The upside of paternalism, if you like. They couldn't make Civilisation (1969) today.
I know, I know. They tried. 'Civilisations' (cos there's been more than one, you know). Rightly chewed-up, even by the BBC's own arts critic, as a project without any sense of vision or purpose, the worthless and unnecessary sequel is destined for the scrapheap. The original, commissioned by that hero of BBC TV, Sir David Attenborough, is an immortal product of the Beeb at her most ambitious. The most extraordinary buildings and works of engineering, the most beautiful interiors and works of decorative art, the greatest achievements in music and sculpture, painting, bronze casting, and more besides; and all to show off the new medium of colour television.
And if Attenborough is a hero then so is the series writer-presenter, Kenneth Clark. The director of the National Gallery, an art historian of immense experience and erudition, and actually one of the most experienced culture broadcasters on the still developing medium of televisual broadcasting. Civilisation is a 13-part lecture series, of a kind, in which Clark endeavours to answer one question: what is civilisation? He prefers to answer it through the medium of art, his specialty, because it is less doubtful than the words of a smarmy politician or a propagandist historian. His journey takes him around Europe and across the Atlantic to the USA. He, and the recording team, are showing things to the viewer that they might never have known existed, much less had the chance to see in person.
Clark was an immense figure in the art world. He speaks with a confidence born of deep consideration of art and literature, over decades of study and writing. Write so you learn to think, talk so you learn to speak. Those are the words of Prof. Jordan Peterson. Alternatively, immerse yourself in the eloquence of great spirits such as Clark (and Peterson, naturally). For Clark's presentation is remarkable for its eloquence, as well as one or two unusual pronunciations (ca-PIT-alism, not CAP-italism; i-ron, not i-yun, as we tend to say 'iron' today). He also provides a model of how to be on camera without stealing focus from the art and architecture which is intended to be the central attraction.
The decades have passed and there have been many series on TV about art and history from different periods. None can match, few have ever attempted, the grand sweep of Clark's vision (vision is the apt word), nor his eloquent use of language, engagement without ego, or at times contained emotion. Most tv historians subsequent to Clark merely allow the producers to stroke their egos, so they toss their hair, make worthless shots looking out at vistas or sunsets, and talk as simplistically as possible so as not to threaten the dull minds with knowledge or inspiration. Or we get vapid travelogues, replete with segments on local cuisine and clowning. Clark's series is always replete with something others rarely communicate: passion. A passionate engagement with things he considered holy.
I watch whole episodes, or just bits of them, again and again, and over the decades I've come to love all the episodes, rather than having favourites. The more depressed and disgusted I become, soaking my attention in the tabloid vulgarity and sheer stupidity that teems in Socialmedia Land, the more urgently I need Civilisation, the series and what it stands for.
You're not educated if you have not seen this TV series.
I know, I know. They tried. 'Civilisations' (cos there's been more than one, you know). Rightly chewed-up, even by the BBC's own arts critic, as a project without any sense of vision or purpose, the worthless and unnecessary sequel is destined for the scrapheap. The original, commissioned by that hero of BBC TV, Sir David Attenborough, is an immortal product of the Beeb at her most ambitious. The most extraordinary buildings and works of engineering, the most beautiful interiors and works of decorative art, the greatest achievements in music and sculpture, painting, bronze casting, and more besides; and all to show off the new medium of colour television.
And if Attenborough is a hero then so is the series writer-presenter, Kenneth Clark. The director of the National Gallery, an art historian of immense experience and erudition, and actually one of the most experienced culture broadcasters on the still developing medium of televisual broadcasting. Civilisation is a 13-part lecture series, of a kind, in which Clark endeavours to answer one question: what is civilisation? He prefers to answer it through the medium of art, his specialty, because it is less doubtful than the words of a smarmy politician or a propagandist historian. His journey takes him around Europe and across the Atlantic to the USA. He, and the recording team, are showing things to the viewer that they might never have known existed, much less had the chance to see in person.
Clark was an immense figure in the art world. He speaks with a confidence born of deep consideration of art and literature, over decades of study and writing. Write so you learn to think, talk so you learn to speak. Those are the words of Prof. Jordan Peterson. Alternatively, immerse yourself in the eloquence of great spirits such as Clark (and Peterson, naturally). For Clark's presentation is remarkable for its eloquence, as well as one or two unusual pronunciations (ca-PIT-alism, not CAP-italism; i-ron, not i-yun, as we tend to say 'iron' today). He also provides a model of how to be on camera without stealing focus from the art and architecture which is intended to be the central attraction.
The decades have passed and there have been many series on TV about art and history from different periods. None can match, few have ever attempted, the grand sweep of Clark's vision (vision is the apt word), nor his eloquent use of language, engagement without ego, or at times contained emotion. Most tv historians subsequent to Clark merely allow the producers to stroke their egos, so they toss their hair, make worthless shots looking out at vistas or sunsets, and talk as simplistically as possible so as not to threaten the dull minds with knowledge or inspiration. Or we get vapid travelogues, replete with segments on local cuisine and clowning. Clark's series is always replete with something others rarely communicate: passion. A passionate engagement with things he considered holy.
I watch whole episodes, or just bits of them, again and again, and over the decades I've come to love all the episodes, rather than having favourites. The more depressed and disgusted I become, soaking my attention in the tabloid vulgarity and sheer stupidity that teems in Socialmedia Land, the more urgently I need Civilisation, the series and what it stands for.
You're not educated if you have not seen this TV series.