The Rooks of Trelawne
Mar. 7th, 2006 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootI am greatly indebted to lucyas and chomper99, whom I thank for most of the info below. This post is pretty much a regurgitation of their recent very clarifying and fascinating comments. I re-record here, because I don't want to forget what they have told me.
But first, here is a review of a book entitled, 'The Rooks of Trelawne' written by Mr Andrew Lanyon:
'The Rooks Of Trelawne' tell the story of Lewis Harding, a wealthy London businessman who moved to the clean Cornish air 'for his health'. He moved to Trelawne Manor, a large country residence with extensive grounds on the outskirts of Polperro. He soon became rather bored as he had a housekeeper to look after his personal needs, and not being in the best of health, a team of gardeners to look after the grounds of his estate. To pass away his time he learnt the very new art of photography, done in those days with wet solution, glass negative plates, and a large wooden camera on a heavy tripod. Lewis Harding befriended Dr Jonathan Cooch the famous naturalist, who's book 'Fishes of the British Isles' is still used as the most comprehensive guide to native species. Harding kept a very detailed daily journal, and Lanyon tells the story of Harding, and in particular the Rookery in the grounds of Trelawne Manor, and at the end of the book the demise of the rooks who annually, left the grounds of the Manor to fly south to warmer climes. One year however, they never returned, and thereby mirrored Hardings later life. The book is illustrated with Harding's photographs of the village locals, the fish market and famous landmarks including Crumplehorn Mill and the coach that carried locals to Plymouth once a week.'
Sounds like nothing much doesn't it? One of those coffee table books, sweet and nostalgic for an England that never was and always will be, of shortbread-tin water-colours depicting all the softness of the Green and Pleasant Land. But of course, nothing is that simple; for you see, there is an exhibition of this phenomenon, also created by Andrew Lanyon...
*'in the basement of a maritine museum in St Ives, Cornwall. It is supposedly an exhibition of photography but in fact it tells a strange story of a man and his psychiatrist and a bunch of villagers who may or may not have been turning into rooks - or possibly the rooks are turning into villagers. They are taking the fingerprints of the villagers and photographing them and keeping a diary of the rooks. I can't remember which man is doing which activity - I think the psychiatrist is doing the fingerprinting and the patient is doing the diary and the photography. They get convinced that the rooks and the villagers are in fact the same thing and that they are also making their fingerprints all identical in order to confuse their observers. The diary of the rooks shows differing numbers of rooks in the woods until in the end there are none there at all - but there are lots more villagers, all with the same fingerprints.
The exhinbition is as surreal as the story. It is pretending to be about photography, but it isn't really it is more about the story of the rooks of Trelawny. And it is like a maze with narrow passages and little displays were you press a button and a kind of Monty Python-esque animation is supposed to happen but most of them aren't working...'
**'the psychiatrist's patient was advised to take up anthropology as a form of therapy, but [...] it didn't seem to go very well. Adding to the odd effect of the content was that the individual parts of the exhibit were numbered sequentially only if you jumped about. You had to go from one side of a corridor round the corner and then back again to follow it. But the most bizarre part was the final display which was just an entire wall painted black with the legend: "6pm. The rooks have not returned."
What exactly is the tale of the Rooks of Trelawne? I must find out. I have to see this exhibition. Is it about some strange relationship power thing between a bored photographer and a manipulative psychiatrist? The migration patterns of the rookery and its eventual demise? A village of fingerprint forging hoaxers/people metamorphosing into rooks/rooks pretending to be villagers? I have this vision of Harding wandering the cliffpaths with his camera, unaware of a crew of avian set-dressers trundling house-fronts on casters behind him, stopping still whenever he turns round. For all we know, they could have followed him all round the coast. He might have reached Southampton before suspecting anything.
Of course this whole thing could be the story of an insane photographer obsessed with rooks, who invented Harding and the psychiatrist, and then created an exhibition full of tunnels and curiously designated interactive museum pieces, none of which actually work, though apparently the exhibition is permanent. I'll bet he's still down there somewhere, decked out in broken umbrellas and bits of old ladies' sandwiches.
*Thank youlucyas ** Thank you chomper99, if either of you would prefer me not to use your quotes, please let me know and I will delete without rancour asap.
lucyas and chomper99, whom I thank for most of the info below. This post is pretty much a regurgitation of their recent very clarifying and fascinating comments. I re-record here, because I don't want to forget what they have told me. But first, here is a review of a book entitled, 'The Rooks of Trelawne' written by Mr Andrew Lanyon:
'The Rooks Of Trelawne' tell the story of Lewis Harding, a wealthy London businessman who moved to the clean Cornish air 'for his health'. He moved to Trelawne Manor, a large country residence with extensive grounds on the outskirts of Polperro. He soon became rather bored as he had a housekeeper to look after his personal needs, and not being in the best of health, a team of gardeners to look after the grounds of his estate. To pass away his time he learnt the very new art of photography, done in those days with wet solution, glass negative plates, and a large wooden camera on a heavy tripod. Lewis Harding befriended Dr Jonathan Cooch the famous naturalist, who's book 'Fishes of the British Isles' is still used as the most comprehensive guide to native species. Harding kept a very detailed daily journal, and Lanyon tells the story of Harding, and in particular the Rookery in the grounds of Trelawne Manor, and at the end of the book the demise of the rooks who annually, left the grounds of the Manor to fly south to warmer climes. One year however, they never returned, and thereby mirrored Hardings later life. The book is illustrated with Harding's photographs of the village locals, the fish market and famous landmarks including Crumplehorn Mill and the coach that carried locals to Plymouth once a week.'
Sounds like nothing much doesn't it? One of those coffee table books, sweet and nostalgic for an England that never was and always will be, of shortbread-tin water-colours depicting all the softness of the Green and Pleasant Land. But of course, nothing is that simple; for you see, there is an exhibition of this phenomenon, also created by Andrew Lanyon...
*'in the basement of a maritine museum in St Ives, Cornwall. It is supposedly an exhibition of photography but in fact it tells a strange story of a man and his psychiatrist and a bunch of villagers who may or may not have been turning into rooks - or possibly the rooks are turning into villagers. They are taking the fingerprints of the villagers and photographing them and keeping a diary of the rooks. I can't remember which man is doing which activity - I think the psychiatrist is doing the fingerprinting and the patient is doing the diary and the photography. They get convinced that the rooks and the villagers are in fact the same thing and that they are also making their fingerprints all identical in order to confuse their observers. The diary of the rooks shows differing numbers of rooks in the woods until in the end there are none there at all - but there are lots more villagers, all with the same fingerprints.
The exhinbition is as surreal as the story. It is pretending to be about photography, but it isn't really it is more about the story of the rooks of Trelawny. And it is like a maze with narrow passages and little displays were you press a button and a kind of Monty Python-esque animation is supposed to happen but most of them aren't working...'
**'the psychiatrist's patient was advised to take up anthropology as a form of therapy, but [...] it didn't seem to go very well. Adding to the odd effect of the content was that the individual parts of the exhibit were numbered sequentially only if you jumped about. You had to go from one side of a corridor round the corner and then back again to follow it. But the most bizarre part was the final display which was just an entire wall painted black with the legend: "6pm. The rooks have not returned."
What exactly is the tale of the Rooks of Trelawne? I must find out. I have to see this exhibition. Is it about some strange relationship power thing between a bored photographer and a manipulative psychiatrist? The migration patterns of the rookery and its eventual demise? A village of fingerprint forging hoaxers/people metamorphosing into rooks/rooks pretending to be villagers? I have this vision of Harding wandering the cliffpaths with his camera, unaware of a crew of avian set-dressers trundling house-fronts on casters behind him, stopping still whenever he turns round. For all we know, they could have followed him all round the coast. He might have reached Southampton before suspecting anything.
Of course this whole thing could be the story of an insane photographer obsessed with rooks, who invented Harding and the psychiatrist, and then created an exhibition full of tunnels and curiously designated interactive museum pieces, none of which actually work, though apparently the exhibition is permanent. I'll bet he's still down there somewhere, decked out in broken umbrellas and bits of old ladies' sandwiches.
*Thank you
lucyas ** Thank you chomper99, if either of you would prefer me not to use your quotes, please let me know and I will delete without rancour asap.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 09:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 09:24 am (UTC)A trip for late spring perhaps.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 09:39 am (UTC)I can see it in my mind's eye
Date: 2006-03-08 09:58 am (UTC)