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Showing posts with label Lakeside Arts Centre (Nottingham). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lakeside Arts Centre (Nottingham). Show all posts

Wednesday, 20 November 2013

I was a latecomer to the work of Ray Gosling, which I put down to not living in the East Midlands for quite a large period of my life. Regional television is pretty much over these days, so watching Gosling’s work on Inside Out was out of the question unfortunately. Once he was in my radar though, I did as much research as possible. Footage of his documentary presentation is a little thin on the ground on YouTube, which is a shame really as more people deserve to see this work. You simply could not go to the television companies these days and suggest half of the things that he did on the television or radio back at the height of his success, because there’s too much compliance and too many focus groups involved.

The sad thing about the reports of his death that I have read so far is the mention of his notorious appearance on Inside Out. You know the one; he admitted to the mercy killing of a former boyfriend who was dying of AIDS. Eventually he admitted that he had made it up for television and was prosecuted for wasting police time. Work dried up after this, but he never lost what it was that made him unique.

Although I never had the pleasure of meeting him, I have spent the evening in the same room as him on January 31st this year. During The Alan Sillitoe Season, there was a screening of his first documentary Two Town Mad, from 1962. According to the passage in the brochure from Lakeside Arts Centre, (which was frighteningly close to hand as I sit writing this blog, on my office notice board); Ray Gosling introduces the documentary film he made for BBCTV in which he gives a spirited comparison of the two Midlands towns in the early 60s. This wasn’t really what happened. What happened was that we were told that Ray Gosling was unable to make it along, and that we would watch the film anyway before talking about it. All of a sudden the doors burst open and shouting was heard, before the drunken shambling figure of Ray Gosling appeared to a hearty round of applause. One gets the feeling that he was being hidden away because of his drunken state, but after the screening he shouted his way through something resembling a Q&A session. He was brilliant of course.

His style of documentary making has perhaps influenced me more than I realise. I have mapped out a lot of ideas for filming next year, mostly things that have been turned down by television. The last short item I pitched to Inside Out was in my opinion a very good piece of television potentially; a light-hearted article about something that still gets under the skin of everybody in Nottingham. They turned it down because it didn’t (in their opinion) fit in with the seriousness of the programme, so I have decided to go ahead and make it myself and put it on YouTube. This is where Gosling missed the boat slightly, had he been in better health in his later years (both financially and physically) then he could have ruled social media. With a hand held camera and a computer, he should have spent his final years doing what he did best, documenting human life before going home and uploading it. Not only that but I imagine he would have been a brilliant blogger, and his tweets would have been fucking amazing.

Farewell Raymond Arthur Gosling, may you rest in chaos.

Saturday, 24 October 2009

High Street Confidential

The Lakeside Arts Centre is currently running an exhibition of Boots, the shop that is, not the footwear. Although I am sure the footwear option would have been popular.

I actually learned quite a bit about the origin of this retail chain. I always thought that Sir Jesse Boot started it, but Jesse was actually the son of the creator. The first shop was in Goosegate.

The Boots empire spawned practices that are commonplace now, but were revolutionary at the time. Health care, staff outings to boost morale, even the idea of having a canteen because the owners were concerned that some of the staff weren’t having a proper breakfast. A canteen on site ensured that employees had at least one decent meal a day.

Boots even managed to invent the concept of twenty-four hour shopping, in 1940. Several shops in 1940 were open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. These were all chemists at the time; Boots did not branch out into department style stores until later.

After a good look round, we inadvertently continued a Saturday tradition that we didn’t even know was a tradition until I pointed out that we did the same thing last Saturday. Mandi had a hot chocolate and once again, I had a cup of chino. That is what I call it for comic effect.

We got into a discussion of our affection for the shops that have always been there in our lifetime. I personally do not think that we would miss Boots, Debenhams, British Home Stores or Marks and Spencer if they all closed down. 

I personally don’t think I would, as I don’t shop in them. But then again, I didn’t shop at Woolworths in their final years, and I miss them. I bought my first ever seven-inch vinyl single from there, so it is part of my history. We all cried about the demise of Woolworths, and they were eulogised in the papers in the lead up to their closure. However, the blame was an equal responsibility on the part of both parties. It was our fault because we all stopped shopping there, but it was their fault for losing their way so they did not know what kind of shop they wanted to be.

I do think a Woolworths exhibition would be far more interesting. Not that today’s delve into Boots history wasn’t interesting, but Woolworths was a part of our lives and has left a void that won’t be fully realised until you start Christmas shopping.

This will be the first Christmas without Woolworths.

Without the Woolworths adverts, we need a new ‘I-Spy’ style Christmas checklist. Vital signs that the festive season is on the way.

Tick Them Off When You See Them

The Coca-Cola ‘holiday’s are coming’ lorry advert.

A story in the tabloid press about a school banning nativity plays for fear of offending non-Christian pupils.

The same tabloid papers mentioning towns not putting up lights, for the same reason.

A picture of Michael Winner in his trunks on a beach in Barbados.

Cliff fucking Richard!