VILLAGEAugust/September
T
HERE is nothing to which Rod
Stoneman is not willing to turn his
attention so a broad canvas had to be
created to encompass his writings on every-
one from Andrea Mantegna to Banksy. The
hoary old statistic about our being daily
exposed to three thousand images is trot-
ted out here and might have given Stoneman
reasonable cause to consider limiting the
five-hundred years covered here.
But even having skipped the first thir-
ty-thousand-odd years of human graphic
depiction since the Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave
animal drawings it remains such a broad
canvas that there are occasional grounds
for suspecting that Stoneman is in danger
of losing himself in his own thesis:
“Undermining any tendencies towards
the univocal or unequivocal has led me to a
degree of continuous uncertainty about the
extent to which these analytical perspec-
tives objectively correspond to external
realities and the extent to which they are
determined by the point and place of the
subjectivity from which they are viewed”.
Fifty-four short essays and another
slightly longer one are bound together with
two-hundred photographs in this curious,
intermittently engaging publication which
melds memoir with philosophical, cultural
and academic exploration of the history of
the image. The entire production is immacu-
late and a veritable visual feast as the author
might have reported with his unquencha-
ble fondness for alliteration. But ‘virulent
vestiges’ and ‘crevices of culture’ hardly pre-
pare the reader for Stoneman’s musings on
/ when “, civilians perished, pawns
in the pitiless clash”.
Rod Stoneman is a political animal who
has spent over thirty years operating in the
middle and upper echelons of both film and
television production on these islands. Yet
the fleeting glimpses we get here of his first-
hand experiences through these decades
leave us feeling short-changed.
In , as deputy commissioning edi-
tor for Channel , Stoneman commissioned
Anne Crilly and the Derry Workshop to
make a documentary called ‘Mother Ireland’
which included an interview with Sinn Féin
activist, Máiread Farrell. The events sur-
rounding the subsequent killing of Farrell
by the SAS in Gibraltar and the consequent
decision by Michael Grade and the Channel
Four board not to broadcast the programme
are related with sadly little new insight from
Stoneman’s unique perspective on these
events.
By contrast we are treated to accounts
that are mostly second-hand of events
extensively covered elsewhere such as those
surrounding the deaths of Che Guevara and
Captain – ‘I’m just going outside and may be
some time’ – Oates. The investigation of an
opportunity to make a documentary about
Oates which initially provides the slim jus-
tification for his inclusion here
soon gives way to some beyond
bizarre – whoops – speculation
as to whether Oates’ and Hitler’s
motives for committing suicide
were somehow analogous.
Stoneman is immensely well
read and observant and meticu-
lous in detailing with elaborate
footnotes his every cultural ref-
erence and observation, when he
might instead on occasion have
credited his readers with – for
instance – knowing, or at least
knowing how to find out, what
was meant by a Google Adword.
It may be a legacy of the author’s
many years of public service
that every base must not only
be touched but numbered, cata-
logued and cross-referenced.
So little faith has Stoneman in his read-
ers that we cannot even be trusted to reach
for ourselves the conclusion that the “moth
Crevices of culture
Meticulous and quirky but under-nourishing
visual feast. Review by Richard Callanan
Seeing is Believing: The Politics of
the Visual
Rod Stoneman
Black Dog Publishing
£19.95
Rod
Stoneman
Intermittently
engaging
publication
which melds
memoir with
philosophical,
cultural and
academic
exploration of
the history of
the image
“