Author: adamhalevi

I am an artist, illustrator and author. I trained at St. Martins School of Art and exhibited regularly in the UK and abroad throughout the 1980s. My illustration highpoint was designing the cover for the UK paperback edition of the novel, Billy Bathgate. I lived in Israel in 1970 and then again from 2009 until 2012. I continue to write, as well as make Moscatel wine. My first book, King Saul – The True History of the First Messiah was published to critical acclaim in 2007. In 2014 I published my first novel - ARK (previously, The Sons of Kohath).

SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 4*

by adamhalevi, posted in Adele Collins, Advertising, Advertising Studio, Ann Kerr, Anya Sonn, Ballentine's Scotch Whiskey, Biddy Lombard, Bill Young, advertising, Black and White Photography, Celia Hammond, Christine williams, Commercial Photography, Davian Taylor, Davina Taylor, Dental Health, Durex, Family Planning, Fashion Photography, Geoff Wooten, George Lazenby, Gerald Green, Government Ad campaigns 1960's, Goya Beauty Products, Hannah Green, Jackie Pallo, Jeanette Harding, Joanna Lumley, Johnson's Baby Powder, Julie Bishop, Ken Swift, London Rubber Company, Margaret Lorraine, Max Factor, Michael Green, Nancy Edgerton, Norman Lambert, Pat Knight, Patti Boyd, Paula Heyworth, Pip Perkins, Sandra Paul, Sandra Paul / Howard, Sidney Pizan, Tammi Ethrington

From 1960 until 1975 “The Studio” was a hive of photographic activity. A seemingly unremarkable corner of NW3 (where Arkwright Road meets Frognal, to be precise) became the scene of remarkable commercial and artistic creativity. Some of the UK’s, Europe’s and even some of America’s most iconic advertising images of the era emerged from this most unflashy and unpretentious of locations. Sidney and his gifted, happy team produced a stream of pictures that encapsulated Britain’s mood shift away from dull, post-war straight-lace to swinging 60’s cool and verve.

My older brother Michael in a magazine ad for a-then-state-of-the-art Creda clothes dryer. We can imagine the caption that went with the picture …

Moreover, their work didn’t merely reflect the prevailing trends but often set the tone of the times with a stream of iconic (a massively overused word, but not in this case), highly innovative and enduring images.

Sidney the model for once, at his dental practice, with Michael in the chair. My father Gerald Green was the art director of the shoot, and he probably took the photo. In the early days of the studio, Sidney got a lot of work through Gerry (as he was known then) and his partner Bill Young’s agency (Crane Advertising), which in turn received a lot of government sponsored commissions. This was part of a campaign to promote dental health in children…

Famous female faces to grace the Studio included Pattie Boyd (future wife to George Harrison, then Eric Clapton) Nancy Edgerton, Sandra Paul (now Howard), Joanna Lumley,  Celia Hammond, Julie Bishop, Adele Collins, Ann Kerr, Paula Heyworth, Jeanette Harding, Anya Sonn, Tammi Etherington, Davina Taylor, Biddy Lampard, Christine Williams, Julie Bishop, Pat Knight and Margaret Lorraine. Among the male models were Ken Swift, Geoff Wooten, George Lazenby (later 007), Pip Perkins, wrestler, Jackie Pallo and Norman Lambert .

The Green family in another government sponsored ad for family planning, and The London Rubber Company (through the use of Durex). The poignant story behind this photo can be found in an earlier post…

In addition to Sidney and Co’s classic fashion shots, they gave 1960’s Britain an original and often defining glimpse of everything from Danish Bacon, Guinness, Heineken Lager, Paxo Turkey Stuffing, Carr’s Water Biscuits to Max Factor roll-on deodorant (and dozens of other products besides).

An ad for Selfridges boys shirts – in addition to all his many other activities, Sidney was staff dentist at Selfridges for over 30 years. This resulted in him doing much of their ad campaigns in the 60’s and 70’s, and, best of all, being given a lifetime 33⅓% discount card on all products – including sale goods. Being leant Sidney’s card was one of the most sought after perks by all those who worked with him and for him (including his family members such, as Michael and I in this shot)…

Apart from being a seriously good fashion photographer, Sidney was a master of head-shots and a genius with still-life. Long before “food styling” was a thing, Sidney’s food and drink ads in particular were masterpieces of light, colour, depth and shade, often setting benchmarks for all those that followed.

Hannah standing in for a model on a Max Factor shoot on the left, in 1964. The photo on the right dates from 1967, but I can’t recall what it was for. From my recollection models were often late for work, and I think mum was pulled in on at least three occasions for headshots like these…

Unfortunately, I do not have access to much of Sidney’s professional portfolio, and much of the material I do have, I do not have the rights to reproduce here. Nevertheless, I am fortunate to own all of Sidney’s work for which I, and other family members were the models. And, while some of these images will be familiar to regular readers of these posts, there are also one or two charming surprises which give at least a flavour and the atmosphere of the Studio’s output in the early-to- mid 1960’s.

I think this was the final time I modelled for Sidney, about 1967. I know the baseball boots were mine, so I’m presuming that it was for the clothes.

JOHN’S SHOPPING, BUT NOT COPING…

by adamhalevi, posted in Adam and Dido, Jönköping, Lake Vättern, Sweden, Swedish, Uncategorized

If you ever wondered what all those dots and dashes are for on Scandinavian words then the name of the town in Sweden Dido and I are soon to move to might help.

Jönköping without its umlauts (or “umplaghs” as Dido refers to them) looks fairly straightforward to the English eye. Jonkoping instinctively, phonetically looks like it should be pronounced “John-coping”, but the presence of the umlauts immediately sets alarm bells ringing. You just know that “John-coping” is wrong with the result that you find yourself instinctively “accenting” the word. However, unless you are familiar with “Northern Germanic” languages the chances are that instinctive accenting will be wide of the mark.

In my case for instance, before I knew better, I found myself pronouncing it something like “Jern-kerping” whereas after being corrected by a helpful Swede I was told to pronounce it more like “John-shopping”. Of course, “John-shopping” is only an approximation of the correct Swedish pronunciation, but it does at least indicate the effect of the umlauts.  Moreover, since I’ve been using it, the constant stream of polite corrections from dismayed Swedes has ceased.

The one thing all our new Swedish acquaintances have told us is that our ability to pronounce Swedish words correctly, including Jönköping will improve over time.

Whether or not we have sufficient time in Sweden to master Swedish enunciation will depend upon how well Dido’s new tenure at Jönköping University works out. As things stand she’s planning on this being her professional swansong, but even at 57 this still leaves us with plenty of time – potentially…

Far more accessible than Jönköping’s correct pronunciation is its pleasant geography. The town is situated on the banks of Sweden’s second largest lake, Vättern (yes, another umlaut, and no, I haven’t been informed yet and all guidance welcome) and during our recent visit I manged to get some striking images of it, and the natives enjoying themselves along its beach.

One of the things that I’m falling in love with in Sweden, and something I already miss when I’m not there is the astonishing crystalline light and the startlingly vivid colours and tones it produces on everything it touches. These pictures illustrate this pretty well…

 

ADAM’S NORTH LONDON…

by adamhalevi, posted in Adam and Dido, Adam Green, Alfa Romeo GTV, Covent Garden, Dido Nicholson, Edgware, Hampstead, Hendon, Holly Bush Pub, Jewish Households, Kiddush, London, London Mews, Marylebone Town Hall, Mural Painting, North London, North London Suburbia, Primrose Hill, Regent's Canal, Rosh Pinah Primary School, Saint Martin's School of Art, Soho (London), West Hampstead

the end of a close 65-year relationship*

Last month we sold our little flat in Hampstead, North London. In and of itself, not exactly an earth-shattering event, but in the context of my life, an extraordinary moment. The reason being, that for the first time in my then-64 years and 11 months I no-longer had even a toe-hold in the city of my birth.

Regular readers of these posts will know that I have always endeavoured to keep my blog as free from controversial subjects as possible, despite the fact – as those who know me well can testify – I am highly politically aware with a range of opinions, some strongly held.

Given the recent and current state of the world, this policy has not always been easy, but this blog, originally intended to publicise my books and my art, is not a forum I wish to use for expressing my views on putting the world to rights. Ultimately, from my own experience of sampling and following other people’s politicized sites, one inevitably ends up with a corrosive and destructive clash of echo chambers. Thus, our reasons for leaving London will remain known to only our intimates.

Presented here is a photo-record of the first 30 years of my own personal London life (several suitably grainy and scarred), from times past, when I could never have dreamed that I would ever cut my ties with my once-beloved city “north of the river”.

I was born in Edgware, in the county of Middlesex in 1960, strictly speaking, before it became part of Greater London. Famous for its eponymous Roman road, as the composer Handel’s temporary home, and being at the end of the Northern Line Tube, it was where I grew up. This picture shows me as a baby, with my mum, Hannah, older brother Michael and my great auntie Ray at my grandparents flat…
My final day at nursery in 1963 with my mum (left) and a friend. I seem to be clutching a postcard though I have no idea who from…
Apart from a bout of glandular fever when I was six, my childhood was exceptionally happy. Although my father had departed the scene when I was a babe-in-arms, my little family was a more than adequate compensation for his absence. Here we have Hannah and her parents, Becky and Harry, me and my brother Michael (my uncle Sidney took the picture), in my first home…
Purim at my primary school. I’m a rather lame-looking Robin Hood sat between cowboys and GI’s…
Between the War and my birth, my mum’s family lived in Hendon. Many of our closest family friends remained there, and this is Michael and I during a visit to one of them. We’re sitting on the bonnet of mum’s first Ford Anglia – eat your heart out, Harry Potter!
We took our snowmen very seriously back then…
Our second house in Edgware had a large back garden and by “London-clay” standards, half-decent soil. Sidney and I were both keen gardeners, something I remain to this day…
My studio space at Saint Martin’s, with friends and fellow students. The guy on the far left is my lifelong friend Simon – not an artist, just visiting. Next to him, looking at the camera is Robert, a hugely gifted portraitist, and the girl is Piyawan, another very talented painter and cartoonist. Judging by the coats, this was at the end of the day and when we would typically be preparing for a visit to one of the many local Soho pubs…
My final act at St. Martin’s was to undertake this temporary mural commission (I describe the story here) in James Street, Covent Garden…
My grandparents were moderately observant Jews (outside the Haredi communities – and even they differ from one another – there are as many nuances and degrees of “observant” as there are Jews who observe), and the traditional Shabbat supper was always partaken of. Here I’m “making Kiddush” (the blessing over wine) on one such occasion. By this time we had left Edgware and moved to West Hampstead, also North London, but closer to the centre…
I lived at home (in West Hampstead) well into my late 20’s, and this was my painting studio, which we built at the end of the garden…
I met my future wife, Dido Nicholson, in 1988 and we married two years later. This was her cute little mews house in Lancaster Gate, close to Paddington Station and Hyde Park. She inherited the Alfa GTV from her uncle Leonard, who sadly died while playing real tennis at Lords (the “HQ” of world cricket)...
Dido and I were married at Marylebone Registry office, attended by her parents, my mum and Sidney, and of course, our maid of honour, our best friend Aura, looking unusually sheepish for a large sheepdog…
Like most Londoners, I was rarely happier than when visiting one of my local pubs, like the Holly Bush, here in Hampstead, which has turned out to be our final London Address…
A melancholic New-Years-Day scene on the tow-path of the Regent’s Park, one of our favourite regular walks, and a fitting image to end this homage to a lost city.
  • The title picture is the top of Primrose Hill. It offers, arguably, the best view of London from north-west of the city. I always found the scene somehow reassuring, and no more so than one misty autumn morning in 2010, when my mother had just left for the airport on her way to Dignitas.

SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 3

by adamhalevi, posted in Advertising, Advertising Studio, Bill Young, advertising, Black and White Photography, Brian Jaquest, Commercial Photography, David Hendry, Derek Berg, Doreen Dahl, Edgar Asher, Faith Hollings / Clements, Fashion Photography, Gerald Green, Hannah Green, Henry Sudwarts, Lawrence Sackman, London Transport Museum, Peter Hawkins, Sidney Pizan

the team behind the scenes…

When I began this series of posts on Sidney, I had originally planned to do just three, but since then I have had the privilege and the joy of reconnecting with several of his old colleagues, assistants and models, from the days when he ran one of London’s top advertising photography studios. Subsequently, I now have far more material – anecdotal and pictorial, than when I started out on this mission, and so this will now be number 3 of 5 posts in total.

The most striking – not to mention moving element of this process has been how each and every person I have been in contact with has had nothing but warm memories and kind words about Sidney and their time working at “The Studio”.

This post offers a small, illustrated, behind-the-scenes record of those exciting and pioneering times…

An early publicity shot of Sidney and his team (1964 – taken using a timer): Edgar Asher (TL), Henry Sudwarts (TR), Doreen Dahl (CL), Sidney (C), Faith Hollings (CR), Lawrence Sackman (F). Edgar was extremely tall and thin, and is the only person I know to break their leg playing the violin. He was a fine photographer in his own right and went on to work for the Israel Press and Photo Agency. Lawrence – the youngest of the group – learnt his craft well, and went on to a successful career in art and erotic photography, working with Guy Bourdin and Helmut Newton. More on the others below…
Probably taken by my father, Gerald Green (1960), this shows Sidney with Bill Young and my mother Hannah (far left – Sidney’s sister – and I’m presuming that the two other ladies were accompanying Sidney and Bill). Bill was my father’s partner and became good friends with Sidney. In addition to being an add-man he was also a darn good artist. Two of his gorgeous large oil landscapes adorned my childhood home and strongly influenced my own painting style…
Sidney with Henry Sudwarts, who contributed this and several others of the photos shown here and has some interesting recollections from his time at the Studio. Not only did he get to drive Sidney’s prized Alvis motor car, he also remembers a “Dell Boy”* -like handyman who used Sidney’s basement to stash away contraband cigarettes and radios off the back of a lorry! Henry too branched out on his own in fashion photography before moving into TV in Israel. Having married a South African in 1980 he then moved to Cape Town, where after 30 years working in things as diverse as jewelry and tourism, he picked up a camera again and became an acclaimed wildlife photographer . .
Doreen (left) and Faith from a mid-1960’s shot for BEA (British European Airlines) taken at Sagres on the southern Algarve of Portugal. The main purpose of the trip was a job for Women’s Own Magazine, and the girls were both assisting with the shoot. Faith, whose memories and information have been invaluable to me in compiling these posts, was one of Sidney’s photographic assistants. She has something interesting to say that “to his credit Sidney employed me as a photographic assistant even though I am a woman. Women of my age had to fight to earn a place in a male dominated profession and I had spent three years learning my craft at Guildford School of Art under the the wonderful Ifor Thomas, who was head of the Photographic Department.” Faith now lives in Portugal where she works for an animal charity…
Henry with Doreen . Doreen was Sidney’s secretary (or PA in today’s terminology), and also an aspiring classical timpanist. Faith and Doreen became friends, and she would sometimes help Faith with photographic duties, including setting up a darkroom on travelling shoots, such as the one above in Sagres. My mother, who did additional secretarial work for Sidney, also became very fond of Doreen. Sadly, I haven’t yet discovered what has become of her or her timpani playing?
One of Sidney’s later assistant photographers was Peter Watkins, pictured here on a shoot at the London Transport Museum in London’s Covent Garden. Peter also went on to have a successful career as a fashion photographer. The young chap seated is yours truly. During school holidays I often got to watch shoots, but this one stood out for the fact Peter drove me there in his open topped MGB GT – my first time in a convertible sportscar. Other notable photographers and set technicians who worked for and/or with Sidney from 1960-1975 and who also helped me with my research, included Brian Jaquest, Derek Berg and David Hendry.

*For those reading this not acquainted with the long-running British sitcom, “Only Fools and Horses”, Del Boy was a spiv (someone who deals in dodgy and black-market goods), and the program’s main protagonist.

SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 2

by adamhalevi, posted in Advertising, Bill Young, advertising, Black and White Photography, Commercial Photography, Family Portrait, Gerald Green, Hampstead, Hannah Green, Michael Green, Portrait Photography, Sidney Pizan

A portrait of a family

Around late 1959, early 1960, my father, Gerry Green and his business partner, Bill Young launched out on their own as an advertising partnership. They had plenty of contacts in the industry and thus plenty of work, but soon found that the price of good photographers was prohibitive to the success of their burgeoning venture.

Fortunately, Gerry’s brother-in-law, Sidney Pizan, in addition to being a dentist, was a talented amateur photographer, and when approached was open to the idea of trying his hand at applying his skills commercially.

Sidney took to advertising photography like a duck to water, and within a few months, had established himself in Hampstead (in north London) as a professional photographer, getting more work – both from Gerry and Bill, and his growing string of contacts – than he could manage alone. Before long Sidney began recruiting other young aspiring photographers, apprentices and assistants to help him carry the workload and run his business. “The Studio”, as it was known, became something of a commercial photography academy, founding not only Sidney’s career, but those of a string of gifted colleagues.

In my next part of this tribute to my late uncle, I will go into more detail regarding Sidney and his team’s output of fabulous advertising images, but for Sidney himself, despite his success, his greatest creative enjoyment remained his “free” or “casual photography”.

Presented below are some of his best pictures, all of his family (particularly my mother – his sister – Hannah, my older brother Michael and I). If this seems a tad narcissistic on my part, I should point out, that we – his parents, and us – were the epicentre of his life, outside of his professional lives – and were, in a very real sense, his photographic muses. In those days, when out and about or when visiting the Studio , I can’t remember a time when Sidney did not have his trusty Rolleiflex hanging from his neck and him pointing it in our direction. Narcissistic or not, these images are moody, emotive, sensitive, an intimate family portrait, and just a damn brilliant illustration of the photographic portraiture and human study at its very best…

Sidney’s sister (my mum) Hannah, taken in 1960, shortly after being deserted by my father (Gerry the advertising man). I love the way this shot captures her sad dignity…
Sidney’s nephew (my big brother), Michael, in from the garden for a snack…
Me…
Hannah at Adelboden (Bernese Oberland, Switzerland, and much used in Bond films) – our first family holiday abroad in 1962…
Us three…
Adam, playing…
Brothers…
Hannah, happy and beautiful…
Hannah with me in the South of France…
After Sidney retired from commercial photography (in 1975), he turned the studio itself into an up-market picture framery. This was the last photo he ever took of Michael (right) and I together, working in the framery – about 1985.

SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 1

by adamhalevi, posted in Advertising, Becky and Harry Pizan, Commercial Photography, Dentistry, East End, Gerald Green, Hannah Green, Hendon County School, Jewish quota, Lionel Blue, London, National Service, Pizan Family, Sidney Pizan, Uncategorized, University College Medical School

The making of the man…

Of all the people I have ever encountered who should have been famous, but were not, my uncle Sidney Pizan, who passed away in December aged 94, is the greatest example I can think of.

Immensely intelligent (declared a genius upon entering grammar school aged only nine); a brain equally at home in the sciences and the arts; a star medical student at London’s University College Medical School; a gifted and highly successful commercial photographer; picture framing entrepreneur; a multi linguist fluent in six languages; plus, a discerning antiquarian bibliophile and all-round connoisseur and collector of the arts with an internationally respected knowledge of Art Nouveau, Sidney was the epitome of a renaissance man.

Moreover, hailing as he did from humble Jewish origins in London’s East End, the son of shopkeepers, Sidney lived a sort of British version of the American Dream, proving, that with a rich combination of nouse and grit, the sky was virtually the limit… I say virtually, because Sidney’s medical ambitions at least were curtailed by a shameful quota on Jewish medical students permitted to become doctors, meaning he had to settle for dentistry (chiropody and ophthalmics being alternative options). That notwithstanding, the only thing that stopped him going on to true fame and fortune was his own lack of hunger for any such things.

At least until his fifties, as regards his profession/s, his pastimes, his social and his family life, Sidney enjoyed a contentedness which perhaps, in a way, dampened any greater ambitions he might have had. Then, following his belated discovery of a partner, and then later wife, he discovered another level of contentment. Ultimately, Sidney was happy as anyone reasonably can expect to be with his lots, firstly as a bachelor and then later with a far quieter, settled existence.

The pictures presented here, show Sidney as a child, mostly together with his younger sister (my late mother, Hannah), and take us up to the time just before he became a professional photographer – a period comprising about 25 years. I hope, and think, that even for strangers looking in on this post, they offer a charming window into a lost world…

A family outing around 1935, perhaps in Epping Forrest. Sidney is the boy with the blonde curls in the front, with his little sister (my mum) next to him, on their mother’s lap (Becky). Their father, Harry is the chap kneeling, second from the left. At this time they lived in the Mile End Road in Stepney, East London. Harry was a grocer and they lived above the shop. Despite their modest means they enjoyed life and wanted for nothing, as I think the glow radiating from this happy assortment of cousins, uncles and aunts clearly reveals…
A formal studio portrait of Hannah and Sidney, circa 1936
Sidney and Hannah enjoying a treat…
A school sports photo taken about 1948. At the height of the London Blitz, Harry moved the family to the north-London suburb of Hendon, to avoid the worst of the bombing. Sidney (back row, third from the right) and Hannah (front row, fifth from the left) both excelled at the local grammar school, Hendon County. The headmaster, Maynard Potts declared Sidney the second cleverest student ever to attend the school (the cleverest being Sidney’s classmate, Lionel Blue – later to become a radio celebrity Rabbi on the BBC – standing third from right with spectacles – I think).
Brother and sister around 1949, shortly before Sidney began his two years national service.
Sidney in his first dental practice in Ecclestone Street, Victoria, in central London.
Captain Pizan (Sidney was an officer in the medical corps – stationed in a schloss in the Black Forest, Sidney spent most of his time learning to ski, drive and taking care of the castle’s substantial wine cellar – he also became fluent in German) attending Hannah’s wedding to my father, Gerald Green in 1953. Gerry, as he was known then, ended up in advertising, and it was he who persuaded Sidney to do commercial photographs for his company, thus beginning a whole new chapter in his life…
…to be continued…

The Beauty of Line…

by adamhalevi, posted in Adam and Dido, Adam Green, Art, Charcoal Sketches, Conté drawing, Dido Nicholson, life drawing

part 1 (drawings of Dido)

Yet more house tidying, yet more exciting discoveries of my ancient artwork. This time, of long-lost simple line figure studies, of my then-young wife Dido and of her friend and former ballet colleague, Frin.

Both, were natural and highly sketchable models as the images here attest, plus, I seem to have been in unusually relaxed with the old charcoal stick and conte crayon. My muses’ unaffected air and my good drawing form was a happy combination which I now look back upon, some 30 years later, with a deal of pride and not a little amazement.

Regular visitors to these posts will be aware of my respect for skilled drawing, and that I regard an ability to draw well as being the prime tool of any artist. Picture making without this tool is like attempting to speak without a tongue, with similar, incoherent results.

Sadly, modernism and later, abstract expressionism (admittedly with a few glorious exceptions – from Modigliani to Rothko), inadvertently gave free license for non-drawers to thrive, resulting in the often talentless gimmickry that infests so much of today’s “art world”.

Ho hum…

Fortunately, my utter disillusionment expressed above, came after I had time to make my own joyous-if-modest contribution to the corpus of half-decent picture-making, as these humble sketches bear evidence…

WHEN ADAM AND DIDO MET EVE AND AENEAS

by adamhalevi, posted in Adam and Dido, Adam and Eve, Aeneas, Ancient History, Carthage, Classical Mythology, Dido / singer, Dido and Aeneas, Henry Purcell, Malaga, Malkah / Malgah, Phoenicia, Prague, Queen Dido, Queen Elissa, Virgil

AND OTHER INTERESTING THINGS ABOUT MY WIFE’S NAME

Many winters ago, Dido and I found ourselves sheltering from a -10°c Prague night in a cozy, smokey jazz club just off Wenceslas Square. The place was full and we had to share a table with a Viennese couple who fortunately turned out to be more interesting than the hapless wannabe Charlie Parker murdering his sax on the stage.

The fact that the couple were a similar age to ourselves, and both handsome and charming, with perfect English was pleasant enough, but it was when we exchanged names that we all almost fell off our seats. We introduced ourselves first with the customary, “I’m Dido”, “and I’m Adam”, to which they replied through wide-eyed grins, “and I’m Eve”, and after a short dramatic pause, “and I’m Aeneas…”

A Phoenician ivory of a noblewoman looking over a balcony from Sidon, very close in date to the historical Queen Elissa / Dido

Not only was this a delightful and highly amusing coincidence (it was the only time we ever joked with another couple about the concept of partner swapping – purely in the interests of onomastic correction of course!!) it was also the diametric opposite to the normal response of people upon first hearing Dido’s name.

For one glorious instance no explanations were required, nor any brief lessons in classical mythology and ancient history, nor having to smile away the increasingly tedious “Ah! Like the singer?” (actually born Florian Cloud de Bounevialle Armstrong eleven years after “my” Dido). Instead, just an interesting exchange about why Aeneas, and why Dido: The former, it transpired, because his father was a classics professor in Vienna who specialized in the Roman poet Virgil, and the latter; because her parents had been expecting a boy (long before the days of ultrasound), they had no girl’s name prepared. As they were listening to Henry Purcell’s opera, Dido and Aeneas when her mum’s water broke, the name seemed apposite.

I repeat this story here because it is sweet and pleasant to recollect, but also to hopefully encourage all our friends and acquaintance, past, present and future, who may be ignorant of the facts behind the name to take five minutes and click on this link to learn about Dido (mythic and historic). It’s not only informative, it’s also genuinely fascinating with contemporary resonance (like much myth and history).

For instance, how many of the people reading this, including my Spanish readers. know that the city of Malaga was founded by Queen Dido’s Phoenician compatriots (and probable subjects) about 2,800 years ago as Málaka (the same time as the founding of Carthage itself). Phoenician was a Semitic sister language of ancient Hebrew, with many close similarities (see this earlier post). Málaka could mean a place where fish was preserved in salt , or it could have something to do with “sailors”. However, given that the Phoenician for queen, is Malgah/Malkah, a more likely meaning is the Queen’s city. And if so, the most likely queen to have a new colony dedicated to her by Phoenician settlers would be their-then queen and sponsor, Dido (more properly, Elissa in her Phoenician form).

In other words, it is quite possible, that my wife Dido, has a home in the province titled for her ancient namesake, and I at least, find that possibility pretty damn cool.

Modern day Malaga, some 2800 years after its founding by Phoenicians, who knew a good harbour when they saw one.

Another Roman Holiday…

by adamhalevi, posted in 1963 Florence Flood, Adam Green, Art, Art Travel, Carmel College, Florence, Hermann Langmuir, Milan, Rome, travel, Unrequited Love

…and more unrequited love in the eternal city and beyond…

As I’ve mentioned before on these pages, the main reason I gave up the prospect of an academic career was because I was a lazy student and had a precocious talent for drawing and painting. In other words, I took the easy, relatively effortless option. However, if one person, other than yours truly was also highly influential in pushing me towards a career in art, it was my art teacher at Carmel College, Hermann Langmuir *.

Hermann (as we were bidden to call him) was a tall, bearded, charismatic Dutchman, whose knowledge of art and art history was only matched by his infectious enthusiasm for his subject. From the moment he joined the teaching staff, the Carmel art room metamorphosed from a gloomy, educational backwater, into the most happening and vibrant teaching space on the campus. This, combined with my loathing of formal classroom study and the fact I became one of his two star pupils (a huge nod to Jeremy Gerlis – a gifted draftsman and now FRSA), ensured that I would give up the chance of an Oxbridge future (virtually guaranteed to top Carmel academic performers back then) for the presumed bright lights and glamour of a London art college.

How all that turned out is well covered in previous posts, but what I have overlooked until now, was a trip Hermann organised for all his pupils, in the March of 1976, to Rome, Florence, Siena and Pisa. The following – un-treated – ancient photos (all taken on my old Canonet 28 Automatic), tell some of the story of that magical and hugely formative experience.

* If anyone reading this post has any knowledge of the whereabouts of Hermann these days, assuming he is still with us (I guess he would be well into his eighties by now), I would be keen to catch up with him. I should point out here, that if not for Hermann’s pleading with the headmaster, Rabbi Jeremy Rosen, I would not have been on the trip. I had entered Carmel in 1971, with my estranged father paying the considerable fees. However, when he fled to America in 1973 during the oil crisis and the subsequent crash of his advertising business, the school, very kindly allowed me to stay on at half-fees. As generous as this was, with my mother working as a poorly paid secretary, it still entailed my maternal grandparents using up much of their life-savings to keep me at the school. Thus, when the Italy trip was announced, my family had no cash spare to pay for it, and hence Hermann’s interceding with Rabbi Rosen on my behalf. Once again, the school came up trumps, and completely covered the costs of my travel and half-board accomodation, leaving me with only my lunches and daily refreshments to pay for. For this purpose, my very hard-up mum gave me the grand sum of £25 spending money, which I somehow managed to make last the entire ten-day trip, by restricting myself to slabs of margarita pizza, purchased from “hole in the wall” vendors. In any event, I never once felt deprived, and had one of the adventures of a lifetime. Thank you Hermann, wherever you are…

Milan Railway Station – Designed by Ulisse Stacchini in 1931: We flew to Milan (I suppose it was cheaper than flying direct to Rome?), and then got the train to Rome. I for one was pleased, as, much to Hermann’s horror, I was in awe of the station’s “fascist architecture”…
The oddly named Vatican “Square”, from the top of Saint Peter’s: One of several times I was fortunate to see a wonder of the world with virtually no crowds to mar the experience…
The rear view of the famous equestrian statue of emperor Marcus Aurelius – Piazza del Campidoglio: Again, despite the marvelous early Spring weather, almost no people…
Tritone Fountain – Bernini: Our very modest pensione was close to the red-light district of Rome, but also very near this fabulously and typically over-the-top masterpiece. Many a pizza slab was consumed at its feet – or should I say, its fish (yes, I know they’re idealised dolphins, but…)…
Jael on the Palatine: Jael was one of the few girls at Carmel in those days, and although I doubt she was aware, I was in love with her. She was Italian, from Fiesoli, above Florence, and the daughter of one of Italy’s foremost post-war domestic electrical manufacturers. We all visited her home on the Florence leg of the trip. It was a medieval castle, jam-packed with yet more wonderful works of art. I believe she is now a successful fine artist based in Germany …
Hermann being sketched: I think this was in Florence. Hermann had been one of the many foreign student volunteers to help in the cleanup of Florence following the disastrous 1966 flood. I used much of what he told me about his work in and around the Uffizi to inform an early chapter in my novel ARK…
The Uffizi Gallery: As was normal for me in such places, a few of the Michelangelo sculptures notwithstanding, I was far more impressed with the gallery itself than much of the art it held. Can’t complain about this particular crowd, as it was my school group…
Florence from Giotto’s Campanile, (the cathedral bell tower), with Brunelleschi’s magnificent dome in the foreground: Florence was the star of the trip for me. Not so much the art (which was stupendous), but the city itself. I’ve been back many times since, but it never felt quite as perfect as in that March of 1976 …
Sarah, in the Boboli Gardens: I was in love with Sarah, and like Jael, she too had not the faintest idea. I was still a month away from my 16th birthday, and could barely make eye contact with a pretty girl, let alone declare my affections. Nevertheless, those ten days, in the warm Italian March sunshine, remain a mostly joyous memory. And after all, unrequited love is often a powerful muse of sorts.

A CONSTRUCTIVE TRANSITION

by adamhalevi, posted in 20th Century Art, Adam Green, Art, Art Education, Art School, Cityscape Art, gouache, Harrow School of Art, Saint Martin's School of Art

MY JOURNEY FROM HARROW SCHOOL OF ART TO ST. MARTINS IN GOUACHE

I’m not sure what the art education system is these days as I have totally lost touch (and interest) with the British art world and all its academies, institutions and philosophies. However, in my time, after leaving high-school for art college, one did a one or two-year foundation course, and then typically went on to do a BA.

Northwick Park Hospital (Harrow) – gouache on paper – 1976

My era at art school ran from 1976 – 1981 and was something of a grand experiment, as it more-or-less coincided with the formalisation of art as an “academic” subject. Whether or not there was any merit in this move is still debated today, but from my own experience, and that of many of my art school acquaintances, the BA’s we left school with were utterly useless for furthering our careers as artists (or anything else). Ultimately, our degrees were little more than educational bling.

The Pottery Courtyard (Harrow School of Art) – gouache on paper – 1976

All these years later I console myself with the fact that both Harrow and St. Martins, in their very different ways offered many valuable (if often somewhat turgid) life experiences, and that the fairly successful artist I went on to become was as much in spite of those experiences, as because of them.

Northwick Park Hospital on a Winter’s Eve – gouache on paper – 1976

The half-dozen gouache washes here cover the end of my time at Harrow and my early days in Soho, with a visit to Spain in-between. They reveal my dabbling with a gentle form of constructivism, which was in reality a mostly contextual necessity, given the locations of my subject material. In any event, as with most of my work, in all its forms, they are ultimately all about the light – light that can lend drama and even a little beauty to most brutalist of concrete structures. There’s a deep message in there somewhere, but that’s another story…

A Street in Seville – gouache on paper – 1976