In Bristol this morning an audacious plan came to fruition. The plinth that once held a statue of slave owner and trader Edward Colston became home to a wonderful statue of Jen Reid. Her iconic image was flashed around the world on the day Colston was dumped in the river.
Marc Quinn was the artist who created the powerful statue calling it A Surge of Power.
Of course this wonderful example of guerrilla art was pounced on by slave owner defenders and so called history purists but, it managed to remain on the plinth for the entire day. Many people passing by praised it and snapped photos. As a lot of them said, it probably wouldn’t be there tomorrow.
And, of course, the council did remove it. The mayor, Marvin Rees, said that it was up to the people of Bristol to decide what would replace Colston’s statue. I think this is an odd thing to say. Were the people of Bristol asked if they wanted the Colston statue in the first place? Are people generally asked if they want a particular statue put in a particular place? I think not. I’ve never been asked.
If asked, I’d say long may Ms Reid stand as a defiant image, more in keeping with what Bristol stands for rather than the subjugation of, and profiteering off, other human beings.
Speaking of my opinion and a lot closer to home, the house which I call the blue house because it has blue window frames is being renovated. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before in the blog. While the house is (was) predominately white, the blue window frames really stand out.
The renovations have included the old render being taken off and a new one put on. It also included having the windows replaced. The new window frames had no colour and were real wood rather than crappy plastic.
Today, as I walked into town, a couple of the window frames appeared to have been painted red. I guess it could be some sort of masking tape to protect them from the render and they will be painted blue eventually. Equally I could just be kidding myself and the new owners have decided to go with red.
Actually, I quite like the idea of the house having a complete change of identity while I still go on calling it the Blue House. That’s the kind of quirky guy I am.
Regarding colour, I was about to take the washing in this afternoon when I noticed a blotch on one of Mirinda’s tops. The material the top is made from has a floral print and, rather than an unwelcome blotch, it had a confused butterfly sitting on a bunch.
I don’t think it was the same butterfly that I rescued the other day. Rather than say hi, it flew off as soon I got too close. Still, it seems to be a bit of a butterfly week for me.
I have seen quite a few fluttering on the hydrangeas outside my office. There’s also been a few through the raised bed opposite my desk. It’s only natural, I suppose, that one should decide to land on a piece of floral material.
Unaware of the rampant butterfly action in the garden, Emma stood guard in her usual position when the library door is shut against her. She didn’t see anyone so for most of her guard shift, she was asleep.
I do wonder why people get so incensed about statues being removed. They claim history is being changed. Most of them have no idea about the history behind statues. They also don’t understand that history is not about statues. History is about people. History matters; statues, not so much.