Reflections on Stephen Alexander's 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' - A Guest Post by Sally Guaragna

Stephen Alexander:  

I Want to Hold Your Hand (2024)

 

Stephen Alexander's disturbing self-portrait accompanied by Myra Hindley is a stark reminder of the fact that evil lurks around every corner and that the radiant innocence of childhood offers no protection; as the parents of the young girls murdered in Stockport last month discovered to their horror [1].

 

It also reminds us of the fact that the Swinging Sixties began not only "Between the end of the 'Chatterley' ban / And the release of the Beatles' first LP" [2], but with the Moors murders - just as it ended in an equally brutal and depraved manner with the Tate-LaBianca murders carried out by the Manson Family in the summer of 1969. 

 

The fact that the photo of the artist as a child is for the most part entirely genuine - taken in 1966 at Southend-on-Sea - only adds to its power. The only change made (non-digitally) is the replacement of the head of Alexander's sister with that of a woman dubbed by the press as the most hated woman in Britain. 

 

Alexander explains: 

 

'I cut out the famous police photograph of Hindley taken shortly after her arrest in 1965 and pasted it by hand directly on to the photo of my sister. I wanted it to look like a mask being worn. A mask more terrible even than the one worn by Leatherface in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), because it depicted the face of a rather glamorous young woman who, with her peroxide blonde bouffant, reminded me of a much-loved aunty in the 1960s whose hand I would happily hold.'    

 

Alexander's is a great image; one that, in my view, deserves to be hung alongside Marcus Harvey's controversial 1995 painting made using casts of an infant's tiny hand to create a giant mosaic of Hindley:   

 

 

Marcus Harvey: Myra (1995) [3]

 

 

Notes

 

[1] On 29 July 2024, a mass stabbing occurred at a dance studio in Southport, Merseyside. Three children were killed, and ten other people - eight of whom were children - were injured, some of them critically. A 17-year-old male was arrested at the scene and charged with murder, attempted murder, and possession of a bladed weapon.

 

[2] Philip Larkin, 'Annus Mirabilis', first published in The London Magazine, Vol. 9, No.10, (January 1970): click here. 

 

[3] Marcus Harvey's 1995 painting Myra caused a lot of fuss when it was displayed at the Sensation exhibition of Young British Artists at the Royal Academy of Art in London from 8 September to 28 December 1997: four members of the RA resigned in protest at its inclusion; windows at Burlington House, where the Academy is based, were smashed; the painting was vandalised twice (by fellow artists); and a children's charity accused the RA of the 'sick exploitation of dead children'. Even Hindley wrote from prison to ask for her portrait to be removed from the exhibition.

 

 

To read another post by Sally Guaragna - reflections on my 'When the Moon Hits Your Eye' photo (5 May 2023) - please click here. 

Further Thoughts on Síomón Solomon's 'The Atonement of Lesley Ann'

Artwork for The Atonement of Lesley Ann (2020) 

reworked by Stephen Alexander (2021)

 

I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, 

more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance. - Luke 15:7

 

I. 

 

Síomón Solomon's The Atonement of Lesley Ann (2020) - a theatrical ghost-cum-love story (based on actual events) - continues to haunt my imagination; particularly the use of the religious term atonment in its title ...

 

One wonders what Solomon has in mind by his use of this concept and why, for example, he didn't simply call his play the killing of Lesley Ann? 

 

For in what way is Lesley Ann atoned? And for what does she need to be atoned? Is Solomon suggesting that she is in some manner complicit in her own abduction and murder (that no one is innocent after all)? 

 

That would certainly be a provocative and unsettling suggestion. But then the whole idea of atonement via a sacrificial offering - be it Christ on the Cross or a child on the Moors - is deeply disturbing, is it not? 

 

Because we know who it is who is washed clean by the spilt blood and forgiven their sins - who it is taking a step on the path towards redemption and, ultimately, not just fellowship but reunification with God [1] - and it isn't the victim; it is, rather, the one who wields the knife ... 

 

 

II. 

 

In other words, it's Ian Brady and Myra Hindley who, via a terrible act of faith, are atoned by the sacrifice of poor Lesley Ann [2].    

 

Again, it's quite shocking to be reminded that the road to salvation can begin in an act of violence and even the practice of evil. But then, of course, the inventor of this whole mad system is a cruel and vengeful God who not only demands sacrifice be made unto him, but is prepared to see even his own son scourged and crucified. 

 

Ultimately, Solomon isn't attempting to exonerate Brady and Hindley, nor excuse their appalling crimes. By incorporating a transcript of the recording made of ten-year-old Downey begging for her young life into the play he reminds us of the facts of the case in all their horror. 

 

What he is doing, rather, is exploring the scandalous logic of Christian morality which offers the possibility of redemption to even the most depraved of individuals.

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Atonement means unity or reconciliation between man and God; a coming back into ontotheological wholness (literally at-one-ment). We might note also that the word atonement is often the English translation given for the Hebrew term kaphar [כָּפַר], which means to cover - thus atonement might also be defined as the covering over of sin, or, indeed, the covering up of crime; a form of concealment with which God himself is complicit.     

[2] Unless they have committed what is known within theological circles as the eternal or unpardonable sin and can thus never make amends or receive forgiveness. However, that isn't something - as far as I remember - indicated in Solomon's play.  

 

 

To read the first in what is now a trilogy of posts on Síomón Solomon's The Atonement of Lesley Ann (2020) - on things that go bump in the theatrical night - click here. 

 

And to read the second post in the series, in which I offer some additional thoughts on the play, click here. 

 

 

Witches' Brew 2: We're in Love With Janie Jones, Whoa ...

Janie Jones displaying her hex appeal

Marion Mitchell - better known by her professional name, Janie Jones - began her showbiz career as a caberet artist in the late-fifties, initially performing at the Windmill Theatre in Soho. But she first achieved public notoriety in 1964, when she attended a London film premier wearing a topless dress.

A decade later, and Miss Jones was jailed for hosting illicit sex parties at her home that involved prostitutes. Whilst banged-up behind bars - she was sentenced to seven years, but only served four - she met and befriended the Moors murderer Myra Hindley (something that she would later regret doing).

After her release, in 1977, she still made occasional appearances on TV, but, basically, her 15 minutes had come and gone and the only reason I remember her name is because Joe Strummer had a crush on her and she inspired the brilliant opening track of The Clash's debut album [click here].

However, I was amused to discover that she released several records herself as a pop singer in the mid-sixties, including the novelty song Witches Brew, which reached number 46 in the UK singles chart in late-1965 (so not exactly a smash, but a bigger hit than any subsequent releases).

To be honest, it's a fucking awful record - one that even the witches of Treadwell's might have difficulty dancing to. Nevertheless, those who would like to give it a listen can click here.

Note: those interested in part one of this post - on the 1960 film Witches' Brew, featuring Pamela Green - should click here. 

If You Only Palpitate to Murder / No One is Innocent

Jamie Reid: God Save Jack the Ripper (1979)

One of a series of posters designed by Reid for The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (1980)

For more information visit the Victoria and Albert Museum website: click here. 

Some interesting emails have arrived in my inbox concerning a recent post by Símón Solomon on Charles Manson: click here.

Several people professed no interest in the case; others voiced their concern that, in publishing the post, I am helping to further mythologise Manson and his Family when such vile individuals should be starved of the oxygen of publicity and allowed to fade from the collective memory as soon as possible.

However, whilst I agree with D. H. Lawrence that "if you only palpitate to murder" it quickly becomes boring and results, ultimately, in "atrophy of the feelings" (i.e., like the sexual excitement generated by pornography, the sensational thrill of violent crime is subject to a law of diminishing returns and one must therefore seek out an ever more lurid level of explicit detail), I don't think we can simply ignore negative limit-experiences.

Like it or not, figures like Charles Manson are indelibly part of the cultural imagination and undoubtedly have something important - if disturbing - to tell us about ourselves. As Símón rightly argues, it's virtually impossible to exaggerate (or expunge) Manson's enduring impact and whilst some might need to think him beyond the pale, he was "very much a product of American post-War popular culture and a toxic body politic".

Similarly, in the UK, figures ranging from Dick Turpin and Jack the Ripper to Ian Brady and Myra Hindley, are as British as fish 'n' chips and will continue to haunt our cultural imagination for as long as we continue to consume the latter (even though he's horrible and she ain't what you'd call a lady).

This was perfectly understood by Malcolm McLaren and Jamie Reid, the latter of whom designed the provocative series of God Save ... posters that the former pasted up in Highgate Cemetery in the famous 'You Needs Hands' scene of The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple, 1980) - a scene which I have discussed elsewhere on this blog: click here.      

Reid's artwork - much like the Sex Pistols' 1979 single featuring Great Train Robber Ronnie Biggs on vocals - advances the challenging theological idea that, thanks to original sin, no one is innocent - i.e. we are each of us, as fallen beings, corrupt at some level and capable of committing acts of atrocity. Similarly, we are all of us - no matter how evil and depraved - capable of redemption; for we are all God's children (not just those who attend church and say their prayers).

Was punk rock, then, simply a disguised form of moral humanism founded, like Christianity, on a notion of forgiveness ...? Was its nihilism merely a pose?     

See: D. H. Lawrence, The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. VI: March 1927-November 1928, ed. James T. Boulton and Margaret H. Boulton, with Gerald M. Lacy (Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 600.

Play: Sex Pistols, No One Is Innocent (Virgin Records, 1978): click here.