Category: Arts

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Travel

I.M. Jack – The Easter Bunny Edition

I found myself wondering recently where, when and how the Easter Bunny and Easter Eggs got into the traditional celebrations of Easter.

Easter

Well, believe it or not we’re entering pagan territory here – long before the Catholic monopoly on all things paschal.  The word Easter or Ēostre is derived from the name of an Anglo-Saxon goddess who was celebrated through the month of April. Pasqua or paschalis is the Latin name for the passover – a Jewish feast harking back to the times of the Hebrew enslavement in Egypt and their liberation by Charlton Heston. The actual dates for Easter were set in the Catholic religion in AD 325. In Nicea they established that the feast should fall on the Sunday following the paschal full moon, which is the full moon that falls on or after the vernal (spring) equinox.

It’s the rites of spring in full swing. Whether it’s Eostre or the paschal full moon, there is no doubt that the religious rituals are guaranteed to be celebrated as they have been from the dawn of time – a celebration of the beginning of the season of Spring – a season associated with life, birth and the renewal of the circle of life. In the Christian religion the main potent symbol is that of Christ defeating death through resurrection with the concurrent ideas of redemption. Easter Sunday is the time for the triumph over death as the Christ Resurrected is carried aloft running through the streets in a frenzy of happiness.

It was curious to see the initiative to replay the passion of Christ out in the open within the temples at Mnajdra. I don’t know whether it was intentional or whether the irony was lost on the participants (markbiwwa did not miss that one) but Mnajdra would in all probability have een used in religious rituals celebrating the arrival of spring many many thousand moons before the birth and death of the Christian saviour. Back in Luxembourg the ancient ritual of burning pyres of wood to celebrate the end of winter is still performed (it was on about a month ago) only that they have taken to burning a crucifix on top of the pyre, what with Luxembourg being a deeply religious country. Another instance of religious stepping in to eclipse the profane?

What about the Easter Bunny and Egg then? Where do they come in? Well it turns out it is rather simple after all. Bunnies and Eggs both represent the same thing – fertility. We all know what the rabbit is and though it itself is not oviparous it is evident why it would be chosen as a symbol of copious reproduction. As for the egg – what can I say – it is the epitome of symbols for potential of birth.

Birth

Yes. No matter what culture and where in the world, humanity has always celebrated spring and life. It is within our nature and instinct as a sentient being to not only celebrate our existence but also the preservation of our species via its reproduction. The Catholic Churhc – as from 325 AD – could not ignore this urge to celebrate life and  had no choice but to place the feast of its saviour’s resurrection bang in the middle of what had always been the period of such celebration in other cultures.

Which is why the Bishop of Gozo’s attack on IVF and the hope it brings to hundreds of thousands  of couples worldwide is either a purposely ill-timed approach or an extraordinary demonstration of crass insensitivity. There is no other way to react to this kind of statement y even the most conservative among the Good Shepherd’s flock than with sincere disbelief. In a time when we are supposed to celebrate the victory of life over death of the productive over the barren and of providence instead of the bare we are wrongly directed at killing the supposed wolves among the flock whose sin is that of bringing the same hope as that shared by Sara and Abraham until the arrival of Isaac. You get the feeling that even in the reading of texts that are sacred to them there is an intentional misogyny that underlies the basic thinking – going against all natural instincts and inspirations.

Fields

Malta is beautiful at this time. I spend Good Friday in what us ignorant people call “the south”. Ghar Lapsi was idyllic and Rita’s retro service was legendary (I’d have stuck to the pyrex plates though). Driving through the back roads leading to Zejtun and detouring through Birzebbuga and Marsacala you get to appreciate the natural beauties that this island has to offer while also getting to sadly see how mistaken many a man can be when he tries to interpret what could look good and be added on to the landscape.

Life. It’s a long stretch of time (hopefully) on this world that is pregnant with choices. It’s good to remember every now and then that we are not a small and beautiful snowflake.

 


 

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Arts

Meta tkun Paceville

I left a comment on an excellent post by Ramona Depares that dealt with the proposed Paceville revamp (Paceville revamp my foot). When I decided to move out of my parents’ house in Paceville, before I came to Luxembourg, some weird homing device in my brain led me to choose an apartment in Paceville. Crazy right? It had nothing to do with being close to the mater and pater – they’d be shifting base to Gozo anyway upon retirement. It’s just that Paceville has always felt like an alien part of Malta – a metropolitan suburb if you will that manages to be a cut off from the reality of the rest of the island thanks to its peculiarities.

Sure, Paceville had the traffic jams and the noise but its also the place where you can pop out to have a snack at 3am and observe the drunk ramblings of the latest visitor it has received with arms wide open. Paceville has a life of its own that no other place in Malta can emulate. It is a life that grew in a test tube in spite of and not thanks to any controlled civic plans. For a long time in the nineties “Paceville” was a synonym of the doorstep to hell … mentioned in the same breath as Satanic Masses, Drunken Hedonism and other pleasures of the flesh while enjoying star status on the earliest episodes of Xarabank. The more it grew the less it could be controlled and no attempt at competition (like that sore excuse of a rival called Bugibba) could even dream of stealing its show.

The suburb that never sleeps is now subject of a proposed revamp. Revamps under the nationalist government have come to mean an investment in street furniture, a couple of coats of paint and every now and then a pedestrian zone replete with kitschy statues. Tenders galore in fact. Which is the last thing that Paceville needs. Here is the comment I left on Ramona’s blog for it says the rest of what I have to say. (Featured video: Mike Spiteri – Paceville – Malta Song for Europe 1992).

We've got Beach Bums too in P'ville

Great post Ramona, and this coming from a Pacevillian through and through. I am not for an authoritarian, ultra-regulated approach because entertainment is by its very nature anti-regulation. You cannot create entertainment through regulation.

Having said that I see two early solutions to the problems of Paceville. First the basic interventions that you highlighted and that are absent. Upper St George’s Road (Spinola is not Paceville – yes those 500m make a difference) has long begged for a multi-purpose intervention centre – police, first aid and information office. Yes. Information office. A center of fun bang in the middle of Paceville – tickets to nightclubs, information about special offers and bands/djs performing in the area , where to watch your football etc. You know keep an eye on what’s happening by being part of it.

Then get the taxis/transport people to pull their act together and finally the most difficult part – incentivise Paceville business to get out of its stupid and crass mentality of the mediocre race to the bottom. Entertainment as I said earlier does not come out of regulation. It does not obey rules. It plants itself in fertile and welcoming soil. Strictly speaking Paceville has never been anything superlative (although we have all had our great nights out there) but it has to fight hard against the possibility of becoming once again a synonym for the doorstep to hell as it was in the early nineties.

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Travel

Not Sri Lanka

This Christmas & New Year, the wife and I were supposed to be going on a dream honeymoon to Sri Lanka and the Maldives. Were supposed. Yes that’s it. It’s not happening – at least we are not going there. I cannot really complain because we are actually off to tour the West Coast (and I plan to drive A1A Beachfront Avenue with Vanilla Ice on the stereo – how’s that for the apex of corny retro) and then drive through the desert to Vegas before hitting the beaches in Antigua. That’s what I call a cool backup plan.

If my alter ego, Gakbu Sfigho, were still active he would have chronicled how we went through a hundred different jabs (ok 2 – but one of them left me doing my own version of the Runs for a weeekend) as well as how we incurred hundreds of euros in medical expenses BEFORE we even got on the plane. Incidentally if anyone needs around 200€ worth of malaria pills (Malarone) I’m your man. I am also in possession of a one month tourist VISA to Sri Lanka that was obtained with the extra expense of DHL transmission of documents and a serendipital donation to the Maltese Association in Brussels (Fausto will correct the nomenclature).

So yes. This is a little explanation to J’accuse readers that should tell you why you will not be reading missives from the land of tea plantations and spicy food. Instead I might write you a letter from Alcatraz. One things fo shoo…. we ain’t going to Sri Lanka.

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Arts

Gallery Pi goes Yerbury

Bertu of Bertoons for J’accuse has sent in a promo blurb for this exhibition that is runnning at Rupert Cefai’s Gallery Pi between the 14th and 24th October. J’accuse dutifully passes on the information to its readers – do go check out Rupert’s little corner of Valletta in Archbishop Street.

“Naked ruins exclusive at Gallery Pi”

Like Madonna, the Yerbury duo constantly reinvent themselves with fresh  approaches to their art – and challenging diversions within the social portraiture genus.

As the 4th generation of this celebrated Scottish photographic dynasty, Trevor spent many years concentrating on fashion and private nude commissions. He returned to social and wedding photography in the mid 90s and immediately created a unique style of photography, which not only earned him the title of “Kodak UK Wedding Photographer of the Year” in 1997 & 1999, but his influential style helped change the course of wedding photography into the relaxed, informal style we have today.

No stranger to the media, Trevor has been interviewed about his individual style of photography on national television by Noel Edmonds for the BBC, Carol Smillie for ITV and Paul Ross for SKY. He is a regular contributor to BBC radio arts programmes.

Trevor was featured on the BBC Arts documentary “The Bigger Picture” where he was filmed making a portrait of Billy Connolly. The resulting image was used as the opening scene for each episode and has since become an iconic image.

Their work in photographing the female nude has been recognised internationally, resulting in overseas exhibitions and seminar tours. In 2003,the Yerburys’ talent was commissioned to supply the entire artwork for the new Glasshouse Hotel in Edinburgh – a brave concept, but one that resulted in the hotel recently being voted Sexiest Hotel in Scotland.

The Yerburys have held several exhibition of their work in galleries around the UK including the Association of Photographers Gallery in London and the Demarco Gallery in Edinburgh. Their work has also been exhibited in America, France and Spain. Their work has been featured in many books and photographic magazines on the Nude Trevor holds a total of 14 Kodak European Gold Awards. His other awards include SWPP UK Glamour Photographer 2006 and UK Fashion Photographer 2006.

Four years ago Trevor Yerbury was voted one of the world’s top ten photographers by a leading Spanish magazine…despite having once declared: “I won’t shoot the wedding if the bride isn’t beautiful”.

Faye joined Trevor full time in 1996 and has earned an enviable reputation for her work. On 3 occasions she has won the title of “Kodak UK Child Photographer of the Year”. She also holds a Kodak Gold Award and SWPP UK Architectural Photographer 2006.

The Yerburys now devote much of their time to their seminar and workshop programme, convinced that education is essential for today’s professional photographer. They are committed to providing a platform and an environment in which all levels of photographers can come together and develop their own individual creative talents.

Trevor and Faye have judged both nationally and internationally. Trevor has just finished judging the annual European Professional Photographer of the Year Awards 2011.

The exhibition will run exclusively at Gallery Pi Archbishop Str., Valletta, from the 14th to the 24th October 2011, The Gallery will be open from Tuesday to Friday from 10am to 2pm and Saturdays from 9:30 to 12:30 or by appointment. For more information please visit www.gallerypi.com

 

Categories
Travel

Cambridge – a slideshow

J’accuse lends itself to some experimentation for the greater glory of révù. A slide show using flickr that demonstrates both the beauty of hipstamatic shots and the maravilliouos setting of Cambridge (and a bit of toilets (don’t ask), London and food).

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Travel

Feel Good Inc.

Part 1 – food

A holiday planned around a wedding in Cambridge was a great opportunity to really relax and switch off. While I could not really resist the temptation to hook onto WiFi and catch up on the news outside, I found the pull of the great town (its history, its food and its shops) to be  a soothing palliative to the stress of recent months. Yep, J’accuse went on a sort of mental shut down while walking from college to college in the old University town.

Holiday also meant that the Dukan Diet got a deserved break that kicked off with pork scratching entrées at The Chophouse outside King’s College. They’re fabulous, especially dipped in an apple cider purée and washed down well with a Pinot Gris (we had to add a touch of Greater Luxembourg to the first meal). If you do get down to the Chophouse there is one desert that cannot be missed – the (gluten free) fruit crumble. Divinity on a plate.

I still get impressed at the sanitised manner in which food – packed food and food that screams “I’m both retro and healthy” – is approached in the UK. Places like PRET, EAT and the like line up salad after salad and take-away wraps confounding both stomach and mind as to the choice for the quick solution to accompany your adjective ridden coffee.

Even the Crowne Plaza breakfast coffee is “proudly brewed by Starbucks” which means that your adventure to get the right cappuccino or espresso has to start from outside the haven of the otherwise magnificent breakfast table at the hotel. No worries – Cambridge does not even need to offer you a faux italian establishment for a good brew of the grain (vide Don Pasquale’s in the market square). Just pop over to Fitzbillie’s where your excellent espresso/capuccino/macchiato can be downed with a bite of the Chelsea buns that form the foundations of Fitzbillie’s growing reputation.

For good local food there are two solutions: a pub lunch is always a pleasant option – try the Anchor for example where you can sit back and enjoy the punters if like us you’ve found some clement weather. If you want to have the wankellectual solution then try the Eagle Pub (round the corner from the Chophouse) where Watson and Crick allegedly cracked the DNA idea. Better still nothing beats the marketplace for good food. I am told on a very good authority that the mouthwatering whiff of Ostrich Burgers that pervade the senses upon reaching market square do not lie. The burgers are phantasmagorically scrumptious.

If standing up to chew on a burger is not your style then do not miss out on Bill’s Cafe restaurant and Store. Tasty food homely decor and great service combine to give you an unforgettable dining experience (and moment of relaxation) amidst colourful surroundings. The hummous and halloumi sandwich is particularly exquisite – and you can walk out with a bill’s recipe book as well as some of their wonderful produce.

You can also walk out with a recipe book if you visit Jamie’s Italian. The design and decor is magnificent. The menu is brazenly simple and to the point. The food. Well. Nothing great there to be honest. Our waitress turned out to have worked at Sliema Pitch restaurant for two years before moving to Jamie’s in Cambridge. If I had to be perfectly honest the Angus Steak served at Sliema pitch is a hundred times better than the fare we got on the plate amidst the usual fuss of quaint presentations and “genuine” Italian at Jamie’s.

Cambrigde. Much more than a University town.