Recycled Rosettes at the Barbican Centre
Having bigged up the Barbican's 'Do Something Different Weekend' in last week's newsletter, I felt it only right that I put my money where my mouth is and actually go check it out. Not literally, obviously: Spoonfed folk don't need to pay for tickets...
The 'Do Something Different Weekend' is aptly named. Upon arrival, the Barbican was abuzz with weirdness: two blindfolded cowboys were dancing a jig in the foyer, a chap on stilts was pottering around dressed like Inspector Gadget, a table was covered in brightly-coloured ukuleles, and somebody kept announcing the beginning of something called 'The Harder They Come'. Chaos? Kind of, but it seemed like everybody was enjoying themselves.
Now, I normally hate this kind of thing. Organised spontaneity, fun for the whole family, creativity for all: it just brings out the tweedy, grey, miserable old man that lurks within. The word 'workshop' alone is usually enough to bring me to my knees. What was I doing here? I hate fun things. And I hate 'joining in'. But my friend bought me a cup of tea and I began to feel slightly more amenable.
The activity that I had chosen to take part in was 'Recycled Rosettes', mainly because it seemed to be the least likely to involve any form of public humiliation. The two-hour session consisted of making your own rosette (or rosettes if you were particularly efficient) out of old ties, ribbons, wool, beads, sequins, buttons, and a whole variety of other boho-trinketry. After we were all issued with coloured name-stickers, our teacher, Barley Massey (who runs Fabrications) explained how to wrap the ribbon round a small plastic thing in order to make the rosette. After about a minute, rather like at school, I lost interest – 'Yeah, yeah enough already. Give me a ribbon, let me at 'em...'
Anyway, we got started soon enough. I selected a string of sequins, some fetching navy and gold buttons, the remnants of a rather dashing pink tie, and some dark blue fluffy twine-stuff. Obviously having not really listened to the instructions I wasn't entirely sure what to do, but the surprisingly calm and ever-helpful Barley was more than happy to point out where we were going wrong. Oddly, I found I was beginning to enjoy myself, although my minute attention span was something of an obstacle: at one stage I looked around at the group behind us who seemed to be knitting with two-foot long giant wooden needles. I had a sudden pang of haberdasher-envy, but it soon passed. Knitting's for girls. But making rosettes – now that's a manly hobby...
It turns out that making a rosette is probably the most fun you can have without drinking. It's so simple that even I can do it, but there's just enough complexity to make you feel like you've somehow triumphed over something, and you even finish with a rosette as proof of the great victory. It combines following fairly straight-forward instructions with a pleasant pinch of creativity: perfect for wannabe artists like myself who realised long ago that the only thing they're missing is talent.
With so many little children about, one might have expected carnage, but, in our class at least, an air of careful industry prevailed. This being only the second 'Do Something Different Weekend' (and far more ambitious in terms of scale than the first) there was a precarious sense that it might all go horribly wrong, but that, in a sense, was part of its charm. Organised but not officious, kind of chaotic but not too anarchic, there actually was fun for everyone. Families, kiddies, oldies, trendies: all for one, and one for all...
