"Madame Africa" unites Algeria and France

The basilica of Notre Dame d'Afrique, towering above the Mediterranean on the heights of the Bologhine district of Algiers, welcomed a small but unusual crowd on Monday.

Algerian dignitaries, European ambassadors and political leaders from Marseilles found themselves in the same pews as they celebrated the restoration, after three years of work, of the Christian edifice erected in 1872.  Until recently a symbol of French colonisation, the basilica is now one of the most visited sites in the Algerian capital.

"It's a chef d'oeuvre" said the delighted archbishop of Algiers, the Jordanian-born Ghaleb Bader, "a chef d'oeuvre that demonstrates the understanding and collaboration that exists between the authorities and the Church as well as between the religions and peoples on the two sides of the Mediterranean".

View from Madame Afrique

Each party has dug deep to finance the 5 million euros necessary for the project. The Algerian state, represented by the minister of religious affairs, the secretary general of the FLN (National Liberation Front) and the préfet of Algiers, has spent 560,000 euros, whilst the city of Marseilles, the département of the Bouches du Rhône and the region of Provence Alpes-Côte d'Azur contributed 360,000 euros each.  The European Union was responsible for one million euros and private companies from Algeria and France made up the remainder with smaller donations.

And the result is there for all to see. Weakened by the shock waves of the earthquake that struck Algeria on May 23, 2003,  "Madame Africa", as the basilica is called here, has had a facelift. The project was entrusted to the architect Xavier David and the French company Girard, who were responsible for the restoration of Notre Dame de la Garde in Marseilles, which is contemporaneous with its Algerian cousin.  Their work has enabled the basilica's pale pink dome and its exterior Hispano-Moresque mosaics to recover their former lustre.
  
Neither the past nor the present intervened to spoil the day, with the Algerian authorities playing the appeasement card, and no one considered lingering in front of the mosaics dedicated to the monks of Tibehirine in the basilica's right-hand apse.  It has been a long time now since other signs of the past have been banished, such as a family ex voto from 1921.  Though still clearly visible on the right of the naive, the addition of a small piece of marble means that the ex voto asks Notre Dame de l'Afrique to protect "the whole of Algeria" rather than "French Algeria". In an aside Father Bernard Lebfèvre, the basilica's rector, stressed that: "There are only the visible wounds left, everything else has healed over".

For several days now, at the other end of Algeria, another restoration work has been under way: the renovation of the basilica of St Augustine at Annaba.    


The above article originally appeared in French in Le Monde and was abridged and translated by Dr David Winter of Culturissima.

One way ticket, Cambridge to Florence

Letter from Italy by Philippe Ridet

"Historian, born in England, naturalised Italian" - this simple line from his biography made him in our eyes - how can I put it? - delectable. At a time when thousands of Italians dream of fleeing Rome for London, Milan for Paris and Bari for New York so that they can forget about Palermo and Silvio Berlusconi, there turns out to be a man, an Englishman to boot, who has undertaken the opposite journey. That was well worth an expedition to Florence, where he had set himself up.  Was he an eccentric? Someone who liked collecting passports? Did he have a lover? I had to go and find out...

Paul Ginsborg, sixty-five, has the discreet and gentle manners of a professor of contemporary Italian history (he is author of several books on the subject) and the unruffled delivery that makes taking notes easy. At the same time, he has kept an Englishman's taste for Shetland pullovers and a way of dissolving the Italian "r" sound to compensate for his inability to roll it as most foreigners do.

"I was a prof at Cambridge when, in 1992, the University of Florence offered me a chair", he explains in his apartment lined with books, situated two minutes from the Arno. "It was a radical choice but I've never regretted it".  He immersed himself in local life in Florence, quickly becoming a key figure in the first people-led anti-Berlusconi movements at the beginning of the decade. A Londoner, he was bowled over by Italy's charms. "I really do think that there is a gentleness in this country, a kindness towards people quite unlike anything in England.  Italy isn't haunted by dreams of grandeur and domination.  I've felt a greater lightness since I've been here".

So, do the English have a passion for Italy? Ginsborg explains: "The Garibaldi expedition aroused great sympathy on the other side of the Channel and England leant its support. That's how the Society for Italian Studies took shape, which has 200 members in London. The first biography of Garibaldi was written by his nurse, an English woman by the name of Jessie White-Mario".

But why take the plunge and become Italian? "Four years ago I started to think about the idea and I obtained Italian nationality in 2009. It's also a way of me giving something back to Italy". This episode is recounted at the start of a short but brilliant essay which has just been published by Ginsborg, Salviamo l'Italia.*  "Most of my friends were dumbstruck by the news of my naturalisation", he writes: "'But what prompted you to do that, and now of all times?' they asked. Some of them rushed to make sure that I had had the good sense to keep my English (sic) nationality. But the most caustic comment is still this one: "'From now on, Paul, you can join in with us when we say: I'm ashamed to be Italian!'"

These friends are going to be disappointed because the "new Italian" does not succumb to disparaging or excessively and unjustly criticising his adopted country. Amongst the plethora of books published to accompany the 150th anniversary of a unified Italy, Ginsborg's (which is steadily heading towards sales of 10,000) is distinguished by its objective, sometimes ironic and always stimulating, approach. Moving back and forth between the Risorgimento era and present-day Italy, Ginsborg tries to identify the essential elements of Italian society over the last 150 years, the rudiments which, in his opinion, would allow Italy to "save itself" and find an original voice that would secure its  place in the modern epoch. The historian has identified four elements: Italy's long tradition of self-rule in its cities; the predilection for Europe; the quest for equality; and "the importance of mitezza in its history as a social virtue".

Mitezza? Our bilingual dictionary suggests "kindness" or "gentleness" and we could add "bonhomie" if the word was not over-used and "pacifism" if it did not weigh so heavily. It might seem slightly surprising that such an idea, borrowed from the philosopher Norberto Bobbio, should spring up to support an analysis of contemporary Italy. Kind, the fascists under the command of Mussolini? Kind, the mafiosi? Kind, the men of Rosarno in Calabria who, in December 2009, shot at African immigrants as though they were rabbits? Kind, the politicians always so quick to insult their opponents?

But Paul Ginsborg is far from only being a gentle Englishman who has had his head turned by a political utopia. Although in love with Italy, he knows all about the obstacles and burdens that weigh it down: the Mafia, vote-catching, a Church that has too much power and... the weakness of the left, which drives him to despair. Whilst the country is left hanging following a political crisis of uncertain outcome, the politically committed historian is careful not to strike up the old refrain about the inevitable demise of the Berlusconi era.  "Even back in 2005 funeral orations were springing up in the press", he remembers. "Berlusconi is never more ready to fight than when his back is against the wall.  Everyone should remain wary".

Today Paul Ginsborg receives twenty-five requests a week to give lectures. At the beginning of the month he organised a conference on "Italy in the Time of Berlusconi" for the upper echelons of the Italian intelligentsia.  As a matter of  principle he rails: "And to think that it needed an Englishman to organise it!" There is a palpable feeling that the historian bemoans the amount of time taken eaten up by campaigning.

The professor has become a protagonist in a part of history that he only wanted to recount and it is now his turn to be caught up in the tritacarne or meat-mincer of Italian public life: Il Giornale, the daily newspaper belonging to the Berlusconi family, has devoted a vitriolic article to the book written by this son of "perfidious Albion".

* Let's Save Italy, published by Einaudi; no English translation available.


This article first appeared in Le Monde, November 29, 2010 and was translated by Culturissima's managing director, Dr David Winter.

Walid, l’embarrassant blasphémateur palestinien

Monet Exhibition in Paris

This year Richard Thomson took his holidays in June. Difficult to do otherwise, since he's the chief curator of the Claude Monet exhibition that opens in Paris' Grand Palais on September 22nd. With 176 works of art, the exhibition promises to be a major event. And so we might have expected to encounter a worried man. 

Is it the result of a breezy disposition or is it the natural Anglo-Saxon discretion of a professor at the University of Edinburgh? The morning we meet, it is as much as he can do to admit that he still has a few small jobs to finish before the fateful day.

To listen to Richard Thomson, everything is being carried out without a hitch and on good terms with the French curators who are helping him. The catalogue? The entries were submitted on time and they are of good quality. The design of the exhibition space? He is relying on the ideas of Hubert Le Gall, with whom plain-speaking is the rule. The hanging of the pictures? The plan was fixed long ago using computer simulations.

Calculated to the nearest tenth of an inch

On this point, however, Mr Thomson admits that his happiness is not complete. He yearns for the time when hanging was not calculated to the nearest tenth of an inch weeks before the arrival of the paintings, when the curator and a few assistants positioned the canvases "by eye", taking them from room to room until the desired effect was achieved. "That's impossible today. Can you imagine, with the cost of insurance? They would think that we were being irresponsible". Each Monet, then, already has its spot reserved.

This is even more the case because the exhibition has been designed to follow a very complex structure: "That's the key feature of my work: to think about the best way of showing a painting, not settling for an ordinary, boring retrospective where the masterpieces come one after another in chronological order from beginning to end. It has been about giving a new image of Monet, about sparking off new debates".

And so begins Thomson's account of how he first thought about the history of the exhibition: "I thought that 1890 should be the pivotal date. Monet was 50 in 1890. He arrives at Giverny. The art dealers are becoming more and more interested in him. And it's the start of his series. There is a before and an after 1890. That's the central idea. The first section comprises French landscapes before this date, the links between their creation and nature: the canvases from Fontainebleau, Normandy, the region around Paris, Vétheuil and two places further away, Belle Ile and the Creuse region. At the end of this part, I wanted a very clear break. There will be two rooms, one devoted to the human form in the years 1870 and 1880, the other to still-lifes. I preferred to do that - rather than scatter figures and still-lifes everywhere - to show that, for Monet, these are important subjects.  Then the second section, the years after 1890, begins".

You only need to hear the historian's voice to sense how important it is for him to convince the listener of the appropriateness of his scheme. His explanation is already well-polished. There will be, then, another three subjects, with the themes of repetition, inner nature and adornment. Haystacks and Poplars will appear in the first, Vétheuil and Venice in the second, Giverny and her water-lilies in the last.

Once the order was established, all that remained was the paintings themselves. Everything went well, perhaps even too well. "At the end of 2009, the museums started to reply. All the responses were positive.. In fact, there were too many paintings. Towards Christmas, we knew that we were going to have to make some sacrifices. I had started with the idea of 200 paintings but it became clear that we'd have to go down to 175 so that there would be enough space left for visitors". But how does he explain so many loans? "The American museums have been very forthcoming... New York, Boston... They're used to working with the Orsay and that helped with the negotiations".

No setbacks, then? "Unfortunately, yes. The Marmottan Museum refused to lend, Impression, Rising Sun", the historic work to which Impressionism owes its name. "But it's not too serious. They will be some less well-known paintings whose discovery will to a large extent compensate for its absence. We suggested some exchanges but, clearly, it wasn't possible. In its place you will see a view of the port of Le Havre from 1873, a night scene, an extraordinary one, that has come from a private collection".

Having worked so long on Monet, what has he learned? "That you have actually to go to the places where he painted to be able to understand him". So the museum man got lost in a forest in the Creuse: "I wanted to find the spot where Monet had painted the confluence of two rivers in 1889 - he painted it ten times. Today, there are trees everywhere. I couldn't see the river any longer. Nothing corresponded to the paintings. Monet had gone there at a time when the peasants had stripped the wood for heating and when their herds of goats were grazing on the under-growth. The hills were bare. Today, it's a forest. I finished by finding my bearings thanks to a rock... I started again at Belle Ile so that I could identify the exact viewpoint over the needles of Port Coton. Just at the edge of the cliff, about 50 yards away. That's what organising a Monet exhibition drives you to!"


This article first appeared in Le Monde, August 17 2010; it was translated from the French by Culturissima's managing director, Dr David Winter.

Her body, muscular and almost masculine, bathed in light...

The Venus de Milo brings a smile to the Louvre

According to legend, Venus - known to the Greeks as Aphrodite - was born from the foam of the sea as she emerged from bathing off the coast of Cyprus. Be that as it may, the goddess of love serves as the model for the canon of beauty, an ideal epitomised in the Louvre's Venus de Milo.

The famous statue has just been restored, which comes as a pleasant surprise to the six million people (out of a total of eight million) who visit the Louvre each year with the stated aim of admiring the Venus de Milo together with the museum's two other jewels, Leonardo de Vinci's Mona Lisa and the Victory of Samothrace. The Venus, sculpted from white marble from Paros circa 120 BC, was found in 1820 by a peasant on the Greek island of Milos in the Cyclades and was given to the Louvre by King Louis XVIII in 1821.

This summer, the statue is radiating good health.  Her body, muscular and almost masculine, bathed in the light streaming in from the south-facing windows, has recovered the milky lustre of its origins. So, too, its energy and aura next to the gods and goddesses who surround it, Athena, Apollo, Hermes, Dionysus and others - Roman copies of lost Greek chefs d'oeuvres.

The smile that plays across her left cheek, almost teasing, contrasts sharply with the serious look sketched across her right side. The subtle folds of her toga, which could easily be made of real linen, fall to her hips and reveal a perfect bust.

Positioned in the centre of a carpet of red marble and mounted on a plinth (it is possible to walk all the way around her and view her from all angles), the Venus de Milo, six-and-a-half feet tall, stands sentinel over the 2,000 square feet of former royal apartments as they stretch towards the caryatids gallery.  She is the crowning feature of a new museum lay-out devoted to classical Greek and Hellenistic art (450-30 BC) devised by Jean-Luc Martinez (director of the Louvre's department of Greek, Etruscan and Roman antiquities) as a three-dimensional walk amongst the works of art.

Where are her arms?

At the head of the world's foremost museum of Greek art, totalling more than 45,000 objects, Jean-Luc Martinez has for the first time put on display works taken from the museum's reserve holdings or dispersed in other departments (ceramics, jewellery, numismatics, furniture). From now on these will be presented by geographic region to showcase the world of the Greek Mediterranean.

As for the Venus de Milo, she has once more found the place that she occupied from 1824 to 1848.  Since she first entered the Louvre, she has never ceased to be moved about. In the 1820s, following a controversy, it was decided not to attach the missing arms that had been sculpted for the occasion. Only her nose, left foot and big toe were re-attached.

"Whilst removing the old restoration work we noticed that the surface had been prepared for a marble adjunct that was never finished", indicates Monsieur Martinez. In 2009-2010 a scientific study brought to light the alterations and repairs that have been undertaken over two centuries.  It was decided to keep her nose, but not her foot. Fragments of marble are displayed around the goddess, including an outsized hand, which nourish the enigma... her arms are still unaccounted for.

This article first appeared in Le Monde, August 20 2010; it was translated from the French by Culturissima's managing director, Dr David Winter.

A smuggler in illegal immigrants tells his story

For well over a year now, on a number of different posts, Culturissima's David Winter has been drawing attention to the plight of Algeria's harragas, the young men - and increasingly women - who pay smugglers to ferry them across the Mediterranean to the "El Dorado" that is Europe. The following article has just appeared in the French press.


In spite of increased surveillance on the Spanish coast and around the islands off Italy, large numbers of young Algerians are still trying to cross the Mediterranean to reach the European Union - ensuring happy times for the smuggling industry in the Algerian town of Annaba, the hub of illegal immigration.

The coast off Annaba

At least one million dinars [£8, 500] is the gold mine reaped by a smuggler for each "crossing" or "consignment". The books are closed after three crossings per season at the rate of one crossing every two weeks. How is this "turn-over" achieved? What kind of logistics are called for?

We spent weeks trying to find out before being put in direct contact with a smuggler whom we are going to call "Ahmed". After several days of prevarication, our smuggler ended up by agreeing to meet in a restaurant situated at the end of Annaba's Rizzi Ameur beach, the headquarters of the smugglers' union. For nearly two hours, Ahmed explained to us the initial steps involved in organising a crossing.

They start by collecting details about the number of applicants so that they can narrow down what type of boat to buy, and whether to order it from an illegal workshop or to hire it from some off-shore fishermen. Once the boat has been supplied, it has to be painted black to avoid being intercepted by the coast-guards at night. The assignment to find the boat is entrusted to intermediaries who receive on average a sum of 1,000 to 1, 500 dinars [from £8.50 to £13]: a craft 7 metres long, able to take up to 20 people, costs a smuggler some 70,000 dinars [£600], as opposed to 40,000 dinars [£340] for a 5 metre boat with a capacity of 10 to 12 places.

For VIP applicants - known in the trade as fachafich - the smuggler, at the request of his clients,  will opt for a small boat with an outboard-motor, with the price varying between a million [£8,500] and one and a half million dinars [£12,750]. According to Ahmed, the motor-boat itself is either bought (following a levy on the VIP harragas) or stolen. Then they have to procure the outboard-motor through casual networks in the capital, Algiers. New,  and with a 10 HP motor,  it comes to 460,000 dinars [£3,900],  with a 5 HP and 7 HP costing respectively 150,000 [£1,300] and 200,000 dinars [£1,700]. 

The next step,  as outlined by Ahmed,  consists of acquiring a GPS and a compass - two pieces of equipment that are essential for the crossing - for which the smuggler will have to pay out the tidy sum of from 30,000 [£256] to 80,000 dinars [£685] for the former and 3,000 [£25] to 4,000 dinars [£35] for the latter. Twenty drums (each with a capacity of 20 litres) represents the amount of petrol necessary for the crossing,  as well as drum of oil. For this,  explains Ahmed,  recourse to an intermediary is absolutely necessary. To dispel any suspicion that might be aroused by buying so much petrol in a service station,  the smuggler calls on the help of the owners of high-powered cars,  often the sons of well known figures in Annaba,  with whom he enjoys "good" relations.

Rare are the smugglers who think to equip a boat with life-jackets: the harragas are deemed to be good swimmers,  Ahmed makes clear. Having gathered together all the logistical equipment,  negotiations are opened about the price of the trip,  that is to say with the "passengers" to be carried. These prices are fixed according to what the client looks like and where he comes from: the price per place can go from 40, 000 [£350] to 200,000 dinars [£1,700] for the applicants known as zawalia (the poor). The price applied to the most well off,  the VIP harragas or those hailing from other towns in Algeria,  varies between 150,000 [£1,300] and 200,000 dinars [£1,700].

Half of the sum is paid in advance a few days before departure. The balance is paid on D Day. "We demand that half the price is paid before departure so that we can settle all the preliminary expenses. The remainder is cashed in a few minutes before departure and is then entrusted to a member of the family who must be on the spot at the moment they leave. This money has to be held as security as there's always the risk that the relevant authorities might mean the operation has to be aborted",  emphasises Ahmed.

Questioned on the possible turn-over, Ahmed first of all refrained from replying then,  as we insisted,  finished up by letting slip the figure of one million dinars [£8,500] minimum per crossing,  at the rate of three or four shipments per season.  Sniffing this juicy bonanza,  numerous are those who have launched themselves into this new market. When this activity first started to emerge, in 2005,  it was under the control of only three individuals. Today,  their number has risen to more than a dozen in Annaba.

This article first appeared in the French journal Courrier International and was translated from the French by Culturissima's managing director, Dr David Winter.


Links to further harraga posts:

Harraga and Hittistes I
Harraga and Hittistes II
Harraga and Hittistes III

True, there aren't many airports in the desert

It's true, there aren't many airports in the desert. All the more reason, then, that you'd expect the locals to be able to give you directions to the nearest airstrip. My driver gave up asking. "They're from El Oued, they're all in-bred. Look at their hands, they've got toes instead of fingers. They don't even know what a plane is, they only know how to shag camels". Zahir paused before concluding: "And they're as ugly as the devil". 

"What, the locals?"

"No, the camels".

"Thanks for that, Zahir. And a good-looking camel, what does that look like?"

Zahir came over all French - his shoulders sighed "bof" - as he focused his attention on doing what Algerian men do best in life: scratching his balls. 

I got out of the car and sought out some local knowledge.

"Airport?"

"Aéroport? Aeroporto? Aeropuerto? Um, Flughafen?" 

Nothing. 

"The nearest brothel, please?"

El Oued

Nothing. 

Unamused, the El Ouedians carried on walking by as though I was the crazy one, as though it was me who had toes instead of fingers.

"David Beckham?"

"Ah, Mister Beckham! Come to my house for a mint-tea and meet my daughter - very nice daughter. Strong thighs, sturdy hips. Wants to see snow and kiss David Beckham". 

"Ah, you speak French! Where's the nearest airport please? It's supposed to be a couple of kilometers from here".

"El Oued, this is El Oued. Welcome to El Oued. Welcome to my country".

"Yes, thanks, very kind. I'm looking for the airport - airplanes. You know, nnnnowwwww... " I stretched my arms out wide like an albatross, made plane noises (obviously), whirled around a bit and pretended to be a plane... obviously. 

A crowd gathered.

And then a bigger one. Lots of shouting, too - I couldn't understand a word, except (I think) some old bloke shouting indoors to his missus: "Oi, Margaret, come out here, there's this nutter pretending to be an albatross - an albatross in the desert, can you believe it? Bloody foreigners".

Camels

A chap with teeth and shoes appeared and everyone fell silent: "Mister White Man, what a bald, white head you have. I am the mayor - I am the mayor of all El Oued. All El Oued. Welcome to my country, welcome to El Oued. I am here to serve you. What is it that you desire?" 

Fantastic! Perfect French! "The airport", I pleaded, "Do you know where the airport is, please?"

"Which one?"

"Which one? There are two?"

"No".

"How many are there, then?

"None".

"Okay, okay... Do you know... Do you know what an airplane is?"

"Patronising git", I could see him thinking. "Mister White Man, we are not stupid here, we are not like the people of Ouargla... "

"Yes", I interjected, just to get my own back on Zahir, "where they all have toes instead of ..."

"Exactly. I know what an airplane is. That, for example, is one over there".

Locals

He took me by the hand and led me around the corner of the building.  Less than three miles away across the flat and dusty desert, sitting in splendid isolation on the sand, was an airplane. And next to the airplane was a tower topped by a radar dish. 

In the "old days", when I first arrived in Algeria, I would have scratched my head repeatedly and tried to work out what this mis-communication was all about. Now, I just clapped my hands, smiled as wide as possible (showing all my teeth, just to rub it in), shook everyone's fingers and exclaimed: "Magic, magic! I love your country!"

My new friends pushed the car until the engine spluttered into life and waved us off to the airport, "El Oued International Airport - Gateway to the Sahara" according to the weathered sign that greeted us on arrival.

Zahir, taking one look at the policeman manning the road block, spat: "Pay me now, I'm not going in there".

"But I need to get some change to pay you properly".

"Bugger properly. It's okay just give me 20 instead of 30. Bye".

"Um, okay, nice meeting you... " 

God, it was hot. But it was an airport, there was a terminal, there was some shade, I had some water. I sat down on my bag and tried to get some sleep - or some rest at least - until the plane arrived, although I was pretty sure she wouldn't be on it. Some more police arrived. I smiled and waved hullo. Some more police arrived. I smiled again. They started shouting at me; nothing unusual in that - it normally means nothing. What was strange, though, was that these policemen all had teeth. These were proper policemen. What are they doing here in the middle of nowhere?

To be continued

Der Meister kommt!

Weimar, long considered Germany's intellectual capital, boasts a musical patrimony without compare: Bach was organist at the ducal court from 1708 to 1717; Strauss made his home for five years amidst the town's winding streets; and, for three short days in 1849, this small settlement on the edge of the Thuringian Forest harboured Wagner on his flight from Dresden.

It was Franz Liszt (1811-1886) who welcomed the fleeing Wagner, and it was Liszt who, a year later, directed the première of Wagner's Lohengrin at Weimar’s Court Theatre.  Thuringia will fete the bi-centenary of the Hungarian genius in October 2011 with a string of celebratory concerts and historical visits in and around Weimar.

“Der Meister kommt!” - Liszt’s awe-struck students received their privileged tuition in the Hofgärtnerei, the former quarters of the court gardener that served as the composer’s Weimar residence.  The master’s house, now transformed into a museum, will make the perfect setting for a recital on the grand piano donated to Liszt in the final year of his life by Carl Bechstein.  Weimar’s ducal palace will welcome guests to an evening of Liszt and Schubert Lieder, and the festivities will be crowned by an anniversary concert featuring the brilliant young conductor Christian Thielemann alongside Konstantin Scherbakov, the winner of the first Rachmaninov Piano Competition.

Sir Peter Hall, Sir Derek Jacobi, Simon Callow

Sir Peter Hall, Sir Derek Jacobi, Simon Callow - a triumvirate of the greatest names in the world of British theatre as well  as one of the country's brightest young actors, Rory Kinnear...

Culturissima just learned that January 2011 will be a very special month for classical theatre in London, as three of Shakespeare's greatest plays, produced by two of the county’s leading theatre companies, take to the stage at the Donmar Theatre and National Theatre.

Culturissima has been commissioned to write the advance advertising "blurb" for a long weekend in London that will celebrate the achievements of London's Shakespearean traditions.  Michael Grandage will direct King Lear at the Donmar with Sir Derek Jacobi playing the title role; Twelfth Night will be directed at the National by Sir Peter Hall, with his daughter Rebecca as Viola and Simon Callow as Sir Toby Belch; and Hamlet at the Olivier will be directed by Nicholas Hytner and will see Clare Higgins as Gertrude, Patrick Malahide as Claudius, and David Calder as Polonius.

American readers might be interested by this post in the New York Times.

We'll post links to the plays as soon as details are made available to the general public.

Yes we can't

World Cup fever in Algiers

This article, written by Culturissima's managing director, Dr David Winter, was first published in When Saturday Comes June 18, 2010

Yes We Can't runs the headline in English in one of Algeria's leading papers as the Desert Foxes, still groggy after their 1-0 reverse against Slovenia, prepare to face the ogre anglais. Algeria expects, but not a lot: Une Mission Impossible is how Le Soir d'Algerie sums up the national team's chances against England, although most of the cafe talk still centres on who to blame for Sunday's defeat. Rabah Saadane gets it in the neck for his team selection, Abdelkader Ghezzal for his two yellow cards and Fawzi Chaouchi for his Greenesque goalkeeping blunder.

More venom is reserved for the team's barber, now obliged to carry his scissors in his back pocket for the rest of his life. Three of Algeria's players took to the pitch against Slovenia with dyed blond locks: "Bloody poofs," hissed my neighbour. "Since when have Arabs been blond? I'm glad they lost, otherwise all the kids would have come home looking daft. Why can't they be proud of where they come from?"

This last point is moot: 16 of the Algeria squad were born in France, and they're now being compared to the tomatoes on sale in Bab el Oued market: imported and crap. One hero did emerge from the opening game, though: the Algerian supporter pictured sitting atop one of the floodlights high above the stadium drew repeated roars of laughter from television spectators used to devising cunning ways to defeat the authorities.

There can be no doubt that the mood of national pessimism will be entirely cast aside as the England game approaches. Why? Because Friday's match is the most eagerly anticipated fixture in Algeria's history as it offers the country that rarest of opportunities: the chance to heave itself onto the world stage. To share a pitch with Lampard and Gerrard and Rooney is a source of inestimable pride for a nation that is largely ignored by the West.

What is more extraordinary still is that there is no bitterness or animosity towards England or the US, the Fennecs' final group opponents, even though these two countries have recently promoted Algeria – ludicrously – to the premier league of terrorist nations. Should they win today, then the decade of national strife will be forgotten – and the arranged elections almost certainly called at once.

The jubilation following Algeria's qualification for South Africa surpassed the outpouring of joy following independence in 1962. Victory over the Three Lions – and Franz Beckenbauer has just appeared on national television saying it's possible – would catapult this most downtrodden of countries into an ecstasy of teetotal celebrations: "Hallucinant, it would be hallucinant if we beat you."

So much for African fraternity

Patriotism in the Algerian capital, Algiers

I'm working in Algiers, the Algerian capital, on behalf of Culturissima, writing and researching a batch of cultural tours along Algeria's Mediterranean coast and deep down into the Sahara.

But the World Cup's just this moment started, and South Africa - the host country, of course, have just played their first match... so I've sent this off to a British football magazine for publication:

So much for African fraternity: the moment the referee blew the opening whistle for South Africa versus Mexico was the signal for the inhabitants of Algiers to desert their television sets and turn the streets of the capital into a Mediterranean Rio.

"Aren't you watching the game?"

"No, we want to have fun! One, Two, Three - Viva l'Algérie! Besides, it's sunny in North Africa but it's snowing in South Africa!"

He’s right: the television reception is poor – so much so that my neighbours devoted the whole of last night to hooking their ramshackle tv set directly to a huge satellite dish on the roof of a nearby tower block.

The reward for such initiative?

A spell behind bars - the dish sits on top of the local police headquarters.

Hopes are far from sky-high as Algeria gears up for Sunday’s opening clash between the Desert Foxes and Slovenia (Or is it Serbia? Croatia? Nobody seems to know).

"Une participation honorable, that’s what we’re after", says one local journalist: "But that’s the problem – that’s all we ever want: mediocrity. Give us our daily bread and fixed elections once every five years – that’s all we ever pray for".

Falah Benyoucef set out to disprove such cynicism by walking from Algiers to South Africa to watch Algeria’s first game, a journey of 8,000 miles.

It was only after trudging over the Atlas mountains, traversing the broad expanses of the Sahara desert and reaching Algeria’s southern border with Niger that Falah, now a national hero, inspected the visa in his passport: Maximum Stay in Niger – 24 Hours. Seven hundred miles in the space of a day was a feat too far even for Falah the Magnificent.

A few hundred wealthy Algerian supporters have made it to South Africa, flying from a special terminal that is normally reserved for pilgrims on their return from Mecca. On arriving the fans learned that "capitaine courage", Yazid Mansouri, has been dropped by manager Rabah Saadane, whose latest press conference ended with the hope that his team will make up for their individual weaknesses with collective desire.

This esprit de corps is very much alive in the western city of Oran – or that’s what the president of the region’s electricity board is promising: "We will have an équipe of highly trained engineers on duty during all Algeria’s matches. There is no reason for the public to panic".

Why the worry?

Well, many Oranais are still confused as to what happened to Zidane in the 2006 final. There was a power cut just before the forehead of Algeria’s most famous son made contact with Materazzi and many locals have still not seen the pictures of one of sport’s most iconic moments. It couldn't happen again, could it? Well, in the southern city of Ouargla the thermometer is now touching 46° in the shade, the power has gone off, the back-up generator has failed, there's no air-conditioning, no running water... but "One, Two, Three - Viva l'Algérie!"


Dr David Winter

Tartu

Am enjoying two or three days in the Baltic republics of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, where the countryside is studded with isolated manor houses, sturdy mediaeval castles and graceful Rococo churches.

We started in Tallinn, one of the gems of northern Europe, where the old town’s cobbled streets are ringed by mediaeval walls and ancient defensive towers. The fortified hill of Toompea, once the seat of the region’s bishops and nobility, is the setting for the Lutheran Toomkirik, built by the Danes in the early 13th century, and the 19th century Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, a souvenir of Russian authority.

But Tartu, founded in 1632 by the Swedish king Gustav Adolf, has probably been my favourite destination. The town is the beating intellectual heart of Estionia and, although sacked and pillaged throughout history, the historic core retains an air of peace and refinement, as befits the country’s oldest university town. Tartu also boasts its very own leaning tower, a marvellous neo-Classical cobbled square and, in St John’s Church, one of northern Europe’s most imposing brick Gothic monuments.

The principal objective is to not be ridiculous

Algerians like their flags large

This article, written by Culturissima's David Winter, was first published in the Racing and Football Outlook, June 2010

"The principal objective is to not be ridiculous"
Rabah Saadane, Algeria manager

The "Desert Foxes" are a team of largely French-born exiles - but never has an équipe of outsiders been loved with such pride and such passion. And, quaint though it may seem, only one thing matters to Algerian fans and players: being there. "What a privilege to be on the same pitch as England", says Foued Kadir, the Algerian midfielder who turns out for Valenciennes: "Lampard, Rooney, Gerrard – I watch them on tv and now I can’t believe I’ll be playing against them!"

There is little analysis in the Algerian press about the chances of Ziani, Bougherra and the boys in green but mention two subjects – the French coach and a coach in Cairo - and vooomph! the street cafés light up. According to a headline in Le Soir d’Algérie, "Domenech n’aime pas les Algériens".

The proof? He left Benzema and Nasri out of the French squad. And the Egyptians? During the combustible qualifier between the Rats and the Pharaohs last November, the Algerian team bus was stoned by a gang of locals. FIFA has just announced its "timides sanctions" against the Egyptian FA and the whole of Algiers is crying its favourite phrase: It’s a plot! It’s this fierce, often paranoid, closing of the ranks that could just leave "Mister Capello" looking faintly ridiculous on June 18.

Algeria at the World Cup

Win, lose or draw, there'll be war

This article - written by Culturissima's David Winter - was first published in When Saturday Comes May 30, 2010

What are the expectations for the team?
Low. It’s the taking part and the fact that Egypt won’t be there that counts. There is undiluted admiration for England, especially Wayne Rooney; the US are going to be a lot harder to beat than anyone thinks (largely due to their discipline and experience of World Cups) and no one remembers or much cares who the third team is. Even though there is not much hope, there is huge amounts of optimism. Over 40,000 national jerseys have been sold in France alone since qualification.

Is the coach popular?
Yes, he is. Rabah Saadane was even elected “Man of the Year” and, whatever happens, will largely remain so. For one, Algeria will never forget their defeat of Egypt (though they’re still awaiting with interest FIFA’s verdict on the stoning of the Algerian team bus in Cairo). Secondly, no matter how Algeria get knocked out, it will be the fault of the Egyptians, who apparently run FIFA.

Are there any players with unusual hobbies or business interests?
Many players are unknown as almost no one in the starting line-up lives in or was born in Algeria. Plus, only one player has ever and will ever count for Algeria: Zinedine Zidane.

Who are the best and worst interviewees?

Chadli Amri makes a good interviewee, especially when talking about the hogra of Algerians living in France (hogra means being excluded and held in contempt): “North Africans being molested in France or not given housing like the others? It happens all the time. Me, I’m not putting up with that.” The coach is good when it comes to slagging off Egypt. But Lionel Messi gets twice as many column inches as any Algerian. And Zidane only needs to fart to be in the papers.

Is the team likely to have any unusual goal celebrations?
All Algeria’s goal celebrations will be over-the-top. After qualifying, both at the stadium itself and on the victory drive from the airport back to the centre of Algiers, the players paraded with a mock version of the World Cup, as though they had already won it. Elsewhere, one might consider this arrogance; here it was innocent.

Have the team recorded a song for the World Cup?
No, but at the last count 28 CDs had been knocked out by various groups celebrating qualification. “One, two, three [sung in English in a very thick Algerian accent] – Viva l’Algérie!” earns rapturous applause everywhere.

What will the media coverage be like?
Wall to wall, both in French and Arabic, with all matches covered live – and French TV is streamed into most homes. People will celebrate and take to the streets for days even if they lose. Public debate about the team risks being seen as “déstabilisation de l’équipe nationale” unless you are a member of the 1986 World Cup squad, in which case it’s perfectly acceptable to start every sentence with: “In my day...”

Will there be many fans travelling to South Africa?
A couple of thousand very rich and very privileged Algerians are hoping to make it. As ever, though, they will have to surmount numerous bureaucratic hurdles. The government has decided that to obtain a new biometric passport, each citizen is obliged to list the names of the friends he had at primary school as well as their best friend during national service.

Algeria prepares for the World Cup

This article - written by Culturissima's David Winter - was first published in When Saturday Comes May 6, 2010 

To walk the streets of Algiers in early May is to be surrounded by thousands of locals clad in the green and white of the Desert Foxes. No surprise there – 40,000 national jerseys have been sold in France alone since the Fennecs' qualification against Egypt last November. What is surprising, though, is to find oneself supping a mint tea in a cafe heaving with bearded regulars sporting the three lions of England on their chests. At a rough guess there are twice as many people wearing England tops on Rue Didouche Mourade as there are on Oxford Street. Yet no one seems to know why.

It'll end in tears

It is such a cliche (and, far worse than that, a cliche invented by their former colonial masters across the Mediterranean) but, for the majority of Algerians gearing up for the World Cup, it really is the taking part that counts. Most Algerians couldn't name a single player in their team, with the possible exception of Karim Ziani, and all that they know about their manager is that one, he cried on national television and two, someone elected him "Man of The Year".

No, every football conversation across Algeria, from the Mediterranean to the Sahara, goes like this: "Ha, ha, Egypt didn't qualify! We're going to get trounced. But who cares? Let's party!" This is followed by: "Is Beckham in the England team?" (news takes time to filter through to North Africa). Les Verts are rarely interviewed on television, some of them have only ever been to Algeria once or twice, and, let's face it, only one player has ever and will ever count for Algeria: Zinedine Zidane.

A couple of thousand very rich and very privileged Algerians are hoping to make it to South Africa to support the Fennecs. As ever, though, they will have to surmount numerous bureaucratic hurdles – the government has decided that, to obtain one of the new biometric passports, each citizen is obliged to list the names of the friends he went to primary school with as well as the name of his best friend during National Service. As with the England tops, no one seems to know why.

The Norwich school

Am just about to head off to Norwich, in East Anglia, to do a "recce" on the Norwich school of painters for a British client. The 19th century Norwich School, whose landscapes and seascapes recall the realism of Dutch 17th century painting, can justifiably claim to be the only regional art movement that England has ever known. If the father of the "Norwich Society of Artists" was John Crome, then its leading exponent was John Sell Cotman, widely regarded as one of the country’s most accomplished water-colourists.

Norwich Cathedral

I'm going to look at some of the finest œuvres of the Norwich School and examine how the Norfolk countryside, its broads and rivers, inspired Crome and his fellow artists.  

Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery, the beneficiary of a lavish £12 million refit, hosts the most comprehensive collection of the work of the Norwich School. Alongside paintings by John Crome they have an unrivalled anthology of oils and water-colours by John Sell Cotman as well as landscapes by Robert Ladbrooke, James Stark and Crome's two sons, John Berney Crome and William Henry Crome.  Other local painters represented in the museum include Sir Alfred Munnings and Edward Seago.  

Henry Moore at Sainsbury's

So much for my background research - all that was new to me. What I did know, from previous visits to the region, is that Norwich’s fascination stretches far beyond its eponymous art school: the Sainsbury Centre celebrates the genius of Henry Moore, Giacometti, Bacon, Picasso and Modigliani, whilst Jacobean Blickling Hall evokes an altogether different era.  Reputedly home to the headless ghost of Anne Boleyn, Blickling is hung with family portraits by Gainsborough and boasts a splendid “Peter the Great Room”, which commemorates the service of the Earl of Buckinghamshire as ambassador to Russia.