Glyn Thompson’s lectures

Back on the subject of complementary studies.

Derek’s complementary studies text brings to mind perhaps one of the most vital contributions to what went on during the mid 1970s and on through the 80s; Glyn’s lectures. Glyn was a force to be reckoned with and still is. One of those forceful intellectuals who are able to compress vast amounts of information into a short sentence and cross reference all the threads back through history and into the future. Sometimes on Foundation back in the days before we had to put things down on paper there were rumblings amongst the studio floor staff that art history should be taught on the studio floor and that Glyn wasn’t playing the game. The game as I read it then was that art history was, when it was on the studio floor, art appreciation, and only art history in the lecture theatre. However as nobody really knew what was going on in the lecture theatre, (the studio floor staff would rarely go to lectures) I decided I would sit in on some of Glyn’s lectures and get a flavour of what he was doing. I already had a good inkling of this, because my tutorial group were always puzzled but fascinated by his lecture programme and when I had tried to unravel this with them realised that these lectures were spreading all over history and culture, threads and directions being found that for many students were obscure, difficult and arcane but also weird and wonderful.

The first thing about the lectures that hit you was their pace. Glyn would deliver short sharp sound-bites with a rapid fire patter. He used a stack of old fashioned filing cards to keep track of where he was going and just let rip. Using two projectors, side by side, Glyn would engage with images colliding and interrogating each other. The nearest I could give as an example would be Robert Smithson’s work. If we take Smithson’s collage ‘St. John in the Desert’ whereby an old engraving of St John is surrounded by collages of electrical diagrams, force-fields and other technical readouts from science manuals and place it next to his essay on Robert Morris and think of these two visual/written texts flowing between each other, you can get a general idea of how Glyn worked.

Smithson was someone I could emulate with and I had been interested in his work when I was at college. This is a short extract from Smithson’s essay on Morris.

Descartes' cosmology is brought to a standstill. Movement in Morris's work is engulfed by many types of stillness: delayed action, inadequate energy, general slowness, an all over sluggishness. The ready-made are, in fact, puns on the Bergsonian concept of "creative evolution" with its idea of "ready made categories." Says Bergson. "The history of philosophy is there, however, and shows us the eternal conflict of systems, the impossibility of satisfactorily getting the real into the ready-made garments of our ready-made concepts, the necessity of making to measure." But it is just such an "impossibility" that appeals to Duchamp and Morris. With this in mind, Morris's monstrous "ideal" structures are inconsequential or uncertain ready-mades, which are definitely outside of Bergson's concept of creative evolution. If anything, they are uncreative in the manner
of the 16th-centuary alchemist-philosopher-artist. C.G. Jung's writing on "The Materia Prima" offers many clues in this direction. Alchemy, it seems, is a concrete way of dealing with sameness. In this context, Duchamp and Morris may be seen as artificers of the uncreative or decreators of the Real. They are like the 16th-century artist Parmigianino, who "gave up painting to become an alchemist." This might help us to understand both Judd's and Morris's interest in geology. It is also well to remember that Parmigianino and Duchamp both painted "Virgins," when they did paint. Sydney Freedberg observed in the work of Parmigianino, if not in fact, at least in idea.

There was a sort of ‘hippy’ feeling to all this, a feeling I recognised. That desire for everything to be joined up, for an invisible universe that lay behind this everyday world to be revealed in all its complex glory. I don’t think people going into education today have this same yearning, or perhaps I’m just getting old. We move in Smithson’s essay from Duchamp (always there waiting in the wings), through Descartes, touching on Jung and use a late Renaissance painter as a touchstone into alchemy. Smithson goes on to examine the nature of thermodynamics and then reflect on the structure of time. Glyn’s lectures were similar collages of connection. On the left hand screen might be Chartres and its stone labyrinth inlaid into the floor, on the right Duchamp’s chocolate grinder, then a quick flick to Courbet and back again to Carnac via the Albigensian heresy. Mondrian’s connections to Theosophy might be revealed to be a reinvented form of spiritualism and a close second cousin to Navajo sand-painting. Times and cultures would collide, patterns revealed and broken, ideas raised up as truths only to be brought down again as other disciplines took stage and new readings emerged. An interest in puns and word play driven by Glyn acting as a type of Duchampian prankster circulated and played itself out as all was revealed as a cosmic confidence trick, orchestrated by Glyn and his filing cards. It was all in there somewhere and as a student you were either totally lost and mystified or fascinated and eager for more.

The problem was no one was making the connections; well very rarely. At times Glyn would be working alongside everyone else, I remember him making complex drawing frames based on Duchamp’s work, stringing out the changes in viewing point as vanishing points moved further and further away from the centre of vision. This was very close to Patrick’s floorboard drawings, in fact a merging between the two was achieved on at least one occasion. Sheila Parsons, a mature student who went to Cardiff attempting to construct a synthesis between the two if I remember rightly.

Eventually Glyn is pushed out by the new principal Edmund Wigan. As the secretary of the union Glyn became persona non grata and stood in the way of low pay and new contracts. He had himself become a Jungian archetype, in effect Wigan’s ‘shadow’ the thing he didn’t want to face, Glyn represented the complex web of interconnectedness that we all believed was the true wyrd of art education. Glyn’s interest in casting a cup and ring stone on the moors at Baildon (see More thoughts from Derek, 3^rd Dec) typical of that merging of history with geology with myth with art that made it all so interesting and which was going to be pulled asunder by the arrival of learning outcomes, national qualifications, Wigan and health and safety.

More thoughts from Derek

Derek sent me two different lots of information over the weekend so I'll split them into different posts.

The first was about complementary studies. This is how things were when I arrived (Year 1974/5) and as Derek points out, "The joy of the system was there was not a shred of paperwork involved."

Complementary studies projects 1972 - 74

Cooking rabbits on Attermire Scar / Victoria Cave

Casting cup and ring stones

I was asked by Glyn to contribute to a complementary studies project he was delivering on early settlements in the Dales. We went to Victoria Cave outside Settle which had been used in Neolithic times as a shelter and various finds had been discovered in excavations there. We then visited Attermire Scar Cave which is on an exposed, elevated ledge on the Scar, above what would have been a lake in Neolithic times, but is now a dry valley. The remains of a Roman chariot had been found walled up in the cave, presumably from a burial. I took a few students who were interested down the tight crawl into the cave and into the high rift passage ending in a cavern with a deep pool. A vertical fissure off that leads to a further complicated and sinuous crawl to the mud slide at the end, which at the time was still being excavated.

The plan was to spend the night in the cave entrance. A gift from a students’ father of several commercially bred rabbits were cooked on an open fire on the narrow ledge outside the cave, a memorable experience under a full moon.

As part of the same project Glyn was interested in casting a cup and ring stone on the moors at Baildon, so I helped him with that. We cast a mould from the stone using lashings of clay wash and then plaster bandage supported by a framework of sticks. A glass fibre cast was made from the mould back at college.

Canoe building / canoeing from Ilkley to East Keswick

This was an opportunity to use resin and glass fibre in a "correct" way - so much of Foundation work stressed the experimental approach to materials and processes and the development of form as an ongoing development, every problem being a "one off" in limited time restraints, that glass fibre work often was not playing to its strengths as a material. The opportunity to cast from a borrowed perfect fibreglass mould was too good an opportunity to miss. It was anticipated that a mixed group of students would spend a week making a canoe with one of them paying for the materials - in the event the proposal was so oversubscribed that we ended up making one canoe per day for ten days. Team work was essential and health and safety very heavily laid down. Customary breaks had to be abandoned, tasks completed on time and in a precise sequence and everyone being on hand at crucial points. The up side was that when breaks did occur they were generous (fresh air being essential away from the fumes) and on the following day when a canoe was released from the mould with a satisfying pop, a large shiny, pristine form beheld, the pride of a mixed bag of students was apparent. I could see that students were able to use skills from their area of study - Fashion students were a dab hand at pattern cutting, Furniture students had a sense of precision and craftsmanship, P&D students knew about mould preparation and cleaning brushes and the discipline needed when dealing with noxious substances.

A voluntary weekend excursion took place a few weeks later when seven or eight of us canoed the River Wharfe between Ilkley and East Keswick - no doubt illegally.

Geology

Malham topography: looking at the geological structure of Malham, the Tarn, watersinks and upwell, the Cove and Gordale Scar which is thought to be a collapsed cave, and building a 3D topographical map of the area.

Following a discussion with slides of the area and a general talk about the characteristics of karst landscape the map was started first - a contour map upscaled to table-sized proportions. Layers of polystyrene sheet glued down to the profile of the contours with a vertical height exaggeration for increased dramatic effect. This was sealed and cast in glass fibre to form a mould and then a cast taken from the mould. Whilst this long term project was taking place, discussions took place on landscape forming processes and students working in teams carried out experiments on alternately placing clay 'landscapes' under a dripping tap, drying it out, wetting again etc. to simulate erosion, forming cliffs, deltas, sedimentary plains etc. In another experiment, glaciers were simulated by pouring buckets of wet plaster down 'mountains' of sand to form U-shaped valleys and cuums. Various ideas to mimic the action of water in dissolving away limestone to form cave systems failed and only achieved success of a kind by making typical cave structures out of clay, then immersing that in wet plaster and removing the clay when set. When the plaster was cast in layers that could be separated the internal 'cave' structure could be explored quite nicely.

On the last day we visited Malham on a wild, vicious winters day and did the classic walk up Gordale Scar, following the dry valley to the Tarn and down to the Cove. The day was spoiled by the wind tearing off the bottom hinge of the rear door of the hired mini-bus as we were getting ready to leave Malham. The hire company were not pleased.

This complementary studies project highlighted for me the weakness of the system. I thought it was a great idea to have a mixed group from different courses within the college, but you had to be really careful not to alienate some of them. Usually a practical making project binds people together quite effectively, but on this occasion, although the majority of the students participated fully, there was an element that decided early on that they had no desire to think and were not in the least intellectually curious or willing to dirty their hands, and were not seen again after the first day.

The joy of the system was there was not a shred of paperwork involved – no assessment, no feedback to courses on student performance, no registers, no aims and objectives – just a satisfying feel of working with the students (rather than them working for you) on something that was fun and perhaps a little bit educational.

Complementary Studies

Terry's message has reminded me of my own first ventures in complementary studies. This was a separate area in those days (1970s) from Art History. My earlier experience of complementary studies when I was doing my DipAD in Newport had been really positive. We had sessions on such things as philosophy, classical music, film and Egyptian Poetry, a whole term I remember was devoted to learning to listen to the differences between Beethoven, Bruckner and Mahler. We were also introduced to Debussy and impressionist music, all achieved by a man with a box record player lifting the stylus up and down onto the records as he tried to get certain passages across to us. He must have destroyed his entire collection of classical music in an attempt to educate us children of the 60s. 

I still need to unpick my thoughts on complementary/critical/contextual/theoretical studies but today's not the day especially as I'm thick with cold. So back to Terry's observations. 

In complementary studies around 1975ish, there was a core team consisting of Dave Williams, Glynn Thompson, Max Farrer, Jane Storr, Jane Bostock and Graham Savage (these are the one's I remember, I'm sure there were others) and the department had a pretty lively political/sociological agenda. They worked across all the college courses and brought staff in from those courses to help deliver their programme. 

Complementary studies in those days was dominated by practical political and social concerns. Practical in the sense of exposure to what was out there in the real world. I took sessions myself at one point, these must have been available to be taught by all staff working at the college during that time; part-timers as well as full-timers. Goff Oddy who was head of graphics, used to take a walking and camping trip. I can remember all sorts of things ranging from vegetarian cooking to African fabric tie-dye techniques. The central issue was that complementary study was about raising awareness. There was also a concern to make the students understand that everything had political and social ramifications. For instance I was asked to take a group of students, (I cant remember for how many days now, but it was probably for four) and get them to experience how the ‘powers’ behind the city operated. I looked at what we could get into legally and found several places that Leeds’ citizens were able to go and observe the processes of law and civic decision making in operation. We spent the time first of all visiting the Civic Hall and sitting in on council deliberations, (you could research beforehand what was open to the public) which students were initially really bored by, until issues came up that they realised could effect them. We sat in on planning as well as education debates. At one point we were escorted out of the room because one councillor objected to our presence and then were re-escorted back in again, once it had been pointed out by my local Kirkstall councillor that we were within our rights to be there.  

We then spent days in the law courts sitting in the public benches and most interestingly in the local magistrates court. Students had not been aware of the old fashioned etiquette of the law courts or power of magistrates to make decisions. Most of the magistrate’s court cases involved young people their age, so the students empathised with those being brought before the dock. What came across was a huge difference in class and power. Barristers and magistrates had a subtle command of both legal jargon and the English language, it was therefore easy for them to ‘trip up’ the people in the dock or make them look foolish, which they often did. Magistrates seemed to exude middle class righteousness and their main role seemed to be to make sure the people who were in front of them knew their place.

The fact we were there made people feel uncomfortable. These were their territories and usually they had the place to themselves. The only other people we met were reporters or relatives and friends of the accused.

I found the sessions really enlightening, but some of the ‘trades’ lads (these were students doing courses like painting and decorating) thought it was all a waste of time. The more thoughtful students however made the connection and in a deeper and more concrete way than teaching them Foucault. Years later I would return to teaching ‘Theoretical and Contextual’ studies as it would become; theory in the late 90s playing a vital part in the art college new degree level curriculum. However in all the lectures I have given since those mid 70s times, I never saw again that dawning of awareness of the reality of class difference and power that I came across then.