Art For Art's Sake & Who Art In Heaven? (17)

This blog was partly inspired by Steve Johnson!

Back in the day I used to be an aspiring artist of sorts. I enjoyed drawing, doodling and mainly copying other artists sleevework! In all honesty I was never really anything less than average, but that small fact never stopped me from trying to copy album sleeves, super heroes, Christmas cards and all other manner of 'artsy' related stuff!

In the first years at Sammies, my art teacher was the stringent Mr. Ryder, whose classroom was based in the very top left-hand corner of M-Block. It was easy to find Mr. Ryder's classroom, all you had to do was follow the medieval artwork up the stairs, and as if that wasn't enough, the closer you got to Mr. Ryder's classroom the stronger the smell of pipe tobacco became! Mr. Ryder wasn't exactly known for his love of modern art or for his sense of humour either.

Stood outside M-Block (L-R) Maxine Harris Joanne Tryner Phil Young and Sharron Price

On the day of our first art class, we (our form 1-2) were all collectively nervous at the prospect of having Mr. Ryder as our art teacher. As we entered his classroom for the first time there was the nervous fumbling as we reluctantly took our seats, quickly followed by a collective hush. It felt like we were the taciturn congregation at Mr. Ryder's medieval chapel, who were about to experience the full wrath of Mr. Ryder's fire and damnation brought down upon us. Mr. Ryder didn't look like your average stereotype of an art teacher. He looked more akin to being a straight man character from out of an Ealing comedy. He was immaculately turned out, with a precise beige checked sports jacket, razor-sharp pressed black trousers, finely polished brown brogues, a yellow waist coat, and secured with a windsor knotted old-school striped club tie. He also had an immaculate comb over which was camouflaged by an impeccable waxed moustache.

Our first lesson consisted of Mr. Ryder delivering a pre-rehearsed speech, which touched on many topics, featuring the totalitarian discipline which Mr. Ryder was going to enforce on us, and then as if to accentuate this he made everyone jump as he whacked a table with his 'instrument of terror,' a stick which resembled the base of a small fake wooden-fibreglass fishing rod. He then went off on a tangent about modern life, which was basically a rant about 70's celebrities, and in particularly a thinly veiled venomous attack on Jimmy Savile and how many times Savile had dyed his hair in an attempt to gain notoriety! This must have irked him for many a time, but was wasted on a classroom full of jumpy eleven year olds who only knew that Jimmy Savile could and only would 'Fix It' for them.

Our art classes had all the atmosphere of a wake at a co-operative funeral home, and consisted with all of us sat quietly at our desks trying to express ourselves in a edgy, nervous way, which wasn't exactly conducive for producing art . For my first art exam I had drawn a picture of acrobats, which at the completion, I felt very happy with about the end product! I thought that I was going to get top marks! When I got my my results I couldn't have been more wrong! I got a disappointing C+. Apparently Mr. Ryder wasn't that keen on Marvel comic art, and looked down upon the way that I outlined the muscle definition of my acrobats with a black pencil.....

In the weeks preceding Christmastime in 1981 a Christmas Fair was announced at Sammies, and in conjunction an art competition was also announced to produce a poster which would be used as a flyer for the forthcoming Christmas Fair. I fancied my chances of winning this competition, mainly because of my talent for copying Christmas cards! So I did a felt-tipped coloured collage, based around three distinctive Christmas cards. You could have knocked me down with a feather when it was announced that I had won the art competition........

Fast forward to 1983 and I was trying to get an O-level at art. My art teacher was still Mr. Ryder and the classroom atmosphere was still as oppressive as ever. Part of my art homework was to draw a picture of a relative, which was something that I should have done but eventually didn't getting around to completing. So I did what I do best, I copied a picture of Ian Craig-Marsh on a Heaven 17 record sleeve from a track entitled "I'm Your Money". / Are Everything.

From L-R: Glenn Gregory Ian Craig-Marsh and Martyn Ware

I brought my picture to school and tried to keep a low profile about the origin of my forgery! Usually nobody really cared about anything I did, but on this day my mate Darren Wells took some interest in my picture. For some reason I decided to keep the origin of my forgery a secret, mainly because I thought if I told the lads in my form that I made the whole thing up then I wouldn't live it down! So I proceeded to tell Darren that it was a friend of my dad's who sat for a portrait. The more Darren asked me about Ian Craig-Marsh the deeper the hole got that I was digging myself into! I commented on his suit, his hair and his age and lied through my teeth.

I've carried the guilt of that tissue of lies for almost 27 years now! So if you're reading this Darren, and if you remember the conversation we had then accept my sincerest apologies.

And as for the art competition back in 1981. My 'prize' was a 99p selection box which I was presented with by our headmaster Mr. Powell on the last Friday morning assembly before Christmas. My name was called, so I had to go on-stage in the main hall to collect my 'prize'. I confidently strided up to the steps to the stage, and in my own inimitable style, tripped on the final step right in front of the whole school........

There's an old saying that, "Pride goes before the fall" and what little pride I had at the time melted away in front of a guffawing school assembly.

Embarassing moment: #873

In Memoriam To Maxine Michaela

In memoriam to Maxine Michaela

It is with a heavy, sorrowful heart that I write my blog today. In light of the news of the passing of my old Samuel Southall school friend, Maxine Michaela. 

My first memory of Maxine was when she started out in the first years in 1-1 at Samuel Southall in 1980. Whilst I used to spend my break times roaming aimlessly around the playground, I'd often notice Maxine chatting away and having fun with her friends. She was always popular, and more often than not if Maxine spoke to me, she would always have something smart to say! She used to play me up, but it was never in a nasty way and in any case I was too shy back then. 

Maxine was very distinctive in her own wonderful, unique way. She was dark and very attractive, with the most beautiful brown eyes. But Maxine was much, much more than that. she was intelligent, and very sharp, and as if to compliment these virtues she was also outgoing, and possessed an acutely spontaneous, bubbly sense of humour!  

Isn't it strange how you can remember someone for a seemingly innocuous detail or feat? If there's one thing I associate Maxine with at Sammies was her ability to dance! I'm not entirely sure why? But I think it may go back to when she won a dancing competition in the first years at Sammies. But ever since then when I think about Maxine I seem to recollect at her ability to dance!

It was heart-warming to see Maxine again after so many years, and I cherish the time that she was on Facebook.

We all (willingly or unwillingly) advance on our life journey together. For some of us its a sprint, in the sense that our life is fast-paced, and have very little time to look back. Whilst for others its a slow arduous marathon. But for all of us it is a minefield, which at times we tend to tip-toe through in a state of self-induced somnambulism. In my personal instance I forget how tenuous life really is. We get complacent and take things for granted. This comes at a high price, and the reality check can often be very tragic and invariably comes at the expense of our loved ones. 

Maxine was an amazing person. She had an infectious personality, which radiated around everyone she touched. She may not be with us now, but Maxine's memory will live on in all of our hearts.

My heartfelt condolences go out to Maxine's family, particularly to Maxine's gift to the world, her beautiful daughter. Who is as angelic as her mother.

Maxine with her beautiful daughter.

Maxine Michaela 1969-2010 

Rest in peace Maxine. 

Our loss is heaven's gain.

Fourth Year Kitchen Sink Memories......

Back in those heady days in 1983, I was at the beginning of my fourth year. The newly risen phoenix of Elgar High School had failed to soar spectacularly out of the cold dead ashes of Perdiswell and Sammies. In the dull afterglow of this befuddled amalgamation, was an administrative nightmare that consisted of all of us in our year being split up into our various subject classes, combined with the seemingly random form classes that we randomly scattered into.

In my instance, I had to endure Physics with the torpid Mr. Tavendar, Chemistry with the pedantic Mr. Cummings, Maths with the abrasive Mr. Powney, English Language with the sardonic Mrs. Davies, English Literature with the adept Mrs Clayton, Art with the austere Mr. Ryder, History with the drab Mrs Morphy and Geography with the indecipherable Mr. Davis. My form tutor was Mrs. Rogers, who 'taught' domestic science (a euphemism for cookery) and from my own first-hand experience was at best a mediocre cook disguised as a second rate teacher, who looked every inch the poor Elgar High School middle-class knock-off of Fanny Cradock, which had gone badly-badly wrong. Amongst others who were in our form were Robert Lewis, Paul Gummery, Darren Wells, Richard Weston, Michael Barrow and Phil Young. If I'm completely honest, I was never at ease in that form. All my mates from my third years (in our form 3B) had been split up, and I always felt isolated, nervous and on edge. Probably with good cause too! Our classroom at that time was in the science block on the second floor, in one of those domestic science laboratories which was really a low-tech kitchen in disguise.

Joanne Honeywood, Joanne Powell, Jo Tryner and Sarah Greatbatch on location at the Science Block

During the summer break my mum had bought me a coat from Kays, it wasn't anything special, but it did the job and came in handy. One innocuous lunchtime I returned back to school from home. As I walked around the science block I heard voices calling me from above, as I briefly glanced upwards I noticed that whoever they were had something sinister.....It was a fully loaded bottle of Fairy Liquid, and before I could say "Now hands that do dishes can feel soft as your face...." I was covered in washing-up liquid. It was worse enough that the washing up liquid was all over my coat, but it had also got in my eyes, and was pretty sore. I looked up, and perched above, hanging out of the window were the laughing faces of my baby-faced Fairy Liquid assassins.....It was Rob Lewis and Phil Young.

A few days after my 'squirting' I was making my way home from school. It had started to rain as I trudged down Church Road, it was just my luck that it was a sharp, heavy downpour. I felt thankful that I took my new coat with me! As the rain started to get heavier I noticed something peculiar about my coat. It was a solid navy blue colour, and as I traipsed in the rain strange things started to happen. I looked down and certain areas of my coat were starting to go a strange white colour. As the rain got heavier the navy blue of my coat started to exude a rainbow tinged bubbly froth. It then began to dawn on me that it might be the Fairy Liquid that Rob Lewis and Phil Young had doused me with. The more it rained the worse it got

By the time I had got down to the junction of Church Road and Astwood Road it looked as though I had contracted a particularly severe case of rabies, and couldn't wait to get home and get out of the suds  rain.

From that day on I never trusted anyone in my form, and even to this day I have an irrational fear of soap suds and washing up liquid commercials......

By the way that was embarrassing moment: #1048