Loughborough is a market town in Leicestershire – a county that, under longstanding Director of Education Stewart Mason, embraced patronage of the arts in educational settings in the post-war period in a big way. As well as purchasing and commissioning site-specific works for individual schools, Leicestershire’s loan collection was one of the largest in the country, and purchased artworks from Pictures for Schools among other sources. Mason advised and guided Loughborough University on some of its purchases, and his influence in the county is acknowledged in the Stewart Mason building on campus.
The university’s sculpture collection punctuates the sports grounds that dominate the campus (Loughborough has a reputation for attracting sporty students). Given university status in 1966, the campus architecture has a strong modernist feel, although it’s undergone significant expansion since then. Known as Loughborough University of Technology until 1996, there’s a strong theme of science and technology in many of the artworks, particularly around the science buildings, which feature a number of steel artworks by Paul Wagner. There was also a tradition of students producing their own furniture, much of which is still in use around campus.
Many well-known and lesser artists of the post-war period are represented on campus, including Willi Soukop, who undertook many commissions for public and educational settings; his Spirit of Adventure, which resembles an aeroplane, is the first artwork encountered on approach to the campus from the town centre, and points the way to a place of learning, discovery and enquiry. Perhaps the most famous sculptor is Lynn Chadwick, whose solemn trio of angular figures The Watchers commemorates three influential figures in the history of the university. However, my favourite artworks were those which were less conspicuous, such as Austin Wright’s kinetic sculpture, nestled in a quiet pond area between two buildings, which resembles a calmly bubbling fountain, and Peter Peri’s Spirit of Technology, a man leaping into the unknown from the side of a student residence dining hall.
The sculptures are merely the most public-facing element of a much bigger collection, which includes wall-mounted works such as prints, paintings and textiles, displayed in areas such as boardrooms, corridors and waiting areas. I managed to see a couple of works inside buildings, including prints by Bridget Riley and John Piper, as well as a number of portraits of university grandees which showed their influence on the university.
Loughborough University and the former teacher training college Loughborough Training College, which became part of the university in 1977, both purchased work from Pictures for Schools, although the only one I managed to see was Michael Stokoe’s bold, colourful silkscreen Circles & Stripes.
The collection is not static and continues to evolve, commissioning and acquiring work by students alongside established artists. One of the highlights is one of the most recent works, an interior design scheme by Giles Round for the RADAR office. Alongside furniture and Round’s selection of artworks from the collection, this includes a wallpaper which repeats images of tools from a former catalogue across the walls. Round’s design scheme acts as a subtle reminder of the university’s past and enters into dialogue with work purchased and commissioned during previous eras of the life of the institution.
To find out more about the collection visit https://www.lboro.ac.uk/arts/arts-collection/.
Today she is best known for a method of teaching handwriting, but in the interwar years Marion Richardson’s work in the field of child art was well-known. Pictures for Schools founder Nan Youngman undertook teacher training with her at London Day Training College (forerunner of the Institute of Education) and helped her to organise large exhibitions of children’s work. Richardson’s art teaching was focused on developing children’s confidence and powers of self-expression and critique, aiming to train their ‘inner eye’ and ways of looking as much as their technical skills. One way in which she did this was through the ‘visualisation’ method, where children listened to a description of a place or scene and used it as the basis for their own work. In doing so, Richardson hoped to encourage to see pictures in the places around them, even industrial and everyday scenes not conventionally considered picturesque. Richardson also undertook pattern-making and activities such as fabric design with her students and aimed to encourage children to think about how they furnished their homes. She believed children should be exposed to good examples of art and craft, and have opportunities to discuss these and their own work.Richardson died prematurely in 1946, but her work and ideas inspired Youngman’s work throughout the rest of her career. Youngman continued to defend them even when they had become regarded as old-fashioned and were superseded among progressive educationalists in the 1960s in favour of more modern ideas about teaching art.A new installation at Radar in Loughborough, by Berlin-based artist Katarina Hruskova, bears the fruits of an arts-research collaboration with Dr Sarah Mills, Reader in Human Geography at Loughborough University, which involved spending time in the archives at Birmingham City University, where Richardson’s papers are held; the title, This is Just What I Saw, comes from words written on the back of children’s pictures.Drawing on aspects of Richardson’s teaching and her students’ work, including visual description, Mills and Hruskova held a series of workshops with young people in schools and other educational settings in the Midlands today. The resulting artworks, on show at Radar, translate images from these children’s work into a trio of colourful carpets. Whilst abstract they’re also suggestive of elements of place and natural forms, such as trees and water. Displayed next to them are condensed versions of the texts which were read to children to inspire the images; in the background plays an audio recording of Hruskova reading these same words, an effect that is both poetic and hypnotic. We’re taken on a journey through first an industrial scene and then a forest, where our attention is drawn to details such as the time of day, the weather around us; our senses can’t help but be aroused, our imaginations fired and our memories taken back to places we’ve known and things we’ve seen.Alongside this is a small selection of images giving a glimpse into Richardson’s own classroom, and her students’ art practice. Whilst in some ways these images appear formal by today’s standards, with children seated at rows of wooden desks, the children are surrounded by their own pictures and patterns, which hang on the walls, giving an impression of a visually rich and engaging environment.Ideas about childhood, and the nature and purpose of schooling, education and even art have changed considerably since Richardson’s day. By reimagining and reanimating the ideas of this forgotten educationalist, Mills and Hruskova have brought the art teaching of the past powerfully into dialogue with children’s education and experiences today, showing the potential of words and images to inspire creativity and make us look again at how and what we see in the world around us.
This Is Just What I Saw is at the Martin Hall Exhibition Space, Loughborough until Friday 25 October: https://radar.lboro.ac.uk/events/this-is-just-what-i-saw-exhibition/
As part of my ongoing interest in educational (and specifically higher education) art collections, I recently went to visit the Hull University Art Collection at the Brynmor Jones Library. Founded in 1963, the collection was housed for many years in the university’s drama facility and concert venue Middleton Hall, designed in 1962 by Festival of Britain architect Leslie Martin, which incorporated a purpose-built exhibition space for the collection when it opened in 1967. The collection has since been returned to the library, which now has a dedicated gallery space.
Unlike other collections I have visited which set out to collect contemporary art, from the outset the collection focused on British art in the period 1890-1940. Due to the relatively minor sum allocated to purchases for the collection – £300 per year was given by philanthropist Thomas Ferens (who also gives his name to the city’s main art gallery) – the collection’s remit was by its own admission the ‘unfashionable and inexpensive’.
In spite of this, the collection gives a good sense of late-nineteenth century and early-twentieth century British art, the groupings in which painters were involved (such as the Camden Town Group and Bloomsbury Group), the types of places they travelled to (from the landscapes of Cornwall to more exotic destinations), and the educational system of which they were a part – for example, through the inclusion of paintings by Slade Professor Henry Tonks. The collection is particularly strong on portraiture, further giving a sense of networks and connections between artists (and other artistic figures at the time such as writers). The collection also includes examples of the Contemporary Lithographs, an important interwar patronage scheme: a particular highlight is the floral ‘Still Life’ by Ivon Hitchens.
Mid-twentieth century sculpture is also well-represented, including the work of Bernard Meadows and Henry Moore.
Although the collection has its own exhibition space, a small number of artworks are dispersed around the library and for me the highlights were those I saw outside the gallery: one was a relief by the émigré sculptor Willi Soukop, on one outside wall of the building, which cleverly drew on the brick in which the building is built to depict an owl (the art collection has since acquired a maquette for the piece and other work by Soukop depicting owls). The other was a large hanging tapestry by Harold Cohen, woven by Dovecot Studios in Edinburgh. Although I hadn’t come across Cohen before, he created a number of artworks for corporate clients – this one was commissioned for the new London headquarters of BP in 1966 – and was an innovator in the use of computers in his work.The collection no longer restricts itself to its time period of 1890-1940, and has continued to be added to, whether with the support of the Contemporary Arts Society, through the gifting or loan of artworks by members of staff, or through supporters and bequests.
I’m very excited to have been invited to speak at Oxford University about my PhD research into Nan Youngman and Pictures for Schools as part of the Gender, Women and Culture series, which is themed ‘Gender, Women and the Arts’ this term. My talk is taking place in the History Faculty on Tuesday 19 February from 12pm-1.30pm.
It was a really nice opportunity to revisit many of the previous projects I’ve done, many of which have shared an interest in place, from self-publishing ‘zines to collaborations, research projects and public events. It was also interesting to see my PhD as part of a continuum, which had both been informed by and affected the types of writing I do.
I took along lots of examples of publications which have inspired me, and we had a really good discussion about what makes us hold on to or keep a publication in a world where we’re surrounded by printed matter and information, and what effect does good writing have on us – does it make us want to learn and research more, or go out and visit an exhibition or place?
We also discussed the form and function of art writing. How and where can you be critical, and who has the space to be critical? What is the role of conversation and dialogue in criticism?
In 1944, a young man named Gordon Hodkinson embarked on his architectural training at the Manchester School of Architecture (MSA). Although his training was, like many of his generation, interrupted by military service, Hodkinson graduated in 1951 and spent his working life as an architect. Now, more than seventy years later, Hodkinson’s student work has been deposited with the Special Collections at Manchester Metropolitan University, and a small selection has gone on display in the Special Collections gallery space.
This is thanks to the enthusiasm of Richard Brook, Reader in Architecture, who recently finished his PhD on Cruickshank and Seward, the Manchester-based architectural partnership for whom Hodkinson went to work, and who has himself taught for many years at the MSA.
At the time of Hodkinson’s training, the MSA was regarded as offering a more modern architectural education than some of the other schools, looking towards the Bauhaus for inspiration. As a student who would graduate to work on building post-war Britain, Hodkinson’s student drawings offer an insight not just into the architectural training of the time, but into the types of buildings that architects might work on – or aspire to work on – once they had graduated. Early work includes day sketches for small-scale projects such as an architect’s retreat, an author’s workroom and a fisherman’s rest pavilion. Other projects include the intriguing and generously proportioned (especially by today’s standards!) single-person bungalows and student study bedrooms, a swimming pool stepped into the landscape, a hostel, a café, a reform school for boys and, more ambitiously, a modern art museum.
These are displayed alongside the project briefs, which highlight the considerations students needed to bear in mind, from materials to contractors. Students were also encouraged to consider the types of clients and contexts that were likely to provide commissions: they were asked to design for the City of Manchester plan, which saw post-war redevelopment as an opportunity for the comprehensive redesign of large areas of the city, and the Expanded Towns project which provided infill housing in the interwar years.
Hodkinson’s student work is also contextualised by the conclusion of a number of books and journals from the time – available to students in Hodkinson’s day, and still available in the MSA library today – which highlight many of the new developments in modern architecture and building techniques taking place at the time, both in the UK and internationally, and showcase pioneer projects such as schools, offices and housing.
On leaving university, Hodkinson went on to work on buildings including universities – both in Manchester and further afield – and offices for light industry on the outskirts of the city. These are celebrated through the inclusion of photographs of the finished results; Brook brings our attention in particular to a series of elegant staircases.
Hodkinson’s student drawings are crisp and precise, yet muted in their palette, perhaps due to the constrictions of wartime restrictions in materials, which continued in the immediate post-war period. In spite of this, they’re rich in detail, from vernacular materials, landscaping and the differentiated uses of trees, to cycle parking for swimmers and washing blowing on the line, showing the mark of someone who’s not just designing for abstract futures, but for buildings to be lived in, enjoyed and used.
Drawing the Modern is at Manchester Metropolitan University Special Collections until Friday 5 April 2019.
I recently submitted my PhD thesis, nearly five years after I started my studies. To say it was a challenge to reach this point – and that, frankly, it was a point I often thought I would never reach – is an understatement. Whilst I’ve loved my research, and spending a considerable amount of time immersed in my subject, it’s made me realise how unprepared I was in many ways to start a PhD. This is something I’ve thought about a lot and, as the 31 January deadline approaches for applications from prospective PhD candidates, I’ve written a list of reflections on my experiences for anyone who is currently considering applying for a PhD.
- Choose your university carefully
Think very carefully about the university and department you are applying for. Is it an environment where you feel comfortable, both academically and socially? Is it somewhere you can imagine spending a considerable amount of time over the next few years? Is there a strong research culture, and postgraduate support network, and are there students working in similar areas to you? Don’t get into the situation I did; I lived in a different city, and spent the train journey to each supervisory meeting trying to ward off feelings of having a panic attack, as everything about visiting the university, department and city in question filled me with such dread.
- Be aware of the financial commitment
Make sure you are fully aware of the financial commitment a PhD involves, and think very carefully about accepting a studentship that is only partially funded, or funded below the levels granted by research councils. My studentship was just £4,000 a year, meaning I felt obliged to continue working alongside my studies (outside of academia, in an unrelated field). Ultimately, spending three years working for an amount that represented less than minimum wage didn’t just present a financial challenge but a psychological one, as it made me doubt the value of my work.
- Be clear about why you are doing a PhD
A PhD is not something to be entered into lightly. Like any other kind of study, never embark on one just because you don’t know what else to do, or want to defer looking for a job.
- Make sure you are prepared academically
Having a Masters degree isn’t necessarily a requirement for being accepted for a PhD. I didn’t have one and spent the first year catching up – getting my brain back into the mode of reading academic articles, and producing academic writing.
- Don’t expect to finish in three years
Make sure you plan for the possibility of failing to complete your PhD in three years (mine took nearly five years, for various reasons). Although this varies from university to university, you could get hit by fees ranging from hundreds to thousands of pounds per term.
- Understand the conditions of your studentship offer
Make sure any promises of financial support are set out in writing at the start. When I accepted my studentship I was told I would have a £1,000 annual allowance to travel to conferences, undertake fieldwork and pay for training. Once I started my PhD I was informed it was in fact £500 per year, and that only £250 of this was guaranteed – the other £250 came from elsewhere in the university and was discretionary. Although this might sound like a lot, all of these activities are expensive, particularly when conference fees and accommodation are factored in.
- Ask about extra-curricular opportunities
Make sure there is encouragement and support for the other academic activities that go alongside your research – will you have opportunities for teaching, to present at conferences and to submit to journals? All of these are essential for finding a job afterwards.
- Understand your limitations
Be realistic about your expectations of yourself. I put a lot of pressure on myself to finish in three years, at the same time as working and undergoing several major life changes. The result was that I burned out and had to take a year out to get my life back on track – supported by my university. It made me realise that I needed to go at my own pace, both for the sake of my research and the sake of my health.
- Most people won’t understand what you are doing
Most people outside of academia don’t understand what a PhD is or what it entails. Get used to deflecting questions about how your ‘course’ is going and when you will be finishing (I used to confuse people by answering ‘how long is a piece of string?’).
- Love your subject
You are in a PhD for the long haul. Believe in what you are doing, and that you will get there eventually if it is worth doing. At the same time, don’t be offended when you find that very few other people are really interested in your research – family and friends are usually more concerned about what you’ll do afterwards, if they ask anything at all!