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Posts Tagged ‘River Thames.’

Final Part of Pistoletto

Friday, October 16th, 2009

So our London walks around the south side of the River Thames and in to Tate Modern have brought us into the Energy and Process wing of the Museum.

We have been looking at a work entitled Venus of the Rags, which was created in 1967 and then recreated in 1974 by the Italian artist Michaelangelo Pistoletto.

Our previous London walks of art blog explained what it was made with and where the materials came from.

Today we look at what it means.

Ostensibly the work shows a figure of Venus, the Roman goddess of love, facing, confronting or even embracing a huge pile of rags.

It effectively brings together an icon of classical culture, Venus, and the detritus of contemporary culture, in this case the rags.

The solid and unchangeable brought together with the fleeting.

In this case Venus is solid, she has been around for a long time, she doesn’t and will not change.

Yes, she may be created and recreated out of different materials - and Pistoletto himself has created several different versions of the work in different materials, on one occassion even staging a live version of it - but her form, her memory, her iconic status does not change.

Clothes, which is what the rags are, do change. They can be discarded, torn up, shredded. They are indicitive, indeed symbolic of all things that pass, such as fads and fashions, both of which are driving forces of the modern age.

But there is also a certain irony about Venus of the Rags, in that you have a simple nude figure amidst a huge mountain of discarded and unwanted clothing.

Finally, there is perhaps a metaphor for our modern age in the work. For are we, like Venus here, not confronted  by a huge omnipresent mountain of waste and garbage that our modern throwaway age has created.

So there we have our look inside the Energy and Process wing of Tate Modern.

You can of course join us on the wide variety of London walks that we offer, where you can see so much more of the ciy that has spent 2,000 years preparing for your visit.

London walks and Tate Modern

Monday, September 21st, 2009

When our London walks cross over the River Thames via the Millennium Bridge the view of all those on the tours is captivated, some might even say dominated, by a massive building on the south bank of the River Thames.

This building is Tate Modern but it was formerly Bankside Power Station which closed in 1981 when the price of oil (it was an oil powered power station) rose so steeply that keeping it open simply wasn’t economically viable.

It was a year after this closure that Richard Jones began offering his London walks to the public and the area on the south bank was totally different then.

In those days Bankside was made up of derelict warehouses, dark and sinister little alleyways that snaked behind the warehouses and echoing railway tunnels.

Clink Street, which features on both our Shakespeare and Dickens London walks, was a particularly sinister street. Indeed it was so sinister that in the 1980’s film Murder By Decree, which starred Christopher Plummer as Sherlock Holmes trying to solve the mystery of the Jack the Ripper murders, this area was used to substitute for the streets of Whitechapel.

But then two things happened to change the area. Firstly, Sam Wanamaker realised his life long dream to rebuild Shakespeare’s Globe Playhouse on the south side of the River Thames. Secondly, in 1994, The Trustees of the Tate Gallery, who were looking to establish a new museum to house their modern art collection, acquired the old Bankside Station and launched an international architectural competition for a design that would transform the old Bankside Power Station into a suitable art gallery for their collection.

Their were over 70 entries but a young Swiss company were the winners because they submitted a plan that advocated working with what was left of the Bankside Power Station.

Thus in the year 2000 Tate Modern was opened by Queen Elizabeth 11 and over five million people a year now cross its threshold to admire, criticise, laugh and enjoy their collection.

So when you next join one of our London walks that corsses the Thames via the Millennium Bridge and you look up at the tall building with the soaring chimney, you will now know exactly what it is.

The Death Of God’s Banker

Tuesday, April 21st, 2009

Several of our walks of London cross over Blackfriars Bridge. But what few people who do so realise is that the bridge was central to one of the great mysteries of the 1980’s, the death of the man who was known as God’s banker, Roberta Calvi.

It was under Blackfriars Bridge on 18th June 1982 that the body of the missing Italian banker, Roberto Calvi, was found  hanging with a length of orange rope woven into a lover’s knot around his neck. He was weighed down by bricks and found with $15,000 in cash in his pockets.

Nine days earlier, the man known as “God’s Banker” for his links with the Vatican, had fled Italy, altered his appearance to avoid detection and, via several clandestine trips around European capitals, made a final, fatal, trip to London.

The motive for what, until recently, was treated as his suicide seemed crystal clear Calvi, the former chairman of the disgraced Banco Ambrosiano, Italy’s largest bank, was up to his neck in financial scandal.

The week following his death he was due to appear in an Italian court of appeal, having previously been sentenced to four years’ imprisonment after several billion lire were illegally exported from the bank, then on the verge of collapse. A further trial for alleged fraud awaited him.

But his death, and the London coroner’s report which concluded that it was suicide, were only the beginning of a 21 year mystery which continues to this day.

In 2002 forensic scientists concluded that the banker did not take his own life but was murdered. However, despite the intense level of interest in the tale, which puts Calvi at the centre of a dark riddle involving the Mafia, the Vatican and an ultra-powerful Catholic Masonic Order known as P2, it has never been solved.

The latest twist in the tale came when Italian prosecutors finally concluded that the Mafia ordered Calvi’s murder and named four people suspected of carrying out the killing.

On March 2005 Flavio Carboni, a Sardinian businessman, and Pippo “The cashier” Calo, a leading figure in the Sicilian Mafia,  who is currently serving a life sentence for a 1984 train bombing that killed 16 passengers, went on trial  in a Rome courtroom charged with conspiring to lure Calvi to London.

On trail with them were Ernesto Diotallevi, a senior figure in Rome’s underworld, and  Manuela Kleinszig, an Austrian who at the time of Calvi’s death was a girlfriend of Carboni. All deny any wrongdoing.

According to the latest reconstruction of his final hours, Calvi met his killers at the flat in Chelsea at around 10pm on June 17th. Although Calvi often travelled with a retinue of around a dozen bodyguards it is appears that he made the fatal mistake of trusting his visitors and of being alone in their company. He was taken to the Thames. Bruising on his arms and right wrist together with marks on the soles of his shoes suggest that he struggled with his assassins when they attacked him either on the river bank or on a boat as it approached Blackfriar’s bridge. Next they either drugged him or applied a slow and steady pressure to his neck, almost strangling him. They then stuffed bricks into his pockets and down the front of his trousers together with $15,000 in cash. A noose was then placed around his neck and the orange rope was tied to a ring on scaffolding under the bridge. Calvi was probably still alive - although unconscious - as the boat was moved away and the weight of his body and the bricks combined with the river’s current, slowly tightened the noose. It has been estimated that he could have taken anything from 30 to 60 minutes to die.

A panel of forensic experts concluded that Calvi, whose body was exhumed in 1998, could not have committed suicide - not least because he had been strangled before the cord was passed around his neck. Their report also said that his hands had not been in contact with the seven bricks found in his pockets and the waistband of his trousers that he supposedly used to weight his body. The tribunal concluded he had been murdered and then hanged to make it appear like suicide.

Calvi’s son, Carlo, claims that the Mafia did not act alone and claims that his father was eliminated by politicians because his position had become untenable. He was going to have to defend himself against and reveal the activities of the Institute for Religious Works  - better known as the Vatican bank. He also claims that the mafia’s aim in killing Calvi was not only to punish him for his misuse of its funds, but also to prevent him from blackmailing Politicians, the clandestine P2 Masonic group and the powerful Vatican bank itself.

Whatever the fate that befell Roberto Calvi, his death is most certainly one of the Thames’s most baffling recent whodunits and the involvement of the Vatican one of its most intriguing aspects.