ARTS
What's going on on page 27?
Lloyd Evans believes the decision to scrap admission charges has confused our national collections Behold the British Library. Surfacing like a vast pink bath toy on the Euston Road our national book collection has used up more public funds than it's possible to comprehend. We can only grasp its price by using the new mega-units of sterling, the Hospital, and its smaller denomination, the School. The Library has cost about 12 Ho. and 50 Sc. — to say nothing of the demi- aeon it took to build. It's enough to make you weep. But you laugh. Of course you laugh. What else can you do?
Sensing the mood of national hilarity when she came to open it in June, the Queen made her bi-annual wisecrack. The engagement, she said, had been in her pending tray 'longer than most'. It was a good one. She had the British rolling in the Isles.
With the budget review pending, the Library opened at a sensitive time for pub- licly funded projects. Subsidy fans hoped it would win over the philistines and hooli- gans. What they saw left everyone a bit baf- fled. The scale is huge, the style placid. With its Trumpton clock and discount- warehouse roofs (and its brickwork blush- ing like tomato soup at the sheer embarrassment of arriving so late), the British Library looks like a drop-in centre for giants with learning difficulties. The exterior is happy, positive, obliging and dead safe. The forecourt, a chirpy patch- work of red and white rectangles, is domi- nated by a bronze statue of Action Man clipping his toenails. Closer inspection reveals this to be Newton measuring the earth with a pair of dividers.
It all seems disappointingly ill-conceived — at least at first. But like the National Theatre the Library is an example of banana architecture: ludicrous outside, exquisite within. The interior was rightly and universally admired. Will Self, an Olympic-standard cynic, called it 'quite simply awesome'. Then, on the very day it opened, the directors admitted they were considering charging admission.
A month later, up popped the Culture Secretary, corpulent, crimson and well- meaning (like his new Library) to announce that all admission charges would be scrapped. There was jubilation among the Blairheads — tears of joy in Hamp- stead — fireworks on Islington Green another Tory crime consigned to the dustbin of Thatcherism. But as Chris Smith rode in his open sedan through the ticker- tape fanfare of Upper Street nobody noticed a strange phrase tucked away on page 27 of the spending review: 'Ministers are considering a change in the status of the Library . . . This would allow greater financial freedom . . . to borrow and exploit commercial possibilities more fully.' You have been warned. Get down there while it's still free.
And where does Mr Smith's chortling announcement leave the rest of our nation- al collections? New Labour clearly hasn't decided. Rather than mocking their pro- crastination it's worth remembering that the Conservatives vacillated for years as well. Coming to power in 1979 their gut- instincts coincided with the Quentin Crisp doctrine: 'Culture is anything that's too boring to be called entertainment.' Thus, Chris de Burgh singing 'The Lady In Red' is just as much a museum-piece as Stegosaurus (fair point actually — that scaly back, those ferocious teeth) and that if it's right to subsidise a display of dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum, why not subsidise Pink Floyd at Wembley Arena? But the Tories proceeded cautious- ly. Subsidised culture is a tricky issue there are no votes in it but it helps deter- mine the moral complexion of a govern- ment.
Extremists wanted every museum, gallery, castle, folly, keep, bailey, henge and menhir to 'embrace the market' with a gift-shop and a barbed-wire fence. A com- promise was needed. Then a bright spark in South Ken noticed that Museumland was packed with foreigners — and that try- ing to find a Brit at the British Museum was like looking for a needle in a rehab clinic. This prompted the suggestion that since we pay for museums through taxation only foreigners need be charged admission. Perfect . . . apart from one tiny detail: any- one turning up at, say, the National Gallery would either have to produce a UK pass- port or submit to a friendly interrogation along the lines of: 1. Where do the Wombles live? 2. What's a Brummie? 3. Complete the catchphrase 'Nice to see you — to see you —? before being admitted to drink in the subtle majesty of the Wilton Diptych.
Not until 1987 did the Natural History Museum introduce charges. It seemed indecent. No one minded Mrs Thatcher tackling modern ills like inefficiency or trade union power, but this felt like an attack on our ancestors. The national col- lections are public assets. We were being charged for the privilege of looking at our own reflection.
To their surprise, the Natural History and the Science Museums found charging wasn't so bad after all. They had the cash to transform their exhibitions and meet the competition from video games, theme parks and other hi-tech entertainments. If you object to the Alton Towerisation of our museums, you probably haven't visited them. They offer the perfect synthesis of education and fun. I spent an hour at the Science Museum, fascinated. And I'm a techno-clot. If I were 12 years old, I'd have stayed there all day. They also perform a vital but little-known social function: amorous divorcees with children to offload for an afternoon make for South Kensing- ton with all the jittery relish of stricken bal- loonists dumping sandbags.
Charging admission is not a tax on learn- ing. The information the museums contain is available free elsewhere. It's the excel- lent presentation that is unique and justi- fies the admission charge. Mr Smith's announcement simply restores the financial uncertainties suffered by all subsidised bodies. Just think of the NHS. Soon we may have 'world-class museums' with one small snag: a two-year waiting-list to get in.
And is the Culture Secretary really com- mitted to subsidising our museums? Re- reading the spending review I notice the mysterious page 27 also mentions a propos- al about 'national museums and galleries . . . to take them out of the directly con- trolled government sector'. Could this be privatisation? It is, after all, traditional New Labour policy.
And it would suit the V&A perfectly. Facing the loss of £3 million in admission revenues and with its corporate sponsors Queen Victoria and Prince Albert both in the hands of the Receiver, the museum needs a new sugar-daddy. Happily, the col- lection was established specifically to `inspire manufacturers and designers'. This is a crucial distinction. Its first responsibili- ty is to the high street, not academia. So who might become its new champion? BHS? Habitat? The C&A has a certain ring to it. If you think this sounds improba- ble, bear in mind that the museum already has franchising arrangements with firms like Donna and Coats Viyella — suppliers of top-notch schmutter to Marks and Sparks. If it wanted a sponsor with deeper pockets it could do worse than becoming the B&Q — an arrangement that would win the approval of Lord Irvine, if no one else. But the museum's saviour may lie closer to home — at a shopping centre just down the road. Merging the museum with Harrods would suit both sides. It would sit happily with Mr Fayed's established prac- tice of acquiring lustre through spurious royal associations. And as for the V&A, well, it's always been glad to accept oriental antiques of dubious authenticity.
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