Just lately
I’ve been feeling sorry for our younger generations. For them, it seems, the
future is mostly doom-laden. From the moment they are born, or so it has just been
reported, our babies stand a higher chance of dying than others in Europe.
Those who survive long enough to attend school can expect a non-holistic education,
varying in quality according to socio-geographic factors. At 18 they might get
a low-paid job in the service industries or the offer of a loan with which they
can try their luck at higher education. And, having got thus far, they must try
to find a way to earn enough to house themselves in a market which is
deliberately kept expensive because the nation’s wealth is measured, largely,
in the candy-floss value of house prices. The fact that they haven’t yet taken
to the streets in mass protest must be down to the inherent optimism and
resilience of youth.
It is
possible that my pity for the young is exacerbated by the nostalgic mist
through which I view my own formative years - as evidenced this week on a visit
to the Whitworth Art Gallery,
where I was almost overcome by nostalgia at the sight of a display of wallpapers
from the 1960s. The designs, executed with the same bold, open modernity as the
buildings they were intended to decorate, rekindled in me the feeling of excitement
which I felt back then whenever I came across examples of futuristic
architecture rising from the bombed ruins of post-war Plymouth. Modernity spoke
to me of social emancipation, progress, experimentation and the determination
to re-build society at a higher level of aspiration. It all came flooding back
when I saw that wallpaper.
And in an
adjoining room there is even more from the period: an exhibition of the work of
Tibor Reich, designer and manufacturer of furnishing fabrics and ceramics
during the 1950s and 1960s. Tibor was one of those many immigrants who enriched
our culture by introducing a new way of looking at objects and who had the industriousness
to bring them into our homes and public spaces. Displayed were those familiar
colours and textures which smouldered then with the promise of modernity – and
still do. They were designs which left the 19th century behind and
embraced a new age.
As I studied them I contemplated the privileges of my youth:
the state-provided milk and orange juice in infancy; dentistry and general
healthcare throughout secondary school; and grant-aided university education
leading to guaranteed employment for those who wanted it. My heart went out to
the youth of today for whom society is unwilling to provide the same level of
nurture. In the grasping world of uber-capitalism, with the NHS falling apart and
the TTIP agreement promising American companies a chance to take it over, it
seems to send the message “Sink or swim: you’re on your own”.
At the end of the week I was with a
group of other smugly comfortable Baby Boomers as we left a restaurant and wandered
through the streets of the trendy Northern Quarter looking for a suitable place
for a nightcap. It was a tall order, this being the territory of the millennials,
whose priority is not to sit in cosy corners but to be dynamic and meet other
millennials. But, just as ours was beginning to look like a lost cause, we
ventured into a place that was relatively calm and, to our surprise and delight,
welcoming. Our bearded host was exceptionally polite and accommodating. “Do
come again,” he said as we left.
“Perhaps he felt sorry for us old
has-beens?” I ventured to my pal.
“Huh! It’s more likely that his
predatory instinct was aroused by a sniff of the Baby Boomer pound”, he
replied.
Good article. I'm lucky enough to be married to the woman who trained most of the modern British wallpaper designers so it's good to see any appreciation of their skills.
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