(Sometimes) With The Beatles

Have you ever considered the possibility that all musicians are a bunch of shiftless, dishonest bastards? It is a tantalising possibility, isn't it? Particularly with regard to groups. If you settle down to listen to a Bob Dylan LP, for instance, you can be pretty sure that ol' Bob was responsible for at least some of the sounds that you are hearing. But groups are a very different dynamic: the achingly fashionable Johnnies you saw on Top of the Pops last week might have had very little to do with their latest 45.

That said, there's nothing particularly wrong with this state of affairs. Artists have employed assistants for centuries to do all kinds of different work for them, often completely anonymously and without any expectation of credit. It is said that the modern day artist is more of a manager than a craftsperson, but it was ever thus: Andy Warhol got his mum to sign his work for him and while Michaelangelo did most of the figurative painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel himself, he still had a grunt on the ground telling him where to put extra pubes, mixing his paint and passing him up sausage rolls.

It is, of course, particularly rife in popular music. The majority of The Beach Boys' most famous recordings were made by the Wrecking Crew, a Los Angeles-based supergroup of session musicians. Led Zeppelin were similarly formed by players from the London recording scene. And the less said about Milli Vanilli, the better.

The Beatles: Jim, Peter, Gregory and Roland

Which brings me to The Beatles, who whether you like it or not happen to be the most famous and notable recording artists in history. This is a major advantage, as from a point in around the middle of 1962, no-one closely involved in their story has been able to do so much as a fart without Mark Lewisohn noting it down. As such, we are able to establish exactly who did what, where and when. The following is a list (possibly incomplete but hopefully not too badly so) of recordings released by The Beatles which did not have all four canonical members of the group playing on them. There will be a test later.

YESTERDAY
Only Paul McCartney appears on the record: the other musicians were a string quartet, arranged by George Martin and comprised of Tony Gilbert, Sidney Sax, Kenneth Essex and Peter Halling or Francisco Gabarro.

WE CAN WORK IT OUT
Is is unknown for sure whether or not George Harrison is present on this recording: some have argued that he provided the tambourine but others believe that this was played by Ringo Starr. Harrison did, however, contribute to the song's composition.

ELEANOR RIGBY
Ringo Starr is absent from this track, with John Lennon and George Harrison only providing vocals. The music was provided exclusively by a string nonet arranged by George Martin and comprising Tony Gilbert, Sidney Sax, John Sharpe and Jürgen Hess on violin; Stephen Shingles and John Underwood on viola and Derek Simpson, Stephen Lansberry and Peter Halling on cello.

LOVE YOU TO
John Lennon is absent from this recording, with Paul McCartney only offering vocals and Ringo Starr on tambourine. The group was bolstered by the addition of Anil Bhagwat on tabla and musicians from the Asian Music Circle on sitar and tambura.

WITHIN YOU WITHOUT YOU
George Harrison recorded this solo, assisted by musicians from the Asian Music Circle providing dilrubas, tabla, swarmandal and tambura accompaniment.

SHE'S LEAVING HOME
Features only Paul McCartney and John Lennon, who provide only vocals. She's Leaving Home is one of a scant few Beatles tracks on which none of the canonical four play any musical instrument.

THE INNER LIGHT
Ringo Starr is absent from this recording. Parts of this song, which appeared as the B-side of the single Lady Madonna, were recorded at a session in Bombay during the group's stay in India. It is the only song ever issued by The Beatles not to have been recorded solely in the UK.

BACK IN THE U.S.S.R.
DEAR PRUDENCE
Ringo Starr left The Beatles following a series of escalating intra-band arguments and did not appear on either of the opening songs on the white album. Paul McCartney provided the percussion instead.

WILD HONEY PIE
BLACKBIRD
All exclusively solo Paul McCartney projects.

MARTHA MY DEAR
Paul McCartney was again the sole representative on this recording, which was bolstered by a 15-man brass and string orchestra arranged by George Martin.

DON'T PASS ME BY
The first Beatles song solely written by Ringo Starr, only Paul McCartney joins him on the recording; with additional violin by Jack Fallon.

WHY DON'T WE DO IT IN THE ROAD?
Paul McCartney recorded this song solo, although Ringo Starr would later overdub his own drum track which eventually appeared in the finished version.

I WILL
George Harrison was otherwise occupied for the recording of this song, which required 67 takes.

JULIA
John Lennon's first and only exclusively solo effort as a Beatle.

MOTHER NATURE'S SON
Ironically recorded at a time of great disharmony within the group, McCartney recorded the song alone, later adding in a George Martin brass arrangement. Lennon and Starr were, reportedly, extremely peeved that McCartney had taken his own initiative.

LONG, LONG, LONG
SAVOY TRUFFLE
Lennon was absent from the session in which both of these songs were recorded.

GOOD NIGHT
Ringo Starr provides the vocal for this John Lennon-penned song, with orchestral accompaniment arranged by George Martin and backing vocals from The Mike Sammes Singers.

ACROSS THE UNIVERSE
Paul McCartney is absent from the Phil Spector-produced version that appeared on the Let It Be album, although he appears on the "birdsong" version recorded for the World Wildlife Fund at the request of Spike Milligan, which was subsequently released on Past Masters volume 2.

I ME MINE
John Lennon had left the band by the time this Harrison composition was recorded. However, the session - in which John Lennon instead spent his time dancing in the corner of the studio with Yoko Ono - appeared in Michael Lindsay-Hogg's film Let It Be and therefore had to be included on the finished album.

THE BALLAD OF JOHN AND YOKO
George Harrison was on holiday and Ringo Starr away filming The Magic Christian when inspiration struck Lennon to write this song, which he recorded with help from McCartney on vocals, bass, percussion and piano.

MAXWELL'S SILVER HAMMER
HERE COMES THE SUN
GOLDEN SLUMBERS
John Lennon was in a car accident in Scotland on July 1st 1969 which saw him hospitalised for six days and absent from several sessions for the Abbey Road album. Lennon had returned to London and to the studio by the time work began on Maxwell's Silver Hammer, but declined to take part because he thought the song was "rubbish".

BECAUSE
Ringo Starr is absent from this song, which required no percussion. Or at least, that was their story.

HER MAJESTY
A Paul McCartney solo.

(honourable mention: The version of Love Me Do that appears on the Please Please Me album (and also released as a single in the US market) features session musician Andy White on drums instead of then-newcomer Ringo Starr. However, Ringo is on the record, playing the tambourine. The version of Love Me Do that appears on Past Masters Vol. 1 has Ringo restored to his rightful seat.)

Which country has the best flag?

Flags are important and powerful things. They represent a whole nation's personality, history and identity. That is a lot of responsibility for anyone to take on, so it's little wonder that so many flags try to keep it as simple as possible.

But simple, formulaic flags are boring. Someone from France, Ireland or Romania might be moved by the sight of their tricolour, but it hardly sets the pulses racing from a purely aesthetic point of view. The majority of the world's flags fit in to these same-old, same-old templates.

This is not the case for this fly twenty-five. Unique design elements, unusual patterns and unexpected colours are their calling card. Imagine being from one of these countries and seeing your flag fluttering up its pole. "Hell yeah!", you'd scream, probably fit to punch a horse. Maybe you are. If so, rest assured that you are very lucky and leave those horses alone.

(NB: This list is 100% accurate and non-negotiable. Only flags from sovereign nations have been considered. Sorry Wales.)

25 Zimbabwe

A bird hat on your flag is worth two in the bush

24 Brazil

"Ordem e Progresso" is Portuguese for "check THIS flag out"

23 Qatar

Almost unique in design, completely unique in proportions and in colour. Score.

22 Vietnam

It's not a unique design (Somalia has the same one but with a white star on a sky blue background),
but something about this flag just screams "I AM VIETNAM". You'd probably guess it was the
Vietnamese flag even if you didn't know. It is almost unimaginably beautiful as a piece of design.

21 Switzerland

It's one of only two square flags in the world (Vatican City has the other) but this one wins.
The subtlety and crisp accuracy of this flag gives me the horn and puts holes in me cheese.

20 Cyprus

Cyprus go for the map flag. An over-literal approach, perhaps? Like hell it is.

19 Panama

Oh HELLS yeah

18 Brunei

There's all manner of things going on here. Keeps you entertained for hours.

17 Swaziland

This flag wails "don't mess with us, we've got old time African tribal weapons up in this gaff"

16 Eritrea

Like someone shot a tricolour through a prism, then folded it up wrong. Plus hand tree!

15 Comoros

"What elements shall we put on our flag?" "All".

14 Uganda

"Double Belgium sideways with a stork, please"

13 Papua New Guinea

Stars. Bird. Diagonals.

12 Saint Lucia

Turbomountain

11 Central African Republic

CENTRAL VERTICAL BAND, BITCHES

10 Seychelles

"Because fuck you, that's why"

9 Bhutan

Diagonals. Dragons. Didragonals.

8 Guyana

Bitchin' flag, this way >>>

7 Kiribati

Come on

6 Nepal

Because rectangles are for wimps

5 FYR Macedonia

Brasso

4 Mozambique

Star. Book. Hoe. And...AND... A MOTHER FUCKING AK-47.

3 Sri Lanka

Every single thing about this flag rules.

2 Grenada

Like playing the world's funnest board game, in the world's best circus, in space. On fire.

1 Antigua and Barbuda

Look at the way the blue band seems to bend to form a horizon. More flags need optical illusions, please.

The Long Man of Wilmington is a prick

Heritage.

If I went out and broke my bloody back digging out a huge great big long man-shaped trough in a hillside and then filling it with limestone, frankly I'd expect the rozzers to catch me in the act and gently dissuade me from continuing by the means of a swift kick in the knackers. Even if I were able to finish it, I imagine that the National Trust or some other group of beardy people to say outraged things on the breakfast news and fix the damage to their hill - A HILL! - as soon as possible.

However, if I somehow managed to carve a 200-foot tall figure in the side of the hill and no-one kicked me in the spuds or noticed for about a thousand years, this piece of gibbering insanity becomes heritage and art and important. I understand this point of view. Heritage is a very important thing and should be protected.

This is not to say that the Long Man of Wilmington isn't a cunt. Because he is. I'll say it again. The Long Man of Wilmington is a cunt. Always has been and always will be. It hurts me to say it because Sussex Pride Should Never Be Denied. It's a bit of a stinger that the UK's finest county is also home to its lousiest hillside figure.

The Long Man of Wilmington: dreary

The UK, a global leader in heritage after all, only actually has two such human figures. To be honest, that's for the best. If there was shit drawn on every hill they'd start to lose their impact. There's the Long Man of Wilmington in East Sussex and the Cerne Abbas Giant in Dorset.

the Cerne Abbas Giant: hung

And therein lies the problem. Every day, a million conversations about the Long Man of Wilmington run thusly:

"I saw the Long Man of Wilmington yesterday."
"Oh yes?"
"Yep."
"Eh, you could have your eye out on that, eh? eh? Lads? Am I right? Cor."
"Ah no, that's the other one."
"Oh."
"No, the Long Man of Wilmington is the one who just stands there holding two walking sticks."
"Ah."
"Yeah, it's the Cerne Abbas Giant you're thinking of, with the knobbly club and the love truncheon and the face and the nipples and the awesome."
"So..."
"Yeah. The Long Man of Wilmington is just a cunt."

Global heritage sites shouldn't be this disappointing. It'd be like finding out that the Taj Mahal is made of Lego. I'm clearly not the only person to have felt this way. On the night of 17th June 2010, someone painted a 20-foot high phallus on the Long Man. This is by turns a disgraceful act of vandalism and a desecration of a world-famous historical site but also a brilliant thing to do. Such acts of wanton brazenness should, of course, be frowned-upon and discouraged but when they are just done with the line marker from a sports stadium (as was the case) and no permanent damage was done, we should probably try to retain some sense of perspective and sense of humour about it. Heritage is only worth anything if it helps to shape and inform the present. Plus, it gave a million conversations a moment of blessed respite.

The Long Man of Wilmington, June 2010: like a baby's arm

"I saw the Long Man of Wilmington yesterday."
"Oh yes?"
"Yep."
"Eh, you could have your eye out on that, eh? eh? Lads? Am I right? Cor."
"Yes, some cunt's drawn a massive boner on it."
"Really?."
"Yep."
"God, what a cunt."
"Funny though."
"Yeah."
"Shall we go and see it?"

Ronald Searle 1920-2012

One of my heroes has died. Ronald Searle was 91 years old so his passing isn't a shock but it is still a sadness. I believe he is the greatest cartoonist that the world has ever produced, capable of producing such enchantment, wit, animation, joy and wisdom in a simple drawing that he should be held up with all the other greats from the history of art.

He's going to be fundamentally remembered and talked about in the context of St. Trinian's, but of course he produced so much more. Magical illustrations, reportage and travelogues. Pictures of stars of stage and screen. Magnificent, understanding, pictures of animals. You could spend many far less profitable hours than the ones you could devote to looking through the pictures on this magnificent tribute site.

More or less every single cartoonist and graphic artist from his professional emergence in the1940s up to the present day - and beyond, believe me it will be and beyond - has been influenced by him, whether or not they even know it. Many of his more overt disciples have gone on to become some of the most respected names in the industry of their own right - Gerald Scarfe, Ralph Steadman and Matt Groening among their number.

I hope that the countless tributes Searle's passing will produce are copiously illustrated with his work. They represent the very definition of a celebration of life. Both his and ours. Today I feel sadness but also the most enormous sense of gratitude and wonder. The latter two will always remain.

Like everybody who has ever lifted a pencil to try and draw a picture from the 20th Century onward, I owe him more than I can ever say.

On inspiration

Tonight I am torturing myself, there's no other word for it, by looking at the artwork of many of my heroes. This normally undermines my confidence in my own ability to such an extent that I plumb the depths of a big depression for a day or two. So I figured, before I just give up, I might as well get a blog post out of it.

Almost no-one has ever asked me who my influences are, artistically speaking. However, never one to read the signals, I've decided to share with you my favourite five. Normally when I do a list it's strictly in no particular order. But this one is in a particular order. Because I'm quite evangelical about these matters and feel this is very important stuff. Accompanying each of the five is a picture or two which particularly excites me.

5. Gerald Scarfe

I'm not a great fan of Scarfe's later work, from the 1990s onward. It got a bit too stylised and pointy for my taste. However, that's just personal preference. Scarfe remains one of the most important visual artists of the 20th Century. His visceral, brutal, exploding, putrid, terrifying and savage vision completely revolutionised political cartoons and caricatures for the Beatles' generation.

4. Giles

From one extreme to another. Giles worked for decades as the Express' cartoonist, but his was as far from the overtly political role that it has since become. Instead Giles captured an everyday Britain, reacting and adjusting to the changing world rather than trying to influence it. His canon is as profound a social history of Britain from World War II until the end of the Thatcher era as any you will find in print or on television. There's also the small matter of his extraordinary skill as a draughtsman...

My favourite Giles cartoon of all

3. André François

I discovered François relatively late. His name cropped up time and again when other art heroes of mine spoke of their influences. I now consider him to be the most magical and imaginative cartoonist of - at the very least - the 20th Century. Every image is shot through with a childlike wonder which is uniquely moving. Quite magnificent.

2. Quentin Blake

For me, François is a more exciting artist than Blake. I think that Blake would probably say much the same thing. But what edges him ahead is the seismic effect that Blake has had on my imagination throughout my life. Without any shadow of a doubt, the greatest children's illustrator who has ever drawn breath.

1. Ronald Searle

I feel really emotional when I talk about Searle. His work is so stunning, so alive and so truly magnificent that words alone can't do it justice. I believe that Searle - who will be remembered primarily for St. Trinian's but that's just scratching the surface of his huge output and range - is by a head-and-shoulders the finest visual artist the world has produced in the last 100 years. Yes, really. Like François and Blake, what makes the magic for me is the simple fact that every single piece, every single constituent line of one of Searle's drawings can provoke an emotional reaction, which is normally to make you laugh. How many other artists can boast that?

on Van Gogh

When I was a child, this painting was in the news. It had sold for a world record price, US$39.9 million when the previous mark had been US$12 million. I was fairly sure at the time - I was seven - that this was insanity. This painting is rubbish.I am now 31 and have seen this painting in the flesh numerous times. I'm now pretty convinced that it's not rubbish. What I know for absolutely certain is that in my view, the man who painted it, Vincent Van Gogh, is the greatest artist who has ever lived.

There are so many paintings that give me great joy. Many artists, too. Picasso keeps me dazzled like a starry-eyed child with his style and output. Cezanne's wonkiness is hugely exciting. Monet produced many ethereal and beautiful things. But Van Gogh is about the only artist who can make me cry.

It's taken me a while to realise what art is. This may sound a little strange, considering that art is what I do. But it is true. Music is beautiful in itself, but art takes a little more application. It's a visual stimulus, a cue to evoke memories, emotions and imagination.

Of course, 7-year old me was right to expect art to look like what it's supposed to look like (again, considering it's me saying this that may sound a little strange). But that's not the whole story by any means. For one thing, who's to know what anything looks like to anyone else? For another, I think the way you see things changes as you get older. A painting of a tree, then, is not about that tree. It's about that tree, other trees you've seen, places and times and people and moments.

Van Gogh is special to me because his paintings are more alive than those of any other artist I have ever seen. Take a look at the skies in the examples here - no-one paints a sky like Van Gogh, look at the landscapes. He's painting the breezes, the subtleties and the movements. Their power is completely remarkable, far beyond that of anything else.

As you get older, your tastes invariably change and you change a little along with them, in lots of small ways that can add up to a big difference. I currently relish every single one of these things, even in weeks when the lurching black dog has been sniffing around. Life is growing more and more vivid with every day. The intensity of it is something I find increasingly overwhelming. Van Gogh expresses it with such eloquence and animation, he's exactly where I am right now.

On the big picture

Today's blog post comes courtesy of my friend Alice. You would like Alice.

Anyway, on Twitter last night, Alice noted that her favourite painting by Edward Hopper was the above, which is called Rooms by the Sea. Something immediately struck me about it. It reminded me of one of my favourite paintings, David Hockney's A Bigger Splash. In fact, it could almost be that Hopper was busy painting his scene inside the building whilst Hockney stood outside painting his.

This is when I realised that it would be brilliant if all art could knit together into an entire patchwork quilt of alternate reality. Where one painting leaves off, another fills in the gaps, and so on until you have built yourself a whole universe.

I am aware that my America Project, which I've not updated in a week or so, I KNOW, is still ongoing. However, I'm a modern man. I can have more than one stupid project at any one time. From now on, all further discoveries I make in my attempt to fit every painting ever done together into one, seamless, world will be labelled "The Big Picture project" in the sidebar, for handy reference.

New gallery

As Tony Hart knew only too well, there's something marvellous about a gallery of pictures. For too long my pictures have been strewn forgetfully across the internet, like litter in a stiff breeze. However! Today I have managed to put how much I hate the Halifax advert (the radio station one with the high-fives) behind me and upload like a madman to produce this:

dotmund.jimdo.com/picture-gallery/

Tell your friends! Show your enemies! Marvel at the fact that I'm actually pretty good at pictures, despite what you may have read on various toilet walls!

Avec crudities

Let's face it, readers, like them or not, penises have played a part in all of our lives at some point. Casting aside the Freud-inspired worship of meaty wangs, it is still easy to understand why it is they represent something which has proved irresistible to the artistic community. On nearly every toilet wall, text book inside cover or biology GCSE paper, you will find images of the phallus. There is something satisfyingly primal about these adornments. And also, amusing. Amusing, that is, if you happen to be a giggly, immature child. Fortunately, I am all of these things, and as such present for your pleasure this post here today.
Early this year, five of this country's most inspirational they-were-once-young minds found themselves in each other's company of a Saturday evening. The location was a pub in Brighton. What happened next has lain dormant in a little sketchbook ever since. The contents are so potent that it's a wonder that the book has not spontaneously ignited since, but it is posterity's gain that it has not. Because what happened next was an artistic symposium of ruinous power. Five people, one pen, one pad, one cock drawing each. The rules were simple... draw a cock. There was another rule as well, actually, and that was that there was to be no premeditative pondering. These cocks had to come from the unconscious mind. Let's have a look at them.

This is cock number one. The artist was a 39-year old male Flash™ programmer. They were born in the West Midlands, an earthy and direct place which obviously had a profound effect on this cock. Look at the pressure of the penmanship and the forcefulness of the lines. This cock is a little bullet not to be messed with. Particularly worthy of note is the urethral opening, drawn with a last flourishing stroke. This is the sort of cock which inspires confidence and respect.


This is cock number two. The artist was a 30-year old female civil servant. Unlike the creator of cock one, this artist grew up in bucolic surroundings in south eastern England, which shows in the ethereal beauty and simplicity of this cock. Particularly of note here is the meatiness of the shaft in relation to its companion knackers. This is not to diminish the importance of the balls to this drawing, the left one being particularly worthy of note... fleshy and bulbous, with three distinct and proud pubes. Topped off with a linear representation of some ejaculation, this classical image of the meat and two veg proves that classical images hold that status for a good reason.

This is cock number three. The artist was a 36-year old male working in debt collection via legal means rather than the traditional car park beatings. This is a very interesting drawing indeed. From the halting lines - compare this to the first two examples' smooth, single-stroke depiction of the willy and hangers - right up to the juiciness of the ejaculate, this is a cock to be reckoned with. Its most notable characteristic, of course, is the detail given to the glans penis. Not for this artist the simple demarcation of a single line. This cock is the sort of medically accurate drawing which would proudly adorn the printed content of a biology text book, rather than its subsequent additions.

This is cock number four. The artist was a 39-year old male computer programmer. Like the previous offering, this cock is characterised by a halting line. But just as cock three, it does not diminish the effectiveness of this musket. The pubic hairs are equidistantly distributed on a taut scrotum, whilst the penis itself is drawn at an angle which leaves the viewer in no doubt as to its tumescence. This cock, too, has an exceptionally detailed glans. Whereas the previous entry would well-illustrate a medical tome, this racier entry would be well suited to a filthy lithograph.

This is cock number five. Its artist was a 28-year old male who, uniquely for this experiment was actually an artist. Perhaps this explains the florid nature of the pubic hair detail and the style-over-substance approach to the shaft. This over-ornate offering does still have much to offer, particularly in the subtle detailing on the glans and urethral opening, and the juiciness of the spunk. However, the over-intricate balls can draw the eye away from the business end a little too much.


CONCLUSION
These five cocks represent a major body of work in the ongoing art of anatomy. Each one has its own unique character and personality, and each one has much to offer the development of the genre. However, it has to be said that cock number 4 is the standout offering. Noteworthy construction, coupled to anatomical accuracy and economy of line makes this wanger a winner. A special mention, however, must go to cock number 2, the classicism of which should inspire all who see it. It is very much my favourite offering.
However, this is not a line drawn in the sand. I welcome all further offerings of cock drawings, either in the comments or by email (link at the top of the sidebar). However, I would request that anyone wishing to submit an art does not do so anonymously, because that would be a bit too weird. Also, anyone emailing photographs of their actual cock will have their details passed on to the authorities.

Tony Hart

Believe it or not, dedicated readers, but there was a time when presenters on children's television were all demonstrably adults. Nowadays, children are plucked straight from truanting down Shepherds Bush market, given an even worse haircut and some achingly trendy t-shirt, and stuck in front of TV cameras. The programmes they present treat children like idiots because the people who present them are idiots, and the overall effect is one great morass of old tits.

It was not always thus, which brings us on to Tony Hart. In the glorious days before society in general and TV companies in particular decided to make a virtue of being stupid and useless, Tony Hart presented a series of long-running art shows for children on the BBC. In fact, his career always spans much further back than I think it does - he is now 83 years old - principally because he never came across as being "that old bloke on the telly". Enthusiastic and encouraging without being patronising, adroit and authoritative without ever being patrician or preachy, Hart bestrode arts programming for children for thirty years.

Eventually, of course, he began to look like an anachronism as the schedules around him filled up with dismal, dreary, one-dimensional tossers whose entire personality was contained within their wardrobe. His last programme - Hart Beat - was cancelled to make way for SMart, a programme with no ostensible differences in format to its forbear, other than the fact the presenters now boasted the combined artistic talent of a shoe. But this was the brave new world of the 1990s, where being more or less incapable of the thing you were supposed to do was the new trend, and no-one noticed. On ITV, Art Attack was breezy, colourful and full of invention, but you could never get past the fact that, in Neil Buchanan, it too had a presenter who was entirely inadequate next to the shining example of Tony Hart.

Tony Hart made the news this week, as he revealed that, after a series of strokes, he has lost the necessary control in his hands to draw any more. In an article in The Times, however, he refused to gripe on in oh-woe-is-me fashion, choosing to use the forum to get people excited and enthused about giving art a try. Such greatness of spirit is very much the mark of the man. Most children of my generation - and several before - grew up watching Tony Hart's programmes. Many of them owe people like him and his great contemporary, Rolf Harris, a huge debt of gratitude for opening doors to them. People like me, who still plug on with drawing despite the fact our short trousers barely fit any more, probably more so than anybody.

So, thank you, Tony Hart.

Behind the Art 1 - Jacques-Louis David's Death of Marat

Advances in technology have opened many doors to us, not least in the realm of art criticism. Using x-ray machines, we are now able to look behind the paint and onto the canvas itself, often picking out early drafts, mistakes or major changes. Such an ability has often caused fundamental shifts in our knowledge of the way the great masters worked or even thought. This has never been more true than for David's famous painting, The Death of Marat.

The story behind the painting is reasonably well-known. Jean-Paul Marat was a mathematician and social philosopher who rose to prominence during the French Revolution. As a publisher of a newspaper called The Friend of the People, he propagated the abolition of the monarchy. Following the Revolution, Marat was elected into the National Convention of France to represent the people. As his power and influence grew, so did his number of enemies. On July 13th 1793 he was assassinated in his bath - where he would frequently retired due to a chronic skin condition - by Charlotte Corday, an anti-Republican Girondin.

Marat had, ironically, more or less retired from public life and service by this point. However, his popularity endured, and David had been planning to immortalise him in oils for some time. With a peculiar synchronicity, he had just finished an early draft of this painting when news of Marat's death broke. As we can see from the x-ray, David originally depicted Marat's bathtime activity as having a frenzied tug with his thumb up his arse. With a keen eye for history and drama, David hurriedly painted over the first image with the picture which has become the enduring portrait of the French Revolution.