Kurt Schwitters in Ambleside

After my visit to the Hatton Gallery on Wednesday, I checked the website for the Armitt Museum and discovered that today there was an annual guided walk in Ambleside of places significant to Schwitters, who lived there for the final three years of his life. It also gave me a chance to see what works of Schwitters the Armitt has. Plus other discoveries that caught my eye.

The walk’s focus was primarily on Ambleside and the people that Schwitters was friends with. He painted their portraits – competently if not inspiringly – and sketched and painted for a few shillings to earn a living. It wasn’t really the focus I was after, but nonetheless it was a pleasant and informative walk. There were wonderful views from the first house Schwitters lived in – but, after a fall on the icy pavement, he had to move. I learned that the Merzbau in Langdale was his third and final one, and the only one of which something remains – i.e. the barn wall in the Hatton Gallery. (His Hanover Merzbau was destroyed during the war, and the one he started to construct in Norway when he first fled Nazi Germany was destroyed decades ago.)

The Armitt exhibition was of Schwitters’ portraits of Ambleside worthies. It therefore gave little sense of what a very unusual artist he was. Nowadays Schwitters-type stuff and collages and deeply personal works are everywhere, but he was the ur installation artist*. (I did enjoy one of the group saying that her great aunt had had to clear out one of Schwitters’ rooms and found it full of rubbish . . . like old bus tickets! So not rubbish but artist’s materials.)

And then, since the day had turned into a beautiful afternoon, I walked back to Brockholes via bridleways – some with little rivulets running down them after so much rain.

* But levity will intrude and – unserious philistine that I am – I can’t always take his work seriously. So – Schwitters used porridge as a sculpting material while he was interned as an enemy alien; I’ve just read the following in “Conference at Cold Comfort Farm” (1949):

‘And Messe has promised, as you saw by the advance publicity I sent you, to do us a one-day show of Transitorist Craft work. Do you know his stuff? He won’t use materials lasting longer than one day, and he mostly works in pastry made from national flour, contemporary sausage-meat, and modern dyestuffs . . .’

The Merz Barn Wall

Merz Barn Wall, Kurt Schwitters, 1947-48

I went to the Hatton Gallery, hoping to see the paintings I’d skipped over on my previous visit when I had been captured by Kurt Schwitters’ Merz Barn Wall. Unfortunately, the gallery was taken over by the graduate art show (very shallow of me to think that, I know) so I returned to the wall to see if I felt the same way about it.

Yes – but without that sense of astonishment I had the first time. The lines and shapes and proportions seem just right somehow. The clean curves offset by the texture of the plaster “scales”. The little areas of colour. I knew it was unfinished, but I didn’t realise- until I read further – that this is not quite what Schwitters created. There were other elements, like a column, but this (restored) is all that remains.

I can feel a visit to Ambleside coming on.

Newcastle

Newcastle really is a handsome city – it announces the fact from the moment you cross the river and curve into the station. Sunshine helps, of course. It’s looking a bit pinched in other ways, but that’s another matter.

Straight to the Laing and the café, but before I had my coffee I was sidetracked by the corridor display of domestic items: a teapot by Christopher Dresser plus crockery by Laura Knight and Eric Ravilious. His little tureen was a delight.

But I wasn’t there for household items. No, I was there to see Turner’s “Fighting Temeraire”, which is on loan from the National Gallery, and the exhibition surrounding it. As I walked round I felt a small surge of horrified interest in how a battle would have been fought by sailing ships atop a wooden crate riddled with gun holes. Lots of Turner’s watercolours, which – since I know one of the scenes he painted – included a great deal of artistic licence. Sometimes his painting are too undefined and blurry for my taste, and I wasn’t expecting that much of the Temeraire. Well, I was wrong. In the flesh, it is amazing. It blazes and shimmers and is utterly beautiful. Lots of artistic licence here too, but there is still pathos in the old ship that helped to defend Britain from Bonaparte’s forces being led to her death by a new-fangled steam tug. “Burial at Sea” next to it was equally breathtaking. It just glowed.

There was more about shipbuilding and industry on the Tyne, including one photograph by Chris Killip. Afterwards I went into his exhibition of “The Last Ships”. His eye is perfect, but it is perhaps the time he spent on the people and the area that was his invisible power. These photographs of the same street over the course of a couple of years in the mid-1970s:

My room is on the fourth floor and I have a perfect view of the Ionic capitals of the old Assembly Rooms. And of the buddleia sprouting from its masonry.

Staithes

We caught the bus to Staithes and arrived at 9 a.m. I had thought that a bit early, but it was actually sensible. Staithes is so picturesque – and this is the holiday season after all – that it quickly began to get busy. At the end of the nineteenth century it was popular with plein air artists, known as the Staithes School. Laura Knight lived here for a number of years both before and after her marriage, learning her trade and often burning her drawings to keep warm.

And then the long walk along the coast into a headwind back to Saltburn. En route we passed Boulby mine, which is not just a mine but also an underground laboratory. I shall think of it as a British mini-CERN.

Saltburn to Skinningrove

A walk from Saltburn to Skinningrove – one I’ve done before, but not in summer. They’re almost identical in terms of geography, but Saltburn is the holiday resort and Skinningrove is the left-behind industrial site. Its beach was every bit as enticing as Saltburn’s nonetheless.

Saltburn

Back to Saltburn – this time in brilliant sunshine and peak holiday season. Still wonderful. The colours are so different.

I have been doing a little homework for tomorrow’s “guided tour” for someone who’s never visited before. Clifftop tram, obvs – water-powered funicular, sadly not working at present. Precious stone/jewel street names (Amber, Coral, Emerald, etc) on a grid pattern. Like Arnside and Grange-over-Sands, transformed from a backwater into a Victorian holiday resort by the arrival of the railway. Built and promoted by the Pease family of Darlington – Quakers with a finger in every pie. (Originally there was no alcohol.) Built on land bought from the Earl of Zetland. I was told by someone I got talking to in a café that the railway line used to continue beyond the station right up to the Zetland Hotel on the edge – a proper railway hotel. A wave in the direction of the beckside gardens, a mention of Convalescent Street . . . and I am ready for my Blue Badge.