McFilter: Photos

This is just a placeholder for the full photo write-up, which will be along in a bit. It was a fantastic weekend.

Where to begin? It was such an excellent and jam-packed three-day weekend that it's taken me all week to get the photos up and write up the event. The photos are all available over here.

Like the groom, and quite a few of the other wedding guests, I stayed at the hotel hosting the reception on both Friday and Saturday nights. This meant that my ushering duties could start early with me helping to ferry items to be set-up at the reception and pick up the suits for the groom and his attendants. There was a minor panic when I didn't find a shirt with my suit, but one of my fellow ushers, Johnnie, had bought a rather fine new shirt for the groom so we had one spare. Of course, when I was hanging my suit up at the end of the Saturday what did I find hiding in the bottom of the suit carrier but a brand new shirt still in its packaging...

The Saturday morning dawned clear and dry, if a little gusty. At least the continual rain of the previous night had abated. After a hearty breakfast (for those of us not nervous of giving speeches later ;-) the best man's and my cars were both bedecked with ribbon and we headed over to the church.

Dan, the third usher, had done an excellent job of finding out what we had to do at the rehearsal so when we arrived at the church we had our strategy set: who would affix buttonholes, who would hand out the orders of service and who would show guests to their seats. Of course, as soon as the guests started arriving all our plans went to pot, but we soon recovered our composure and got everyone seated before the bride arrived.

It's a cliché I know, but Sam and her bridesmaids looked stunning. The service went without a hitch (well, apart from the obvious one... pun not intended, but I'll leave it in); the readings were lovely and during the signing of the register we were treated to a wonderful violin and piano duet. I was curious to see how Frankie Goes To Hollywood's "The Power of Love" would sound with just the two instruments; and the answer is it sounds rather good.

During the Address, the reverend discussed St. Paul's letters to the Corinthians. Luckily I managed to keep a straight face, as when he started all I could think of was Eddie Izzard's sketch on the same topic... "Don't do bad things, only do good things. Always treat your neighbour like someone who lives near to you. Never put a sock in a toaster..."

After a few photographs in the church grounds, and once we'd seen everyone safely on their way to the reception, we *ahem* chased the bridal convoy to the hotel. It's quite hard to sneak past in a bright yellow Integrale covered in ribbon, so we gave the bride and groom a wave as we overtook to ensure we were ready for their arrival.

Even though there was a freely available chocolate fountain at the reception, the guests were all well behaved and we didn't need our (impeccably colour-coordinated of course) riot gear, which freed us up to assist with the various groups together for the remaining photographs. And gave me opportunity to demonstrate how useless I am at shouting.

From then on the ushering role was greatly, although not entirely, reduced. We got to enjoy the meal and the speeches - the best man had enlarged a number of photos to suitably embarrass Ian. I forgot to take a picture of the one featuring me on my bike but the one of Ian streaking across the Coliseum is in the set.

As is to be expected, the celebrations continued well into the night. Much drinking, conversing and dancing was had by all; the bride's father's tireless dancing, even to the hip-hop tracks; Paul's (the best man) flamboyant and energetic style; and his girlfriend Natasha's Beyonce-style rump-shaking all deserving of a mention. I'd also taken a few of my finest Cohiba cigars so we ushers could celebrate the marriage properly.

Sunday morning saw us cram more and more of the dining furniture together in one corner of the restaurant with the ebb and flow of guests arriving for breakfast. We used the remainder of the buttonholes and ribbon to decorate Ian's car after he foolishly entrusted us with the keys so we could help with the luggage, and with our final act of ushering we escorted the honeymooners to a brief stop at Sam's parents' place.

There we went our separate ways, Ian and Sam heading west whilst I turned south giving Johnnie and his fiance a lift back to Cambridge. And to round the weekend off beautifully, we were treated to a musical send-off of "So long, farewell" (from the Sound of Music, as if you needed telling).

This is the second half of the write-up of my recent trip to Liverpool; the first half being my tour of the Biennial. In addition to seeing some of the art, I wanted to just catch up with the city - see what has happened to some of the parts I've not visited in a few years, and explore some areas new to me.

And as I had my camera with me, there were plenty of photos taken of the varied types of architecture...

Grand Buildings

Liverpool has a number of rather grand public buildings. Keeping watch over the city are the two cathedrals: the Roman Catholic Metropolitan, affectionally known as Paddy's Wigwam; and the Anglican, the largest Anglican cathedral in Britain and Europe. The Anglican celebrates the centenary of the laying of its foundation stone this year, although rather amazingly the Metropolitan was finished first - in 1967, eleven years before the Anglican was fully complete.

There are more grand buildings to be found on William Brown Street - The Walker (below right), the Liverpool Museum (below left), and St. Georges Hall. I didn't get any photos of St. Georges Hall, as it's currently under wraps being restored.

Still Plenty Of Old Life

Of course the best known building in Liverpool is the Liver Building, but if you walk away from the river, up Water Street and into the central business district, you'll find a collection of other fine office blocks also from the first half of the twentieth century.

At the bottom of Water Street are the Tower Buildings, the offices where my grandfather spent most of his working life, now being converted into luxury apartments. Further up on the same side is the Martins Bank Building, with even closer family ties - my Mum worked here, in the architecture department, until I was born. By then, Martins Bank had merged with Barclays and the building, with its grand banking hall, is still used as a branch today.

That's more than can be said for rival NatWest building almost opposite. It was the doors to this building that really caught my eye, the photo doesn't convey the scale of the doors or of the panthers staring out at you. The doorway must be at least twelve feet high, which means that even someone over six-foot tall only comes eye-to-eye with the big cats. The whole building is currently available to let; I think it'll be a few years before MCQN needs so much space (or is able to pay the £150k/year rent) but wouldn't it be cool to go through such a doorway each day into the office?

Signs Of New Life

Back down at the waterfront, the regeneration of the docklands continues apace. I doubt that much of what's finished will end up Grade II listed in a hundred years, but it's putting the dockland back to use, and some of the planned towers look suitably impressive.

The Royal Quay apartments look nearly abandoned on the car park for the Albert Dock, and seem almost a pastiche of their 19th century warehouse neighbours. I can't quite put my finger on why, but they seem rather bland - perhaps it's the colour of the walls, or the lack of symmetry.

Developments on the other side of the Pier Head are more promising. There's already the new Radisson Hotel and Beetham Tower, and a number of office blocks on Princes Dock. They could all quite happily be dumped into any number of business parks anywhere in the country without anyone noticing; so they aren't too exciting, but that buildings which wouldn't be out of place on the M4-corridor are being built is a promising sign for the confidence of the city. There's a noticeable contrast between the two photographs below, both taken from the same spot, just at 180° intervals - the dilapidated moorings on the river vs. the cranes and new offices around the dock.

The cranes are constructing (I think) a new multi-storey car park; just off to the left of the picture, work has commenced on the new Conran-designed City Lofts development; and a raft of other projects are going through planning. There's a good round-up of all the developments over at skyscrapercity.com.

So there's a level of activity and a number of cranes in and around the docks which hasn't been seen for years; but rather than loading and unloading cargoes, they're creating the next wave of business for the 'Pool.

I did make it up to the North-West for the Halloween weekend, and so spent a fantastic day wandering round Liverpool and taking in some of the sights of the Biennial. I'll cover the general wandering in a separate post, but want to share some of the experience of the Biennial here.

My introduction to the artworks was one of the more popular images of the Biennial - Peter Johansson's Musique Royale, or the little red house on the Pier Head.

It does rather capture your attention as it comes into sight, and things just become ever more surreal as you enter its world; the strains of Abba increasing in volume as you get ever closer, and then your entire field of vision filling with glossy red as you step through the doorway. Even the outside world seems a little different when glimpsed through the red-framed windows.

Also inside the little red house was a stock of Biennial guidebooks, which presumably violated the everything-is-red ethos a little, what with them being orange. I could forgive the transgression though, as it meant I didn't have to try to remember all the information I'd read on the website the day before.

The next stop on my Biennial tour was The Walker. Having never visited before, I had a wander round the permanent exhibits first. There I found an assortment of interesting pieces, but as usual I forgot the artists' names within minutes of seeing them. Adrian Henri is the only name I can remember, and that's just because I'd heard of him before; it was good to finally see some of his work.

I have much the same level of recollection of the Stuckists Punk Victorian exhibition. Even looking through the website since has failed to bring any names to mind, but none of the Stuckist works really resonated with me.

The John Moores 23 collection was much more engaging, and the highlight of my Biennial experience. As luck would have it, all the works are included on the exhibition website, so I can share my favourites with you. In alphabetic by artist order...

• Clout by Andrew Bracey. An exhibiton in itself - hundreds of tiny paintings each done on the head of a nail. The idea of painting a new nail each day just amuses me.
• Cortina by Jason Brooks. I love how, upon closer inspection, this painting subverts the initial impression of a woman crouching next to a tree. Is she picking up one of the windfall apples? No, she's squatting down having a piss.
• Veil 14 by Paul Winstanley. The huge window, covered with big net curtains reminds me of hotel stays in the States, yet the reflections of light on the floor and the trees in the background give it a more tranquil edge.
• The hearing dogs' centre by Toby Ziegler. Interesting geometric composition, that somehow both transcends and evokes a feeling of graphic design.

En route to the Anglican Cathedral, I came across this installation on Hope Street. I'm sure I'd read about it online before my visit, but there's no mention of it in my Biennial guide and I can't find the online article anywhere; I can't even tell you its name. I think the trunks and cases hark back to when Liverpool was the starting point for many a new life - the last contact with the old world and the beginning of the adventure emigrating to the new world.

Belonging And Beyond at the Anglican Cathederal is a curious piece. Made up of coats donated by the peoples of Liverpool and its twinned city, Cologne, accompanied by audio snippets of conversations with residents of both cities. To be honest, it lost out to its setting; the enormity and grandeur of the cathedral captured most of my attention.

From there it was a short wander down Upper Parliament Street to the Independent District. The little orange guidebook says "A map in the independent district provides specific locations for all exhibitions within the district." The only map I could find was just a general map of the whole Biennial, which showed I was in roughly the right place, but didn't tell me what I could find where.

The solid iron doors spread across the base of this semi-derelict warehouse were all topped with little orange boxes, another hint of Biennial activity; however there was no information about what was behind the doors, and the doors themselves didn't seem too inviting. Maybe they were just advertising the availability of WiFi Internet access? A neat touch, but perhaps the effort would've been better spent informing visitors what they could visit...

I was about to abandon my search when I heard a lot of clattering from down the street. Closer investigation showed that it was coming from the washing-machine drums that had been converted into windmills and installed atop Jump Ship Rat. At least I'd found one of the Independent District venues!

In looking up at the windmills, I also noticed the rather thought-provoking sign - worship for SALE faith for HIRE don't forget you still BELIEVE in lots of things.

Inside were a number of exhibits by Columbian artists. There's no information on the Jump Ship Rat website, and I forgot to make any notes when I was there (actually, I was just assuming I'd be able to find things afterwards on the web). The ground floor housed a bizarre car built out of all sorts of junk: old toasters, traffic lights... I could easily believe it was the lovechild of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and the Back To The Future De Lorean! A more political piece discussed the amount of oil in Columbia, if I remember correctly, highlighting the dissonance between the greater amount of oil in Columbia vs. Iraq and the US's greater interest and intervention in Iraq. In another room downstairs some sort of video presentation was playing, but I didn't want to interrupt its audience and so moved upstairs.

There I found the work pictured to the right: 3 million tears I think was the title, dealing with the injustices of a Coca-Cola bottling plant; and a series of photos documenting the myriad of street carts which are a regular sight on Columbian city streets. All home-built, and customised to their wares - bedecked with foodstuffs or even approaching an entire hardware store, perched atop a couple of bike wheels.

By now it was getting rather late in the day. I had planned to round things off with the Internation programme at the Tate Liverpool but there wasn't enough time. So my Biennial tour finished rather as it had started: red and on the waterfront. Only this time it was Satch Hoyt's The Puzzle, floating in the Albert Dock.

All the images in this post are collected together here (still as links to bigger versions).

Update: Added link to the other post for the weekend