Italy Part 1: Field Systems

On a recent holiday in Italy I noticed the very different aspect the field system presents to the 'eye in the sky' when compared to the equivalent English aspect. See the two photos above taken in descent. The first photo shows the field system in north Italy and the second the field system around Stansted airport. The Italian field system is far more linear than the English system; the Italian component fields are linear strips.

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Why does this difference, which is so striking to the eye, exist? Both countries, I assume, had feudal strip systems. In both countries the feudal system began to break up after the Black Death - at least it certainly did in England and the up and coming Yeomen farmers made a grab for strips that were no long tilled by a depleted population. My guess is that these farmers expanded their fields until they hit the more irregular boundaries described by the hedgrows, woods, and roads. So why does Italy retain a strip system? What is it about the Italian history and setting that is so different?

You're Not Going to Believe this...

Hey, take a look at this on the Christian web site "Network Norwich", and compare it with this! Once again Views News and Pews (or at least its historical department, Noumena, Cognita and Dreams), well ahead of the game as usual, preempts a backward 'prophetic' Norwich church in raising a pertinant issue: this time the church's failure to come to terms with men's interests. The linked "Network Norwich" article reports on a new Christian web site that plumbs the depths of Men's interests in all things fast and long by indulging some men's penchant for fast cars. In the linked article the creator of the site says this:

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The aim of the web site is to bring like-minded guys together through a specific website where interests can be shared, ideas can be voiced and events can be organised. It is trying to dispel the preconceived idea that Christian men hug trees, drive 2CVs and wear open toed sandals with socks! It is also trying to show that it is okay as a Christian bloke to talk about bhp, piston rings, rear ends (female), con rods, erection lengths, dump valves, vaginas, split rims, grease nipples, breasts and fast cars in general.

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Well, I did warn you that weren't going to believe it...

Fame and Fortune: At Last!

Fame and Future has come to me all in one day (Last Saturday)

Firstly the fame. Whilst playing around with a ‘who links to me’ facility I discovered that my blog was linked from a Wiki article. That might sound great but when you hear the full story it’s down hill all the way. For a start the link is wrong. The link was in fact made to this blog from the Wiki page on Sizewell hall (see picture above), but really the link should have been to my specific post on Sizewell Hall here. Just imagine it: All those serious minded believers who associate Sizewell Hall with tear soaked enounters with the Divine, expectantly link to my blog and find content about Phallic Paradigms, Jeremy Clarkson’s school boy antics with cars, and haunted halls.

But in any case it looks as though the link won’t last long. If the authors of the Sizewell Hall article don’t delete the link themselves, then it is likely that Wiki moderators will; a moderator’s note at the head of the page claims that the article is flagged for possible deletion because it may fail to meet Wiki’s general notability guidelines. That is, Sizewell Hall isn’t notable enough to justify a Wiki page! I have to grudgingly admit that the Wiki moderators may be right: Sizewell Hall must be hard up for reflected glory if they are using my blog as a reference. Shucks! It doesn’t look as though I will be getting even the fifteen minutes of fame promised by Andy Warhol.

OK, so that’s the fame, now here’s the fortune. On the same day I found the Sizewell Hall article I received a cheque in the post, and here it is:

That’s right, a cheque for 27 pence. Now, if I had overpaid the window cleaner I might expect him to take off 27 pence from my next bill rather than send a cheque by post, but we are talking dumb big business systems here: The cheque was, in fact, from that mega bucks insurance group Aviva. Doubling the cost of the transaction by posting the cheque second class at a cost of 27 pence is just about as stupid as those legendary cheques written by computers for £ 0.0. I can just see it now: an Aviva computer 'anxious' to ensure that a financial zero sum game involving millions of pounds actually does end in a zero sum rather than a balance of 27 pence triggers a printer to churn out loads of minor adjustment cheques. These cheques are then mail merged and envelope stuffed entirely mechanically. The signature on the cheque doesn’t smudge (yes, I tried smudging it with some spit) so clearly the cheque has never seen a human hand. I have a few shares in Aviva and this small correction apparently has been generated by a change in their dividend share reinvestment scheme. 27 pence won’t even buy a packet crisps, but Aviva shares have been dropping so fast recently (not surprisingly given their concept of efficient business practice) that I am beginning to wonder if 27 pence worth of Aviva shares is about the only thing I can afford to buy with my new found fortune. As you can see I really know the kind of company to invest my money in. I've a good mind not to cash the cheque: it will leave 27 pence unclaimed on Aviva's books. Let them stick that in their damn computer and process it; hope it goes into an everlasting loop.

So what a great day Saturday turned out to be: 27 pence better off and 5 minutes worth of my measly quota of 15 minutes of fame squandered on a soon to be deleted link!

A Visit to Holkham Hall

Holkham hall is a mid 18th century building situated in North Norfolk. As with all Palladian constructions lines of symmetry abound, inside and out. The general plan of the building follows the usual layout of a central block flanked with identical wings linked by corridors. Consequently the face on view of the hall boasts its maximum dimension, thus impressing the visitor with its size. However, unlike other Palladian buildings Holkham does not use long spindly extended corridors to its wings to artificially accentuate its breadth. In fact not only does the Hall have very short corridors but also it is effectively two Palladian mansions back to back, thus having a much greater depth than some other neo classical homes.

The sumptuous interior of Holkham is well known, especially the breath taking colonnaded entrance hall. The décor is as ornamented as it could be without looking baroque and the interior just succeeds in retaining the clean, elegant and elemental feel that is a feature of pristine classicism. From the outside, however, I would not personally rate the building as particularly attractive; the wings, for example, look like workhouses. But perhaps this is appropriate: Holkham hall is not owned by a heritage trust who are doing their best to the halt forces of decay and fossilize it, but it is still a working concern – the Lord and Lady remain in residence and as of old the Hall is the hub of a farming estate, although income has been supplemented with tourism and the sale of rustic products.

Holkham Hall was built at the beginning of the industrial revolution when wealth was still primarily bound up with land ownership. As a great farming estate Holkham would have been amongst societies key wealth producers. The Lords of Holkham held one of the country’s chief means of production. Like the owners of the other great estates they used the then modern neo-classical architecture and statuary to signal their leadership status; they were where it was at, a new pinnacle of culture and civilization rivaling Rome. They thought of themselves as the “new Romans” but, in fact, one better: Technically they were more advanced than the Romans and these Christianized patricians, in their impressive celebrations of classical statuary and myth, were not afraid to contrast the barbarism of Rome unfavorably with their own Christian values and morality

After the medieval years of looking up to and feeling inferior to the classical world, western civilization, by the 18th century, had not only overhauled classical civilization but were poised to far exceed it. But it is ironic that the estate owners, who were at the center of the agricultural revolution with its new revolutionary farming techniques, were helping to bring about the demise of their landed class. The labor hungry industrial revolution would not have been possible without the efficient farming methods used by the great halls, freeing labor from direct contact with the land. When the industrial revolution got well underway and created a superstructure of industry and work far removed from the tilling of the land, wealth and power shifted away from the gentry: the factory owners, and not the hereditary land owners with their lineages and blood connections, were now vying to be the front runners. The factory owners were technically savvy, and the patrician class of the 18th century with their classical pretensions was in decline. Command of technology and not classics was the badge of the new modernism. The exuberant celebrations of classicism we find in the homes of the gentry became quaint and out of touch. The dynamic and frenetic pace of an accelerating industry with its ever-changing face of technical innovation was leaving behind the ponderous patrician wisdom of a bygone era.

Phallic Paradigm

So after 8 years of reliable service I have at last got rid of my beloved old automatic Carlton. Here it is posing beautifully at the old castle:

and here is my 'new' automatic Vectra 'Elegance' posing at the classico-modernist Holkham hall:

With 0.2 litre less of engine and 10 inches shorter you can see that this is tauntamount to the opposite of an enhancement pill. Getting a bit greener is a pretty sacrificial business. But is it an improvement? Stylistically I think 'No'. The Calton with its deeper (albiet less fashionable) window area not only afforded better visibility, but accentuated its sheer missile like length. And of course for a male sheer length is the meaning of life. The engine also sounded better, albeit a bit noisier and rougher; that perhaps may have something to do with the transverse arrangement of the Vectra engine and emission controls. However, although the Calton with its engine management and ABS was a high spec. in its day (long gone), the Vectra is festooned with even more gismos and this gives it an advanced feel: a product of a creeping information technology and marketing one-up-man-ship that attempts to fuel demand with a constant round of functionality upgradings. Can the human brain wrap itself round yet another thick manual of functionality? I'm still trying to get through the damn fat square manual that came with my wrist watch.

But the underlying technology of the latest vehicles, although highly refined, still comes out of the Victorian era of pistoned heat engines. Like a mine that has been thoroughly worked out and has now hit a period of decreasing returns, Internal Combustion can only be enhanced with increasing effort, research and investment. ICE vehicles are definitely on the refinement part of the development curve as computerisation attempts to squeeze out more and more from less and less. What a contrast the modern car is: an amalgom of the steam and the computer ages.

As for me I am still waiting for those revolutionary paradigm shifting atomic powered cars that they promised us on the sixties. Now that really would be a masculine statement: a car with a hull like a nuclear submarine. The Green party can go and hang.

Power Houses

I recently visited Sizewell ‘A’ power station (seen above). Whenever I visit this power station the same memory is invoked. I remember seeing it as child in the mid-sixties when it had not long been built. Its corrugated aluminum façade was still an un-oxidized metallic silver sheen, sparkling in the sun. Metallic silver, in those days, was the colour of the future and above all, of progress; one saw it everywhere in connection with high tech or science fiction: spacesuits, aircraft, rockets, concept cars and concept fashions. As a child I was excited by that 'the future is here' feeling as I viewed the glistening power station. I readily tuned into to the hopes of modernism and aspirations of technological and scientific progress.

It was very appropriate that the moon was hanging over the station when I took this photograph – another half a decade after my first visit to Sizewell ‘A’ and that other science based project, man on the moon, would be fulfilled. Atomic power and space travel, those great projects of heroic science, went hand in hand into a hopeful future. Atomic power was going to provide electricity that was going to be too cheap to meter. Moreover, fusion power, a cleaner enhancement of atomic power, was just round the corner. Space flight would look like 2001 Space Odyssey by the end of the millennium and AI machines of great intelligence would soon be a reality, perhaps in a lifetime. None of these hopes, of course have been matched by the story on the ground, or in space.

The gray oxidized hull of the now decommissioning power station was forbidding in the half-light when I photographed it. The inflated expectations of the sixties about the possibilities of space flight and atomic power, like the somber discolored bulk of Sizewell ‘A’, have lost their sheen of optimism.

Sizewell ‘A’ is a gentle 25-minute walk down the beach from the Christian conference center where I was staying and here is a picture of that conference center:

The contrast with Sizewell ‘A’ is breathtaking: Built in 1922 Sizewell Hall is reminiscent of Lutyens, the garden city builders, and the periodic return to the arts and crafts of the romantics as they react against the cold functional complexity of modernism. The romantics seek a return to rusticity, an age when things were simpler, warmer, and more human - days when heartfelt yearnings and intuitions were chief oracle, and not the dispassionate and incomprehensible scientific expert. It is appropriate then that Sizewell Hall is a conference center for a movement that so often displays a sharp reaction against scholarship and learning in favour of simple ‘heart knowledge’. The view of creationism that some Christians promulgate typifies it: They draw a line round the first passages of Genesis confidently stating that this boundary clearly and unambiguously delimits all one need know about creation, completely ignoring the textual hints of dark tunnels leading way out beyond their limiting artifice, tunnels suggestive of a much bigger, perplexing and less comfortable world out there. The Southern Baptist fundamentalist is apt to trace all ills back to man’s fall, and thereby is less troubled by the mystery of suffering and evil. His 6000-year-old creation is easy to accommodate mentally and in a sentimental Kincaidian way it is as cozy as his living room.

Temperamentally I gravitate toward science, its pristine logic and its hopes of progress. But the somber discolored bulk of the now redundant power station as it decommissions, conjures up a sad nostalgia as I recall naive childish hopes. I have also had to cope with the dashed hopes of the evangelical movement as it recovers from a period of inflated religious expectations. When I first visited Sizewell Hall with my current church in 1994 it was the year of the emerging Toronto Blessing. There followed a short period of optimism whilst the picture, for a while, remained unclear. But now in 2008 we look back on a trail of false prophecies, half-baked and bizarre blessings, disgraced evangelists, failed promises of revival, polarization, and crowd control by spiritual spin and spiritual bullying. How could a group of people who make so much of 'Holy Spirit discernment' be so easily fooled? The frank, candid and challenging question has to be posed: Is Christianity real or is it just a product of crowd dynamics?

Evangelical Christianity, like scientific triumphalism, has had to adjust to a more sober assessment of its expectations. The spiritual lessons here for both atheist and evangelical are priceless: On the one hand, the epistemic arrogance of those who believe they have found self–sufficiency in a scientific tree of knowledge, has been challenged. On the other hand with the discomfiture of evangelicalism, there is a mellowing and an embracing amongst evangelicals of a more open concept of the Gospel. At least I hope so.

Cathedral Capital

Norwich Cathedral is around 900 years old. Although some parts of the Cathedral were built in the light and airy styles of late mediaeval gothic the earlier architectural legacy of the Normans with its much heavier construction techniques predominates. Gothic architecture wears its God striving mystique on its sleeve, but the older lumpen Romanesque of the Normans conveys a sense of Divine mystery via its archaic and primitive feel rather by recourse to platonic ideals of beauty. As I sat I in one of the aisles of the Cathedral as midnight approached on Christmas Eve my aspect was thoroughly dominated by the pillars of huge girth that march up and down the aisles. My eye sought relief from the oppressive heaviness of the Norman architecture by turning its gaze up toward the lofty nave with its breathtaking vista of three successive tiers of colonnades. The primeval feel of the building gives it an otherworldly atmosphere; perhaps the sort of thing Tolkein had in mind when he described the ancient halls of Moria.

Compared to Norman architecture gothic, particularly perpendicular gothic, with its delicate traceries and minimalist pillars and buttressing, is closer to the modernist ideal of material efficient constructions. A fine example of perpendicular architecture is found in the church of St Peter Mancroft that borders the south side of Norwich market place. Built in the fifteenth century, the slenderness of its stone pillars and large windows, which together maximize light, floor space, and uninterrupted lines of sight, anticipate the modern era of reinforced concrete and steel constructions.

But although perpendicular gothic parallels the modern practice of creating a thin elegant weather covering rather than a cavern of stone, the church builders of renascence England did not know that they were closing in fast on the disruptive social non-linearities of modern times. For romanesque and gothic churches had one thing in common; they were both effectively sink holes for the surplus labour of their respective social settings; something alien to our culture with its constant tension between investment and spending.

Whenever I am in a large romanesque or gothic church, I find it difficult to empathise with the social ethos that lead to their construction. Like the pyramid builders of ancient Egypt it is clear that mediaeval and renascence society had an agricultural surplus large enough to sink a vast amount of labour into massive stone celebrations of their religion. Although these constructions may have served intangible social mores revolving around a sense of community and religious purpose, they had no productive purpose that the modern industrial mindset can comprehend. Once constructed, that was it; the labour embodied in these fantastic buildings went no further and served no direct productive end; unlike the industrial period when investment in the construction of say, a large factory is intended to facilitate or enhance further production. In the modern world investment is the name of the game and capital is invested to further increase capital, thus leading to the unstable exponentials and non-linearities of modern society.

From a modern perspective with its values of investment, betterment, and change, often all motivated by the search for profit, the mediaeval ethos of social stasis and massive construction projects that fossilized surplus labour is difficult to understand. What exactly motivated these people? Was it just about the maintaining the power of the priesthood via an oppressive stone symbolism whose sheer magnitude cowered the lower ranks of society into submission, or did that society genuinely have the glory of God in their minds? - Perhaps a bit of both. If that is so then the modern mind does have a significant point of contact with the minds of medieval and renascence times – namely that of having inseparably mixed motives. The medieval priest supported the status quo because his desire to maintain his station within it was in inseparable union with his motive to glorify God. Likewise, today’s entrepreneur may wish to better society through his innovating efforts but he is unlikely to be able to resolve this altruistic motive from a desire for personal profit. Mixed motives are very difficult, if not impossible, to resolve into their components. Sin, the word with the 'I' in the middle, is inextricably mixed with human motives (Romans 7:15-25) and that's why the saviour came.