Millican Dalton: A Sublime Midlife Crisis
The relevance of a 20th century cave-dweller to environmental aesthetics.
Wednesday, 23 December 2020
At the mouth of the cave at Borrowdale, May 2020. Photograph: Lewis Eaton.
On a swelteringly hot day in the North Western Fells of The Lake District, the gaping mouth of a cave offered itself as a refuge and swallowed us mercifully into its cool damp interior. Caves are otherworldly places. This particular cave, set into the hillside of Castle Crag, allows you to peer out at the gently swaying trees and glimmering daylight of the outside world from a viewing point void of light and sound. The daytrip itself had been to seek refuge in The Lakes; an attempt at replacing the stagnancy of a locked-down city summer with a more welcome, less claustrophobic, kind of tranquillity. We spent a few minutes scrambling around on the siltstone, marvelling at the height of the cave walls and exchanging the obligatory comments about feeling small in big spaces. On leaving, I noticed a large, flat stone covered in scrawlings. At the centre in neat, deeply-etched letters read ‘Don’t Waste Words, Jump to Conclusions’ with dozens of smaller sections of writing surrounding this. Each gave names and dates, with many faded with age and dissolving back into the stone’s surface. It was from a frantic Googling during the car ride home that I came to find out we had happened across a sort-of pilgrimage place for hikers: the cave in which a man had lived out his summers for over forty consecutive years.
In 1904, at the age of thirty-six, Millican Dalton gave up his life as an insurance clerk in London in order to dedicate himself to The Great Outdoors. Having spent part of his childhood in Nenthead, the North Pennines, he found life and work in the capital stifling in comparison. From then on Dalton split his year, spending the summer months in the cave under Castle Crag and winters in a canvas hut in Buckinghamshire. Far from your conventional hermit, Dalton was an active and sociable member of the community. He organised camping excursions for the outdoors novice which included teaching hiking, rock climbing, rafting and how to forage for food. What I found extraordinary for the time was that these excursions didn’t exclude women, with one of Dalton’s advertisements for a mountaineering course stating his views bluntly: “Ladies are welcome to the camp. There is nothing new in ladies camping, the custom being at least 10,000 years old.” This rare indiscriminate approach led to Dalton forging a long-lasting friendship with geologist Mabel Barker, who over the years consistently recommended Dalton’s courses to women students and friends.
Dalton and Barker atop a needle, 1913. The Mable Barker Collection.
Still/Film
with
Eve Reid
In the column Still/Film, I explore the fascinating intersection of cinema and the theory and aesthetics of art history. With a particular focus on the horror genre, I delve into its profound art historical significance, examining its themes and visuals as both an inversion and a transgression beyond natural aesthetics. Drawing from my own cinematic experiences and specialised knowledge, I hope to provide valuable recommendations and insights to fellow film enthusiasts, inviting them to explore the artistic implications that the world of film has to offer.
By delving into the intricate connections between cinema and the broader landscape of visual culture, I explore how films can be seen as complex artworks that reflect and challenge societal norms, perceptions, and ideologies. I am particularly intrigued by the concept of theology in relation to film, exploring how spirituality and religious themes are portrayed and interpreted on the screen. Additionally, the representation of landscapes in film is another point of focus, considering how they can be vehicles for storytelling and expression of human, particularly queer, experiences. Lastly, I seek to explore the magic and the surreal that cinema can evoke, delving into the ways in which movies create immersive worlds and transport viewers into extraordinary realms.
With each column instalment, I aim to provide thought-provoking analysis, curated recommendations, and engaging insights into the art of cinema. Whether you are a film aficionado or simply curious about the intersection of film and art history, Still/Film offers a platform for exploration, discovery, and appreciation of the visual medium that is cinema.
