The Southbank
on London’s Thames is an infamous arts and entertainment precinct – a cultural hub
filled with spaces and activities to meet every kind of hunger.
If,
notionally, you include The National and The BFI...independently managed,
like-minded organisations, in geographical proximity... I find it hard to keep away from the
Southbank. Along the embankment too are
Shakespeare’s Globe and the Tate, a couple of blocks the other way the Young
and Old Vic. The Southbank is the centre
of a happening ‘South End’ really: a thriving communal place in the broadest
sense of the word.
If you
approach The Southbank from Waterloo can anyone resist tasting something
delicious from the market stalls? If you
approach across the bridge from embankment, in any season you feel the vibe of
the place, the pulse of life and creativity, friends and strangers celebrating
what it is to be alive: to see, taste, smell, hear and feel... immersion in
countless interactive and engaging experiences.
Exhibitions
at the Hayward Gallery and programmes at the Royal Festival and Queen Elizabeth
Halls deserve much comment. I am also amused
by goings-on in the Udderbelly. But in
this blog I want to share something more ad hoc, trivial, but for all that,
rich. I want to share my thoughts on the
benefits of the themed festival... the one-off popular event... and the Pop Up;
the trendy phenomenon which has taken hold of entrepreneurial event planners.
I met a friend by the Thames for a pint on
Friday night. I’d just finished the
first week of a new contract – consulting as Manager of Events and Visitor
Services at Central Saint Martins, another wonderfully dynamic and creative
institution – so our first drink went down beautifully. We then moved to one of The Southbank Centre’s
interesting summer installations, The
Heartbreak Hotel. I was principally
looking for a comfortable chair and a second (and final) drink before heading
home to catch up on sleep, so my expectations were greatly exceeded.
The Heartbreak Hotel is part of the Southbank’s Festival of Love. It’s made up of the I Think I Love You Lounge, The
Department of Good Cheer, an exhibition from the Museum of Broken Relationships, and the Dear Cathy and Claire Room (a tribute to Jackie magazine’s Agony
Aunts from the 1970s). These elements
are exquisitely well-themed and organised.
I started with an informative chat with one of the founders of The
Department of Good Cheer, followed by pro-active, friendly table service and a delicious
gin and tonic; hand crafted, as I discovered, by Dodds. It took only minutes to realize the four guys
who run this pop-up bar are on to something: turning cocktails into a tasteful
and aesthetic experience, with tipsiness a bonus rather than a driver. When my friend left to go to the theatre, a guy
on an adjacent table appeared to be talking to a stranger on an old-fashioned plastic
handset. I was intrigued. Next he handed me the white receiver and I
discovered I was talking to a man elsewhere in The Department. I couldn’t see him, it was random, but
engaging; like pressing buttons to another hotel room, hoping to find a friend. The bizarre result of this flesh-and-blood-chat-room:
we did. I instantly connected with
Antony and Christine on ‘my end’ of the line... and by the time Antony had
phoned another table and again passed me the receiver, I was chatting to Jorren
from Amsterdam all very much in a spirit of good cheer. Or, to borrow from the Southbank’s theme, in
a spirit of love grounded in shared experience; what the Ancient Greeks called philia love. I/we loved the unusual gin, I/we loved the
random frivolity and unexpected intimacy of the telephones, and I/we loved the
subsequent social bonding which followed.
After moving round
the room and joining tables with these four new friends, our gang of five
crossed the threshold into the I Think I
Love You Lounge. I’ve been out of
London travelling for a while so I didn’t even know it was there. You might therefore imagination my surprise
(though clearly no reluctance) when moments later we were dressing in wigs and
costumes, standing at microphones, surrounded by a chilled-out audience on big
floor cushions, singing madly to a karaoke track of Dancing Queen. Abba in
concert with Michael Jackson! The sound
we made was dreadful, the choreography even worse, I can’t pull off a blonde
wig so Bjorn was a dodgy choice, and ordinarily I hate karaoke (on account of snobbery
over people singing out of tune)... but I LOVED it... my love of the gang, the
barmen, and the evening moving rapidly from philia
to ludus, the flirting, playful, affectionate
kind of love.
I regularly
need a fix of the Southbank – it is part of the heart and soul of London – but this
unplanned, strangely organic conflation of events, themes, art and people is
a highlight.
My only
concern in sharing the karaoke video footage with Jorren, Pam, Antony and Christine
is that it might get posted to You Tube and that would end in tears; or in the
gallery of Broken Relationships, on account of unforgiveable
embarrassment.
By chance I
was due to be back at the Southbank the following evening for Sing-a-long Grease. After finding Emma and Kate in the crowd we
approach Door D on Level 5 of the Festival Hall and the usher, Harry, says “Hey,
you were doing karaoke last night. You
must like singing.” Hmm, guilty as charged. One day I might learn to be more subtle, reserved. Find some of what the Greeks called philautia, love born of
self-respect. But not tonight. Not when it gets in the road of a good time. For Sing-a-long
Grease was a blast. It happens to
perfectly express the festival theme of eros
and ludus love. It is supremely silly, wonderfully romantic, the
kind of light-hearted, contagious, unadulterated fun which makes even a
tee-total feel drunk. The world’s love
of Grease, every crooning, cultish
piece of it, is pragma - a love which
endures. And defying the logic of some empty
seats, this crowd danced and screamed up a storm. We left the auditorium humming, enamoured of the
beauty of Olivia Newton John and John Travolta, and feeling rather agape – a bubbling sense humanity is sometimes
all too easy to love.
What could we
do then, but return to The Heartbreak Hotel?! After time in the gallery, and conversation
with Alex, Travers, Van and Sam who have established The Department of Good Cheer, we thanked them for their delicious cocktails
and headed for the train. On the ride
home I was torn between smiling at images from Summer Nights and Greased
Lightning, and feeling touched by letters and confessions I’d read in the
gallery about painful break-ups. The
loss and loneliness evident from these objects was almost too palpable. I ruminated then upon the curators’ clever combination
of complimentary elements... also how tempting it is for us all to want to find
and hold eros, but how devastating it
can be to lose romantic and intimate love. I suppose it is like the colours and glamour of
The Heartbreak Hotel Neon - designed
for this festival by Chris Bracey – a sober reminder “all that glisters is not
gold”... that not all love has the ingredients for pragma.
Ah, but
without it, without LOVE, of one or many kinds, we wouldn’t have this glorious
art, this enduring culture, the expression and reinterpretation of which is life
itself.
Be quick to experience
your dose of ‘summer lovin’ on The Southbank for it finishes on 31st
August 2014.
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