Graham Hooper made a long-awaited trip to Compton Verney in Warwickshire to discover a venue full of promise and perfect for school visits.
Compton Verney is a good two-hour drive from home, and today in the lashing rain I find myself hoping that it’s going to be worth it. It’s a venue that I’ve been meaning to visit for years probably but there’s never quite been enough of a pull to get me there. I’m so glad I’ve made the effort today though, it’s wonderful and I already know I’ll return.
What’s made the difference is the numerous exciting exhibitions and displays on offer this Summer. I’m lucky to grab them before they end. Most of the venues I looked into reviewing for this issue of IP had shows that were ending very soon into the autumn term, but given the lead times for planning school visits’ anyway I took the risk. Besides even though some of the content may have closed by the time you come to read this there’ll still be lots to see and do on a school visit.
The two main events that attracted my attention at the stately home-cum-arts venue were “David Batchelor: Colour is…” and “Luke Jerram: Crossing” but there’s also a photographic exhibition of Magnum portraits of artists in their studios (“Magnum Photos: Where Ideas are Born”) and “The British Folk Art Collection” to name just two of the extras.
Before we start, I’ll mention that entry for under 18’s is FREE. Incredible. When it seems as though everything else in the world is more expensive every month, here you can spend the day looking at beautiful and fascinating things for no cost whatsoever. So, I arrive and the rain has finally stopped. Perfect boating weather I decide which is timely as I’m just 10 minutes early for my pre-booked rowing experience on the lake with exquisite views across the estate. I am briefed by stewards about the risk assessments in place and introduced to the two lifeguards, then I choose my story and board.
This experience is the work of Luke Jerram who has arranged for six or so adorably traditional rowing boats to be painted in bright colours, and for 10 sailing-themed tales to be ready to play via a Bluetooth speaker once you set sail. I choose one of two that seem the most upbeat (there is a range from re-tracing Shackleton’s failed rescue mission to heart-breaking accounts of refuges crossing the channel). I will have twenty minutes of narration about the discovery of Polynesian sweet potatoes! I am pushed out into the lake and instructed to avoid the wildlife and weeds, and not pass the buoys that demarcate the boundaries. The voice of Professor Steven Hooper is seductive and I am quickly drawn deeply into the historic details of these epic 3000-mile journeys around Tahiti in canoes held together by rope made of coconut husk. I’m captivated and often have to bring myself back to reality in order to concentrate on rowing, which is more exhausting and challenging than I’d thought it would be. As I was told, the sounds of the voice on the speaker combine with the noises of lake and the oars sploshing in and out of the water gently. But it’s all over too soon. I want to listen to the story all over again and want to listen to all the other stories too. But my time is up. I have to disembark so a young family can take over the helm. It’s a shame to think this sound installation won’t be a permanent feature as it’s so moving and informative.
It’s started to rain again so I decide a quick walk into the main house is best. The frontage is an impressive sight with a gravelled courtyard complete with columns and surrounding arrangement of magnificent windows. In the foyer I can rest in a leather sofa and enjoy looking at the first piece of David Batchelor’s sculptures. A simple enough idea. An up-cycled lampshade or dare-I-say chandelier made of plastic bottles (the kind that would once have been filled with fabric conditioner or bleach) all with that softened hue of green, orange, red and blue. It’s fun and charming, but quickly becomes more than just an amusing feature. Reflecting on the origins of the objects used and the way it’s been assembled puts me in mind of ocean pollution, and all the (literal) associations around the idea of illumination. It’s a strange and functional object, one you’d almost envisage for sale in your local IKEA.
Much of Batchelor’s work involves found objects; colourful ones, re-purposed to make a point or demonstrate an idea, or simply to delight the eyes. One of the favourite groups of work are his ‘Concretos’ (dating back to the 1980’s) where familiar but unusual items (children’s mathematical set squares, for instance) have been cast into a block of concrete. The grey, heavy and angular bases juxtapose well with the translucent shapes that sit on top. There are lots of them, using a vast array of varied objects. A few clearly had made use of manufacturing off cuts to create layered abstract designs, again more than just fun they are a discussion on mass-production processes, materials and waste. Sets of stacked paint pot lids, displayed to reveal their underside, with solidified drips of colour on their irregular discs of metal, don’t take long to be recognised. Their colour palettes seem chosen not random. I spent some time enjoying the animated selection of his “Found Monochromes” (essentially photographs of white rectangles recorded whilst out and about each day). I had seen them years ago. On their own they might be underwhelming, but en-masse these blank spaces, devoid of information, stripped of their original content (a hoarding or poster) they become a genuinely bizarre abstract family, cited in diverse contexts, but all sharing the same shape if not size or aspect ratio.
Upstairs in the eighteenth-century house I come to the rooms that are currently showing an engrossing set of images, often by famous photographers from the world-renown co-operative that is Magnum (Herbert list, Werner Biscof … the list is long) of equally famous artists in their creative spaces in the act of creation. We see Andy Warhol mid-screen print, Picasso brush in hand and Brancusi holding a chisel. We can literally encounter Le Corbusier, the infamous modernist architect, in mid-flow, thinking and designing, his desk covered with papers, coffee cups and his iconic spectacles. These are revelatory images. Superb as images in their own right, but even more appealing because of what they show and how. Some of the pictures have been blown up as murals, filling an entire room wall, so they are life-size. The effect is one of transporting us, through time and space, into these private realms. We become first-hand witnesses, and it’s almost overwhelming.
The show of prints would be enough on their own any other day, but there is more here. I make my way to what would have been the attic spaces, for what might have been the highlight of my day, because of the surprise I felt in discovering the National Folk Art collection. Room after room of all manner of historic artefacts, from weathervanes to shopfront signs. One hundred years ago an enormous metal teapot would have signalled to passers-by (who perhaps couldn’t read) that inside the building on which it was attached and hung they could have a cup of tea and rest their weary legs. The enamelled surfaces and elaborate painted calligraphy is endearing. There are, similarly, over-sized keys, hats and shoes. Silhouetted weathervanes depicting figures or animals have been elegantly set on window sills so to see them is to view them set against the expansive views outside of the Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown-designed landscaped vistas, large oaks and the ornamental lake mentioned earlier. There was also a large selection of ‘naïve’ paintings showing everyday scenes of domestic or rural life (hunting, sailing and the like) that were no less charming. Then there were the groups of old handmade wooden chairs, stamps, mugs. I could have stayed for hours.
Compton Verney has more than enough to entertain and enlighten a family or class of school children, for a whole day. The café (always important, sold great coffee and cakes) the staff were friendly and instructive, the spaces are refined and grand. Had the weather been better on the day I visited I’d have liked to have spent more time outside perhaps picnicking on the lawns, watching the swans, under the shade of a giant yew tree. I only just had time to rush through the show of pictures from the National Portrait Gallery, which was more than shameful on my part, but I had to prioritise. As I left, I did take a sneek-peek into the Adam Hall, which would have been the reception area on entering the building in years gone by, with ornate floor tiling and carved ceilings it was quite something to behold.
Compton Verney is a hidden gem and deserves to be better known. With a diverse range of high-quality education programmes also available, go visit, take others!