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Nov. 26th, 2005 08:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_elyanI do love Kettle's Yard, Cambridge's art non-gallery.
Because I'm feeling far too lazy to marshal thoughts right now, here's what I thought of it when I visited before, in March 2004 (with apologies for typos etc):
Cambridge, like Oxford, is a city of surprises - suddenly leering gargoyles, shady riverside nooks, and all the other enticing detritus left behind by 900 years of unplanned development and global renown. Even though I visit the city frequently, more often than not I turn up some new delight. Today's treat was an art gallery whose approach was unique in my (fairly limited) experience - Kettle's Yard.
Kettle's yard was a row of four derelict cottages, knocked together and turned
into a 20th century art gallery by the enterprising Jim and Helen Ede in the
late 1950's. It was a formidable undertaking ... although the task was made
somewhat easier by the fact that they were friends with many of the leading
lights of the British art of the time. What made, and makes, the place special,
however, was the approach taken by its founders to the presentation of art.
Kettle's Yard is designed, built and maintained not as a gallery in the
accepted sense, but as a living-space with art in it. It is described as a
house, and so it is, right down to white enamel bathrooms on both floors,
complete with pictures.
In fact, if Kettle's yard were lived in now, it would be highly desirable even
without its treasures, because with its long open rooms, large windows and
spartan furnishing, it smacks of the achingly trendy warehouse conversions
which litter formerly industrial city areas and fetch stratospheric sale
prices.
The whole Kettle's Yard ethos seems to be to get away from traditional notions
of an art gallery. For example, none of the pictures carry explanatory
comments, or even attricutions - there is a guide, but no-one looks askance at
you if you choose not to take it. This removes the sense of achievement and
relief of ticking off the things you are supposed to see, but it does allow you
to enjoy the pictures for themselves a lot more. There is none of the feeling
of guilt which often attaks in major galleries, from not liking stuff, but
feeling you ought to because the artist is internationally famous. In Kettle's
Yard you can look at what you like, ignore what you don't, and make your own
decisions about meaning and significance rather than be bound by what is
written on the little card.
The sense of inclusiveness is most obvious in the fact that you are welcome to
sit on the chairs and to read the books that litter the rooms. You don't have
the demoralising feeling that you have to keep moving to see the other 26 rooms
on the itinerary - if you want to stop off for twenty minutes and read some
poetry or some travel writing, you're more than welcome to. The building was
designed partly as a place of refuge, for contemplation, and it achieves that
in a way which even the Rothko Room at Tate Modern cannot even come close to.
The easy-going nature of the place also gives it a wonderful feeling of
interaction in the true sense of the word - you have freedom of action, or
inaction, something which is sorely lacking in most Uplifting Cultural
Experiences. [Coincidentally, this freedom to wander, to explore and to
discover is also one of the reasons I love cathedrals and churches].
The air of a lived-in space which happens to have art scattered around is
actually carefully contrived - in point of fact the rooms are very precisely
laid out, mostly to make use of the light which streams in on summer days.
Since light is at the heart of the visual arts, this planning and design is
central to making the overall effect worthwhile, and it succeeds triumphantly.
Nonetheless, empty of people the place would feel like a beautifully laid-out
museum - put people in it, however, and it feels like home.
There are few if any globally famous works of art at Kettle's Yard - there are
no stand-outs crowd-pleasers with knots of tourists vainly jostling to take
pictures. The collection is an ensemble effect, and heavily skewed towards the
Ede's friends of the time - since these included Barbara Hepworth, Ben Nicolson
and Brancusi, this isn't exactly a problem, however. By taking the art out of
its reverenced, roped-off position - turning the Art into art, if you like -
and putting it into a recognisably familiar setting, they break down many of
the unhelpful barriers between Art and Life erected accidentally or
deliberately by most galleries, even those in houses, such as the magnificent
Kenwood House on Hampstead Heath. In kettle's Yard, Art and Life are part of
one another ... which is exactly as it should be.
If Tate Modern is the great palace of modern art, unreachable magnificence
which we ordinary folk and privileged to be allowed to glimpse, then Kettle's
Yard is the three-bedroom semi - less ambitious, but recognisably ours, and
readily understandable. We need palaces and cathedrals, places of awe and
inspiration, but we need houses too, and the achievement of Kettle's Yard in
making art feel like an accessible aspect of modern life is no less
extraordinary for its entirely human scale. It is a place of joy and wonder,
and certainly worth visiting.
Because I'm feeling far too lazy to marshal thoughts right now, here's what I thought of it when I visited before, in March 2004 (with apologies for typos etc):
Cambridge, like Oxford, is a city of surprises - suddenly leering gargoyles, shady riverside nooks, and all the other enticing detritus left behind by 900 years of unplanned development and global renown. Even though I visit the city frequently, more often than not I turn up some new delight. Today's treat was an art gallery whose approach was unique in my (fairly limited) experience - Kettle's Yard.
Kettle's yard was a row of four derelict cottages, knocked together and turned
into a 20th century art gallery by the enterprising Jim and Helen Ede in the
late 1950's. It was a formidable undertaking ... although the task was made
somewhat easier by the fact that they were friends with many of the leading
lights of the British art of the time. What made, and makes, the place special,
however, was the approach taken by its founders to the presentation of art.
Kettle's Yard is designed, built and maintained not as a gallery in the
accepted sense, but as a living-space with art in it. It is described as a
house, and so it is, right down to white enamel bathrooms on both floors,
complete with pictures.
In fact, if Kettle's yard were lived in now, it would be highly desirable even
without its treasures, because with its long open rooms, large windows and
spartan furnishing, it smacks of the achingly trendy warehouse conversions
which litter formerly industrial city areas and fetch stratospheric sale
prices.
The whole Kettle's Yard ethos seems to be to get away from traditional notions
of an art gallery. For example, none of the pictures carry explanatory
comments, or even attricutions - there is a guide, but no-one looks askance at
you if you choose not to take it. This removes the sense of achievement and
relief of ticking off the things you are supposed to see, but it does allow you
to enjoy the pictures for themselves a lot more. There is none of the feeling
of guilt which often attaks in major galleries, from not liking stuff, but
feeling you ought to because the artist is internationally famous. In Kettle's
Yard you can look at what you like, ignore what you don't, and make your own
decisions about meaning and significance rather than be bound by what is
written on the little card.
The sense of inclusiveness is most obvious in the fact that you are welcome to
sit on the chairs and to read the books that litter the rooms. You don't have
the demoralising feeling that you have to keep moving to see the other 26 rooms
on the itinerary - if you want to stop off for twenty minutes and read some
poetry or some travel writing, you're more than welcome to. The building was
designed partly as a place of refuge, for contemplation, and it achieves that
in a way which even the Rothko Room at Tate Modern cannot even come close to.
The easy-going nature of the place also gives it a wonderful feeling of
interaction in the true sense of the word - you have freedom of action, or
inaction, something which is sorely lacking in most Uplifting Cultural
Experiences. [Coincidentally, this freedom to wander, to explore and to
discover is also one of the reasons I love cathedrals and churches].
The air of a lived-in space which happens to have art scattered around is
actually carefully contrived - in point of fact the rooms are very precisely
laid out, mostly to make use of the light which streams in on summer days.
Since light is at the heart of the visual arts, this planning and design is
central to making the overall effect worthwhile, and it succeeds triumphantly.
Nonetheless, empty of people the place would feel like a beautifully laid-out
museum - put people in it, however, and it feels like home.
There are few if any globally famous works of art at Kettle's Yard - there are
no stand-outs crowd-pleasers with knots of tourists vainly jostling to take
pictures. The collection is an ensemble effect, and heavily skewed towards the
Ede's friends of the time - since these included Barbara Hepworth, Ben Nicolson
and Brancusi, this isn't exactly a problem, however. By taking the art out of
its reverenced, roped-off position - turning the Art into art, if you like -
and putting it into a recognisably familiar setting, they break down many of
the unhelpful barriers between Art and Life erected accidentally or
deliberately by most galleries, even those in houses, such as the magnificent
Kenwood House on Hampstead Heath. In kettle's Yard, Art and Life are part of
one another ... which is exactly as it should be.
If Tate Modern is the great palace of modern art, unreachable magnificence
which we ordinary folk and privileged to be allowed to glimpse, then Kettle's
Yard is the three-bedroom semi - less ambitious, but recognisably ours, and
readily understandable. We need palaces and cathedrals, places of awe and
inspiration, but we need houses too, and the achievement of Kettle's Yard in
making art feel like an accessible aspect of modern life is no less
extraordinary for its entirely human scale. It is a place of joy and wonder,
and certainly worth visiting.
