This week on the Post the theme is going to the cinema (or the "pictures" or "flicks"). It's a hundred years or so since cinemas became a huge part of weekly entertainment in the 1920s. Queuing, being seen in the queue, and having a rendezvous in the queue were all just as much as part of the excitement as the film itself, as Harold Harvey shows in Girls Outside the Gaiety Cinema, Newlyn (1925, private collection).

Like Britta Marakatt-Labba, Máret Ánne Sara (b1983) is a Sámi artist from a reindeer herding family. She has created an installation in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern (until 6th April 2026) which has been misunderstood in some quarters. But for many visitors it provides an important introduction to Sámi culture and way of life, and the  threats these now face. 

This is Britta Marakatt Labba who was born in 1951 to a Swedish Sami family that sewed their own clothes and winter shoes. As this article explains, "Embroidery is threaded throughout the visual vocabulary of Sapmi, the region of northern Scandinavia that is home to the Sami people – not least in gakti, the traditional costume stitched with ornate designs." (There are several YouTube videos, including this, which give a fascinating glimpse into her world.)

Duodji is an important aspect of Sámi culture. It embraces all sorts of crafts and skills eg knitting, weaving, rug-making, woodwork for making primarily functional, everyday items necessary for survival, but which also  often incorporate artistic and decorative elements (so examples of William Morris' famous words about usefulness and beauty). Mittens fall into this category, and traditional patterns are now being collected, revived, and knitted all over the world.

Sámi crafting traditions, and artistic practices, no craft/art hierarchy/separation which exercises so many people here in the art history world 

Several of Britta Marakatt-Labba's embroideries contain tiny figures wearing striking curved hats. These are ládjogahpir, described in a recent book and exhibition as the "foremothers' hat of pride". The hat is shaped round a wooden horn and decorated with lace, embroidery and ribbon. It was worn by Sámi women until the beginning of the twentieth century but is now being re-examined and celebrated as a highly significant element of Sámi culture. 

Inspired by the exhibition of embroideries by Britta Marakatt-Labba (b1951) at the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, this week on the Post we have art and culture from Sápmi (formerly Lapland). Her depictions of Sámi life, created with thousands of tiny stitches, combine elements of the oral storytelling tradition, everyday scenes, historical events, accounts of state oppression, and reflections on a threatened natural environment. One of her recurring themes is the "writing" of letters, which began as a way to get in touch with the authorities after the Chernobyl accident in 1986 and the major impact this had on Sámi life. This is Čáliimet reivve (We Wrote a Letter), 1995.

And this is our favourite café in Bath. It wouldn't suit everyone as it is the epitome of cheap-and-cheerful. But where else could you have a cup of tea and two scrambled eggs on toast for £5.50 and be transported right back to the 1960s? The staff are delightful, the formica, lino and lighting are incredibly nostalgic, and we cannot recommend it enough. However, as we said, it wouldn't suit everyone. But, in addition, it's in the wonderful Guildhall Market which visitors to Bath often miss but is really the jewel in the crown – it has literally everything, although let us pick out three indispensables: knitting wool (not at all expensive), blue berets (ditto) and the kind of things it's usually impossible to buy except from the website we don't mention: 13 amp fuses, large Chinese lampshades, and those white enamel bowls with a blue rim but not at crazy prices. It's ten minutes walk from the shop and shouldn't be missed by anyone coming to Bath to see us.