Sons of the Desert

During the Baghdad Trade Fair in 1979 Lockwood houses came to the attention of the Iraqi Army; as a result Lockwood houses have been built for the infamous Saddam Hussein as well as several for his army generals. These and over 300 domestic dwellings have been built in different parts of Iraq.

 Gainsford, Jennie, and New Zealand Historic Places Trust. 

Bay of Plenty Branch Committee. 

Lockwood : From Innovation to Icon in 50 Years. 

Tauranga, N.Z.: Bay of Plenty Branch Committee,

 New Zealand Historic Places Trust, 2006.

p22

People like them

Christchurch woman Rose Fraser and her children John and Lela invested US$285,000 ($341,700) in leveraged options with the firm. This meant they bought gold and borrowed against that investment to buy more, hoping the profits from its sale would be more than the interest payable.

Nek minnit 

You would have thought by now that the adjective leveraged and the noun options would be enough to make any potential investor turn around and run as far away from the potential investment as they can. But no, the world still contains people like the Frasers. People like the Frasers have two fundamental characteristics that make them attractive to people called brokers: people like the Frasers are (a) greedy and (b) stupid, a irresistible combination to those who will gladly separate them from their money. The Frasers could have put their not inconsiderable sum of money into a bank and gained a safe and healthy return; but no, they wanted to make their money work for them (or somesuch vapid phrase) and so they entrusted all of it  - half a million - to a company which had a single director, a director who had a single big and stupid idea about making money out of money.

When the inevitable happens, people like the Frasers get all whiney and tell their stories to the papers, which are happy to take photographs of the whiney victims looking miserable. And so it came to pass that the New Zealand Herald puts this story on its front page; and this during the week in which it is running an important series about the poor in Auckland - people who never have had this kind of money and probably would make a better job of hanging on to it if they had such kind of money.

Oh well, at least the Government won't be bailing them out with our money.





Neil Young and the Shocking Pinks 

Make mine Japanese

But what exactly is a Brand Ambassador? A Brand Ambassador is someone who, at the most basic level, represents a brand in a positive way. It is the duty of a Brand Ambassador to express the message of a company to consumers or people who would gain something from learning about the brand being advertised. A brand Ambassador can be thought of as a hybrid between a PR Representative and an HR Representative—someone who both aims to educate consumers about a Brand, but also tries help them in any way that they can. 

A capable Brand Ambassador should be the walking and talking embodiment of the product that they are representing. They should be well trained and able to answer almost any question that a prospective consumer might have for them. In theory, a Brand Ambassador should understand a product as well as the person who created it or the person that owns the company. A Brand Ambassador should be extremely friendly and outgoing, and should always show a desire to perform and get the name of the product out to the general public.

But how exactly do we identify these people, so we can beat them to death with whatever weapons come to hand? It is not as if they are going to tell us "I am a brand ambassador; I try to cover the unfathomable  void at the heart of my very being by feigning loyalty to the meaningless products of advertising agencies; my favourite colour is Butterscotch; on Tuesday nights I go to Jazzercise classes." There must be a way to isolate these wretched creatures from the lumpen bourgeoisie and cull them. Its for their own good as m uch as ours. Besides, it would be an awful lot of fun.

Destroy All Monsters:

Another green world

is the surface wood or concrete? from a distance it looks like concrete but up close it looks like wood. maybe they cast the concrete to have wood texture as to blend in with the natural environment more. japanese designers are so conscious of the environment.

Thus wrote a contributor to a Skyscaper City thread, on the subject of Norihiko Dan's Sun Moon Lake Visitor Centre and Administration Office, at Hsiangshan, Taiwan. That's the trouble with kids today: they know nothing about brutalism.

They also get fooled again by this sustainabilty racket. Let us take another look at the building and its environment. Notice, if you will, how the trees keep their distance. In the sumptous and paper-based December edition of L'Arca it is described thus:

As the basic policy for the design, the first aim here was to propose a new model for a relationship between the building and its natural environment while preserving the surrounding scenery and keeping the inland area from becoming dead space. The half-architectural and half-landform project creates a new dialogue between the human being and nature that provides another new dimension to this area.

Yes, gentle reader, that is archiwank. What they really did was chop down a load of trees and create the opposite of what they claim. They made a dead zone and filled it with grass - a plant native to golf courses, campuses and administration centres. To show their commitment to a new dialogue between human being and nature, they put grass on the roof, just like everyone else does these days. It is green, you see. What's more, beside the lake they built a lake; just what the lake needed.

But why? Does nobody ever ask why a lake should need a visitor centre? It is a lake; you can visit. The lake is accessible from many points on its shore. Trees grow beside the lake; we call this a forest. You can walk through the forest to get to the shore. Thank you for visiting. Please take your litter home with you.

But no; this lake, just like every other surviving piece of nature, needs a visitor centre and an administration office. This is because people are no longer considered capable of simply going to a place and experiencing it. They must have Education. They must be told what to experience and how to experience it. They must also have Facilities. Of course, none of this ever is fully visible because of the haze of pollution that interrupts the diagalogue between human and nature. But the centre does have ample parking. The lake must also be administered by The Sun Moon Lake National Scenic Area Administration. The lake administrators require offices and parking.

Unfortunately, a portion of the forest had to be removed to accommodate the visitors and the administrators, but this space has been landscaped. As L'Arca notes, "By adopting this composition the building and the land form an integrated garden rather than being two separated entitites." Ah yes, an integrated garden; that would be it. You would hardly notice the presence of the building, what with the green roofs that rise gracefully out of the landscaping and the stand of trees that will grow into a majestic canopy within the next half-century, climate change permitting.

Got them Lake Placid Blues

There's always the chance that she's playing a character, although that seems doubtful, because when Lana Del Rey is in character, she really lets you know about it.

There's always the chance, Alexis Petridis, that she fooled you. You listen to rock'n'roll; you write about rock'n'roll; you live rock'n'roll. You know all the fakes, all the phonies, all the poseurs. You've seen them all come and go. But this one, this one was real. That first time you heard her, that first time you saw her, you knew that; this kid was the real thing; she was genuine, sincere, authentic.

Except she wasn't. She's fake; just like all the others. Just like Joe Strummer. Remember how he said to the NME, back in 1977, that he got into reggae because he was the only white boy in his class at school? But then it turned out his school was the City of London Freemen's School and that daddy was not a bank robber; he was a diplomat.

Just like Shane McGowan, that authentic Irish rebel;  born in Pembury, near Tunbridge Wells, educated at Holmewood House, then at Westminster. Then there was Tom Robinson, who sang songs about working class experience, about his brother Martin and going to borstal;  Tom attended Friends' School, Saffron Walden; his brother Philip is a television producer. Robin Hitchcock is a Wykehamist;  Nick Drake was a Marlburian. Members of the Zombies were at St Albans,  Radiohead formed at Abingdon;  no alarms and no surprises there. Coldplay come from Sherborne; bedwetters.

So what is so special about Lana? No, not her real name; it was chosen by the management. Yes, her daddy's rich and her mamma is good looking; she is just another rich kid, slumming it. Aren't they all? Jim Morrison's father was an Admiral; so was Tina Weymouth's. Bands are formed in film schools and art schools, by middle-class kids who want their lives to be authentic. They study sculpture at  St Martin's college and want to be like common people.

 Rock'n'roll is authentic; thus it is fake. Surely everyone knows that. Listen to the what the man says: "after the umpteenth song in which she either puts her red dress on or takes her red dress off, informs you of her imminent death and kisses her partner hard while telling him she'll love him 'til the end of time..." And yet, despite the obvious similarities with Twin Peaks, still Petridis is disappointed when she turns out to be the realtor's beautiful daughter.

So what does Petridis suggest we do? Ignore the lyrics, that's what. So, she's like a singer-songwriter and we are just going to pay no attention to the singing or the songwriting. We'll just let ourselves be swept along by the melodies; we'll just be in denial.

But what about the pictures? Look at this:

So so Moderne. Ask yourself this: is this the real life, or is this just fantasy? And yet, the Observer used it in September to illustrate an article that began:

We crave a popstar who is authentic, who thrives because of their talent, not PR. So when you stumble across someone like Lana Del Rey – her popularity apparently born online and growing per YouTube click – it's hard not to be sceptical as to whether she's actually too good to be true.

Well no, it was very easy to not be sceptical. The reasons for doubt were staring you in the face but you chose not to look, because you craved authenticity. Had you just looked at the pictures, you would have seen that it is all made up. And if you knew just a little art history, you might have noticed something of the work of Cindy Sherman in these images. It is all a carefully constructed hyper-reality. It is not real. Reality is not nearly as interesting.

But you so wanted it to be real that you overlooked the obvious fiction. And now you are really angry, not because Lana del Rey is fake but because you made her real, and now you realise you made a fool of yourself. It was all pretend, silly. It was just a game but you thought it was true love.




Never mind. Here's Kate Bush:

Discussion document

Dept of Internal Affairs, Historical Branch.  
Introduction to New Zealand.  
Wellington: Dept. of Internal Affairs, 1945.  

Foreword

p3 Here is a book about New Zealand. It is not, we hope a superfluous book, or a vainglorious books, or a flowery book, or a contentious book. It aims at plain and modest statement. Nowhere in these pages will you find New Zealand confused with Paradise. We don’t make absurd claims for our country. It is a little country. It is a young country; in terms of Western culture, it is no older than the states of Iowa or Wisconsin. But it is, we think, an interesting country - interesting in its history, interesting in its geography, interesting in the ways of life that have been built up within its island boundaries and in its approach to social problems, interesting in its economy. New Zealand is a democracy, with all the question-marks of democracy. It is British - it is part of the British Commonwealth of Nations. It is New Zealand - it is independent. It is like America. It is unlike America. It grows things. It makes things. It conserves and it wastes things. It has party conflicts. It assails itself. It admires itself. It tries to learn through experience. It is noisy. It is subdued. It is the usual bundle of contradictions that makes up a democratic society. It has a certain unity. We think it is a beautiful country. We don’t say that it is more interesting or more beautiful than the United States. We don’t want to seem conceited; but we don’t want to be too absurdly humble either. And as we think our country is beautiful and interesting, and as we have written this book in answer to suggestions from our American friends, we think Americans will probably be interested in it.

Housing

p136 Speaking of an average New Zealander is really about as superficial as speaking of an ‘average’ American. But to some extent there is an average New Zealand house, the product, as in other countries, of land speculators and builders, the home of a large percentage of the population in town and country. It is usually built of wood, with a low-pitched corrugated iron roof. Its main features are its restless roof-line and fussy windows, with a high glass line and fan-lights. The plan is neat, generally with four or five rooms plus a large area of passage space, and is carefully orientated to the street frontage, irrespective of sunlight, wind or privacy. it is often well provided with modern conveniences and labour saving devices. it is comfortable and popular. It has generally a neat little garden, where the New Zealander works cheerfully and assiduously in the week-end. These houses are not designed by architects, nor are they mass-produced; they are made by independent builders. Where there is architect’s work it frequently shows the influence of English domestic styles, now chiefly neo-Georgian, or of the American revival of Colonial or Spanish Mission styles. The New Zealand architect is respectably eclectic.

Despite this ‘average’ house, New Zealand architecture during one hundred years has appeared in an amazing number of styles, copies of overseas developments. Some of the older houses preserve the simplicity and good proportions which were current when the first settlers left England - a simplicity which was endorsed by the limited money and materials of that time, and which was denied to later, more prosperous periods. There are still extant quite charming wood and adobe houses, the oldest built over a hundred years ago. Unfortunately, the stage of New Zealand’s most rapid development coincided with the collapse of architectural good taste in England, and Victorian ideas had full play with masses of office buildings and hundreds of thousands of houses. Soon there were wooden imitations of stone buildings, imperfectly Greek banks, half-timbered English cottages; steep-pitched French roofs appeared and the verandahs of Indian bungalows (admirably fitted for some parts of the country), while dominant numerically were American styles imported direct or from Australia. From 1900 to World War I and after, with the primacy in economic and social life passing to the rapidly increasing business class, the influence of America became more pronounced, and New Zealand’s suburbs and country towns reproduced all too faithfully some of the less attractive architectural aspects of the United States. The influence of twentieth century architecture, with its emphasis on sunlight, air and space, and new methods of construction in steel, glass and concrete, reached New Zealand only very recently. Town-planning has been much talked of, but suburbs still tend to sprawl widely, and speculative flats are rapidly appearing in face of the housing shortage, only merely adapted from the more lavishly built wooden houses of an earlier day

p 138 During the past few years a small but growing number of New Zealanders have become aware of new developments in architecture and are beginning to influence building. The amount of modern work is still very small, and there is need for much more education and propaganda on the aims and objects of modern ideas; but the public mind is beginning to recover from its habit of uncritically accepting mediocre designs. The modern house has arrived, though sometimes not at its best. As everywhere else, the first superficial approach toward modern housing seems satisfied with a flat roof instead of a tilted roof and windows a bit larger than previously. But with deepening understanding of modern planning, really modern houses are already being erected. There is proof that modern ideas are specially favoured by New Zealand conditions, and good reason to hope that with the increased building after the war which the acute shortage must occasion there will develop a really good style, indigenous and contemporary, growing out of the special conditions of climate and lightness of timber construction - for while reinforced concrete is now favoured for large buildings, wood will continue as the chief domestic material; while even the hills can be very stimulating for freer planning with terraces and open living spaces.

Altogether, while we frankly admit that judged by the highest existing standards, New Zealand housing is capable of much improvement, our people are to some extent getting that awareness of shortcomings which is the first step toward their elimination; it may not therefore be unduly optimistic to call the distant prospect hopeful and to envisage a future when our homes generally will be not merely functional, but pleasant, gay and humane places to live in, in surroundings which we have made the best of, as part of a communal effort.  

The writing of history

p177 For that occasion the Government entered the sphere of publishing, and in the two large volumes of its pictorial Making New Zealand, the eleven volumes of its Centennial Surveys, and Sholefield’s Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, gave the country a celebration such as no other British dominion has had. But nothing written then, nothing else probably written in New Zealand so far, is the equal of one book which may be classed as history, if it can be assigned to any class at all. This is H Guthrie-Smith’s Tutira (1921) - ‘The Story of a New Zealand Sheep Station.’

Scenes from the class struggle in Grey Lynn

Get excited: Kokako has arrived in Grey Lynn, settling gracefully into the old Post Office building. There are potted flowers in the doorway, the staff are smiling like they have a secret they want to share, and it's officially opening tomorrow morning. We were lucky enough to be given the chance to check it out today. Here's what we thought... Courteney: It's the kind of light, breezy, local cafe that I'd be quite comfortable sitting in all day. It just feels as if it's meant to be there, and kind of like it always has been. I wanted to try everything on the menu (and I'm sure I will as this place is dangerously close to my house). There isn't a dull option in sight. Even the toast is special; served with strawberry jam from the Waitakeres, honey from Grey Lynn and fresh fluffy brioche and soda bread that made me think of my Grandma.

Stop right there, Courteney; your fresh fluffy PR bollocks is making me sick. You see, Courteney, Kokako wasn't meant to be there and is not kind of like it always has been. Until quite recently the old post office building accommodated - you'll never believe this, Courteney - a post office. Lots of grandmothers went there and mothers, lots of people who are not that well off, poor even, people who could not afford fluffy brioche and who wouldn't be welcome in a light, breezy local cafe - because such cafes are not for the locals, who live in the state houses across the road who buy what they can afford from the local shops, who get by - just. Those people relied on that post office but now it is gone. The people who worked there are gone as well.

Other, more fortunate people also used that post office - it was part of the community. You wouldn't realise this, Courteney, because you are light and breezy and probably don't give a stuff about your neighbourhood, but places like post offices are what hold communities together. And now they are going, replaced by cafes for selfish, fatuous people like you and Dominique ("the concept of this cafe aligns with Kokako’s brand); and let us not forget Alan who doesn't drink coffee but plans to make himself at home there over the rest of his life. I don't know Kokako but with the three of you living on the premises then they will soon become famous for their waffle.







.

Dr Dupree is standing on the quay

The attack occured in front of about 20 people, none of whom stepped in to stop the assault.
Photo / Stephen Parker

It should be noted that photographer Stephen Parker was one of those who did not stop in to stop the assault; instead he took photographs of it. So, while clinical psychologist Barry Kirker might attribute the crowd's passivity to "bystander apathy'' - a phenomena [sic] which [sic] has been studied since the 1950s - the photographer might be accused of callous opportunism. On the other hand, every one enjoys a good fight.

Org*sm addict

During this, the season of tragedy on our open roads and in our seas, there is little cheer. Our trusted media outlets are filled with stories of death, disaster, abuse and bigamy. So we can take what little comfort we can find, such as the simple pleasures of media releases from representatives of the muttering classes. The Sensible Sentencing Trust may be resting on its laurels but Family First has stepped forward to take up the baton of righteousness. This time, they have a survey.

In one example, a mixed class of boys and girls were asked by the AIDS Foundation if they had masturbated lately and were given condoms and strawberry-flavoured lubricant. They were also given a leaflet featuring graphic pictures, terms including “c*ck” and “w*nk”, and advice on the best condoms. Reports last year highlighted that children as young as 12 are being taught about oral sex and told it’s acceptable to play with a girl’s private parts as long as “she’s okay with it”. In other cases, 14-year-old girls are being taught how to put condoms on plastic penises, and one female teacher imitated the noises she made during org*sm to her class of 15-year-olds. One concerned father took his 12-year-old son out of a sex education class at his all-boy school after he came home upset about what had happened during one of the lessons. It included a question-and-answer session that focused on, “I have learned that my girlfriend has a thing called a clit*ris. I really want to play with it. Is that okay?” The answer was: “Yes, if you ask her and she’s okay with it.”

The survey was conducted by Curia, the polling firm run by Mr David Farrar, the firm which believes:

polling is an art, as well as a science. The most essential aspect to any poll is taking the time to understand the key drivers for clients, and ensuring the questions asked will be of maximum value.

Clearly, maximum value was achieved in this case but what are the key drivers for Mr Bob McCoskrie, National Director of Family First NZ? An unhealthy obsession with what goes on in other people's knickers, it would seem, as well as an extraordinary squeamishness about the terminology: it is not just rude works like c*ck, w*nk or S*ntorum that offend B*b, but accepted medical terms like org*sm, clit*ris or possibly kn*e. For Mr Farrar, taking the time to understand Mr McC*skrie must have been challenging.

Here are some otters chasing a butterfly, courtesy of Ever So Strange:

Fundy Post Word of the Year: mediable

Gentle readers, not long ago the estimable Mr Steve Braunias reminded me that last Christmas I gave you my heart and, moreover, promised to tell you thrilling stories of my time in the Art History Department. You will have noticed that I did not fulfill that promise. Sorry.

You see, I had escaped Art History and the Faculty of Arts, finding refuge in the School of Architecture. There, I have thrived. I found myself among staff who are friendly, helpful and interested in my research. I have been given positions of responsibility, helping students by assessing their work - crits. My contribution to the intellectual life of the School is valued. Unlike the academic staff of the Art History Department, those of the School are emotionally well-adjusted professionals. For the first time in three years I had a supervisor who was interested in doing some supervising: I calculate that in the first semester I received more supervisory meetings - one a week - than I had endured in three miserable years in Art History. This is all the more remarkable given that my Supervisor, Sarah Treadwell, is Head of School and has quite enough to keep herself busy. What's more, every meeting has been a gem: Sarah is on top of her subject, interested in her students' welfare and encouraging of their work.

As you can imagine, I have been busy, writing a thesis, learning stuff. So my story about life in Art History was neglected. Besides, I was hoping to resolve matters with the University amicably. At the suggestion of the Dean of Graduate Studies, Caroline Daley, I approached the Unversity Mediator; she advised me to make a statement of claim, a description of my grievances. This she would present to the University. So, I wrote my claim, a lengthy one. I was expecting the University to engage in some discussion of the torments I suffered. I had hoped that the University might be interested in the well-being of its PhD candidates. How wrong I was. My statement of claim was returned to me, marked "not mediable."

You can imagine my surprise. What does this word, mediable, mean? It is not in any English dictionary of which I am aware. But then, Auckland University does pride itself on being a centre of innovation. Perhaps the meaning of mediable is yet to be determined. Perhaps it is an imported word: It looks French, so the likes of Jacques Rançiere might use it in sentences such as "La plume de ma tante est mediable." However, in the context framed by the University, the phrase "not mediable" seems to mean "sod off."

Moreover, "not mediable" was all that was said. The University did not attempt to counter any of my claims, to disprove them, to put me right, to assuage my fears; they simply refused to discuss the matter. They wanted me to sod off. However, I don't do that kind of thing. I am not a sodding-off type of chap.

So, what I did next was to follow another suggestion made to me by the Dean of Graduate Studies, to discuss my issues informally those involved. So, I asked her some questions. And, would you believe it, she did not reply. I also asked some questions of Caroline Vercoe, the Head of the Art History Department. Again, I received no answers; instead Dr Vercoe sent me an email telling me not to oppress her, or something like that.

I also received a letter - a PDF letter, on headed paper, which I could download and frame, from Mr Grant Wills, BSc (Hons) Cant., the University's Executive Officer. Mr Wills hold a special role in the University. To put it in filmic terms, if the Vice Chancellor is Sydney Greenstreet (a comparison often made) then Mr Wills is Peter Lorre. He is the fixit man. This, in part, is what he wrote:

A number of your recent emails to staff and others associated with the University have not been appropriately worded and, by addressing multiple questions (some of which are later supplemented with further questions) to several staff, valuable staff time is being wasted. Further, staff are finding the tone of your messages is becoming harassing and abusive. This is why I am instructing you that further correspondence about these topics must be addressed to this office. In addition, the University finds some of your claims are not accurate. For example, your claim that your attempts to resolve certain matters by mediation have been "rebuffed" is not correct. The University attended a mediation arranged by the Human Rights Commission at your request and the outcome of that mediation was signed off by both parties. Then, in August 2011, you approached the University Mediator with a statement of claim, which you requested be dealt with by way of mediation. That request was carefully considered by the University, then the Mediator explained to you that the University declined to enter into mediation with you on that occasion because, none of the issues you had raised were mediable.

Harassing, abusive; oh dear. On the bright side, we at least know to whom we can attribute the invention of the word mediable. But after all this huffing and puffing, Mr Wills did at least offer a glimmer of light:

While the University remains willing to address matters which have not been superseded and thus resolved, a proper process must be followed. This requires you to set out in a single document, separate from any complaints about staff, the full details of issues that have not been resolved, explain why they remain current issues, then provide the detailed evidence to support your allegations and any other relevant materials. If such a document is received and contains evidence of significant unresolved current issues then an investigation of those issues may be justified.

It is not much, I know; it is caged in conditions and written in the cod-legalese that Mr Wills prefers to intelligible speech. But I made use of it. I sent Mr Wills the same statement of claim that I had sent to the Mediator, with only minor modifications. I made the not-mediable into a proper process. That was on 20th November.

 So, you may be asking, "why is he telling us all this?" Here's why. On 31st December, I received another email from Mr Wills, on a related matter. In this email, he writes: "I am looking into matters you have raised and must advise that the information I have become aware of does not support the information in your emails below."

So, it seems that Mr Wills has fixed it again. Despite my providing mountains of evidence and despite the bare fact of my receiving no supervision for an entire academic year, Mr Wills can see nothing wrong.

 And I have had enough. I entered that vile little department to write a thesis. Instead, I found myself being deceived and harassed. The University has rules and guidelines, proper processes which were cheerfully ignored by Dr Caroline Vercoe - with the support of her superiors. Her abuse of her duty cost me an entire year, in which I received no supervision and much bullying. What's more, I had to pay for the privilege. That much is evident, yet nobody in the University administration has the courage or decency to admit it. So I am going to put on the show right here in the barn. I am making my complaints public.

Until now the burden of proof has been entirely on me; when I have provided that proof, it has been ignored. By making my claim public, I am inviting the University to prove my claims wrong, in public. Below is my complaint to Mr Wills. Make of it what you will.

 A complaint about unresolved issues 

 1. Admission

 I applied to the University of Auckland for admission as a Doctoral candidate in late 2007, with the intention of studying in the Art History Department. It was my first application to the University. More than twenty years earlier, I had achieved a Class 2.1 BA (Hons) from Nottingham University and an MA from the Courtauld Institute of Art at London University. I had also been accepted as a PhD candidate at Cambridge University to study under David Watkin, one of the world's leading architectural historians - an offer I did not accept. I had been awarded a three-year British Academy Scholarship. Added to these qualifications, I had seven years experience as the founder and Registrar of the Ministry of Defence Art Collection in London, among other career achievements. I had also established a growing reputation as a writer in New Zealand. In short, I was a high-calibre applicant.

 I was treated like dirt by the admissions office. Admissions had not heard of the Courtauld Institute and was not prepared to find out about it. Art History had to obtain a letter from my former supervisor at the Courtauld, who had since retired. I was humiliated. My application took from late November 2007 to the beginning of March 2008. I lost money because of the University's stupidity: I could not take a job during that time because I did not know if or when I would be admitted to the University.

One of the issues by which Admissions delayed my enrollment was its staff's inability to understand the Courtauld MA grades. These were only two - Pass and Distinction; Professor Rankin instructed the Admissions Office of this difference from most universities. I had obtained a Pass: no bad thing when it comes from the best school of its kind in the world. Yet Admissions was incapable of understanding that and so decided to invent a Grade Point Equivalent for me. They decided on a GPE of 6 points. At the request of Art History, a single point was added to that score to acknowledge the quality of the school where I had obtained my MA. Since the University website said that a GPA of 7 was the minimum requirement for a scholarship, I did not complain.

 2. Scholarships

I had thought I was eligible for a scholarship, but then my Supervisor, Dr Don Bassett, told me that only graduates of New Zealand universities - those with a Grade Point Average were eligible. I believed him. So I did not apply for any scholarship during most of my first year: I missed out on several opportunities for University or Faculty of Arts scholarships. Then I discussed the matter with Professor Elizabeth Rankin, my co-Supervisor and HOD. She spoke to Dr Jennifer Curtin,  Associate Dean (Postgraduate), who revealed that my Grade Point Equivalent was the same as a GPA, so I could apply. I was encouraged to apply for scholarships by Elizabeth Rankin and Dr Curtin. Since the University website said that the minimum GPA was less than my GPE, I applied for scholarships. I was unsuccessful each time.

I was never told why I was unsuccessful. In 2010, I asked this question of Associate Dean Postgraduate Lee Wallace, Dr Curtin's successor. She gave me a reply that was curt to the point of rudeness and did not answer my question; she also refused to tell me the criteria by which applications were judged and closed the correspondence. Later, I asked the same question of Caroline Daley, the Dean of Graduate Studies. She told me, on 27th September 2010, that my scholarship applications would be judged on the two most recent full-time equivalent years of study prior to commencing the PhD; she also told me that my GPE was unlikely to be enough. So, after almost three years at the University, I was finally told what everyone else knew all along: that the scholarship was rigged in such a way that I could not obtain one. Not once did anyone say that my GPE would not be enough. Had I known that, I would have gone elsewhere - to the Courtauld, to Cambridge or one of many universities worldwide that could have provided proper funding and much better treatment than I received at Auckland.

 The fact of the matter is that I was deceived. I had a high-enough GPE and other qualities to meet the requirements mentioned on the University website. I was not told that a higher standard was applied, which would be the main criterion for selection. Elizabeth Rankin, Jennifer Curtin and Lee Wallace all deceived me, as did the University website.

  3. Supervision

My Supervisor, Don Bassett, turned out to be lazy, incompetent and bullying. I made several complaints about him to Professor Elizabeth Rankin, HOD and my co-Supervisor, who did nothing. I described my experiences in my Annual Report for 2009, which consequently was rejected by various parties, none of whom had the right to be involved. I suffered a year without any supervision because of those people interfering in the reporting process.

I had been granted about ten supervision meetings in three years in the Art History Department. Meetings were infrequent and always prompted by me. I had no supervision during University vacations. In the second semester of 2009, when Dr Bassett was on sabbatical and Dr Rankin was my main supervisor, I had one meeting. I have described my experiences in my 2009 report, which I shall include with this statement.

I had a lengthy meeting with Professor Rankin about Dr Bassett's shortcomings. She promised to speak to the School of Architecture about the possibility of having a co-supervisor from the School to make up for Dr Bassett. Nothing came of this. Later A/P Len Bell made a similar promise: again nothing came of it. I could have had suitable supervision during 2010, but clearly the Art History Department did not want me to have it. Of course, they would have lost money if my supervision had changed, so they had every incentive to do nothing. 


 4. Supervisor's retirement

 I learned that Dr Bassett was to retire from one of my peers, at a gathering for graduate students in December 2009. Subsequently, an undergraduate told me that in - March 2009 - Dr Bassett had told students of his plans to retire. Dr Bassett did not bother to tell me. It seems also that his retirement plans were known to other members of the Department, including Professor Rankin. She told me, eventually, in late December 2009. Had I known that he was retiring earlier I would have gone elsewhere. The information, it seems, was deliberately withheld from me. I suffered a further year in that awful Department, with little supervision because Dr Bassett, Professor Rankin and others chose not to tell me.

 5. Application for GTA position

 I applied for a GTA position for two courses Dr Bassett was teaching in 2010. Dr Bassett made his hostility to my application quite clear. However, I needed the money and the teaching experience. I was clearly the best-qualified candidate for the job and had already marked papers for one of the courses. I faced a hostile interview panel. Dr Bassett said very little throughout the interview, which ended with the three members of the panel - Drs Bassett, Vercoe and Woodward - laughing at me for having asked a question that was quite reasonable.

I didn't get the job. Caroline Vercoe's letter said that I was turned down because I lacked tutoring experience - although I had such and had said so during the interview. Another candidate for another GTA position had no tutoring experience and an overseas academic history like mine, yet she was given a GTA job in a course that was quite unrelated to her PhD research. But then, she was Dr Vercoe's student. She told me she had approached Dr Vercoe before the interviews about tutoring Dr Vercoe's course but Dr Vercoe had already decided on a GTA. So the other post was probably her consolation prize. The GTA process is rigged.

Later, Dr Bassett told me that I was not selected because I am a middle-aged man and the panel wanted young women to do the jobs. Elizabeth Rankin had said much the same when I spoke to her about my rejection. The Art History Department is riddled with cronyism and outright discrimination. I complained to the Dean of Arts. She and the staff she appointed to investigate my case chose to ignore the evidence I presented about the other GTA candidate. They also gave Drs Vercoe and Bassett the opportunity to make some new and abusive comments about me, my imaginary lack of tutoring experience having been forgotten.

I took my case to the Human Rights Commission but I could not prove it - Dr Bassett had lied about his original statement - so I was obliged to drop my complaint. I asked the Dean of Arts to help me obtain another supervisor - I had gone months without any supervision - but she did nothing. The GTA post was not just a part-time job (as the Dean of Arts so condescendingly claimed at the meeting with the Human Rights Commission). It was an opportunity for teaching experience. By discriminating against me the Department has damaged, if not ruined, my future academic career prospects.

  6. Annual Report 

After Dr Bassett told me why I had failed in my GTA application, I dropped him as my supervisor. So he used the Annual Report as an opportunity for revenge. His report is a pack of lies. I could have proved he was lying but was prevented from doing so by Dr Vercoe and Associate Professor Lee Wallace. They did not wait for me to complete my part of the report but demanded I write a 10,000-word chapter for them. I refused, since they had no authority to make such a demand, they had no right to interfere in my research and doing such a task would amount to admitting that Dr Bassett was right.

So Vercoe and Wallace denied me supervision. Dr Vercoe appointed Associate Professor Len Bell to deal with the matter, as she was then under investigation for my GTA complaint. Associate Professor Bell pretended to be an impartial mediator. I later discovered from Associate Professor Caroline Daley that he chaired the Art History Department's Post Graduate Studies Committee, and that other members were Dr Robin Woodward, Dr Erin Griffey, Dr Gregory Minissale and Dr Caroline Vercoe. This committee, of which Associate Professor Bell had said nothing, was preventing my report going to the Board of Graduate Studies. It is notable that Dr Vercoe was a member of the committee.

 The Art History committee had no authority to be involved in my report. Further, my privacy was violated by the members seeing the report. Almost every member of the Department had seen my report, most without any entitlement to do so. None of those involved had any right to interfere with my report, yet nobody prevented them. I believe they wanted to conceal Dr Bassett's shortcomings. I have still not received a report: Associate Professor Caroline Daley prevented it from being approved.

 I had thought that the annual report was to be used supervisor and candidate to discuss differences. Yet Dr Bassett used it to make demonstrably untruthful allegations against me. It is also noteworthy that, on separate occasions, both Dr Vercoe and Associate Professor Bell asked to see the work I had been doing - the compilation of the most comprehensive annotated bibliography on New Zealand architecture; yet when I asked each in what format I should supply the material - as a database or a document - neither replied. I think both Dr Vercoe and Associate Professor Bell were trying to catch me out, to find grounds for failing me.

 I also believe they were trying to delay taking any action to provide me with supervision because that would deprive the Department of income. I endured four pointless meetings over an extended period with Associate Professor Bell, in which he made promises - such as speaking to the School of Architecture - he did not keep. At the last meeting, which Professor Rankin also attended, he told me the Department had decided that Dr Rankin - who knows nothing of my subject and has never troubled herself to learn anything of it - should be my sole supervisor.

 I went without supervision for the entire 2010 academic year. It was only when the new Acting Head of Graduate Studies - Associate ProfessorCaroline Daley - became involved that I was able to get out of Art History and go to the School of Architecture. She promised to investigate the matter but then, seemingly having found out what was going on, refused to tell me the result of her investigation. She also put the blame on me, for "resisting" the demands of Dr Vercoe and Associate Professor Wallace. Further, Associate Professor Daley insulted my intelligence by claiming that the vetting of my Annual Report by the Art History Postgraduate Studies Committee was in line with international best practice.

7. Environment 

The Art History Department is a thoroughly unpleasant place. Most PhD candidates stay away; most have nothing good to say of their supervisors. Cronyism is rife. So is malice: certain members of the academic staff never miss an opportunity to say something nasty about their colleagues or, far worse, their students.

 Here are some examples. At one of the rare social events in the Department, a rather dismal party to celebrate Professor Rankin's departure from the post of HOD and Dr Vercoe's accession to that post, another member of the academic staff told me that Dr Vercoe would be just as bad in the job as Professor Rankin had been. At the Department's postgraduate conference in 2010, one academic staff member told me that one of the PhD students, my colleague and friend, was "strange." After a departmental seminar presented by a student, one academic staff member took the opportunity to mock that student once she was out of earshot. I too have been the subject of gossip by members of academic staff, who have spoken to students about me.

This sort of vicious and juvenile behaviour is astonishing. Not surprisingly, the Art History Department has a very poor reputation within the Arts Faculty and in the art world. Often I have met former graduate students who have had unpleasant experiences in Art History. Often I meet academic staff who express their contempt for the Art History Department and their pity for its students: one senior Faculty member described Art History to me as a "basket case." In three years I have never met anyone with anything good to say about Art History. The Department is toxic. I was subjected to three years of abuse there.

Paul Litterick