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Five Conversations.

one half of a performative lecture which took place 16 03 12 at the Harris Museum, Preston. Based on field notes from February visit to Florence.

1.

Here we are in front of the cast copy of the Gates of Paradise in this beautiful ground floor atrium space that houses the café and entrance to the library in the Harris Museum here in Preston.

Replica casts of original sculptural and architectural original works of art were first created in the 16th century. Over time the process became more mechanised and their popularity grew.

The biggest display of casts in this country was seen by over a third of the British public at the 1851 Great Exhibition which was organised by Prince Albert and Henry Cole, the director of the Victoria & Albert Museum. It is almost certain that a copy of this cast was on display for that event.

Casts were seen as educational tools and cast collections were formed in art schools over the world.

Casts were also purchased by collectors and museums to be displayed for the general public to view and marvel at works from around the world; works that they may never have the opportunity to see. Remembering that cameras weren’t invented and travel costs were very high, this was their opportunity to experience part of the world in their own town. You could say it was like bringing parts of the grand tour to their doorstep.

2.

This building was designed by local architect James Hibbert. It is now a Grade I listed building, which houses the Library, Museum and Art Gallery.

Hibbert was an interesting character, someone who had a passion for doing what he believed was right for the town and the people who lived here. He wanted to create a building and its contents that would educate, inform and enlighten those who visited. You can see that this was expressed in a permanently visible way in both the interior and exterior texts on the building. You can see this around the central atrium space, but have a look on the outside as you leave too.

3.

The Preston cast of the Gates of Paradise was part of a wider selection of 30 casts personally selected by the building architect James Hibbert to adorn the interior of the building. The purchase was supported by a grant for £500 from the Victoria & Albert museum which represented 50% of the total cost.

This particular cast was supplied by the Brucciani Casting Company of London and arrived by train in 7 boxes in December 1890. It cost £100 and was one of the most expensive and largest of the purchases, along with a cast of David which is no longer here. Delays nearly led to the grant running out of time and being lost, eventually Hibbert personally paid the £100 for the Gates of Paradise and was reimbursed by the committee later.

The Gates of Paradise have been on permanent display here since the grand public opening in 1893.

4.

Over time it has been necessary to protect this cast which was originally white plaster. This material was favoured to allow people to have a clear vision of the sculptural qualities of the work. Over time you can probably see here that damage has occurred, and the museum has at some point decided to protect it with paint and an over layer of varnish.

5.

Preston was not alone in choosing to purchase a cast of the Gates of Paradise. There were other casting companies in Europe and America producing both plaster and metal or electrotype cast replicas.

Casts began to fall out of fashion as the debate ensued about the values of real versus fake, copy versus original. Many cast collections were broken up in the 1950s and 1960s.


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Five Conversations.

one half of a performative lecture which took place 16 03 12 at the Harris Museum, Preston. Based on field notes from February visit to Florence.

1.

Cool, damp marble. Tracing rusted veins that run along the surface.

Tinged blue morning light creeps into the square.

Trucks wake and haul the streets. Calls ring through, excavating stone, shattering, chipping away, illuminating.

Light moves through, and space begins to shift.

Sirens and bells pierce intermittently. Birds flee. Fading paint peels and falls. Soft brass.

Space and stillness

2.

Brighter, people moving past. Loosely formed groups disperse and reform. Pausing, stilted movements, capturing.

American girls, laughing, form a line. “I’m the only one in the dark”. A shuffle along. Image after image. Positions shift. Adolescent loyalties played out for the camera, played for memory.

I was here.

A sudden crowd descends on the space. Always through a screen, only glimpsed, indirectly. A recreation of a recreation. Experience metered down.

Layers of detachment forming the image.

3.

Softly booming around the space, into the city. Above new chimes, melodic yet overbearing. Rehearsed, a pattern, overlapping one another.

Silence rings through.

Chatter slowly re-inflates the square. Movement begins. Doors closed to milling women in hats.

Shadows flit overhead, darkened, sillouetted against the imposing light.

4.

Metal rails hold and contain the mass. Tidal in pulls away and towards. Further back, removed, watching.

Intrusions into photography, loved ones alongside the anonymous spectator. Site on the map, marked in time.

Shoving motions, laughing exclamations. More people than place. Follow them through the city.

Out staring lenses at the cathedral doors. Will he catch my eye? Or only later, at home, and wonder what that mean look was for?

Teenagers just beyond, sat on steps, bored, smoking. Teacher delivers a flustered lesson, begging attention. Clipped facts, names, dates, strain above the hum.

Groups ebb, leaving and arriving in formation. Stragglers run to catch, a cursory nod towards the subject, more concerned with the now.

5.

Indistinguishable forms twisting, audible… moving closer

Heads thrown back, snap forward. A few staggered steps ahead, straightening.

Intense stares, whispering and looking on darkly. Others vibrant, in the bright silver, dancing.

New visitors, groups and space claimed by the subterranean. Beneath the surface a shift. Flashes of neon rising into the night sky. Laughter and outreached arms, a chase.


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Last month (February 2012) we undertook a research trip to visit cast copies of the Gates in the Berlin Neues Museum and those hung on the Baptistry in Florence. Spaces were connected and compared through the casts, understanding how identical artworks are viewed and understood within their differing contexts.

Following posts will chart the visits through field notes, creative text and images.

In the meantime…

Visiting Florence allowed for the chance to reconnect in person with artist and writer Lisa McGarry, a resident of the city, who has been involved with the project since its initiation in 2009. Lisa’s book ‘The Piazzas of Florence’ intertwines personal experience of the spaces, with historical information and travel guide; a snapshot of the evolving environment beautifully illustrated with painted maps of the Piazzas. http://www.lisa-mcgarry.com/Lisa_McGarry/The_Piazzas_of_Florence_The_book.html

The following passage in particular struck us both as an evocative description of participating in an event held within the Duomo (Cathedral) and the Piazza which the Gates look onto. (Reproduced with kind permission of the author).

This Sunday morning feels like just another April day-sunny, lots of pedestrians on the streets, the cafes and shops open for business, with the usual Sunday exceptions. It’s not until I have nearly reached Piazza del Duomo that I feel sure today really is Easter: the hordes of pedestrians have come to a halt, and a few blocks ahead, between the baptistery and the cathedral, Il Brindellone, the traditional cart containing the fireworks for the Scoppio del Carro, waits expectantly.

Once I enter the church, I wander among the crowds for a while, listening to the roar of thousands of people talking and the sweet voices of a children’s choir piped over the speakers. ‘It’s almost as big as a soccer field,’ I overhear a man say in Italian-the Italians always seem to have soccer on the mind.

I have never seen the church so packed. I finally find a spot by the altar, under the cupola. Centred before the raised altar is the column that supports one end of the wire, with the mechanical dove in the starting position. Helicopters are circling outside. There is a feeling of anticipation and excitement as I look around, taking in details that I have only read about before. Last year I was in the piazza and couldn’t see much more than heads and shoulders. Even so, waiting in the closely packed crowd, hearing the spark of the dove upon its arrival and then the explosions of the cart-joined a few moments later by the joyful ringing of the bells – filled me with unexpected emotion. I am growing used to this fragmented way of witnessing celebrations here though – it’s like assembling a collage or creating a mosaic of compiled memories over time.

(Continued below)


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