does not receive this blade willingly from a friend; rather he himself in panicked confusion butchers Beleg, his close friend and original master of the sword. In a flash of lighting he perceives his mistake and is aghast at his error. The guilt of Beleg’s death haunts Túrin throughout the rest of the narrative; even as he draws Gurthang so as to kill himself, the sinister weapon responds to his crazed requests in a pitiless manner; ‘ ‘Will you slay me swiftly?’ And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer, ‘Yes, I will drink your blood,

that I may forget the blood of Beleg my master...I will slay you swiftly.’ ’ Túrin is by no means a flawless hero; he shows a wild streak which causes him to commit unpardonable acts of murder. When the hapless messenger of Niënor’s suicide, her unrequited lover the crippled Brandir, tells Túrin of Niënor’s death, he rounds upon him with a ‘fell light’ in his eyes and kills him in his grief: ‘he lifted up Gurthang and hewed Brandir; and smote him to death.’ This corruption of Túrin so that he does indeed fulfil Glaurung’s devastating description as a ‘stabber in the dark...faithless to friends, and a curse unto his kin’ helps to further darken the already twisted tale. Túrin’s ensuing despair, realisation of his incest, contrition and suicide are rendered

horrifyingly poignant by Túrin’s helplessness in the face of Morgoth’s curse. He himself rails in fury against his inescapable fate before taking his life: ‘I am blind... Blind, blind, groping since childhood in a dark mist of Morgoth!...This [his incest with Niënor] only was wanting. Now comes the night!’ The repetition of ‘blind’ calls to mind the conclusion of Oedipus Rex, a similar tragedy of ignorance, incest, murder and ultimately self-inflicted blindness. However, even this bestial Greek tragedy is surpassed by the callous cruelty and needless bloodshed which conspire to destroy Húrin’s helpless family utterly and leave Húrin himself alone to bear their loss.

‘Hail Niënor, daughter of Húrin. We meet again ere we end. I give you joy that you have found your brother at last. And now you shall know him: a stabber in the dark, treacherous to foes, faithless to friends, and a curse unto his kin, Túrin son of Húrin! But the worst of all his deeds you shall feel in yourself.’ With Glaurung’s death, ‘the vail of malice fell from her’ and she, appalled by the unbidden knowledge of their incest and the death of her brother ‘cast herself over the brink; a flash of white swallowed in the dark chasm.’

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Art & Architecture

Art Gallery 2.0 Our Reporter investigates a new generation of art gallery In the last 3 years, 57 art galleries in the UK have closed, unable to survive in what is an increasingly hostile situation. Whilst the recession and the subsequent cuts have made life difficult for any business, cultural institutions have suffered particularly, as the budget looks to cut flab and strip back to the core issues.

audience because many of the rich are now buying art online. At the moment this has its risks because it is hard to get a whole image of the work on a computer screen, particularly in relation to sculpture, but as 3D technology improves and becomes more widespread, it will soon be possible to view art online in amazingly realistic quality.

This is all rather sad, and you could be forgiven for bemoaning the demise of culture in England, but you would still be wrong: in those same 3 years the number of online or physical art galleries which have opened is higher than the morbid statistic I misled you with earlier. This is good news for art because each new gallery has new ideas and new initiatives, and the industry is altering itself much faster than it ever has before. The future looks bright.

Neither are the galleries only helped by the artists whose work they house. Gallery display is now just about the most expensive way to sell art and, for artists like Damien Hirst, who can trade on the respect they have established with previous works, it is easier to sell online or at auction. In 2008 he made a typically independent move to go straight to auction with many works, and was rewarded with success to the tune of £70,000,000, above the already high estimate. Many members of the audience of galleries feel they do not understand work by artists such as Hirst or Emin, and prefer to go to exhibitions of more traditional work. This creates tension between the artists whom the gallery would like to display, and those whom their viewers want to see.

Fine art has been considered the pursuit of the rich and educated for a long time, but this point of view will no longer stand up to inspection. Governments withdraw funding from institutions which are not universally accessible. It is also in the gallery’s interest to attract a wider

So, then, what’s the future? Some of these concerns have already been successfullly addressed. Accessibility has been improved in the London galleries beyond all recognition, and this is percolating down as a feature of all galleries: there are educational talks, gallery tours,

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much more helpful catalogues, and later opening times. We can expect to see this increase still further. All galleries which are able to are likely to show freely what permanent collections they may have, although some have never changed. For the last few years, the catalogue for the RA’s summer exhibition has been available as an app for apple products: a sign of things to come in terms of the use of technology. By embracing the online format, the established galleries protect themselves from the online threat. We are bound to see more of those catalogues, virtual tours using 3D technology, and more integrated websites. Galleries are likely to subtly change what they exhibit. The Saatchi gallery has set a template for the successful exhibition of fairly unintelligible works of art, but not all galleries have the same sort of budget. Nevertheless, its trend for exhibiting those works of little known artists which are as good as those of established figures is likely to be followed across the board. This is going further to increase the pace of change in the art world. Exhibitions will have shorter runs and better publicity, and galleries and the artists they display will be reinventing themselves to meet the public expectations, with wholescale changes coming every few years, making them much more exciting places to go to. The future looks good for art lovers.

Polar Ice by Michael Stacey Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Art & Architecture

The Ghost of the Tate Laurence BoothClibborn hopes for a radical rejuvenation of the Tate Modern It is one of the country’s most notable galleries, with a permanent collection on a par with the likes of the Reina Sofia and the Centre Pompidou. It is incredibly popular, a great attraction for all who visit London. Creating an installation for its famous Turbine Hall is one of the most prized commissions amongst artists working today. But the Tate Modern has a problem: its special exhibitions never seem to attract the crowds. In the recently released Art Newspaper gallery and museum attendance table showing results for 2010, the Tate only managed the 183rd most daily visited exhibition with ‘Pop Life: Art in a Material World.’ This is only 15th in the whole of Britain, behind the likes of the Serpentine Gallery and the Saatchi Gallery. Despite this, the Tate Modern was still rated fourth in the world for total attendance with over 5 million visitors. So the question we must ask is: why are those individual exhibition numbers so low? New York’s MoMA doesn’t seem to suffer from these problems, having 8 of the top 30 special exhibitions in the world! I think that the gallery, which is the showcase of our national collection of modern art and hence dedicated to its display, needs to review its exhibition and hanging choices.

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Take, for example, the recent Gauguin exhibition held last year. This was a landmark show with pieces from all over the world and it will probably be a long time before so many of the works made by Gauguin are together in one gallery again. Gauguin was a maverick, a leader in the French post-impressionist movement and indeed in the driving of art back to its roots in primitivism and pastoral works. Tate Modern made a valiant attempt to demonstrate this, but the walls of the exhibition were grey, the lighting was dim and the hanging didn’t complement the mood of the pictures – it was too low on the wall. Gauguin’s work, which is prized for its vibrancy and energy, appeared staid and classical, and instead of leaving what should have been a memorable exhibition I, for one, came out disappointed. This is typical of the Tate Modern: the shows are conservative, the curators seem afraid of presenting work freshly. Institutions like Tate Modern have a duty to inspire the public. A visit to a gallery should be uplifting taking the visitor a world away from the day to day – to achieve this a gallery must take risks, and I fear that Tate Modern gave up doing that some time ago. Perhaps this is best

illustrated by its acquisitions policy. Back in 1972 Tate caused a huge controversy by buying Carl Andres Equivalent VIII – the infamous bricks. People talk about those bricks even today, because that was the last time the Tate took a risk on contemporary art. They didn’t buy Damien Hirst’s shark, Tracy Emin’s tent or the Chapman Brother’s hell – a whole generation of British art was ignored by the Tate. Given tha the bold statements of faith in contemporary art have been made by galleries like The Serpentine and the Saatchi, it is no surprise that their attendance figures top Tate Modern’s. The backlash of the Tate Modern’s conservative attitude has recently reflected on artists showing there. When it was

announced that Damien Hirst, the famous YBA artist, would be having a retrospective exhibition at the Tate Modern in 2012, the press reaction was significant: The Times newspaper took the line that this retrospective heralded the end of Hirst’s career as a contemporary artist, and that he was now part of history. This view was echoed, in part, by other newspapers who worried that this could signify an end to the celebrated leader of the YBA pack’s cutting edge reputation. But why, I ask, were these questions not posed when Anish Kapoor took over the Royal Academy for his solo exhibition in 2009? This is not the image Tate Modern was aiming for when it was opened in 2000. The Mission Statement of The Tate Modern is ‘to collect international modern and contemporary art from 1900 to the present day … of outstanding quality as well as works that are of distinctive aesthetic character or importance.’ I cannot see that in the last 11 years, the Tate has stuck to these principles as far as its special exhibitions go. In contrast, the Royal Academy, which was founded in 1768 with the ‘purpose of the creation, enjoyment and appreciation of the visual arts through exhibition, education and debate,’ has managed to stick resolutely to its mission for over 200 years and is still doing so today with shows like ‘From Russia’ and ‘Modern British Sculpture.’

Weather was another thrilling experience. I was ten when I went to see it and will never forget lying on my back in the gallery and marvelling at what I saw. Perhaps it is one of the reasons why I have been so interested in contemporary art , a position I am frequently having to defend from the usual criticism that anyone could put a dead shark in formaldehyde and call it art, or put their unmade bed in a gallery. But I am not alone in my passion, as the gallery attendance figures prove, and contemporary art is also big business these days, one of the few which appears

to be recession proof. Yet another reason why the Tate Modern should have a stake in this important market during difficult times and lead the way with its special exhibitions. In 2012 the Tate Modern’s new extension will open and maybe this will stimulate the dawn of a new era, and the Damien Hirst exhibition due to open there in 2012 will not cast him into the annals of art history but rather put Tate Modern back where it belongs as a leading worldclass institution capable of attracting global attention.

The Tate Modern needs to change. That, at least, is clear. How it can change is, however, a difficult discussion. If it were up to me, I would take a lesson from the brilliant success of the Turbine Hall commissions, which prove that the institution is capable of great things: the Miroslaw Balka Black Box installation attracted over 12,000 people per day when it was shown, an undeniable triumph of creativity, stimulating much public debate. Olafur Eliasson’s The

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Music

Future Proof Harry Eagles explains why the music will never die It’s amazing how often John Cage creeps into the articles I write for this magazine. Arguably the greatest of 20th century American composers, Cage ensured that his legacy would last at least until the year 2640 with As Slow As Possible, an organ piece that can last for as long as you want it to, and probably much longer. A ‘performance’ of the piece was begun in 2001 in Halberstadt, Germany, and is scheduled to end in 629 year’s time, when the aforementioned date arrives. Whilst as a piece of music this may seem slightly redundant – it took until February 2003 for any audible sound to emerge, and notes last months or even years – as an artistic exercise it is interesting and, I believe, worthwhile. The significance of this is actually not the mere length of the piece, but the fact that, assuming the performance continues as planned until its conclusion, its final note will sound in an era of music which could easily bear absolutely no resemblance to ours. It is a direct musical line to what may be an otherwise unrecognisably different sonic world. Whilst the music of previous ages will (hopefully) always endure, as evidenced by the fact that a friend of mine has Thomas Tallis fading straight into Thom Yorke on his iPod, it can’t be denied that the face of music in the year 2640 is unimaginable to any 21st century speculator.

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Another question raised, if indirectly, by As Slow As Possible is this: how will music that is now slipping out of living memory cope with the onset of time? How often will the music of the 1920s and 1930s be played in any form in, say, 2300? Bands like the Beatles and Led Zeppelin stand in good stead for immortality, but is there a danger that lesser known bands from their respective eras, such as Iron Butterfly or Jethro Tull (to take two more or less random examples of bands that people under the age of 20 are unlikely to have heard much), might simply disappear from the popular consciousness? Once all the original fans are dead, time will lessen the chances of new listeners stumbling upon music of which they have never heard. This seems obvious: the number of people under 30 who listen to the Who or Johnny Cash might still be significant, but the number who listen to Cole Porter or Blind Lemon Jefferson is relatively very small, and it won’t increase as these young people pass into middle and old age. Five or six generations down the line, it isn’t hard to see the same thing happening to the music that is current now in 2011, especially in this scarily fast-moving era in which music from just ten or twenty years ago is already perceived to be ‘old’. It’s a truly terrifying thought. To allow so much fantastic music to slip away simply by neglect would be nothing short of criminal. However, I don’t think it’s what is going to happen. Here’s why: Serious music fans are obsessive. They go to more concerts and gigs than normal people can imagine. They listen to a huge amount and variety of music. They take pleasure from knowing every inch of their favourite artist’s life story. They love music more than anything else in the world and, most importantly, they love discovering new music and sharing it with friends. Nothing makes a certain kind of music fan (i.e. the kind like me) happier than finding a love for a band that was active thirty years ago and diving into the wormhole that is exploring said band’s

Where Next? Zander Sharp puts his earphones in and examines the music industry There used to be a science to how the music industry worked, a recipe for success. Maybe you stick a cute girl with a short skirt in a recording booth, change her voice to make it sound good, and an album goes platinum; the charts are topped. Possibly, you could throw together five good-looking guys with fist-clenchingly average dance moves and produce a generation of merchandise plastered on the walls of every pre-teen girl in the country.

back catalogue of material, before trying to convince their equally music-obsessed friends of its merit. This tendency to enjoy the process of discovering music and the exploration of a band’s artistic history will, I think, prevent the demise of artists through the passing of time. If people in 2011 can enjoy digging through the work of folk-prog band Renaissance, for instance (and they can, because a couple of years ago I did), then several hundred years won’t change this. If history has proved anything, it is that certain aspects of human nature are constant, and if this passion for music is one of them, then it should ensure that, at least for the people looking for it, the music will always be there.

But something seems to have changed. This year Britain as a nation were told by the BBC Sound of 2011 that a star would be found in Jessie J. She has a voice, provocative outfits and catchy songs: what more could a pop star ask for? You better ask singer/songwriter Adele, who is self-proclaimedly ‘fat and proud’ because she is the singer who has had two albums reach the platinum certification in America and two grammies, while Jessie J’s album failed to reach the top 10. So what was the new version of this outdated formula?

Joe McElderry It initially seemed that the 21 century’s reply to this formula was going to be the found in the television shows of Simon Cowell. The X Factor, and all the shows like it, have spawned hundreds of wannabe pop stars looking for a quick buck. This worked for many, with Leona Lewis achieving huge international success with her debut album, Spirit. However, 2009’s X Factor winner, Joe McElderry, has been dropped after his debut album failed to sell enough units to certify silver, which needs 60,000. This made him the first winner with an uncertified debut album and only the second to have their debut album not reach number 1. In spite of this Simon Cowell has started the first season of the US X Factor, while Joe McElderry moves back in with his mother. st

Simon Cowell may have struck green, but the music industry is losing money fast thanks to digital downloads. CD sales have dropped by 21% in 2010 alone, and digital sales have not fully compensated for this decrease enough. Music sales dropped by 7% last year, and everyone in the industry has suffered; EMI, one of the four most prominent record companies in the world, were on the brink of bankruptcy last year and were bought out after accumulating £2.2 billion in debt. The music streaming service Spotify has also drastically cut the length of time that the public can spend listening to their music free of charge after a £16.66 million loss.

The real victims of this shift are the artists, who are receiving a mere fraction of the income that their predecessors enjoyed. The record labels may have decided that the music industry doesn’t need musicians but, whatever the cause, there have been legions of artists quitting their record labels. Indeed, Grammy-winner Joss Stone has agreed to sacrifice £2 million just to be released from her contract with EMI. So back to the question: where do we go from here? Well, kids go down to your local record store and pick up a turntable, as vinyl sales have rocketed up 14% in the last year. There’s no future like the past.

Which, of course, brings us back to John Cage and As Slow As Possible. Quite simply, if music enthusiasts can find the means and inclination to keep a performance going for 639 years, preserving our canon of recorded music alive far into the distant future should present no problem to them.

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Music

In Search of Another Riff Joe Iliff craves good music I recently wrote a review on The Vaccines, and the album felt like a 7. I gave it a 7 being the good little logically thinking man I hope am. And then I sat back in my computer and did a strange thing. I popped up iTunes and I played a song by The Vaccines. ‘You Nutter,’ I hear your deadened sarcastic tones ring out; but hear me out: after about three hours listening to an album on repeat (as I found myself doing that night), however exceptional that record might be, it is nigh on impossible to pump up the spirit to utter that Dickensian plea of ‘Can I have some more?.’ So there I sat, squirming with triumphant joy as this song played out and now, owing to the fact that I have nothing else to complain about, I can’t help but wonder why. The answer is simple: I am craving guitar music, I am on a wretched sugar low of Casters and Kits; I am crying out for the love of a foot-shodden four-piece with a repertoire of three God-given chords and a cocky gobshite at the front who thinks he is that aforementioned donator. After years of MGMT, Animal Collective and LCD Soundsystem, I can’t be the only one whose ears are starting to bleed just a little bit, surely not? Before this self-reflective run turns into self-righteous rant, I had better attempt to measure my tone. The British independent music industry is on the ropes; alongside its major label counterparts it is taking a beating: as record sales drop, with HMV reporting crashing music sales and tumbling share prices, high profile venues have faced or suffered the chop, notably the likes of the 100 club and the Astoria. And people turn to piracy as a frankly guiltless crime. But over the last few years the independent scene has faced another crisis, one of identity. All of a sudden the guitar bands were gone, that Strokesian cool and garage fervour of the early 21st century was lost, and we were left drowning in the likes of La Roux,

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Delphic and Friendly Fires. Meanwhile our British guitar heroes have dissipated: Muse went mental; Biffy lost their inner metal-head; and Kasabian – well, best not to talk too much about them. And all I can remember is waking up some day in 2009 and thinking ‘Wow, how the hell did we get here?’ So how did we get here? A simple answer is that there’s a current wave of 80s nostalgia sweeping across the western world, and as in 2008 possible remakes of the A-Team and Karate Kid began to be murmured around Hollywood, more ill-omened proceedings were taking place in the subterranean basements of indie louts the world over. The 80s were an awful decade: Tiananmen Square, Thatcher and Top Gun to suggest but a few; yet Joy Division indebted guitar groups (Editors, Interpol, The Killers) started to appear across the noughties scene-scape and then the visionaries of retro-electronica began to gain ever greater foothold (LCD Soundsystem, Daft Punk). But while many of these earlier pioneers crafted their wares well, all it took was a few idiots with a sequencer, a Mac book pro and a complete misunderstanding of how the meanings of the words ‘quality’ and ‘music’ interrelate in juxtaposition, to push us off down that slippery slope. The thing is, I’m not sure who those people are – so being the illogical little man I really am – I simply go back to the last thing I was certain of. In my world it’s the fact that the outpouring of mind-numbing synthesisers correlates very nicely with the arrival and swift disappearance of, among others, Passion Pit. Passion Pit is (present tense, I confess) an American band, backed by a vast arsenal of nasal falsettos and shimmering keyboards. I won’t dwell on them, but suffice it to say that I’d happily blame

for a full-blown reincarnation of Lord Byron, only the sort of band capable of coaxing intrigue wherever they go. We all need heroes in rock and roll, and right now there’s a distinct shortage. After a dismal few years, we wonder why The Vaccines have reached such prominence on the back of so little: it’s because they execute the simple things so confidently, and it is well and truly a sound for sore ears. They aren’t vastly significant, nothing like the Strokes or the Monkeys were for the last decade. However, they do raise this far larger issue, and they represent a false start in the bid to anticipate the next big band. every global catastrophe since 1948 on those poor sods; and, since that’s clearly unfair, we’d better move on. The second fault is that we don’t have many indie guitar bands to get behind – and I’m talking aboutthose that might produce the next wave of heroes – so the Maccabees and Bombay Bicycle Club certainly don’t count. The Rifles were awful and The Courteeners produced a fatally weak second record: by the end of 2010 I could only remember one British band to produce a worthwhile indie rock debut that year – and that’s Two Door Cinema Club, the sum of whose collective interest and charm could comfortably be condensed down to a small note reading ‘we have floppy hair, skinny jeans and we’re slightly Irish, hooray for us!’ Over the next few years this insidious malaise of disinterest may well worsen as the likes of James Blake and Jamie Woon straddle the BBC Sound of 2011 poll: their potent blends of singer-songwriter cool and pretentious post-dubstep all pitching in to sap the fun and romanticism out of music, one terminally hip refrain at a time. As much as we need great songs, we also need some character: some crazy, drugaddled Iggy Pop enthusiast to inject (pun unintended, but welcome in hindsight) life into this increasing comatose genre, a libertine indeed. To clarify, I’m not asking

The irony is that to most The Vaccines simply exemplify another anonymous band once anointed, now brutally crucified in the same breath, by the industry of hype we know today. This capricious culture has been born from the way computing and the internet increasingly define the way and pace at which music is produced, delivered and consumed — a trend only likely to continue. So it seems it may be more difficult than ever for a new band to carve themselves a more permanent place in the pantheon of contemporary music. And yet it feels like we are due a game changer right about now, that next great, flagship guitar band for the next generation – Lord knows we need it. And so we wait...

‘I’m not asking for a full-blown reincarnation of Lord Byron.’

‘I am crying out for the love of a foot-shodden fourpiece with a repertoire of three Godgiven chords and a cocky gobshite at the front who thinks he is that aforementioned donator’ Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Film & Photography

Could It Be? Charlie MacKeith examines three new advances in film Let’s not pretend the movie business isn’t in real trouble. Every movie that’s been churned out in the last few years has been predictable rubbish. What’s more, no one’s even being inventive with the medium. I’m bored with 3D already: James Cameron can only make old films with normal people swapped out for blue ones for so long, and Christopher Nolan’s probably released the only good film of the decade. However, don’t let Leonardo DiCaprio distract you from the disaster within a disaster within a disaster that is the film industry. You may, though, let the Arts Review blow your puny earthling minds with some ideas that may well revolutionise Hollywood.

‘If only I were rich,’ said a young little Etonian

Surround vision (I’m not repeating myself, promise):

Director’s commentaries just got personal:

Whereas with 4D you’d be surrounding the film, surround vision would have the film surround you. This, again, would be a bit costly, and require a bit of architecture to produce a small room. Nevertheless, we’ve had surround sound for years. It would make the cliché ‘Give it up, you’re surrounded’ entirely relatable, and would give you permission to mutter ‘Damn right I am, and it only cost me £3 million!’

Have you ever clicked down, past the main film on the DVD menu? Have you ever made that bold step into those curious ‘Special Features’? I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t. In fact, I wouldn’t advise it now. All that lurks within are some outtakes, a few ‘making-of’ documentaries, and the bizarre and ever-present commentaries. Why on earth would anyone want to watch the film made extra quiet, with the Director and a few actors talking over it? The worst thing is, you can’t even tell them to sssshhhh – they usually spend the first five minutes catching up and talking about their holidays.

Overexposure to surround vision would probably lead you to believe your life was a constant movie, and thus awesome. I’d like to see a book that can do any of these awesome things. If all of this stuff isn’t commonplace within 5 years, you have permission to come and take it up with me. Steven Spielberg and I will be sitting in a circular room, having an awesome time as a hologram of Christopher Nolan tries, and fails, to explain the plot of Memento.

BEWARE: this proposal may only apply to the mega rich: why not invite the Director over, pay him a huge sum, and ask him to have a sit down and watch the movie with you? Although it might require you to be a personal friend of the director, having Christopher Nolan sit down with you and talk you through every complication of Inception would be liberating. Alternatively, if you really were rolling in it, you could just pay the whole cast to pop over and act out a few scenes for your enjoyment. Holograms (That’s right 4D): Star Wars Episode IV: George Lucas starts doing some real ground-breaking. More importantly, despite this being ‘a long time ago,’ the technology to have Obi Wan pop up in a hologram is around. Has Hollywood missed this? 3D gets right in your face, but this would be something else entirely. Imagine moving around a Michael Bay movie, exploding up your house. Crisps fly as Optimus Prime forgets his manners. Will Smith takes a tumble on your sofa. Just wait. Someone will soon invent some magical device from which your movie will spring forth and happen right there on your coffee table. I’m not going to pretend I know how many dimensions there are (I’ll take a guess at 13), but we‘ve got to move on from 3 sometime soon.

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Dark Romance Tariq Mir examines a burgeoning new genre What springs to mind when one hears the name Dracula? I most certainly hope and pray that it is indeed the Gothic-horror figure of the blood-sucking vampire, Count of Transylvania. Count Dracula has, since being written by Bram Stoker in 1897, been a figure of deep-seated fear. Even prior to this, the historical concept of the Vampire had become the figure that haunted people’s dreams, leaving behind both physical repulsion as well as sexual awareness. But, from being a creature likened to the demons of religious iconography, the Vampire has become a different figure: one of deep romance. Thus one must ask: is there a future for this new kind of writing, rooted in the Gothic tradition, which concentrates on the romantic aspects of the demonic figure? The genre is Dark Romance. Dark Romance to most of us here would most recently be epitomised by the Twilight saga of American author Stephanie Meyer. As a concept, Dark Romance seems relatively new; however, looking to writers such as Edgar Allen Poe, Dark Romanticism’s branch-off from the mainstream Romantics such as Shelley and Coleridge is a far older occurrence than one might think and most certainly a force to be reckoned with. Now more than ever, due to the very easy transmission of information through the internet. Though many would deny it if asked directly, the majority of Etonians have come across Twilight in some form or another: whether having read the book directly or simply watching the recent film starring Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner, three actors who have gained immense popularity.

I now must admit that I have watched the first film of the Twilight series due to my sister’s newfound obsession with the modern Dark Romance genre, which provides a rather strong representation of love; in many ways, it reflects the plot of the Shakespearean Romeo and Juliet, where in many ways ‘love is forbidden.’ Sexuality is not explicitly apparent in the film or really in the books, which prefer to describe and create tension using the strong physical affinity between the three characters of Bella: the normal girl, Edward, a 104-yearold vampire, and Jacob, a werewolf. What appeals to an audience in relation to the modern Dark Romance is its non-explicit nature, finding more of a turn-on in the use of sexual tension than in raunchy depictions of a relationship.

The genre has been greatly popularised by film, even to the extent that it affected the movement of the Harry Potter films such that directors felt a need to emphasise a ‘romantic storyline’ alongside the main ‘battle against the ultimate evil of Voldemort.’ Thus, one can see that in the near future Dark Romance novels will start filling younger sisters’ bookshelves far quicker than the typical clichéd romance novels which only progress to the proverbial happy-ending.

The future of the genre rests in how drastically the change will affect the younger readership as well as older audiences. Whilst many may have read Stoker’s Dracula, one can immediately draw comparisons between the two books and find that the Twilight saga not only succeeds in anthropomorphising the vampiric character, but it also manages to make him the protagonist at a romantic endeavour. As the next three films of Twilight come to the big-screen on 30 June 2011, 18 November 2011 and 16 November 2012, it is evident that it is not a genre which is due to die out any time soon. Instead, it has encouraged authors to challenge the traditional view of those aspects which were once either seen as horrifying or sacrilegious and transform them into stories as part of the social shift towards a sense of equality. What we should, in my opinion, see in such a genre is a different perspective and approach to sexuality, one that explicitly encourages romance as an important driving force within relationships. In the meantime, more and more films will derive inspiration from Dark Romance, and will incorporate elements that will give a different edge: for romance and drama, the sinister aspects of Dark Romance will most certainly shift away from the typical happy ending we have come across numerous times. Whilst for fantasy, the incorporation of an underlying romantic theme will be something to consider. And then, for horror, building upon the extremes of Dark Romance to create far more disturbing plotlines and ones that actually overcome Dracula in mental, emotional and psychological insecurity. As for the moment, we should let time take its toll on Dark Romance; perhaps even Dracula himself will become a protagonist of a new era of romanticism which will not only appeal to the female readership but also to an Etonian audience who will, without doubt, be ready to delve in with some curiosity!

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

Film & Photography

Eton College On the 12th of May 2011, Eton College played host to an event that was the first of its kind. Joe Nickols wowed us with his stunning designs, created throughout his past two years at the school, and inspired by the school (as you can see from his own jacket!) It was an incredible start to what will undoubtedly be a long and fruitful career, given the daring risks he has taken, as you can see through these beautiful and unique hand designed pieces. Expect to see your future spouses styled by Joe!

Arts Review â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Fourth of June 2011

We were also treated to a selection of work from upcoming artists connected with the school, including Isaac Nugent OE (who was the victor of a prestigious prize at the Saatchi Gallery during his time at the school) & Ian Burke (head of the art department), amongst many others. The Event was organized in aid of ShelterBox which provides emergency aid and shelter for families around the world. Recent projects include sending over 26,000 boxes to Haiti & Japan in the light of recent events.

Hopefully this momentous occasion will also spark a more open culture amongst the college, with increased acceptance of those who are interested in the arts. Although donations for the event have closed, we urge you to donate to ShelterBox at their website: www.shelterbox.org/donate.php For further inofrmation on the clothes themselves, contact Joe Nickols via his email: j.nickols@etoncollege.org.uk

Arts and Fashion Event

The Final Pages

Ante Etonam

Vulturius

The Old Etonian, despite the prominent lack of invitation to the royal wedding, is keeping well and is absolutely delighted to return to Eton for the dreary Fourth of June. He is looking forward with relish to the prospect of running into all the wonderful people he’s managed to avoid for the last 30 years. Unfortunately, owing to a bad experience involving some oaf driving a Reliant Robin and some rather unfortunate sheep, the Old Etonian has decided not to bring one of his fleet of Bentleys along and has regretfully traded down somewhat to a Range Rover for the day. Yet perhaps this car goes better with his immaculately rustic three-piece tweed suit. Nonetheless, to ensure he is centre of attention, the Old Etonian has hired a violently coloured marquee with enough Krug booze to have all the punters flocking his way. Bearing this in mind, the Old Etonian kindly requests that those tiresomely brash fellows who insist upon bringing one of their castles and their entire court with them start paying tax and stop hogging the best spots.

The Vulture recently soared in from a tour around Pakistan, and a visit to several rather well-known Etonians. He was sad to hear of Obama’s departure, and made sure to say a prayer for his favourite anonymous Christian. Unfortunately, he rather recently ate some stale cake, served up to him by some Special Forces close-protection nuns at the royal wedding reception: that was of course the closest he got to Will and Kate. He claims that this was the cause of his ‘three-week illness,’ which miraculously saved him from rowing camp, where his poor little feathers might well have been bruised and battered by the wind, but failed to realise that one event had been followed by the other. He has thus been rather out of the way for the past few days, in cahoots with the demon child who ruined Kate’s dream day, attempting to summon laser vision / mind bullets to disrupt the RAF fly-by. Having stolen Harry’s dream woman, by placing an order so large that Pippa herself was forced to deliver it (unfortunately, he was not gentlemanly enough to pick the things up when she dropped them), he returned to his roost. There he was greeted by more shrubbery than he had seen since the last Fourth of June, during which he ended up in a hedge somewhere north of Dutchmans, before being accosted by a rather bewildered Lower Man, who had clearly just seen the queues for the toilets.

London To Lisbon

Unable to hear himself think in School Hall, due to the sound system, he wandered over to the Design Schools, and rather smugly managed to hit his head on windows he had thought to be air vents. The Vulture has rather taken to gaming in the past few weeks, however, in the full knowledge that his exams were coming up soon, and was rather taken aback when he found out that Luscious Ladies Volume 23 had turned up on his credit card bill, after an intensive gaming session on PSN. He declined to comment when asked by a rather flustered Anna Machray why the school network had recently crashed. He enjoyed the symmetricality of the new building designs but, when they were ruined could only refer to the birds dropping out of the sky. ‘Gentlemen, we are not in Arkansas anymore.’

Two European capital cities, 1600 miles apart (give or take) by bike. In July 2005 my mother, Lily Metcalfe, following a three year struggle, died from acute myeloid leukaemia. I hate that it took her. In May 2010 Frankie Whitehead, the grandmother of Tom, one of my fellow cyclists, also died from leukaemia. Sadly this is a disease that still affects so many people and the suffering is horrible. Therefore, we all agreed to raise money for Leukaemia & Lymphoma Research and see what we could do to help put an end to the disease. The four cyclists going on this epic journey will be Tom Prebensen, Harry Pearson-Gregory, Archie Gilmour & Louie Metcalfe.

http://www.justgiving.com/londontolisbon

Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011

http://www.facebook.com/londontolisbon

One Final Note: For the living large, but mama I ain’t done yet/sit back and watch your son rise/kick back and know your son set — J. Cole, Beautiful Bliss Eight seconds of silence. Yesterday afternoon, as Derrick Rose reminded us all that the NBA is in a set of more than capable 22-year-old hands, there were eight seconds of silence that spoke louder than all of the words delivered by Gar Forman, Tom Thibodeau and even Rose himself. Those eight seconds came after he said he wanted to thank his mother.

The Score Arts Review — Fourth of June 2011