Edward Weston in Edinburgh

While passing through Edinburgh at Festival time, I couldn't miss the opportunity to take a look at the Edward Weston exhibition. It takes up two floors of the City Art Centre, in Market Street and according to the exhibition leaflet, is the largest show of his work ever to visit the UK. The aim is to present a survey of his career and the work is grouped into sections that illustrate the development of his style in relation to his varied subject matter.

Pepper No. 30. 1930

Given that most of us know his work through reproductions in books, there's a certain frisson to seeing original vintage prints, sometimes signed and sometimes coming ever-so-slightly detached from their faded mounts. As well as the still life photographs that we're so familiar with, there were sections devoted to his work in Mexico, his portraits, nudes and early and later landscapes.

There were a fair number of images that are not generally known, especially among the portraits and early work. Seen alongside the better known works, they were key to showing how the stylistic conventions of his more celebrated work developed. The essence of the Edward Weston look.

'The White Iris' (Tina Modotti)
(This photograph was not in the exhibition)

A surprising (partial) omission was the scarcity of images relating to his relationship with Tina Modotti. The influence of Tina Modotti and Margrethe Mather in causing Weston to abandon his wife and conventionality in favour of bohemianism is key to both his oeuvre and his subject matter.

Edward Weston and Margrete Mather, 1922
(photo by Imogen Cunningham, not in exhibition)

The emphasis seemed to be on his later involvement with Charis Wilson, who both inspired him and gave him the practical help he needed to build a wider reputation and create much of the work for which he is now remembered. A hour-long documentary playing in a side gallery of the exhibition explored this phase of his career. It was too long a film to sit through for the majority of visitors, who mostly glanced in and moved away. As a day-tripper myself, I could only give it ten minutes or so of my time — it's unrealistic of exhibition organisers to expect visitors to do more, especially at Festival time. In this wired world, there should be other ways of accessing this kind of supporting material for visitors who want to learn more. It's surely possible for it to be made available online or via digital TV, if necessary via a secure password issued with the entry ticket.

Anyway, it was an enjoyable and memorable exhibition, the first big Weston show I've seen since the V&A show back in the early 1970's. Glad I saw it, though I couldn't afterwards summon up the willpower or a strong enough stomach to spend more than a token few seconds with William Wegman's bizarre dressed-up doggy pictures on the top floor. I still not quite sure whether I don't get his work, or whether I get it too well.

The Edward Weston exhibition continues at the City Art Centre until the 24th October 2010.

Crossing the Firth of Forth

Crossing the Forth Brdge, South to North
(2min 23sec)

Although I've done it numerous times, I still get a thrill each time I take a train across the Forth Bridge. It is indeed a thing of wonder and an object of functional, if brutalist, beauty. Like the Waverley Steps, it also has its place in my family history as something talked about by Dad in his pre-war adventures.

The Forth Bridge also figures in the notebook he used to record his wartime experiences as Sapper CT Pearson of the Royal Engineers. His Company were being moved to Comrie Camp in Perthshire and having boarded their troop train at 7pm on November 2nd, 1942, they travelled through the night and crossed the Firth of Forth the following morning. This is what he says:

"Outside Edinboro we crossed the Forth Bridge and quite a few men carried out the old custom of throwing coins over the Bridge into the Firth of Forth far below. I remember one party who were playing cards at the time and someone threw the whole of their 'kitty' overboard which I understood amounted to over £1. It may have brought them luck."

From Comrie, his Company boarded the ill-fated liner SS Strathallan for their journey to Algiers in North Africa.

The Forth Bridge
from North Queensferry Station

One other piece of railway-related memorabilia came to light the other day when I rediscovered Dad's old wartime wallet. In it, alongside his army pay book and various newspaper cuttings, was this photograph:

On the back of the photograph is written: "Top of Ben Nevis 4400 ft". Fort William was another place Dad had visited on a free pass in pre-war days. I wonder who his pals were? Dad himself is second from the right (with the top of his head torn off).

A Sunny Day in Edinburgh

Although my Dad (Cyril) was never a great storyteller, I do have some fragmentary childhood memories of him telling me about his trips around Britain when he was young. When he left school, he followed family tradition and joined LNER (The London and North Eastern Railway). LNER's main route joined the two great capitals, London and Edinburgh.

As a railway worker, free rail passes opened up all sorts of opportunities for travel. It's hard today to recapture the sense of adventure there was in simply moving from one place to another. Fragments of tales he told me are brought back by a variety of inconsequential things. Whenever I'm in Edinburgh and am walking out of Waverley Station, Dad is always beside me in spirit as I walk up Waverley Steps. I remember him telling me of the great winds that would almost sweep you off your feet. These winds are a matter of legend.

Even on a balmy day in June there is a noticeable breeze.

It seems that where ever you are in the city centre, there is always the sound of bagpipes in the background. Even in the tranquillity of Princes Street Gardens, the birds compete with (or are perhaps encouraged by) buskers.


Behind the Royal Scottish Academy, an historically kitted-out boy band appeared to be getting ready to strut their stuff. Desultory drum-taps and much moving of kit backwards and forwards seemed to be designed to attract a crowd. As a Man On A Mission that day I got bored and left after ten minutes waiting for them to actually play something. They reminded me, perhaps unfairly but irresistably, of Life of Brian's Popular Front of Judea. (Much posturing but little or no action.) They were probably good when they got started, but here's thirty seconds' worth of my fruitless wait:

Ye Jacobites by name
Let your schemes alone
(from Burns)