The Power of Art
by Simon Schama / http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/powerofart/intro.shtml
The power of the greatest art is the power to shake us into
revelation and rip us from our default mode of seeing. After an encounter with
that force, we don't look at a face, a colour, a sky, a body, in quite the same
way again. We get fitted with new sight: in-sight. Visions of beauty or a rush
of intense pleasure are part of that process, but so too may be shock, pain,
desire, pity, even revulsion. That kind of art seems to have rewired our
senses. We apprehend the world differently.
Art that aims that high – whether by the hand of Caravaggio,
Van Gogh or Picasso – was not made without trouble and strife. Of course there
has been plenty of great art created in serenity, but the popular idea that
some masterpieces were made under acute stress with the artist struggling for
the integrity of the conception and its realisation is not a "romantic myth"
at all. A glance at how some of the most transforming works got made by human
hands is an encounter with "moments of commotion".
It's those hot spots in which great risks were taken that
The Power of Art brings you. Instead of trying to reproduce the un-reproducible
feeling you have when you are face to face with those works in the hush of the
gallery or a church, the series (and the book) drops you instead into those
difficult places and unforgiving dramas when the artists managed, against the
odds, to astound. "Every artist thinks he's Rembrandt", Picasso once
joked, but there would come a time when he thought so himself!
All the artists in our series – and some of the contemporary
artists on our website who have joined in its spirit to reflect on them – have
felt part of this craft of exhilarating trouble. I hope, when you watch the
programmes, you too get to feel the heat.
Simon Schama is a brilliant historian who understands the
problem of narrative. Photograph: BBC/Rolf Marriott/BBC
|
Improve history in schools? Put Simon Schama in every
classroom
David Cameron wants
Simon Schama to reshape the history curriculum. Using his storytelling talents
would be a good start
Richard Grayson
theguardian.com, Wednesday 6 October 2010 / http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2010/oct/06/simon-schama-history-schools-david-cameron
Simon Schama is one of the UK's most brilliant historians
and particularly excels at telling stories. His BBC series A History of Britain
is arguably the most provocative and engaging televisual narrative of our
island story ever produced. So it is no surprise that the government wants
Schama to play a role in reshaping the school history curriculum. David
Cameron's recent gaffe about Britain being the junior partner to the US in 1940
suggests that narrative remedial work would be useful to many, and fast. Yet
narrative has its own problems and the announcement also makes me wonder if the
government really understands what is going on in state schools today when it
comes to history teaching.
One of the key strengths of Schama's work points to one of
the problems of "narrative". Schama's take on history is a personal
take. A History of Britain was precisely that: 'A' not 'The' history. I have no
doubt that Schama recognises the partiality of his approach. It is the same for
any historian. We do not state at the start of each book, "this is only my
view" but we all know it, despite the accusations that postmodernist
theorists have tried to pin on the profession.
How we deal with that is to recognise that there are many
approaches to history, offer those, and recognise that they change. Schools now
teach about Mary Seacole's role as a nurse in the Crimean war, where we only
used to hear about Florence Nightingale. It took decades of work to give black
history its proper place in our society, work which was once dismissed by the
right as trendy .
Even traditional narrative histories see the revisionist
effects of new research, challenging narratives that once had almost sacred
status. As part of military history, the study of Ireland and the first world
war is about as traditional as one can get. But the recent upsurge of interest
in the role of Irish nationalists in the British army in the first world war
has radically revised a dominant narrative that focused on unionist sacrifice
on the Somme in 1916. Over the past two decades many historians have shown that
nationalists were also there. Narratives change and so they should, which means
we should all be taught to be sceptical of them.
Cameron said in the interview with Schama in the FT, which
appears to have prompted this initiative: "I'm all for teaching, 'What
does it feel like to be a Roman centurion?', but the problem is if you can't
place it [in context]." This is nonsense. If teachers are doing what they
are supposed to do, then the school curriculum is already so structured as to
ensure that feelings (and "facts") are put in contexts both of the
period and historical chronology. That applies from the very first history
taught in schools, although there tends to be more chronology in later years if
only because children need to have studied different periods before they can
put them in order.
That will no doubt lead some to say that if we are to do
narrative properly, then we should start at the beginning and finish at the
end. But that assumes that the oldest history is the easiest, which is rarely
true, especially for small children. Moreover, in any period, there will be
some subjects suitable for the youngest children, while others needs to be
tackled later – which is how my son, only in Year 4, is going to have a second
bite at the Tudors later this year.
The potential problem with this is that some subjects are
covered more frequently than others. The Tudors will often be done several
times. As for non-British history, there are regularly complaints about the
persistent focus on Nazi Germany at all levels of study. As a consequence, much
of the 18th century gets overlooked, and there tends to be a highly selective
approach to medieval history. I have seen the effects of that in my
degree-level students at the five universities I have taught at. But this is
partly a reflection of what has been judged to be engaging – the narratives of
the Reformation or the English civil war are inherently more exciting for
schoolchildren than studying the 1700s. Moreover, most would accept that they
are historically more significant. If we make a choice about what to study in
British history, then we have to prioritise, and when one considers that the
civil war might be taught in only a few weeks, a lot is already being squeezed
in.
If the government wants to make the most of Schama's
expertise then I would advise that there are two options. One is to make
history compulsory until children leave school, and ask him to fill up a much
bigger curriculum. But they won't do that, and there are very good arguments
against it. The second would be to ensure that every school has very easy
access to Schama's excellent storytelling. Many schools will already have
copies of his A History of Britain. But at an hour long, episodes are hard to
use in lessons. So why not work with Schama and the BBC to provide bite-size
chunks? Teachers could then use these as and when they see fit to bring the
drama of history to the classroom as only Schama can. That would mean
effectively putting him in the classroom. With such an injection of Schama's
talents, the curriculum would be found to be fit for purpose already.
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