Asylum Steampunk Festival 2017 (The British At Play)

All Images: Asylum Steampunk Festival, Lincoln, August 2017

I’m running a bit late with my posts at the moment, so apologies for this one being already three weeks shy of the event it reports on.  It relates to my recent afternoon spent at Lincoln’s Asylum Steampunk Festival – a repeat of a similar excursion, two years ago.  Just as then, it felt like it would be an entertaining enough way to round off the summer holidays – and waking to one of the sunniest days in August sealed the deal.  So - I jumped in the car and zoomed over to the old hometown.

I have no personal involvement with Steampunk, as a subculture - other than as a spectator.  However, the numerous eccentrics, exhibitionists and fantasists who have, constitute an enjoyable spectacle, as they promenade around the quaint environs of Lincoln’s historic centre.  Investment in a wristband, to gain admission to the various organised events and dedicated venues, would - I imagine, bring one in contact with the movement’s real hardcore.  However, as before, I contented myself with simply strolling amongst the crowds in Castle Square, around the Cathedral, and along Westgate –pausing for the occasional tea break, and  taking numerous photos.  Some of the results can be seen here.

If I’m honest, the initial impact on me was just slightly reduced this time - but I suspect that’s just the result of a certain familiarity, rather than any real lack of enthusiasm or involvement on the part the participants.  Certainly, much raiding of the dressing-up box had still clearly taken place.  I do wonder though, if (as all subcultures must) the Steampunk phenomenon has lost a little of its initial creative spark – possibly defaulting to a set of relatively predictable tropes.  Thus, amongst the copious standard-issue waistcoats, flamboyant skirts, goggles and brass cog accessories, it was pleasing to come across the occasional spark of genuine inventiveness or attention to detail.

Special mention should thus go to the young woman in the slightly ramshackle, but pleasingly alternative, glazed cast-iron headdress.  Another, in an absolutely immaculate, oriental-themed ensemble, also impressed me - not least for the sheer amount of effort that had gone in.  I was not alone, as she became effectively trapped at the Cathedral’s west front - expertly posing for an endless series of impromptu photo-shoots.  I can only hope she won some kind of prize over the festival weekend.

It did strike me that, for many, the more fantastical aesthetics of Steampunk can blend all too seamlessly into a rather more generalised strain of Victoriana.  In fact, as I sipped my cuppa in front of my old junior school, I was intrigued by an overheard conversation nearby.  It revealed that, for one party at least, this gathering was just another slot in a packed calendar of re-enactment events, that might see her dipping in and out of numerous historical periods.  (This week - The Age of Steam: next week - The Wars of the Roses).

This in turn, led me to reflect on how, for the British, so much leisure time is spent longingly projecting into the past.  If Steampunk could be identified as one of the last real subcultural flowerings, it is one with a distinct nostalgia for a supposed golden age at its heart.  Certainly, there is little about it that could be said to actively critique current society (other than a desire to escape from it).  I also sense that, these days any hauntological intent, or sense of an alternative future haunted by the technology of the past, is somewhat diluted.  The overall vibe seems now to have defaulted to do a fairly generic affection for corsetry, brass fittings and quasi-military costumes.

Look a little harder, and more critically, and one’s eye also fixes on the preponderance of union jacks and the unmistakable fetishisation of Britain’s Imperial past.  Is it just me, (possibly squinting too hard through the filter of my current artistic preoccupations) – or is this all slightly problematic in our current, distinctly fractured, socio-political moment?  Certainly, I find it hard to regard any age defined by bellicosity and expansionism as a golden one [1.].  Under the jolly, picturesque surface, could it all really be just another (if slightly alternative) symptom of that defining British disease – terminal nostalgia?

Ultimately though, it probably doesn’t do to get too po-faced about it all.  I doubt many of the Steampunks feel the need too delve too self-analytically into the motives behind their pastime.  And the general mood in Lincoln was seemingly one of relaxed theatricality - rather than of strident jingoism or aggressive xenophobia. It's also important to remember that most subcultures have a darker side.  A degree of transgression is part of the deal, after all.  In fact, it may be that those troubling strands of British consciousness are more likely to be unearthed amongst the civilians on housing estates, in anonymous suburbs, or dining at weekend carveries - than amongst the cheery oddballs at the Asylum.

[1.]:  Given the choice, I'll take the Post War Consensus and The Welfare State (for all their defects) any day of the week.

A Head Of Steam 2: 'Weekend At The Asylum' Steampunk Festival 2015'

All Photos, 'Weekend At The Asylum' Steampunk Festival, Lincoln, August 2015

We’re already a week in to the new school term, and the day job is consequently claiming far more of my energy and attention again.  It’s also evident that the weather is just beginning to turn, that the daylight hours are diminishing noticeably, and that autumn will soon be upon us.  Actually, I always find this time of year enjoyably poignant.  There’s a sense of loss as another summer slips away, but also of renewed energy as August‘s blousy torpor is replaced with an urge to start taking care of business once more.  It always feels like one should get a bustle on and make use of what warmth and light remain before the year shuts down for winter.

There’s a certain thrill in those first, slightly chillier early mornings, and an increasingly mellow quality to the light on those sunny days that still remain interspersed amongst the ever-multiplying wet ones.  It was on a particularly fine one, right at the end of the holidays, that I found myself back in my quaint, old hometown of Lincoln recently.  I was there with with my good friend, Suzie, to sample the eccentric delights of the annual ‘Weekend At The Asylum’ Steampunk Festival.

The Steampunk phenomenon, (alternative subculture is, I guess, the best description), isn’t exactly new, so forgive me if you already know far more than I do.  However, despite occasionally infecting certain mainstream strands of Fashion, Cinema, Art & Design or Literature, it seems to have retained much of its status as a kind of parallel, slightly home-made, off-duty reality, peopled largely by cheerful eccentrics.  It is, traditionally, exactly the kind of thing at which the British are, occasionally, rather adept.

For reasons I don’t fully understand, Lincoln has emerged as a serious Steampunk hotspot, and the Festival, now in its seventh year, claims to be the largest event of its kind in the international calendar.  The city’s ancient historical quarter certainly does provide an appropriately atmospheric backdrop to the retro-fixated shenanigans of the steamers, and it felt like high time I found out what all the fuss was about.

There are numerous on-line sources, far more qualified than I to detail what Steampunk actually means.  In fact, like any other mature ‘scene’ of its kind, it appears to have mutated in number of different directions, and probably means various things to different people by now.  However, at its heart lies a deep love of Victorian and Edwardian aesthetics and a desire to reimagine a kind of Science Fiction, or even vaguely post-apocalyptic, future - had technological advance stalled around 1900 and Modernism never occurred.  Key progenitors might include Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, Conan Doyle, Lewis Carroll’s ‘Wonderland’ and ‘Looking Glass’ dimensions, chroniclers of Imperialist derring-do, inventors and engineers of the early Industrial Age, and possibly, the archetypically British time-travels of ‘Doctor Who’.

The manifestation of this is that lots of ornate and interesting stuff gets designed and made, from jewelry through to working vehicles of various kinds, (with craftsmanship often at a considerable premium), arcane or humorous, rituals are performed, (competitive tea-drinking and biscuit-dunking, anyone?), but above all, lots and lots of dressing-up is pretty much compulsory.  I suppose it’s a branch of what, these days, gets called Cosplay, - one in which the attendees of a Fantasy convention have run riot through the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company’s Costume and Props. department, or the Science and Imperial War Museums.  It’s also worth noting that, if the Lincoln event is as representative as it claims, the average age of the participants appears to be nearer at least 40 than 20.  I find that as charming as it may seem slightly surprising.

First-hand observation, and a little further research, reveal that there is, at the more extreme fringes, a certain darkness to some of this.  In fact, the various costumes evident in Lincoln’s old streets ranged from relatively straight historical reconstructions, through rapidly assembled Weekenders’ gestures and cheerfully barmy confections, to the highly imaginative, (and often, lovingly assembled), the distinctly bondage-fixated, and the just plain sinister.  Nearly everyone wears goggles of some variety; masks are popular, and full-blown biomechanics not exactly rare.  Weaponry also abounds, (non-functionally, one assumes/hopes).  I’ve no doubt there’s a Steampunk-themed dungeon, full of really serious kit, somewhere, but all the best subcultures have a scary edge, - don’t they?

I’ll confess to a certain admiration for those prepared to go to the really decadent extremes.  There is, I suppose, a possible questionable element to all that Imperial fetishisation, and some of it could appear distinctly fascistic in the wrong hands.  An article on last year's festival in The Independent Newspaper reveals that at least some of the Steamers are well aware of that danger, and prefer to see themselves as free thinkers who reframe Victorian tropes within a more Liberal value system.  Let’s hope that’s true of the majority.

Indeed, the atmosphere appeared mostly to be one of picturesque, good-natured relaxation and generous, mutual appreciation.  Having already endured a slightly arduous plod through Bank Holiday traffic, and an extended quest for somewhere to sit down for lunch, we opted to spend the afternoon just strolling and passively watching the throng pass by.  There was no shortage of sights, although getting a clean, un-obscured photograph often proved difficult amongst the crowds.  As such, we only really scratched the surface of the weekend’s delights.  Had we opted to pay for the wristbands that would have accessed various events and venues, we would, I’m sure discovered a world of even more committed participation and stylised escapism.

I’d be tempted to dip my toe a little deeper on a return visit, and we even casually fantasised about attempting a little dressing up of our own. I’m far from an exhibitionist, but even I’ll concede you could have a lot of fun constructing some of the hardware accessories.  In fact, my surroundings did make me reflect that, once upon a time, attempts at a (very) mild extravagance of dress, was a small part of my Romantic image of myself as an Art student, (my Foundation year took place at Lincoln’s Art College).  In those days, that mostly just meant haunting jumble sales, or the town’s one or two Antique clothes shops in search of something recognisably non-High Street to wear.

It doesn’t feel like too many go in for that kind of thing so much these days and, if that’s the case, it’s a shame.  Surely, any self-respecting Art student could have a lot of fun wearing at least parts of their Festival costume all year round?  When exactly did things become so conformist, I wonder?  About the same time that every vaguely alternative style became just another off-the-peg option in mainstream outlets, rather than representing a creative project, I suppose.  Even what people now call ‘Vintage’ style feels like an industry, - we had to work for it, I tell you!

On reflection, perhaps it’s not so surprising that many of the Steampunks appear well into Middle Age.  Could it be a sign of my generation, (and some even older folks), enjoying one last opportunity to dress up, - with even more artificiality than they once did when being a Hippy, a Glam Rocker, a Punk or a New Romantic actually signified a form of alternative expression?  It was always about tribes, I guess, - but more vividly delineated tribes perhaps.  The Steampunks certainly seem to fit that bill.

Whatever the reasons, it delights me that such eccentricity can still exist in what often feels like an increasingly bland, monolithic culture.  Despite the promise of ever-expanding consumer choice, true divergence often feels like a rare commodity in plain view.  It's comforting to know that some weeds still grow through cracks in the pavement, and that, once a year, they come to full bloom in the town where I grew up.