Nocturnal Butterfly: Modern Life Is (Still) Rubbish

Dear Reader, let's face it, if Blur thought this was the case back in 1993, when they released their Modern Life is Rubbish album, it's difficult to argue that things have improved. We've got greater wealth inequality since then, our public services have been all but decimated by a seemingly never ending austerity, we've had a global pandemic which claimed the lives of millions of people, social media has exploded into our lives, dividing people more than ever, and we are on the brink of a global depression because of the war in the Middle East, and, like a sparkling icing on the top, we face the ever closer threat of ecological disaster due to climate change.

Ace. Just bloody ace.

I very recently discovered the work of the artist Rebecca Lightbody, and I responded to her work in a very positive way, as she seems to sum up so much that is fiercely irritating about our culture, but with a dark sense of humour at the same time:

There is something about this particular image that really amused me. Designed in the style of the hundreds of business cards that used to be found in telephone boxes in London, by ladies (and gents) of the night in the 1980s and 90s (and perhaps still do, who knows), but with a fabulous twist: "Call For Pain - I'll send you straight to voicemail." I don't exactly know why but I actually laughed out loud when I read that. For me, it just seemed to sum up so much about our current society. It used to be so very easy, if you wanted something from officialdom, or had a query about a venue or an electronic device you were interested in buying, or wanted to make a doctor's appointment, to just pick up the phone and call somebody. But now, it is practically impossible to do this. You either press the numbers requested when the phone answers, only to reach the end of the options with the instruction to email your question. Or you will be put on interminable hold, with Vivaldi blasting your eardrums, which is then periodically interrupted by a voice saying that the company are experiencing an unprecedented high number of calls, and advising that there will be a long delay. Thirty minutes later you are still waiting and have to hang up as you have other calls to make as well. I don't know about you, dear reader, but I despise this part of our society. And it doesn't have to be like this! It's a choice by the collective people who run the show.

This T-shirt design by Rebecca also caught my attention...

Albert Camus and the existentialists, eat your heart out!

With all this in mind, each day I become increasingly grateful (and reliant) on the simply priceless website that is the Internet Archive. And my latest discovery has really fired my imagination. For, instead of perusing through our dreaded contemporary newspapers or magazines on a weekend, I can now pretend that I am sitting in the lounge of The Cadogan Hotel, in 1896, sipping Earl Grey tea whilst reading The Savoy magazine of literature, art and criticism (which was published by Leonard Smithers and who was a friend of Oscar Wilde), with piano concertos by Chopin and Liszt playing away softly in the background or on my headphones.

I am currently two-thirds of the way through the 1st issue of The Savoy (which was published in January, 1896), and I have enjoyed the articles immensely. Here are its literary contents:

I am eagerly anticipating reading Aubrey Beardsley's Under the Hill, which is the last story in the collection, but so far my favourite has been The Binding of the Hair by W.B. Yeats, which has a strange, ghostly ending that I was not expecting. The piece by Havelock Ellis on the novelist Emile Zola, Zola: The Man and his Work, was intriguing and informative, as was the piece entitled Dieppe by Arthur Symons. This article had extra interest for me as I spent some time in Dieppe circa 1990/91, and although I don't have any recollections of any of the places Symons discusses, it still brought me closer to the time I spent there, and I could feel the warm heat and hear the soft sound of the sea as I read his evocative descriptions.

- Dieppe, Illustration in The Savoy (1896)

I have been enjoying perusing The Savoy as if I'd discovered treasure that had been buried deep at sea for over a hundred years, and, in a sense, that is an accurate description. Of course, this find doesn't make me richer from a financial perspective, but the richness of its contents from an intellectual and emotional standpoint, and the way it has fired my imagination and allowed (nay, encouraged) me to find a way to extend my reality to how I would have felt if I had been living in 1896, has been priceless. To imagine myself reading this rather risqué, brand new decadent publication in the lounge of a beautiful London hotel, whilst sipping Earl Grey tea, in 1896, is an added delight. We all have many possibilities in us, so why not explore those myriad selves if the opportunity present itself? And not only that, it has given me a space where I can ignore some of the things in modern life that I described above which drive me to a barely concealed fury. The other fabulous news is that all eight issues are available to read on the Internet Archive, and I fully intend to make the very most of this situation by leaving the same interval between each edition as I would have had to do when they were published back in 1896, rather than just devouring all eight as soon as possible. A rather dandified and dignified way to go about this particular experience, I would suggest.

Anyway, gentle reader, with that in mind, I am now going to make myself a fine pot of Earl Grey tea, settle down in a chair in the lounge, put a Liszt piano concerto on in the background, and read what's remaining for to me to read in Issue 1 of The Savoy, whilst pretending I'm sitting in the lounge of The Cadogan Hotel, wondering if at any moment Oscar Wilde, Arthur Symons, Claude Debussy, or even Pierre Louys will walk through its famous doors, and join me for tea. Maybe you should do the same?

And yes, in my opinion, modern life is still rubbish.