WM Waspe
I cannot express surprise that our great subsidised organisations, led, naturally enough, by the Royal Opera House, have sprung so nimbly and patriotically to the support of the idea of a super-festival to celebrate the Queen's Silver Jubilee in 1977. What they scent, of course, is a whopping 'supplementary' to their already extravagant hand-outs from the Treasury yia the Arts Council, and if that devoutly-Wished consummation can be accomplished it matters but minimally what is being celebrated — for almost anything can be billed as a Gala or Jubilee performance, If it should so transpire that no additional funds are to be forthcoming, Waspe cynically suspects there will be a marked cooling of enthusiasm for the loyal project.
Save the Stubbs
None of the above is to suggest, of course, that all public expenditure on the arts is to be deplored. On the contrary, some is highly desirable and much in the public interest. One specific case at hand is the matter of the George Stubbs painting of Lord and Lady Melbourne and members of the Milbanke family (with horses, as might be expected), a native British masterpiece which should surely not be allowed to leave the country. Lately the Property of Mr Julian Salmond, it has been Provisionally sold by a dealer (believed to be Marlborough Fine Art) to a Swiss buyer for £300,000. There is an export embargo for four months while attempts are made by British museums and galleries to raise the money. The Tate, the likeliest British buyer, has only £100,000 in the kitty for the purpose, and since it Would obviously be scandalous if the balance were not provided by the Treasury, it would be a sensible relief if we could be spared further mealymouthed shilly-shallying on the part of
the Minister of Arts, who speaks of a grant being "considered on its merits under the usual arrangements."
Corker
I was glad, incidentally, in common with everyone else who is aghast at the Government proposals to apply a wealth tax to works of art, to note that the beautiful and civilised Miss Arianna Stassinopoulos had no difficulty whatever in chopping up the trendily absurd art critic, Richard Cork, in a debate on the subject on BBC radio last week.
Who knew?
When impresario Paul Raymond decided in April that he had no need of reviews for his second Whitehall Theatre show, Snatch 69, since they were bound to be hostile, I expressed dubiety as to his wisdom. His first Whitehall show, Pyjama Tops, it is true, ran for six years after getting the worst notices in the world. But even bad notices are better than no notices. Snatch 69, with no reviewers to tell everybody not only how bad it was but how naked and sexy it was, is off already.
Wish I'd said that
At the housewarming party given by Miriam Karlin at her new and elegantly decorated home in South London, languorous fellow actress Fenella Fielding found just the right .mots: "Darling," she breathed huskily, "it's a lovely house — when are you bringing it into town?"
Beeb at play
Some new symbols are being designed, I hear, for BBC-tv's weather maps — a simple enough business, one might think, but there have been hours of argument over them. 'Lightning' is no problem; nor is `rain'; but 'cloudy' got everybody bogged down in interminable discussions of what kind of clouds to show; and 'fog' defeated them so completely that they'll probably settle for just printing the word itself. Which they could do for all the others if they weren't so hooked into the kiddies' picturebook syndrome.
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