No, according to Kevin Sharpe (who? Professor of Renaissance Studies at Queen Mary’s, apparently) the albatross around our necks is a result of a champagne drinking, oyster slurping, M&S buying upper-middle class lifestyle we can’t afford but desperately want.

Sorry Sharpe – this isn’t Ab Fab. The majority of us aren’t spending our precious loans on flat-screen TVs, but we don’t want to live in a student shantytown either.

In fact every one of my friends spent their summer working, harder than a Renaissance professor I’d like to add, unpaid in order to bolster their CV. Or like me, found paid work that mainly involved running up to the canteen to buy my fat-arsed, indolent excuse of a boss a packet of Wotsits, all the while plotting which orifice to stick it up.

As much as universities and their think tanks would like to think, we’re not ignorant about money. We know how much things cost and if we’re spending too much. And we work to ensure we have enough to live on.

So what’s worrying about Sharpe’s comments is that they are part of an increasing trend of middle-class bashing. The Confederation of British Industry’s (CBI) higher education task force spent a year analysing campus finances. Its main recommendations are ruthlessly punitive, especially towards middle class families:

• The £3,100-a-year cap on fees should be lifted, claiming that a rise to £5,000-a-year would deliver £1.25 billion more for universities;
• Student loans should be charged at commercial interest rates – significantly increasing the amount graduates will repay;
And the final blow:
• Lowering the threshold for grants. Currently, students from families earning less than £60,000 are eligible for a partial grant, but the CBI advises this should be lowered to £38,000. Only students from families earning less than £17,910 should receive a full grant – instead of the present £25,000.

Over 20 universities, York included, agree with CBI’s findings. The National Union of Students, however, live in the real world. They know that the recommendations are financially crippling and “offensive”, especially when students are attacked for being too middle class by lecturers who are middle class themselves. I for one choked on my duck liver pâté.

In 2007 the National Gallery, along with Hewlett Packard, put reproductions of its paintings out onto the streets of London. It transferred masterpieces from the conventional silent showground to the raucous social space. Was it democratising artistic masterpieces through its wider dissemination, or degrading the ‘aura’ of the art form through mass production?

Art in its Place, presented by Langwith Arts returned to this fundamental debate between curatorship, museology and art. It showcased prints of eight major works from the National Gallery and exhibited neo-classical art with a modernist impression. The question of the curator acting as ‘artist’ was once more brought to the fore. Josefine Baark, one of four York students who organised the exhibition, said she wanted to “question the information given in a museum space,” and to explore “what happens when you are given no information and have to bring your own information to the image.”

One of the exhibits, Van Gogh’s Sunflowers was shown with personal trinkets and a framed image of the artist surrounding the painting that was originally intended to hang in Paul Gauguin’s room. The fact that the creation of this painting was an act of devotion is lost in the clinical arena of the gallery; the way in which a curator can manipulate the meaning of an art piece was therefore a central theme throughout the exhibits.

MIMA curator, Gavin Delahunty in the panel debate on curatorship and Museology emphasised how the reproduction of art, whilst elevating its economic value degrades the value of art as a redundant commodity: “we have to question how value is created, generated, sustained, when the surplus value of a work of art is its economic value.” He continued, “I had a conversation with a contemporary art curator, who bought this amazing painting, but he was quick to make a reproduction of it, it’s that reproduction that hangs on his wall, the actual painting is locked away in a safe. When it gets to this stage I think we’ve collectively lost our way.”

The prominent 1970’s Swiss curator Harald Szeemann, described his role as at once “archivist, conservator, art handler, press officer, accountant and above all, accomplice of the artist.” He made the concept of art exhibition the art form in itself, and constantly grappled with how the museum space could serve the art piece and engage the spectator.

Here, the economic and cultural impact of an artwork collapse into one another to produce what the panel described as “cultural capital” in an age of consumption. By unveiling the philosophical and economic debate that lies behind each exhibited painting, ‘Art in its Place’ intelligently confronted whether we have really lost our way in modern curatorship.

Art In Its Place will be exhibited at the Norman Rea Gallery, Langwith College until July 1st.

When Marcel Duchamp’s ready-made urinal, entitled ‘Fountain’, was exposed to the public, realist artist George Bellows indignantly complained: “you mean to say, if a man sent in horse manure glued to a canvas that we would have to accept it?”

Duchamp’s answer would certainly have been “yes, yes they would.” The public continue to be fascinated and outraged by modernist works of art with often-impenetrable artistic meaning. In defiance of Bellows incredulity, they accept the inanity of modern art and revel in its controversy.

Artists Mark Davey and Candida Powell-Williams from the Slade School of fine art have followed in Dada’s footsteps. Hunter, an open-air environmental sculpture constructed from various materials, does at first appear to be- as one observer put it- “a large ball on stilts.” Its imposing presence, however, has generated divisive opinion on the installations enigmatic meaning and has therefore achieved its ultimate goal: to get people to engage with the art piece.

Mark has described the aim of his work as being “to animate the otherwise dull and stationary components of everyday life and make them extraordinary.” He adds, “The act of making is incredibly important. All the events that happen along the way are very much on show; the mistakes, the decisions and the remnants of the creator’s hand hopefully steer the work very clear of it becoming very slick beautiful objects.”

And it is the interactive process of this installation that makes Antonia Shaw’s curation so unique. York students and visitors have the opportunity to observe the development of the project over the course of the two days. They can track its progress from the artist’s initial concept right through to its final dismantling.

It is the ability to observe the creative process, and less so the creative product, which makes Hunter so fascinating. It is an imaginative and unique way to unfurl the creative process to spectators accustomed to observing finished pieces of art in indoor exhibitions. They have surely done Dada proud.

In the same year Sir Iqbal Sacranie, head of the Muslim Council of Britain, announced homosexuality as ‘harmful’, to resounding condemnation. The election campaign exposed the schism that exists between the conservative Islamic community and those who seek to interpret the Koran more liberally.

As part of the ‘Love Without Borders’ campaign organised by York LGBT, Akhtar explained the urgency of addressing this rift. “The condemnation of the LGBT community by many Islamic practitioners is based on a very narrow interpretation of Islamic teaching. Now is the time to engage in critical constructive thinking, not to reform Islam,” he continued “but to reform the narrow, conservative dogma which has set the political frame to which all Muslims must conform.”

Akhtar was raised in a moderately conservative Pakistani-Indian family, and as an openly gay, practising Muslim the prejudice is two-pronged. It exists both inside the LGBT and Islamic community. “In January last year, some of our hijab wearing sisters were spat on and abused by people of the LGBT community,” he explained. “There are prejudices and stereotypes within our own community.”

It is when discrimination is substantiated by political power that Akhtar sees the greatest threat. In addition to working for the trade union, UNISON, he is a British Labour Party politician and chair of the LGBT Muslim organisation, Imaan. Voicing opinion in the political and legal sphere is to Akhtar the most effective and empowering tool for the LGBT and Muslim community.

“Understanding the legal framework allows you to develop a greater sense of where you need to go in order to achieve the love without borders aspiration.”

Section 28, brought in under Margaret Thatcher’s government in 1988 stated that a local authority could not promote the teaching of homosexuality in any maintained school. Many saw it as homophobia enshrined in law. “I think what it did was it forced many people like me from being gay and being Muslim in this country” he explains. It was repealed by the Labour government in 2003.

The Equality Bill, which is set to replace nine major laws and 100 other regulations, is now of great importance. “The current public sector equality duties which exist for race, gender and disability will now include LGBT and sexual orientation which I think is a massive step to protecting us,” says Akhtar. “All publicly finding bodies will have to proactively promote sexual orientation equality across the board to remove the barriers to LGBT people having fair access to services.”

And according to Akhtar, Britain more than any country in Europe needs to address its conservative reading of both homosexuality and Islam to avoid what he describes as the “schizophrenic lifestyle” of covert LGBT Muslims.

“There exists an incredibly diverse interpretation of Islam in wider Europe whereas in Britain we have a much more conservative reading.”

“You’ve got the prospect of the BNP winning a seat in Yorkshire, they are probably going to win two seats in the north west. Sometimes we hold onto values and constructs, as we’re not quite able to challenge ourselves, he adds “but this is the time to challenge ourselves.”

While Max Clifford caringly advises his golden PR ticket that “enough is enough,” Jade is shouting “show me the fuckin’ money.” Alright then, at least in this market there seems to be plenty to go around. It’s all about the money and it always has been. Although the ‘Jade Goody’ effect has apparently caused a rise in requests for smear tests, and calls to Macmillan Cancer Support help lines increased by 50% on the Monday after her wedding, for Jade and the media this is all just a useful by-product of an addiction to sensationalism and death fetishism.

It’s nothing new. John Diamond and Ruth Picardie wrote poignant newspaper columns about their ordeal with cancer to a middle class readership. Jade Goody obviously can’t write about her ordeal, she is a self-professed ignoramus. So she’s doing it through the only available medium, a medium that has abused, berated and made her. But more importantly, through her choice to be a sordid spectacle she is reaching a completely different audience.

Chavs are not going to read a cancer memoir by Joni Rodgers. They are going to read Heat. And amongst the most recent celebs that are suffering from anorexia or obesity is Jade Goody’s bald, contorted face in a state of crippling despair or marital elation. It may be morbid and grotesque entertainment, but it’s an enduring image. Maybe after seeing it they’ll consider checking for lumps, or having a smear test, or not having sex before 15. Maybe like her at their age, they won’t learn a thing.

According to the death fanatic Edgar Allen Poe, “The play is the tragedy “Man,” And its hero the conqueror, Worm”. Jade’s sadistic mutualism with the media has a sense of tragedy to it, but ironically, its final chapter has redeemed her. Her impending death has given her the respect she never had in one of her seven years under the tabloids scalpel. The media reflects and affects its culture; Jade Goody’s public fight with cancer has showed us a frightening reflection of the extents of our obsessive voyeurism.

She has inadvertently taught us something. Who would have thought?

Paul*, an ex-marine, is describing something most people don’t associate with army training: torture exercises in case of capture. Not only a test of extreme physical endurance, the interminable Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts are proving to be psychologically abrasive. A seven-year stalemate has developed, in which the soldiers are trapped in the purgatory of static combat.

It all proved too much for Paul. Sent only to Sierra Leone, he is obsessive about two countries he has never been deployed to, and he continues to qualify his already vivid description of his training, “Cos if you get captured in somewhere like Iraq or Afghanistan, they’ll chop your bollocks off for you before they even start torturing you, just for the fun of it.”

Now twenty-three, Paul was temporarily discharged from the marines after committing grievous bodily harm on a man who attacked him with a bottle. His seven-month sentence was reduced to four and, surprisingly, he was allowed back into the marines. “I think I did it, in a way subconsciously, to get out. They let me back in after jail because of the money they’d spent training me, because of the particular specialisation that I was doing. But I think it got to the point where the money wasn’t enough.” Paul now manages a construction site, commanding a battalion of builders, a job he sees as giving better pay and better prospects.

‘Be the best’ is the clarion call of the British armed forces. The recruitment video on their website shows soldiers on tour as a cohesive, disciplined unit bound by their allegiance to queen and country. No words, just action. And in the overcast light of the economic slump, the pay doesn’t look too bad either: £13,012 for a new entrant. It may look modest but the ladder to the top has many rungs, reaching the zenith of £44,587.80 for a warrant officer in the Navy. Add free healthcare and the prospect of joining the army looks increasingly attractive. It is a sleek and intelligent marketing scheme, evoking pride and aspiration.

Stephen, who trained in a paratrooper regiment, agrees with this portrait of the army: “It was the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. The fitness level that the training team manage to meet is amazing. Yes, you’re getting “beasted” as they call it, which is basically pushing you to the physical extreme, but you know that it’s worth it. Pain is just weakness leaving the body,” he laughs, “You know you want a maroon beret at the end of your training so if you kept that thought in your mind you could mentally and physically do anything.” Stephen received a nine-month sentence for beating the same man in the head until he fell unconscious, but unlike Paul was not offered a second chance.

Paul and Stephen’s cases, although by no means representative of Britain’s armed forces, is one of the many cracks appearing in the military’s strained projection of stability. Firstly, it’s not easy to get into the army; it is ten times more psychologically and – undoubtedly – physically gruelling than an Oxbridge application. The notion that it is an easy route for school dropouts with no future is a misconception. Paul and Stephen will have gone through a medical examination and two days of fitness tests. After the brawn has been proven they will have been tested for their brains with an aptitude test measuring commitment and motivation before finally taking the interview. Although Paul has a penchant for using the word bollocks a lot, they are both articulate and intelligent people who would have passed all components of this rigid examination , which searches foremost for obedience and discipline. So why did they turn to delinquency?

To answer this question, we need to look at the current shambolic state the army is in. According to The Economist “Battalions are up to one fifth below their regular size; a further fifth or so are ill, injured or otherwise unfit to deploy. Buying kit is so expensive and takes so long that spending is out of kilter with current needs; most money now goes on fighter jets, aircraft carrions and submarines which are of little use in Afghanistan.” A far cry, certainly, from the action packed glossy recruitment film. The British military is wheezing with fatigue and it’s coming from the top. So, between Prince Harry’s racist ‘Paki’ remarks and an ill-equipped defence policy against an unremitting and ever evolving modern counter-insurgency, the overwhelmed military seems to be sinking under the pressure. And those in the midst are feeling it.

But it is one of the least discussed and least reported issues that, if not addressed, could be the biggest and most fatal crack that will shatter the military’s already fragile structure: psychological stress disorders. Like in Paul’s case, aggression, anxiety, depression are all intricately enmeshed conditions that can develop or, if existent, be aggravated by the harsh conditions on tour. Combat stress or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is not a new problem, but the way it is dealt with and the amount of investment in research is. First termed ‘shellshock’ by medical officer Charles Myers during the First World War, combat stress was synonymous with cowardice and punishable by firing squad.

The Second World War heralded innovations in military psychology and pre-recruiting screening was established. The inevitable emotional ramifications from war were grudgingly accepted and psychology was recognised as something indelibly linked to the nature of combat. And the psychological impact of the ‘war on terror’ is proving to be the greatest yet for soldiers placed on one of the many weak branches of this waning mission.

Rand, The Centre for Military Health and Research in the United States, is conducting leading research in a study that focuses on post-traumatic stress disorder, major depression, and traumatic brain injury in Afghanistan and Iraq. This is not only because of current high-level policy interest but also because, unlike the physical wounds of war, these conditions are often invisible to the eye. Fundamentally, it outlines what makes the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan so different from its predecessors:

“Troops are seeing more-frequent deployments, of greater lengths, with shorter rest periods in between; factors thought to create a more stressful environment for service members. The day-to-day activities of troops in combat vary widely, but some common stressors in the current conflicts have been identified as roadside bombs, IEDs, suicide bombers, the handling of human remains, killing an enemy, seeing fellow soldiers and friends dead or injured, and the helplessness of not being able to stop violent situations. Because of the nature of these current conflicts, a high proportion of deployed soldiers are likely to experience one or more stressors. Even though many recent military operations have been characterized as peacekeeping missions or stability operations, many of these efforts may share the same risks and stressors inherent in combat, exposure to hostile forces, injured civilians, mass graves, and land mines, for example.”

Talking to a member of the OTC, he doesn’t seem so concerned. I ask him about the possibility of killing an enemy, or watching a soldier that has become like a member of your family die in a suicide bomb attack. He is admirably pragmatic: “Most of us don’t get worried, after you train for three years going to war feels like the natural progression for what you have to do. Before you go on tour you need to do 4 months solid pre-deployment training anyway, so you feel prepared.” He appears focused, intelligent and disciplined, the ideal characteristics that members of the British army seek. “I enjoy leading men,” he says assuredly, “Some people can sit behind a desk and do a job like that, but that doesn’t interest me at all and, conveniently, I happen to agree with Britain’s foreign policy.” It seems improbable that such as stable person could take Paul’s route. But could he?

Philip Zimbardo thinks he can. The Stanford University psychologist conducted the renowned Stanford Prison Experiment, and he was shocked by the results. The experiment began in the summer of 1971 as an undergraduate class project on the psychology of incarceration. Zimbardo created a mock prison in the basement of the psychology department building, and volunteers were randomly assigned to roles as either prisoners or prison guards. In no time, the undergraduates turned into sadists, they began torturing the prisoners and even simulated sodomy on one another. After six days, Zimbardo was forced to close the experiment. To him it explained why good people turned evil, why there are “no bad apples, just bad barrels,” – a term he has called ‘The Lucifer Effect.’

In 2004, horrific images were broadcast from Abu Ghraib prison of naked prisoners forced to make a human pyramid, forced to masturbate in front of each other, led around on a lead, each one as sickening as the next. Zimbardo only made one connection. He still maintained there were no bad apples, but the military had created the conditions that fostered the transformation of ordinary Joe soldier into depraved torturer.

I asked Dr Jane Clarbour, who specialises in emotional behaviour at the psychology department of York University, whether such a shift in behaviour is possible. “Ordinary people can be persuaded by a situation to do such extraordinary things”, she explains. “There is also research looking at the violence in Africa, whereby the enemy were dehumanised , which makes it is easier for people to accept atrocities being done to them.”

The psychological effects of combat or ‘Killology’ as Lt.Col. Dave Grossman puts it, falls into this camp. Grossman, an army sergeant turned psychologist bases his neologism on one simple premise; People don’t like to kill. Turning people into soldiers therefore requires extensive desensitisation and conditioning similar to Pavlov’s dogs. In this framework ‘kill’ is replaced with ‘engage’ and ‘positive reinforcement is given in the form of immediate feedback when the target drops if it is hit.

I ask Paul what types of techniques were used during his training. “We got shown footage in training of torture. In another exercise a whole troop got captured, about 60 of us. We got put in a stretch position in a classroom, and we had to watch videos of soldiers getting shot in the backs of the legs.” He hesitates for a moment, “They do deprive you of sleep – but for us that’s just normal, because you have to learn. If you’re sent to a warzone you can’t expect to get proper sleep. So it might seem bad from the outside, that it’s really nasty, but that’s it.”

And for Grossman that’s exactly it. Soldiers are a groomed product, and when this product malfunctions someone has to be there to pick up the pieces. Coping mechanisms are individual to each soldier’s personal experience before and during their service, inspite of the training they get. “I was also in the cadets for about three to four years which was a good experience, of a rough idea of what to expect,” reminisces Stephen. “But to be honest, nothing can prepare you.”

Stephen’s honesty exposes the weakness of the military’s apparent impenetrable training, although the army must function as one body it isn’t made up of one mind. “People’s initial personality characteristics will play a role in how they react to wartime experiences, both during the conflict and after”, explains Clarbour.

“If society prepares a soldier to overcome his resistance to killing and places him in an environment in which he will kill”, says Grossman, “then that society has an obligation to deal forthrightly, intelligently, and morally with the psychological event and its repercussions upon the soldier and society.”

And how is Britain dealing with that responsibility? Gordon Brown has committed to a withdrawal of 4000 troops from Iraq by July. But we are already being judged; around 6% of veterans are still left homeless, many with cases of alcoholism, depression or disabilities. The MOD stress that they have fifteen military departments of mental health across the UK, so they believe they’re on top of it. The Secretary of Defence, Kevin Jones also thinks he’s on top of it. Apparently the NHS can handle the issue off its own back: “The health care for all veterans has been the responsibility of the NHS since 1953.” He continued: “Former service personnel with mental health problems, including post traumatic stress disorder will benefit from the Government’s decision to extend priority treatment to all veterans whose condition is considered by their GP to be due to service.”

With a war that doesn’t seem to have an end game, it isn’t enough to wait for the next generation of veterans to book an appointment with their GP. It’s about updating the militaries knowledge and capacity in the field of combat stress, ensuring soldiers are adequately equipped and possessing a transparent defence policy from torture to racism. “There should be no place in a civilised world where one country invades another using arms and destruction,” says Stephen finally and rather unexpectedly. Maybe it is the case of bad barrels, not apples.

*Names have been changed to protect identities.

Ironically, for one of England’s most challenging and innovative playwrights, Crimp still remains an enigma in his own country. Go to Europe and his name is firmly in the theatrical headlights, his plays are frequently performed and he is a prolific translator of French plays. But it isn’t too difficult to see the reason for the mystery: he doesn’t pander to the British media’s obsession with celebrity. With his Warholesque bob and delicate, erudite features, Crimp looks at home amidst the European arts scene, a far cry from his beginnings in Kent.

Born in 1956 to John Crimp, a British Rail signalling engineer, and his wife Jennie, Martin Andrew Crimp was a precocious child and won a scholarship to Dulwich College – one of the largest public schools in the UK. When his father was transferred to York, it was in Pocklington Grammar School, which playwright Tom Stoppard also attended, that Crimp started to engage in theatre: “I was the kind of teenager who acted in and directed and did the lights and made the sound for the school play”, says Crimp. “I still find that the wings of a theatre, with its areas of flat black and props set out on tables, affect me personally in a way the stage doesn’t. Perhaps because the stage is now about work, whereas that strange space in the wings takes me back to my adolescence.”

Crimp started his dramatic career at the wings of mainstream theatre. His first six plays were performed in the small Orange Tree theatre in Richmond, his current hometown, a company that managed to survive by performing lunchtime shows. The strange space is therefore a concept that seeps into Crimps works.

His most acclaimed play, Attempts on her Life, is composed of seventeen scenarios of a woman called Anne who never appears in the dramatic dialogue. She is at once a terrorist, a suicidal artist, a refugee and porn star, occupying the fringes of modern culture; she manipulates herself to the avaricious desires of a consumer society. It’s a challenging play to produce and meticulously crafted.

“A play is written to be handed over,” says Crimp. “Having said that, I’ve always had a close involvement with the director of a new piece, will discuss the play in great detail before rehearsal, and will have a say in the casting. Of course I have an image in my mind of how a play will function -although in the case of my ‘narrated plays’ like Attempts on her Life the image fluctuates. But I want the company themselves to make discoveries about the work, to find things I could not have foreseen.”

Attempts on her Life received its first major revival in 1997 at the National Theatre and has been translated into more than 20 languages. It finally brought his name from the margins to the London lights, establishing his works in the leagues of great modernist theatre that addresses violence and gender in an unflinching way.

“Violent acts create a point of concentration. The stage lets us represent violence without having to suffer it. But in fact I show very little violence on stage. It is more often reported-as in a Greek play.” In Cruel and Tender, Crimp takes the ancient translation of The Trachiniae by Sophocles and transplants it into a harsh modern world of emotional terrorism and international corruption. “If violence is about power…for example the modern state claims a monopoly on the use of violence, then perhaps it’s not surprising if gender enters the picture.”

And this is apparent in Cruel and Tender, where Amelia, in desperation to claim the love of her husband, takes violence into her own hands. “When I was preparing Cruel and Tender I read Joshua Goldstein’s book War and Gender,” says Crimp, “which makes a very strong case for the importance of gender roles in making war: the man in uniform trained to kill, the woman at home representing both the family and the state the man is fighting for. Despite a tiny minority of women engaging in combat, I believe this remains the model.”

It is surprising then, that when I mention politics he doesn’t seem that enthused. Perhaps he gets asked about it all the time. “Hmm. Okay. The politics question,” is his first laconic response, but he goes on, “What do most people want from the modern state? To be left alone – to be free to shop, to be free to write plays. Unless there’s an emergency: then we want the state to save our banks and stop parents murdering their babies RIGHT NOW!” And Crimp addresses this paradox of modern society by tackling what is cruel and superficial in everyday life.

“I think my work is political”, he continues, “insofar as it reflects the mentality of the average modern citizen, which tends to flip between sudden active engagement, and chronic indifference”.

The versatility of Crimp’s seventeen works is staggering, with his modernist works of theatre harking back to the classic output of Beckett and Ionesco sitting alongside translations of classical French texts such as Moliere’s Misanthrope. Cruel and Tender was the first time he merged these two categories.

“All writers are looking for whatever bright shiny things they can steal from the past,” says Crimp, who seems an expert at such dramatic thefts. “From Sophocles I stole many things but above all a structure which is more broken-backed than classical. A play in which the two main characters never meet, how weird is that?”.

In this distorted reality, Spencer felt compelled to communicate an intimate narrative through his artwork. To his frustration, most didn’t get it. In 1935 The Royal Academy rejected two of his most celebrated paintings, The Lovers and St Francis and the Birds, an act which led to his resignation. Even Churchill wasn’t enamoured by the 1927 Cookham resurrection in Sandham memorial and caustically remarked ‘if this is the resurrection, let’s be grateful for our present twilight’. Perhaps they didn’t get it because Spencer sought to fuse what most wanted to remain impermeable, or because he refused to idealise people with his paint. At once challenging and defamatory for the critics, his landscapes are populated by abstract people in their natural setting, where sexual liberation is united with religious belief.

The York Art Gallery brings Spencer’s narrative art for the first time to the city. The exhibition displays works that span all facets of his artistic career, from the more renowned rural landscape paintings of Cookham, to his portrayal of sexual desire in nude portraits. ‘Spencer is one of the most respected British artists of our generation,’ says Laura Turner, curator of art at the gallery, ‘his work is immediate – sometimes appealing, sometimes shocking – but often offering those who take a closer look, glimpses of his personal life and beliefs.’

And his personal life and beliefs are intimately linked to the ideas he wanted to express in his more imaginative works. By the time he divorced his first wife, Hilda Carline, he had to support his second wife who led an extravagant lifestyle. He was heavily in debt by his thirties, and the landscape paintings earned him the means to survive. ‘I do my landscapes with a great deal of application and care,’ Spencer wrote, ‘but they are dead, dead.’

For Spencer, the vitality of his works resided in the fusion of religion and normal life. Biblical, pre-Raphaelite narratives, are transported to the fields in Cookham, a place he spent forty-nine of his sixty-eight years. He frames the figures of divinity in a domestic setting and merges the epic biblical narrative with his own personal story of war, lust and obsession. Maybe that’s why St Francis and the Birds received such bad press; it shows a bearded St Francis in a tatty dressing gown, limbs disproportionate, head elongated amongst a herd of miscellaneous birds. He appears like a friendly old man rather than a saint, and some were unsettled by the concept of the divine being humanised.

The exhibition follows the story of Spencer’s inextricable artistic and personal life, and ends on perhaps one of the most revealing of all his paintings: his last self portrait in 1959. Staring out is an old wrinkled man, eyes magnified by his glasses, a depiction remote from his 1914 self-portrait. ‘With the early self portrait he is trying to portray an image of himself, which can be seen by the size.’ Turner explains, ‘He painted it one and a half times life size so he is trying to exaggerate himself and give himself this kind of grandeur. He was actually quite a small man.’ Five foot three apparently. But he had no qualms baring himself to the public. The exhibition shows a more obscure painting rarely exhibited in Spencer’s lifetime, The Double Nude Portrait: The Artist and his Second Wife (also known as the Leg of Mutton Nude). Spencer combines sex and flesh in the primitive style of Gauguin, giving an intensely intimate insight into his own sex-life. He could not see why sex had to be so suppressed in religious discourse, and not until Lucien Freud and Francis Bacon do these motifs resurface with such stark potency.

Spencer ultimately attempted to bring religion down from its pedestal and merge it with the natural impulse of sexual desire. The exhibition illustrates the breadth of this markedly modern vision, and as Turner adds ‘it will offer visitors to the gallery an invaluable look at the works of this remarkable artist.’

Stanley Spencer – 50 years on is being exhibited at York Art Gallery from the 24 January-19 April 2009.

What a shame then, that what was actually presented was an insipid speech lacking any form of insight into the cultural or political infrastructure of Iran and its relation with the world.

In his token grey suit, Ahmadinejad was given enough time to spout a vacuous ‘spiritual’ message infused with political jibes devoid of substance. His comment “If Christ were on Earth today, undoubtedly He would stand with the people in opposition to bullying, ill-tempered and expansionist powers,” is a transparent allusion to America and Israel’s foreign policy, and was ironically followed by “Undoubtedly He would hoist the banner of justice and love for humanity to oppose warmongers, occupiers, terrorists and bullies the world over”.

The hypocrisy is so blatant that it is ridiculous coming from a president doing everything in his power to trample on the banner of ‘justice’ in his own country. Under his administration, juvenile executions have escalated, peaceful protests stifled, women’s rights further reduced, and the existence of homosexuality denied. Try telling Arash and Kamir Alai, two physicians renowned for their work on AIDS who are in arbitrary detention without a charge, that their President isn’t a bully. Or Zaynab Bayazidi who is serving a four year prison term for being a member of the Human Rights Organisation of Kurdistan, whether she believes the sincerity of Ahmadinejad’s message.

Unfortunately for Channel 4, Ahmadinejad’s speech wasn’t sensational. It was a waste of time. If it had shown what Ahmadinejad really ­­­­thinks, it could have been an edifying insight into the policies of an ‘enormously influential’ politician. But the president isn’t that stupid. It afforded him the means to present the benign image he is so eager to promote; on the critical issues concerning Iran and the Middle East he remains strategically silent. 

Ultimately, this was a mundane and mendacious PR stunt, and did little to enlighten in Byrne’s “critical time in international relations.”

Staring: Benicio Del Toro, Demian Bichir

Runtime: 129 minutes

Rating: ****

It was only a matter of time until the ubiquitous bearded revolutionary ironically adorned on t-shirts, mugs and other pointless paraphernalia was afforded a major Hollywood biopic. Stephen Soderbergh’s ambitious Che: Part One, far from being iconoclastic, bolsters and embodies the cult status of the Argentinean freedom fighter Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara, in an elegant film that picks up where The Motorcycle Diaries left off. 

Originally premiered in Cannes as a four hour tour-de-force of Che Guevara’s controversial life, part one, of the now bipartite biopic, opens with the meeting between Che (Benicio Del Toro) and Fidel Castro which ignites the rebel movement that seeks to overthrow the corrupt Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista. From here the cleanly shaven Che, evolves into the rugged, ambitious and unrelenting rebel leader that will so indelibly carve him as a revolutionary. 

The progression of the guerrilla movement is fragmented with flash-forward black and white scenes of Che addressing the United Nations in 1964 and his appearances in New York. Del Toro, apart from having an uncanny resemblance, presents a Che that is at once erudite and passionate. His charismatic confidence on the UN podium and dogmatic emphasis on the education of his people is intercut with an aggressive ruthlessness to those that seek to undermine the revolutionary movement. 

Soderbergh’s ambitious project has managed to amalgamate all the successful elements that have propelled his directorial career; Part One is shot with the confident sexiness of Ocean’s Eleven whilst capturing the stifling, fast-paced grit of Traffic. Che:Part One manages to humanise the man behind the pop-art emblem, but the infallible portrait leaves something wanting: it does not delve into the complexity of his character. 

As much as his legacy is historically debated, Soderbergh obviously doesn’t seek to tarnish or challenge it. It is a film replete with the style of a man that captivated generations, but it still feels that Che Guevera’s more unknown image needs to be fleshed out.

A timely and useful response to the product of hour’s worth of stress-inducing labour would be a prompt and comprehensive feedback to examinations; not a 13-week wait followed by a number on a sparse piece of A4. 

Students, who took assessments at the start of the autumn term, received the result on the 12th  of January. That definitely does not qualify as timely. And this tardy response did not qualify all the way back in March when a staggering 19 week wait was whittled down to 13 weeks through students doing what they do best: vocalising their discontent. 

Mass pressure seems to be the only method to induce the department to have a quicker turnaround in assessment feedback. And it’s not good enough. In rhetoric at least, the department appear to be taking student concerns on board, but idle e-mails purporting to claim that they are “looking for ways” to achieve shorter turnarounds are futile if they do not materialise. 

Student satisfaction is becoming more than a form hurriedly given to students at the end of a module, it’s a prominent factor in assessing a departments capabilities and performance in national league tables and therefore affects the University’s prestige. 

Fundamental to this issue is the progress of the student’s performance: how can you be expected to improve if you are given late and laconic responses to an examination you can’t even remember taking? Of course, marking quality should not be sacrificed in favour of a quicker assessment response, but if the English department can provide a relatively detailed feedback form in what now appears to be a FedEx delivery, surely the Economics department can rise to the challenge.

Economics students, and students as a whole, are not paying an escalating tuition fee to receive inefficient responses from their department. What we need is concrete and efficient feedback on essays. E-mails encouraging students to approach the departments on such issues from John Bone are all well and good, but at the rate students are paying they shouldn’t need to complain in the first place.

La Boheme, Puccini’s poignant masterpiece, stands alone as a passionate tale of love and loss in poverty-stricken Paris. It is a challenging opera, demanding powerful voices and intense on-stage emotion, and provides a charming and enchanting spectacle.

In this production, Irina Vinogradova dazzled as the diminutive Mimi with a soaring voice that won the hearts of the almost-full theatre, while Ruslan Zinevych provided the perfect Rodolfo – entertaining and charismatic, yet tender and warm. Both were ably supported, at least musically, by a gaudy Muzetta and a rather frustrating Marcello, who fluctuated between a slapstick cross-dresser and a caring, emotional comforter. His voice, however, was certainly up to the challenge.

Nicholae Dohotaru’s orchestra began tentatively and only confidently complimented the opera when the tempo and volume rose, although were careful not to dominate York’s small opera house with their melody, at times the intensity of the orchestra needed to increase to reach the emotion on stage. However, when Rodolfo, Mimi and Marcello performed their soothing arias, the accompaniment was delicate and supportive.

Puccini’s romantic and moving score needs no help from light comedy moments or director-driven ad libs to entertain a discerning audience. The plot is intentionally simple. This production suffered from awkward over-characterisation throughout. Audiences should come to be entertained, not to laugh: one felt a little squeamish as Marcello pranced around Cafe Momus with Mimi’s newly-purchased bonnet on his head.

Much was made in the programme of Director Ellen Kent’s amphitheatre staging. It was impressive – notwithstanding that it was constructed for only one performance – though looked odd and out-of-place on the undersized York stage. The acting space was restricted, and the addition of far too many props cramped the action further. Though this is not her fault, Kent will bring Carmen and Aida to York during this tour – Bizet’s larger than life gala risks appearing even more confined.

For all the action and excitement of the overcrowded group scenes, this production was at its most powerful when Rodolfo and Mimi were left to themselves. After the unnecessarily busy opening exchanges, Zinevych and Vinogradova’s O soave fanciulla at the conclusion of Act 1 demonstrated the beauty of Puccini’s score. Moments took your breath away, none more so than Mimi’s last.

Carmen will appear at the York Grand Opera House on 3 April. Aida will appear on 17 May.

The planning committee refused to approve the expansion of the Theatre, Film and Television building due to a lack of an energy plan, urging the university to show evidence of how they will utilise renewable energy. Councillor Christian Vassie went as far as to say he is “hopping mad and embarrassed by the shocking lack of interest that appears to be shown, by one of the leading academic institutions, in renewable energy.”­

And he has a valid point. Back in 2006, York hosted a major international conference on green innovation, which was organised by the University’s Green Chemistry group. Propounded as a “golden opportunity to put green innovation on the world stage” in the University of York press release, the conference set out to showcase pioneering products and research in the sphere of renewable energy. It is highly hypocritical of the University to use such rhetoric to bolster its status as an innovator in environmental research and sustainability, whilst failing to bring this concept to its ultimate fruition.

A “golden opportunity” would surely be Heslington East itself, and given the current global push to combat climate change, the lackluster response shows a lack of foresight, especially when other universities in the UK and abroad are striving to be seen as eco-friendly institutions.

Durham University has recruited a deputy director for sustainability, and Harvard implemented a Green Campus Initiative that saved the institution £100,000 in the first year.

Comparatively, York is more talk than substance. Director of facilities, Keith Lilley, has failed to provide any evidence that a ‘holistic’ approach is being taken which would include an energy centre to cover both the new and old campus. The University’s vision of sustainability to “promote and secure energy efficiency”, is obviously reserved for its literature on sustainable development rather than practical implementation.

There are the usual stigmas surrounding renewable energy, which hinder its implementation. It can be argued that the variable nature of renewable energy does not make it reliable in powering an energy intensive centre such as film and television. But the council is only asking the University to fulfill its own target of using 10% renewable energy in its development.

The discourse of climate change has become a popular and often vacuous tool to appeal to a growing market of concern. It’s no surprise that the Lib Dems seem to be waving the eco-friendly baton, but even if Vassie doesn’t have his own compost heap, it’s the University’s which attract research and expertise to develop green policies.

York should be astute enough to see the potential Heslington East has in this field. If the University wants to reach its 10% renewable energy target it better start showing some commitment.

Lida Mirzaii analyses the current situation in Nepal following the Maoist Party’ s journey from rebel force to ruling power and highlights the uncertainty of the promises made by the newly elected group.

Nepal has suffered a tumultuous political history marred with the massacre of a royal family, ten years of bloody civil war and escalating poverty.

The pivotal April elections signalled a resounding call for change, unexpectedly from the former rebels that were a source of Nepal’s chaos. Sweeping away the established ruling class, the Maoist Communist Party, still regarded as a terrorist organisation by the United States, emerged triumphant. In securing 217 seats in the 601-member constituent assembly, the former rebels effectively ended the rule of the world’s last Hindu monarchy.

The Maoist Party’s charismatic figurehead, Prachanda, or the ‘fierce one’, shocked by his party’s own success, delivered a pacifying victory speech to an enraptured audience waving the hammer and sickle emblems of the now dominant ruling party. “I thank all the Nepalese people for giving us the responsibility to make a new Nepal, I will remain fully committed to the peace process and multi-party democracy.”

A far cry from the 1996 ‘people’s war’ which left 13,000 dead, the transition from guerrilla combat to hustings seems an inevitable process from a party that realised a revolution through the ballot rather than the barrel was the only viable option for an economically crippled nation. With a national capita of only $260 a year and a third of the population below the poverty line, the ubiquitous Maoist network rallied the rural regions of Nepal, capitalising on the support of the marginalized populace by promising change.

Sick of the existing ruling coalitions and ineffective political stalemate of the National Congress (NC) and Unified Marxist-Leninist (UML) parties, Prachanda’s alluring ‘path out of poverty and underdevelopment’ scheme is just the kind of policies that Nepali voters flocked towards.

Rajan, a student who also works in his family’s rafting business in Nepal’s capital, Kathmandu, remains optimistic that the Maoist Party is more than just rhetoric: “I do agree the system will be changed for good. If they do what they say they will do, Nepal will have a constitution similar to the US, the system will change completely but it wont be a total communist state.” The ‘if’ however is the temperamental factor. Policies aimed to appease will be far more difficult to implement in a country that has only seen ineffectual autocratic rule, and Prachanda’s apparently progressive economic policies will not be enough to heave Nepal from its fiscal slump.
The Maoists only have to look to their Communist neighbour, China, to see that gathering wealth is paramount; the vestiges of traditional communist ideology is only to be seen in the propaganda of the red rally’s and the ‘people’s songs’.

With an economic plan to gain foreign investment in Nepal’s Himalayan hydropower, step up horticulture and social policies that fight against class based discrimination, it is easy to see why many Nepali’s have chosen the former rebels over King Gyanendra’s volatile rule since 2001. Having lived a lavish existence in an exceptionally poor country.

The Maoist party appears more inclusive; managing to elect 21 women to the Nepali assembly compared to the one female member elected by the Nepali Congress, as well as including the voice of the Dalits (untouchables) who make up 14 % of the population who voted solidly against this existent corruption.

The violent underbelly of the party, however, still exists in the form of the Young Communist League, which has always been more eager to pursue ideological politics at any cost. The more menacing tactics of road blockades are still used to immobilise the country and cause unrest.

Sudeep, who works in an orphanage in Prachanda’s home district of Chitwan, is sceptical of the Maoists commitment to democracy. Like many who voted for much needed change, he can only wait to see if they deliver. “You don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, the Maoists have constantly caused unrest, blocking off the roads and for what? They’ve done a lot to get us in the mess we’re in. I’m not sure I have faith they’ll get us out, but they’re the only option we have.”

Referring to the now ruined ancient capital of the Persian Empire, Persepolis offers a refreshing insight into Iran, beyond the usual images of the country projected by the media. Adapted from Marjane Satrapi’s highly acclaimed graphic novels, it traces the life of Marjane, a gutsy and independent young girl growing up in 1970’s pre-revolutionary Iran.

The Satrapis, who lead a liberal, middle-class lifestyle in Tehran, at first welcome the collapse of the Shah’s regime, only to find the revolution has led to the religious fanaticism of the new-established Islamic State. Life for Marjane is a constant struggle between an adaptation to and evasion of the strictures imposed.

While swaggering through the streets in a ‘punk is not dead’ jacket on her way to get some bootleg Iron Maiden, Marjane is caught by the morality police and brought to her knees in fear. Disillusioned by what Iran has become, especially for women, Marjane’s parents send her to Vienna for a supposed better life, where she encounters the disappointments of love, education and friendship as an expat.

Given the bleak context, Persepolis impressively manages to avoid turning into another gloomy Hollywood production of Iranian politics and misogyny. Marjane’s observations infuse humour into an intensely personal account of a woman dealing with relationships, sex and depression through tumultuous social change. This successfully humanises the revolution while showing its hardships on an individual level.

Not seeking to carry an overt political statement is most probably the film’s greatest asset, instead focusing on the day-to-day impact of the revolution and its consequences; one such scene where a young man dies after attempting to outrun the guards from a party is particularly shocking. As expected of a coming of age story, stock characters; the ‘wise’ grandmother, dispensing old chestnuts of wisdom, is at times clichéd, sickly sweet and just a little condescending. Nor does it really convey a strong sense of Iranian culture, concentrating instead on Marjane’s personal psychological states in different stages of her life.

Followers of the graphic novels will be relieved to find that Paronnaud and Satrapi stay true to the form of the original; it is led less by dialogue than a series of visual statements made even more striking by the predominant black and white colour scheme and highly expressionistic animation.

The dubbing of the Anglophone release from the French is unnecessary. It is telling of the patronising intention of producers to make what is ‘alien’ more accessible to a western audience; the dialogue was disappointingly not in Farsi.

Persepolis has an important message to give to an audience that will mostly be acquainted with Iran only through newspapers. It elegantly blends Marjane’s life story within its context, managing to strike the balance between being both educating and entertaining.

The divisive campus furore finally reached its climax, and outside of the realm of facebook’s virtual sparring ground we’re left with the reality of having no academic and welfare officer, although the outcome would indicate that it’s better to have nothing rather than Hackwood. But lets not get carried away, yes, the student body has apparently ‘spoken’ in the words of Dan Taylor, but this wasn’t an overwhelming landslide in favour of her dismissal; the margin of 8 votes shows the indecision surrounding the whole issue. The fact that the debate became a Punch and Judy affair, (Taylor being the latter), rather than a calm and collected analysis of the underlining nature of the action itself and its consequences, belittled the whole process.

Although the UGM saw an unprecedented turnout of 1440 votes, that’s still only around 10% of the student populace who actually appear to care and unfortunately most won’t notice that she’s gone. Say the name Grace Fletcher-Hackwood and a lot of students will respond with a bemused expression, and such apathy is probably more indicative of indifference, if not ignorance, towards the fateful Chav D incident, than of a democratic York motion for her to take a swift exit.

Inflamed by Dan Taylor’s crusade for ‘justice,’ the microcosm of campus drama can distort most events out of proportion and by the end of the Chinese whispers it seemed Hackwood had launched a Rocky Balboa style blow to Taylor’s head. Students do stupid things when they’re drunk, but Hackwood is not a student, she is (or was) ironically the welfare officer and undoubtedly she behaved unacceptably. Transfer this situation into the ‘real’ world and any paid employer in such a position of authority would have been reprimanded but probably not removed.

Despite the sensationalist tactics used to promote the anti-Hackwood camp and its self-motivated goals, the UGM attempted to show a spectrum of debate on the issue. Not simply an ‘inappropriate’ mistake, the fact that one of her own sabbatical officers emotionally pressed for her dismissal, showed the extent to which Hackwood lost her credibility. But is having no welfare officer a better situation? Even Canning’s worried because we won’t have a welfare officer until July. The university needs and should have a strong independent welfare unit, which can offer more than the college welfare teams. So what it boils down to is that it is the students who are going to lose out, when the students have barely spoken.

The knee-jerk reaction to military multinational companies funding 59 academic research projects at York is bound to be one of reproach. In the age of the student as a marching ethical pioneer, the involvement of BAE, the world’s fourth largest arms company who also happened to clinch a £10bn Eurofighter jet deal with Saudi Arabia, can hardly be seen as keeping in line with ethical investment. It’s the consequences that make you question the outcome of military funded research on a broader scale, or to put it metaphorically; there wouldn’t be the atomic bomb without Einstein’s theory of relativity. Crude as this is, if the end result is a weapon, this surely makes the university complicit in international conflict.

Although I’d find it very satisfying, it is in no shape or form this simple. Scientific advancements and the military have always been connected. The Second World War spurred the development of digital computing, the Internet and the mass production of penicillin. Scientific research is fuelled by a certain childish competition for discovery; and war has often acted as the catalyst in this race for national glory through science. Practically all materials science research has some potential in military usage and researchers are often unfairly condemned for creating what can be seen as the blueprints for destruction. Dr Alfred Nobel, the creator of dynamite, was one such attacked scientist, who on reading a premature obituary entitled ‘the merchant of death is dead,’ felt compelled to establish the Nobel Prizes to leave a better legacy.

Now, it’s the international setting that’s important. With constant global economic, intellectual and political contention, it is only to be expected that the UK’s military budget is now the second highest in the world. It’s naive to think that Britain would ever let the quality of its military research drop and allow other countries on the international stage to supersede it. Now I’d be the first person to point out the UK’s shady arms deals, (Saudi Arabia, anyone?) but surely it’s better that we’re at the top than countries like, say, China, which has become Sudan’s largest weapons supplier.

It also shouldn’t be forgotten that a lot of research has either been transferred to or created for the civil field. QinetiQ, one of the companies of the condemned, developed the bulletproof vest, for example, and a research programme to be set up at York is investigating safer landing techniques for civil aircrafts. Such multinationals not only provide financial aid, they give a certain credibility to departments seeking prestige to bolster their research. But there’s something that just doesn’t sit right with BAE. Its political and economic power is formidable, it receives contracts worth more than £1bn from the Ministry of Defence and has been investigated for bribery in no less than seven countries, Saudi Arabia being one, naturally.

So what is of concern is how corrupt military involvement in research can stunt intellectual autonomy and manipulate the academic community. The pressure for universities to maintain their status as leading research-based institutions, means it is often easier for a department such as Electronics to secure funding through the military. The somewhat Orwellian termed ‘Towers of Excellence’ scheme combines eight commercial government bodies and nine academic partners for research into guided weapons, sensors, radar and electronic warfare, which looks worryingly skewed towards military and opposed to civil research. Undoubtedly, there should be a large portion of funding devoted to peace building and environmental issues, in addition to transparency involving government, military and university transactions.

The fact that the government dropped an enquiry into BAE’s acounts of fraud emphasises their allegiance to company’s researching military development over environmental. But the fact is that the military is an ingrained part of a nation state that will want to absorb the greatest minds across the academic fields.

In an ideal world research would be dedicated to finding solutions to the most pressing humanitarian problems we’re facing at the moment, it’s just a great shame it isn’t.

After 20 years of business, Your:Books is set to close at the end of spring term 2008 due to a decline in turnover and growing competition from online retailers.

Following a review of financial targets, it was found that the campus bookshop, despite a turnover last year of £54,000, would be unable to compete with online retailers like Amazon.com. “There’s a history of the turnover decreasing by £9,000 a year. If the turnover dropped further it wouldn’t cover its costs,” said Matt Burton, YUSU Services and Finance Officer.

“It’s the demise of our little empire. I’m very sad actually, I’ve spent almost seven happy years here and it’s the loss of a very valuable service,” commented Manager Jennie Winn on the closure. The announcement that Winn is to retire this Christmas was also a factor in the decision. Recruiting a new employee would have incurred further costs. “Perhaps it’s the way that things have coincided, that I was finishing and the downturn in trade,” said Winn. Overhead costs have already been reduced to £20,000, yet Burton maintains “it’s important to exercise financial responsibility, there’s no point running the bookshop if it’s taking money away from other student services and clubs.”

The University’s shift from core texts to electronic materials, and the release of reading lists before the start of the academic year, have both impacted upon business. “We have a lot of stock on the shel­ves because reading lists change every year. Yesterday we had 17 customers.

People just aren’t coming in,” said Winn. As Blackwells, its main campus competitor, is buying and selling second-hand stock at similar prices to Your:Books, trade is only likely to fall further. YUSU’s Small Ads marketplace is the shop’s probable replacement, though only 27 books have been advertised since November 4. No decision has been made on what to do with the Your:Books space after closure.