tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263367922024-03-07T13:37:31.013-06:00Impossible KissesReports from the Goblin Universe
(or, Shadows on the Analemma)Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.comBlogger1868125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-72328072240257079362013-05-22T00:54:00.002-05:002013-05-22T02:35:06.162-05:00The Gardener In Moonlight<div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is one of the simplest little tunes I’ve ever posted. But I’ve enjoyed playing this seemingly all out-of-proportion to its simplicity. To my ears the simple tune takes on different characters just by making slight changes to the steady rhythm, or the phrase that rises from C to A. And it is easy to add harmony using chords with the melody notes in the treble or just using a straight progression starting or ending on a melody note. And it’s easy, too, on keyboard to create a split and alternate the simple melody between two voices. I enjoyed most, I think, using a very synth sounding voice to start each little phrase and a flute to finish off the phrase.<br />
<br />
I made up this little melody on guitar, then moved to keyboard. I noticed then when I went back to guitar it was even more fun, maybe because I was more familiar with the intervals and I can play so much more freely on guitar.</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCIM0RHFNcEaJQ946N8ol38nTGPXcDkHUk_qHdbjWpx0s-VVibSg5aVgLIP5wDObSUpSe_HHSbGcp3QzTmc7p7Fi-oos8c_OBVBxd1LELtCa_zpi7NC2FnEbQpkUH5dVfgFRC/s1600/simpleTune1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCIM0RHFNcEaJQ946N8ol38nTGPXcDkHUk_qHdbjWpx0s-VVibSg5aVgLIP5wDObSUpSe_HHSbGcp3QzTmc7p7Fi-oos8c_OBVBxd1LELtCa_zpi7NC2FnEbQpkUH5dVfgFRC/s400/simpleTune1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m a fan of arranger keyboards, as compared to synthesizers that are more focused on crafting particular sounds. It has always seemed to me—and it continues to seem to me—that what a musician does with sounds is much more important than the particular sounds themselves. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/06/on-not-playing-synth-workstation-1.html">On Not Playing A Synth Workstation #1</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/06/on-not-playing-synth-workstation-2.html">On Not Playing A Synth Workstation #2</a><br />
<br />
But I wonder.<br />
<br />
I wonder if a particular melody might be like what a painter calls a “motif,” and although a painter may paint a particular motif in many different ways depending on, say, the light at a particular time of day or the painter’s mood, if the painter is at all realistic there always will be some discernible underlying similarity visible from variation to variation of the images of the same motif. It’s remarkable, for instance, comparing Cézanne’s paintings to photographs of his motifs—it’s almost always reasonably easy to see what Cézanne <i>started </i>from.<br />
<br />
So I wonder if any given melody might have some particular sound or sounds which bring out and emphasize the very basic nature of the melody itself.<br />
<br />
I’m a sucker for cool advertising and when I see images like this (speaking of <a href="http://usa.yamaha.com/products/musical-instruments/keyboards/synthesizers/motif_xf/?mode=series#tab=PD519541">“Motif”</a> this image is from the <a href="http://download.yamaha.com/api/asset/file/?language=en&site=usa.yamaha.com&asset_id=53127">anniversary brochure pdf</a>}—</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGicRqtQ2EivH1-WZrEmEo0VEIuL005G2bTPmqn5QN31mHkBALccNqS1D8Ov1HTI-LAod9ttfn_ed51HvlT4GClzRZGMAHhbpaf6u0gQcLrxDJsyf9BKl_j3OzSZ2fuxv_GCsx/s1600/motifXF1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGicRqtQ2EivH1-WZrEmEo0VEIuL005G2bTPmqn5QN31mHkBALccNqS1D8Ov1HTI-LAod9ttfn_ed51HvlT4GClzRZGMAHhbpaf6u0gQcLrxDJsyf9BKl_j3OzSZ2fuxv_GCsx/s400/motifXF1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">—when I see images like this I get to thinking that a sound-oriented synthesizer might be a great deal of fun for exploring that question: <b>Does a melody have a particular defining nature that is separate from the mood or intention of the musician playing the melody?</b> And, if so, it would be fun exploring the process of discovering the sounds that seem to “work best” for a given melody, the sounds which seem to emphasize the underlying nature of the melody, if a melody has such a thing as its own underlying nature separate from the musician arranging and playing it.<br />
<br />
I like that particular image because there’s a guitar in the background and a computer on the desk, and there’s the synthesizer workstation as a tool that works well with those other tools.<br />
<br />
<b>It’s like a mad scientist’s laboratory and it only takes up one corner of a room.</b><br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
I’ve always been uncomfortable with distance as a <i>literal </i>thing. I like staying in Chicago. I love Lake Michigan.<br />
<br />
But I’ve always been interested in distance as a <i>figurative </i>thing. Traveling to the stars with binoculars or telescopes. Traveling into music with capable instruments and tools. Traveling into hearts and minds with reading and writing.<br />
<br />
I strongly suspect that just as these “figurative” distances have a metaphoric relationship (or a metonymy relationship) to real distance, in a somehow comparable way there is a <i>third </i>reality that has a corresponding relationship to the figurative.<br />
<br />
I strongly suspect there is <i>something </i>that is abstracted away from figurative distance in a similar way that figurative distance is abstracted away from real physical distance.<br />
<br />
<b>Mad scientist stuff. But for real. And something like the <i>opposite </i>of making monsters. Rather it’s something like discovering what human is.</b><br />
<br />
Seems to me it’s stuff worth doing.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
And, of course, it’s always fun, too, making up lyrics that go with melodies, turning them into songs. Scientists keep notebooks, I’m guessing even mad scientists do. Lyrics maybe are a mad scientist keeping track of his or her experiments in their notebook. These lyrics are what I wrote in my notebook after experimenting with the simple melody above:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Stars above<br />
gardens and<br />
gardeners in<br />
moonlight<br />
<br />
enjoying the<br />
evening because<br />
soon enough<br />
morning will<br />
come</i></b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/11/somewhere-between-chicago-and-paris.html">Somewhere Between Chicago And Paris</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-secret-laboratory-of-immutable.html">The Secret Laboratory Of Immutable Laughter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/10/lost-world-where-distance-is-gods-anger.html">A Lost World Where Distance Is God’s Anger</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/dinosaur-by-moonlight-puppet-show.html">Dinosaur By Moonlight: A Puppet Show</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/10/blows-against-expensive-empire.html">Blows Against The (Expensive) Empire</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/04/occult-technology-of-lost-songs.html">The Occult Technology Of Lost Songs</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-15350478051455885662013-05-21T10:34:00.002-05:002013-05-21T11:28:43.180-05:00What Is Love? 8—Mandy Moore’s Guitar Case<div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-P_EoYQJKapbntWNoZlebfCgzGVJSqORPeGBB1U_vEKcU6z07FhyphenhyphenM4IQV8DeDtLAMw82yFpv5NGaFWIwUh68gqU7wevYNO4pTXs8YpfVOF4XHcARLSa0SOqJZc2zVz4uJTqGR/s1600/mandyMooreSoftcase1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-P_EoYQJKapbntWNoZlebfCgzGVJSqORPeGBB1U_vEKcU6z07FhyphenhyphenM4IQV8DeDtLAMw82yFpv5NGaFWIwUh68gqU7wevYNO4pTXs8YpfVOF4XHcARLSa0SOqJZc2zVz4uJTqGR/s400/mandyMooreSoftcase1.JPG" width="267" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In this cool photo of cool Mandy Moore<br />
she’s wearing her guitar like a backpack.<br />
<br />
That backpack arrangement for her guitar<br />
is called a “gig-bag” and is popular<br />
with younger musicians. I’ve never seen<br />
Keith Richards or Jeff Beck wear their guitar.<br />
<br />
When I was first starting guitar lessons<br />
students had soft cases and hard cases<br />
and the consensus was that hard cases<br />
protected guitars more than soft cases.<br />
<br />
Soft cases cost less. The social divide<br />
among young players many years ago<br />
was that working musicians who played gigs<br />
could afford to buy the best protection<br />
for their guitar so they bought a hard case<br />
and students and less successful players<br />
got by with an inexpensive soft case<br />
because they didn’t get money from gigs.<br />
<br />
In the way of the world now soft cases<br />
are called “gig-bags” and working musicians<br />
now cultivate an image of hipness<br />
of being an independent artist<br />
not answering to a corporation<br />
by getting photographed with a soft case<br />
a fashion statement now called a “gig-bag.”<br />
<br />
At first I thought guitars must feel safer<br />
with a hard case protecting their tuners<br />
those six little knobs that set string tension<br />
at the pointy-end of the guitar’s neck.<br />
<br />
Then I thought maybe guitars feel more loved<br />
being strapped up against a player’s back<br />
and maybe getting extra attention<br />
from the player to protect their tuners.<br />
<br />
I don’t know. And I’ve tried to think this through<br />
for years. That photograph is five years old.<br />
<br />
When it’s not in use a soft case folds up<br />
and is easy to store just on a shelf<br />
but you have to find space for a hard case<br />
even if there’s not a guitar in it.<br />
<br />
I don’t know. And I’ve tried to think this through<br />
for years. That photograph is five years old.<br />
<br />
I asked my guitar and my guitar said:<br />
<br />
<i>“<b>If you play me forever and never<br />
put me down the issue just goes away</b>.”</i><br />
<br />
Love is a mystery. Although guitars<br />
have one answer. And it’s a good one too.</span></div><br />
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<br />
<br />
<i>I remember seeing that photograph<br />
when it first made the media rounds.<br />
I really have been thinking about it<br />
for something like five years.<br />
I found the photo now at an old blog post:</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://bauergriffinonline.com/2008/08/mandy-moore-it-girl-turned-hip.php">Mandy Moore: 'It' Girl Turned Hipster Chick</a><br />
<i>at bauergriffinonline.com</i><br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/12/what-is-love-7beyond-apollo.html">What Is Love? 7—“Beyond Apollo”</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-is-love-6broadway-diamond.html">What Is Love? 6—Broadway Diamond</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-is-love-5godzilla.html">What Is Love? 5—Godzilla</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/12/what-is-love-4forbidden-love.html">What Is Love? 4—Forbidden Love </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/12/what-is-love-3gorilla-my-dreams.html">What Is Love? 3—Gorilla My Dreams </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/11/what-is-love-2ayn-rand.html">What Is Love? 2—Ayn Rand </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/11/what-is-love-1the-mole-people.html">What Is Love? 1—The Mole People </a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/05/mandy-moore-in-traffic.html">Mandy Moore In Traffic</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/08/leaving-mandy-moore.html">Leaving Mandy Moore</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/11/gain-joyful-expressions.html">Gain Joyful Expressions</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/07/unrequited-as-cosmology.html">Unrequited As A Cosmology</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/06/once-and-future-mandy-moore.html">The Once And Future Mandy Moore</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-84423962289183982412013-05-20T00:59:00.002-05:002013-05-20T01:26:23.156-05:00Second Chances In The Plum Rains<div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today’s post is a kind of afterword to two posts from last week.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/cynthia-lennon-in-plum-rains.html">Cynthia Lennon In The Plum Rains</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/people-as-albums-of-inside-out-songs.html">People As Albums Of Inside-Out Songs</a><br />
<br />
This post is not about the Beatles, but it is one final comment on <b>Cynthia Lennon’s autobiography</b>, “<a href="http://www.amazon.com/John-Cynthia-Lennon/dp/0307338568/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368766669&sr=1-1&keywords=cynthia+lennon+john">John.</a>”<br />
<br />
That book has become more interesting to me <i>after </i>I read it than it was <i>while </i>I was reading it.<br />
<br />
While I was reading it I was mostly thinking that she wasn’t really sharing any new stories. And that’s true. There wasn’t much new in there that Beatles fans didn’t have access to in other books.<br />
<br />
But after I read Cynthia Lennon’s account—and if we can believe the front-matter she wrote the book herself, without a co-writer—I was really touched by many of the things she did say, and I became more and more interested thinking about how she said things and why she picked certain things to say.<br />
<br />
And her final words are interesting to me, too.<br />
<br />
On the very last page of the book, after having described her whole life, before John, during John and after John, she gives thanks for the good things, like her son Julian and her childhood friends, but then she concludes:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"But the truth is that if I'd known as a teenager what falling for John would lead to, I would have turned round right then and walked away."</b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m a talkative person. In my life I’ve talked to a lot of different <i>types </i>of people—I mean things like education backgrounds, economic backgrounds, social backgrounds. I have heard sentiments like this far more often than I’d ever have expected and from every “type” of person imaginable.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<b>Some aspects of life are so difficult to understand, almost inconceivable, that even if you try, struggle, with all your heart and all your soul and all your strength and all your mind to understand what is happening to you and around you, by the time you figure it out, if you figure it out at all, it can be too late to even <i>hope </i>for a second chance. Because your whole life will be behind you. And you will have been completely shaped by the life you lived.</b><br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the kind of person who, if given a second chance, almost always just makes the same mistakes all over again. Or some variation of the same mistakes.<br />
<br />
So I admire people who can learn quickly from their errors and make significant corrections and seriously improve. Because I usually can’t.<br />
<br />
That being said, at the same time I admire people, too, who work out a course of action in the abstract, and then set out to make their vision real. And keep trying and keep trying and keep trying.<br />
<br />
The issue, I think, is that it’s good to be <b>tenacious </b>but it’s bad to be <b>stubborn<b></b></b>, and it’s not always clear where to draw the line.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
Recently I made up this joke:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Britney Spears walks into a bar. To her right she’s holding hands with Ludwig van Beethoven. To her left she’s holding hands with William Shakespeare. The bartender says, “Wow, Britney, with Beethoven to write music for you and Shakespeare to write lyrics for you, your next album might be the greatest album ever.” And Britney says, “Uh, <i>yeah, </i>and working with both of them they’ll buy me twice as much beer as just one would!”</b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The time I spent thinking about that is time I’ll never get back. I’ll never get a second chance to use that time more constructively. And even if I did, I know I wouldn’t.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
I’m going to conclude this post with my favorite bit of TV drama, <i>melodrama </i>really, about the issue of second chances. It’s a transcript of a scene from the old British TV show “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_prisoner">The Prisoner</a>.”<br />
<br />
If I can trust my memory and the Blogger search utility—and, really, I don’t much trust either one but the combination is the best I have right now—I have quoted that old TV show twice here at the blog.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-more-venus-talk.html">A Little More Venus Talk</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/06/music-at-gardens-edge.html">Music At The Garden’s Edge</a><br />
<br />
I’m going to stop quoting old TV shows (and, in fact, TV shows entirely) but I want to do this one last quote because it will wrap up my interest in <i>“The Prisoner,” </i>and because I’ve wanted to do this particular quote for a long time and now I finally have a post talking about second chances.<br />
<br />
This is from an episode called “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Schizoid_Man_(The_Prisoner)">Schizoid Man</a>” and that episode is one of the most complicated bits of writing in that series which was full of down-right <i>Byzantine </i>complexity. (I’m not going to embed the whole episode here, it’s almost an hour long, but the whole episode is available at YouTube: <a href="http://youtu.be/o2Ra5mf2u6o">The Prisoner: Schizoid Man</a>. The scene from today’s post starts at the 45:33 mark.)<br />
<br />
The story—in very quick overview—is about Number 2 trying to drive Number 6 insane by first subjecting him to behavior modification and drugs which change some of his habits and then bringing in an agent, “Curtis,” who is an exact physical double for Number 6 and who has practiced mimicking Number 6’s personality, and his mental skills and physical skills in every way.<br />
<br />
Also there is a woman from the Village, Number 24, who has become friends with Number 6 because she and Number 6 realized they have a mild kind of low-level telepathic bond. They can’t read each other’s mind, but they can, often and inexplicably, make the same guess or make the same choice or just randomly work in unison without explicitly coordinating their actions. And, more simply, they can just “feel” each other’s presence.<br />
<br />
Number 2 confronts Number 6 with “Curtis” and accuses Number 6 of being an imposter. As Number 2 “proves” to Number 6 he isn’t who he thinks he is, Number 2 documents Number 6’s old habits which are now changed (Number 6 has no memory of the behavior mod program that changed his habits) and “Curtis” is able to best Number 6 at all of Number 6’s mental and physical challenges (Number 6 is weakened from the drug treatments) and, finally, Number 2 brings in the telepathic woman. She is able to perform her telepathic link with “Curtis” but not with Number 6 (viewers then realize that the telepathic woman, Number 24, really is an agent working with Number 2).<br />
<br />
As the plot unfolds, through complications and his skills, Number 6 is able to recover his memory, defeat “Curtis” and manipulate Village security into killing “Curtis” thinking he was really Number 6.<br />
<br />
So, getting to the end, Number 6 has assumed the identity of the agent who had been brought in to assume <i>his </i>identity. As Number 6 impersonates “Curtis” he is driven by Number 2 to the airfield where he will be allowed to fly away in a helicopter. Number 2 goes off for a moment to talk to someone. Number 6 discovers that the telepathic woman, Number 24, is waiting for him there at the airport. She confronts him, alone. Because of their telepathic bond, she realizes, of course, that he isn’t “Curtis,” and Number 6 knows, too, that she sees through him.<br />
<br />
<i>Will she turn him in?</i><br />
<br />
Number 24 and Number 6, impersonating “Curtis,” have this wonderful exchange by the helicopter:</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpgAcUgcadbYVs4Ux11N7dJZiIr2j5X8-40ZlT4YfT4cMRF4CAcMfiHj9hBorj7xQKB5k5iypwIAvt2G0gFmsBrKw-s92hD5WKDvxrAshKlXAG9LzM3eip71I6FdQKsibaqlp/s1600/prisonerNumber24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpgAcUgcadbYVs4Ux11N7dJZiIr2j5X8-40ZlT4YfT4cMRF4CAcMfiHj9hBorj7xQKB5k5iypwIAvt2G0gFmsBrKw-s92hD5WKDvxrAshKlXAG9LzM3eip71I6FdQKsibaqlp/s200/prisonerNumber24.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 24: </span><b>“I’m ashamed of what I did to No. 6 yesterday.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 6: </span><b>“Why are you telling me?”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 24: </span><b>“Everyone has to tell someone.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 6: </span><b>“It was your job.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 24: </span><b>“It was a betrayal.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 6: </span><b>“Isn’t everything we do here a betrayal?”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 24: </span><b>“It’s not often one gets a second chance.”</b></span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk87g1nC_tzHulxOJTZpzh5t4Y9y9TS93UqWJtUTKa9VrKKWPgPVQyt-gsaiAhsR5OCWZEu6PpWoMma_1OAx6a1O1PSLVsq2_LVkeWF-y5DeB8U2QmZQhYOrfRasv47PUgTuHO/s1600/prisonerNumber6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk87g1nC_tzHulxOJTZpzh5t4Y9y9TS93UqWJtUTKa9VrKKWPgPVQyt-gsaiAhsR5OCWZEu6PpWoMma_1OAx6a1O1PSLVsq2_LVkeWF-y5DeB8U2QmZQhYOrfRasv47PUgTuHO/s200/prisonerNumber6.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 6: </span><b>“There are no second chances.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">NUMBER 24: </span><b>“There are, sometimes, for the lucky ones. If I had a second chance, I want you to know that I wouldn’t do it again.”</b><br />
<br />
<br />
And as Number 2 returns, Number 24 simply turns and walks away. She’s true to her word, and having been given a second chance, she doesn’t betray Number 6 again.<br />
<br />
(Number 2, however, discovers Number 6’s ruse by asking him a question only the real “Curtis” could know and as Number 6 is flying away in the helicopter, Village security apparently contacts the pilot and the helicopter turns around and brings Number 6 back. Number 6 remained a Prisoner in the Village.)</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/09/pumpkin-are-free.html">Pumpkin Are Free</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/10/now-i-dream-of-plum-rains.html">“Now I Dream Of The Plum Rains”</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-18753017394664999902013-05-17T23:53:00.002-05:002013-05-18T01:19:40.955-05:00People As Albums Of Inside-Out Songs<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Strangely, the <i>Sergeant Pepper </i>album originated with a song which was never on it, <i>“Strawberry Fields.” </i>That November John came into the studio, and we went into our regular routine. I sat on my high stool with Paul standing beside me, and John stood in front of us with his acoustic guitar and sang the song. It was absolutely lovely. Then we tried with Ringo on drums, and Paul and George on their bass and electric guitars. It started to get heavy—it wasn’t the gentle song that I had first heard.</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">George Martin<br />
<i>from </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/All-You-Need-Ears-personal/dp/0312114826/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1305782380&sr=1-1">“All You Need Is Ears”</a></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She yawned. She wasn’t much interested<br />
in anything I was talking about.<br />
<br />
“I didn’t like any of them,” she said,<br />
“not the pretty one or the angry one<br />
or the other two. From what their wives say<br />
I didn’t miss much. Skipping all of them.”<br />
<br />
“Their music shaped generations,” I said.<br />
<br />
She laughed. At least she was interested.<br />
<br />
“Did you know,” she asked, “John’s demo version<br />
of <i>‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ <i></i></i>was him<br />
just on acoustic guitar and singing?”<br />
<br />
I told her I thought I’d read that somewhere.<br />
<br />
She laughed again. She said, “Just imagine<br />
if Red Bull existed back then and John<br />
had been fueled by the sugar and caffeine<br />
and had gotten all fighting mad angry<br />
and had insisted on using that track,<br />
singing solo to acoustic guitar.<br />
Music today might have a different shape.”<br />
<br />
I thought, they liked doing something different.<br />
<br />
And I thought, they liked experimenting.<br />
<br />
What if they had used all their influence<br />
to change music that way, to make it good<br />
instead of making it about machines?<br />
<br />
She laughed and interrupted my thinking.<br />
<br />
“I can play you like a guitar,” she said.<br />
“And when you think all of your thoughts project<br />
onto your face something like inside-out.<br />
I can watch them something like a movie.”<br />
<br />
I said, “Can you see what I’m thinking now?”<br />
<br />
She said, “Are you thinking that in the days<br />
before the Beatles they would burn witches?”<br />
<br />
I said, “You should be grateful to the boys.<br />
They changed history. Count your lucky stars.”<br />
<br />
She looked at me. I couldn’t figure out<br />
even one single thought she was thinking.<br />
<br />
She said, “Just think, back when they burned witches<br />
people would know witches were being killed.<br />
Do you believe witches now don’t get killed?<br />
Wasn’t it better when everyone knew,<br />
when the fires were so bright they blocked the stars?”<br />
<br />
I said, “I can’t tell if you are talking<br />
because you have something to say, or if<br />
you just like watching my expressions change.”<br />
<br />
“So what?” she asked. And she smiled, shrugged and laughed.</span></div><br />
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/cynthia-lennon-in-plum-rains.html">Cynthia Lennon In The Plum Rains</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/10/now-i-dream-of-plum-rains.html">“Now I Dream Of The Plum Rains”</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/10/buying-beatles-forever.html">Buying The Beatles Forever</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/09/japanese-train-stations-forever.html">Japanese Train Stations Forever</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-stars-from-here-puppet-thriller.html">“The Stars From Here: A Puppet Thriller”</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/10/blows-against-expensive-empire.html">Blows Against The (Expensive) Empire</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/12/primitive-and-what-came-after.html">“The Primitive And What Came After”</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/04/occult-technology-of-lost-songs.html">The Occult Technology Of Lost Songs</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-61110704106186772692013-05-16T23:51:00.001-05:002013-05-17T11:41:42.594-05:00Cynthia Lennon In The Plum Rains<div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t have much today, but I have a little thing that has been causing me a lot of thought.<br />
<br />
When something happens unexpectedly and some little, seemingly trivial, piece of information makes itself known all by itself, by accident even, that often gets me thinking <i>more </i>than if I had researched something carefully on my own initiative.<br />
<br />
I know random stuff happens and it’s just random. I am not someone who dis-believes in coincidence or chance.<br />
<br />
But at the same time I am one of those people who often wonder if there might be much more to <i>some </i>coincidences and random chance events than most of us traditionally allow.<br />
<br />
I don’t know. But one of these little kind of random things has popped up and it’s causing me a lot of thought so I’m going to do a post about it. In fact, this may end up using two posts, today and tomorrow. I don’t know.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
This goes back to a couple of days ago when I visited the Chicago library and wrote about my visit in my Tuesday post <a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-song-and-sight-exactly.html">The Song And Sight Exactly</a>.<br />
<br />
When I was in the Chicago library I accidently stumbled on Pattie Boyd’s autobiography. The cover art and the sad story of that book have stayed with me for many years. So I made a little moment of the scene by photographing the Pattie Boyd book on the shelf in the library.</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEupvHjDCB3S6Nkax6n6mbdctq-rwB1ljnheqTUXRWy0E9-1uTCRomyncCc3CHsBKWLxbONQ6uHOla6_Hy-Z_Sz-q3AktqNR7WZ-_YFrr1-k-DK2oDZxU22gwztbBphMdVEx-p/s1600/cLennonChicago1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEupvHjDCB3S6Nkax6n6mbdctq-rwB1ljnheqTUXRWy0E9-1uTCRomyncCc3CHsBKWLxbONQ6uHOla6_Hy-Z_Sz-q3AktqNR7WZ-_YFrr1-k-DK2oDZxU22gwztbBphMdVEx-p/s200/cLennonChicago1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the time I took the photograph, I <i>did </i>pay a little attention to the composition and I <i>had </i>noticed that at the right edge of the frame there was a book by <b>Cynthia Lennon</b>, her 2005 autobiography, “<a href="http://www.amazon.com/John-Cynthia-Lennon/dp/0307338568/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368766669&sr=1-1&keywords=cynthia+lennon+john">John.</a>”<br />
<br />
I let that composition stay with the picture just because it seemed like a good sideways kind of reference—I was taking a picture of a book by <i>George’s </i>wife and there at the side of the image was a book by <i>John’s </i>wife.<br />
<br />
But then I found myself thinking more about that book, Cynthia Lennon’s book. For reasons I’ll talk about below, I had never read Cynthia Lennon’s autobiography. But after I took that photograph of Pattie Boyd’s autobiography, and then found myself <i>continuing </i>to think about the Cynthia Lennon book, I visited a library near here and took out a copy. I read the book yesterday.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
I’m going to post today about Cynthia Lennon’s book, but before I talk about her book I want to say something about this topic, the Beatles.<br />
<br />
By 2005 when Cynthia Lennon wrote her autobiography I had already stopped reading about the Beatles. I have already mentioned in an old post that I find it very <i>frustrating </i>reading about the Beatles because almost every new book contains a slightly different narrative and it is impossible to sort out what should be believed, what should be dismissed, and what should be “interpreted” to get at something like a real truth.<br />
<br />
That being said, I did read most of what George Martin has written because he often concentrated on the music production aspect of the Beatles. And I’ve written a few posts about the Beatles, as a group and as individuals:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/10/buying-beatles-forever.html">Buying The Beatles Forever</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/09/japanese-train-stations-forever.html">Japanese Train Stations Forever</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/09/strictly-speaking-she-harmonizes.html">“Strictly Speaking She Harmonizes”</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/11/marginalia-and-kennedy-assassination-1.html">Marginalia And The Kennedy Assassination — 1 & 2</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/05/nuclear-accidents-beatles-mean-snakes.html">Nuclear Accidents, Beatles, Mean Snakes</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/10/saturnbooksmean-thingsrock-and-roll.html">Saturn/Books/Mean Things/Rock And Roll</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/11/quick-badfinger-note.html">A Quick Badfinger Note</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/07/underwear-distance-of-love-reprise.html">“Underwear Distance Of Love” (Reprise)</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Having written so many posts about the Beatles (and I’ve written one or two others that mention the Beatles just in passing), it might sound bizarre for me to say this, but: <b>I don’t like writing about the Beatles</b>. It’s something like <i>“Star Wars.” </i>It’s a topic I know, I guess, a lot about, but it’s a part of reality that has gone from being fun and exciting to being simply tragic and endlessly sad. I try to avoid such things.<br />
<br />
But sometimes I make an exception. For the Beatles, I thought I had said everything I’d ever want to say in <i>“Buying The Beatles Forever.” </i>But this one last thing has sort of pushed itself into my awareness and I’m going to write about it today just for the sake of completeness or just for the sake of being responsive to the strange accidental nature of this little bit of awareness. I don’t know. But I am going to make a conscious effort for today, and possibly tomorrow, to be the last things I write about the Beatles.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
Okay. Back to Cynthia Lennon’s autobiography, <i>“John.”</i><br />
<br />
Cynthia Lennon does something very strange at the very start of her book. Something very strange and—I’m guessing—something that to many long-time Beatles fans and followers is wildly odd and unexpected.<br />
<br />
She begins her book with normal front-matter: There’s an “acknowledgements” page. Then a “forward” by Julian Lennon. Then an “introduction” by Cynthia herself.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Then when the actual book itself starts, the <i>first </i>anecdote stretching over pages 1-3 is about the death of Mal Evans.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
What the hell is that about?<br />
<br />
This book by Cynthia Lennon will contain nothing new. It will be just a review of the standard Beatles narrative from Cynthia Lennon’s very limited perspective. But she <i>begins <i></i></i>the book with an extended anecdote about what is certainly one of the most mysterious and most perplexing deaths of the various deaths associated with the standard Beatles narrative, the almost nonsensical death of the long-time roadie/friend/producer/musician[?]/writer[?]/confidant of all four of the Beatles, Mal Evans.<br />
<br />
What the hell is that about?<br />
<br />
I mean: <b>Cynthia Lennon discusses the death of Mal Evans <i>before </i>she gets around to talking about John at all [!] and then she transitions directly from the death of Mal Evans in 1976 to the murder of John Lennon in 1980.</b><br />
<br />
What the hell is that about?<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't know what that’s about.<br />
<br />
For people unfamiliar with Mal Evans, here are the first few paragraphs of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mal_Evans">his Wikipedia entry</a>:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Malcolm Frederick "Mal" Evans (27 May 1935 – 5 January 1976) was best known as the road manager, assistant, and a friend of The Beatles.<br />
<br />
In the early 1960s, Evans was employed as a telephone engineer, and also worked part-time as a bouncer at the Cavern Club. The Beatles' manager, Brian Epstein, later hired Evans as the group's assistant road manager, in tandem with Neil Aspinall. Peter Brown (one of Epstein's staff) later wrote that Evans was "a kindly, but menacing-looking young man". Evans contributed to recordings, and appeared in some of the films the group made. After The Beatles stopped touring in 1966, Evans carried on assisting them until their break-up in 1970. From 1969, Evans also found work as a record producer (most notably with Badfinger's top 10 hit "No Matter What").<br />
<br />
Evans was killed by police on 5 January 1976, at his home in Los Angeles. Officers were called when his girlfriend phoned the police and told them that Evans was confused and had a gun. The police believed that the air rifle Evans was holding was a rifle and shot him dead.</b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Mal Evans was killed in Los Angeles, he had been working on his autobiography, to be called, <i>“Living the Beatles’ Legend.”</i> His co-writer was there, as was a young woman, the night he was shot. The book was wildly anticipated by fans of the Beatles because Mal Evans was such an insider, someone who had been there from almost the very beginning. And the rumors were that he was going to be the <i>first </i>insider to write a tell-all book that actually <i>told-</i>all.<br />
<br />
After Mal Evans was killed, the manuscript for his book became “lost.”<br />
<br />
Surprise, surprise.<br />
<br />
Something like ten years later material that was supposedly background notes for the book surfaced at a New York publisher. At that point—a decade after his death—who knows how complete the material was or, really, its provenance?<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
So Cynthia Lennon decided to start her autobiography with a story about Mal Evans being killed.<br />
<br />
Here is part of what she had to say:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Mal had been a faithful friend to the boys and was especially close to John: they got on incredibly well and, with the Beatles’ other loyal roadie, Neil Aspinall, he had been on every tour, organizing, trouble-shooting, protecting and looking after them.<br />
<br />
When the Beatles broke up Mal had been lost. He’d gone to live in Los Angeles where he began drinking and taking drugs. It was there, on January 4, 1976, that the police had been called by his girlfriend during a row. She claimed that Mal had pulled a gun on her, and when they burst into the apartment the officers found Mal holding a gun. Apparently he pointed it at them before they shot him. It was only after he died that they found the gun wasn’t loaded. It was a tragic story, and we could only imagine that Mal had been under the influence of drugs. The Mal we knew could no more have shot someone than flown to the moon. Whatever the true story, his death had shocked us all and that night, our talk around Mo’s fireplace was of what a good man he had been and how awful his premature death was. To us, the idea of being shot was almost unimaginable—how could it have happened to such a good friend?</b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cynthia Lennon wrote: <i>“Whatever the true story...”</i><br />
<br />
Indeed.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
Cynthia Lennon doesn’t add much to the standard Beatles narrative in this book. But she does tell one more story, very briefly and very late in the book, that is interesting as a kind of companion piece to the story she started her book with.<br />
<br />
Shortly after John Lennon’s murder, a man who was a friend of both John and Cynthia confided to Cynthia that John had been keeping detailed diaries for many years. The man told Cynthia that he had been told by John Lennon himself to see that the diaries were delivered to John’s son, Julian, in the event of John’s death. When the man tried to deliver the diaries to Julian, John’s wife Yoko had the man arrested on the charge of stealing the diaries. Yoko took possession of the diaries herself. And she kept them.<br />
<br />
Surprise, surprise.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
That’s all I have for today. Maybe more tomorrow.</span></div><br />
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<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-sorry-world-did-this-to-you.html">I’m Sorry The World Did This To You</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/01/hen-politics-and-passages-between.html">Hen Politics, And Passages Between Worlds</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/10/now-i-dream-of-plum-rains.html">“Now I Dream Of The Plum Rains”</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-84856059670407763642013-05-15T23:46:00.000-05:002013-05-16T01:52:52.994-05:00Thinking About A Far Away Dawn<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I don’t think we would learn more if we sent<br />
robot spacecraft to orbit the people<br />
we tried to understand with our science.<br />
<br />
I don’t think we would learn more if we went<br />
into space ourselves naked and aroused<br />
instead of the robot spacecraft we send.</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/library-that-weve-made-of-ourselves.html">The Library That We’ve Made Of Ourselves</a></span></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The song was written by Brian Wilson and Mike Love about <span style="color: #660000;">Shirley Johnson England, the daughter of the owner of radio station KNAK in Salt Lake City, Utah where she worked as a teenager. She borrowed her father's Ford Thunderbird to study at the library at the University of Utah. While at the library she met up with some friends, went to a hamburger stand, and ended up at the drive-in movies. When her father found out, he took the car away</span>. The next day she was at the radio station complaining about it to the staff while The Beach Boys were visiting and they were inspired to write this song.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Murry Wilson, the father of the Wilson brothers, denounced the whole idea for the song as immoral</span>, and tried to prevent the group from recording it. The song, backed by a single-only mix of a cover version of Frankie Lymon and The Teenagers' <i>"Why Do Fools Fall In Love", </i>became a top-five hit. This eventually led to<span style="color: #660000;"> the musicians dismissing Murry as manager</span> during the recording sessions for <i>"I Get Around".</i></b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>excerpt from </i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fun,_Fun,_Fun">“Fun, Fun, Fun”</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i></span></div><br />
<br />
</blockquote></div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNhUil8GdR2LLNEniaEGrfJD7tuQcrOTxjaMJUFsiQCCRTvqshvdRvbqPqJJZHl4rUlzSqQQIKd35xsn1c83oljcJ7EkNfO9cQyo6MHq4UsYnHL-gvEyumY5mBZNHBZohOc4r/s1600/dawnToCeres2.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNhUil8GdR2LLNEniaEGrfJD7tuQcrOTxjaMJUFsiQCCRTvqshvdRvbqPqJJZHl4rUlzSqQQIKd35xsn1c83oljcJ7EkNfO9cQyo6MHq4UsYnHL-gvEyumY5mBZNHBZohOc4r/s400/dawnToCeres2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/scientist-at-hamburger-stand.html">Scientist At A Hamburger Stand</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-piece-of-paper-above-asteroid.html">A Piece Of Paper Above An Asteroid</a><br />
<br />
The <i>Dawn </i>spacecraft launched from Earth and traveled toward Mars to take advantage of the gravity of Mars to pull the craft along and help it accelerate. Then <i>Dawn </i>traveled to the asteroid belt and entered into orbit around the asteroid Vesta. After studying Vesta, <i>Dawn </i>left orbit and is currently pushing out a little farther across the asteroid belt to rendezvous with the asteroid Ceres where <i>Dawn </i>will again go into orbit to study the second asteroid. <i>(The </i><a href="http://dawn.jpl.nasa.gov/">Dawn <i>home page at NASA/JPL</i></a> <i>provides lots of constantly updated information about the spacecraft. Clicking the image above makes it larger. Updated versions of this and other graphics are at <a href="http://dawn.jpl.nasa.gov/mission/live_shots.asp">“Where Is </i>Dawn <i>Now?”</a>)</i><br />
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*<br />
<br />
<br />
There is a beautiful crown above us<br />
early in the evening sky every night<br />
as if we’re wearing it like kings or queens.<br />
<br />
The crown has a name that’s beautiful, too,<br />
<i>Corona Borealis. </i>In English<br />
that translates simply to, <i>The Northern Crown.</i><br />
<br />
It can be hard to see in city lights<br />
but with binoculars now there’s a way<br />
but you have to visit the stars themselves.<br />
<br />
There are two bright stars in the southern sky,<br />
to the left Saturn, to the right, Spica.<br />
<br />
In the eastern sky there is one bright star,<br />
Vega in the constellation Lyra.<br />
<br />
Almost overhead but just to the south<br />
there is another bright star, Arcturus.<br />
<br />
If you imagine a line in the sky<br />
tracing straight from Spica to Arcturus<br />
and then continuing east to Vega,<br />
that line passes over <i>The Northern Crown</i><br />
just about one-third of the way between<br />
the two bright stars Arcturus and Vega.<br />
<br />
If you travel that line, travel through space<br />
with binoculars one star to the next,<br />
you visit <i>Corona Borealis,</i><br />
<i>The Northern Crown, </i>and you get to observe<br />
that the stars really do look like a crown,<br />
a beautiful crown of stars above us<br />
as if we’re wearing them like kings or queens.<br />
<br />
It’s not like visiting a library<br />
or a hamburger stand or a drive-in,<br />
but when dawn arrives for a king or queen,<br />
a king or queen wearing the stars themselves,<br />
nobody will take away their car keys.</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.telescope.com/content.jsp?pageName=Monthly-Star-Chart">Updated Monthly Starchart</a><br />
<i>at Orion Telescopes</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corona_Borealis">Corona Borealis</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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*<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/01/crown-and-tiara.html">Crown And Tiara</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/everythings-still-there.html">Everything’s Still There</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-stars-from-here-puppet-thriller.html">“The Stars From Here: A Puppet Thriller”</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/10/blows-against-expensive-empire.html">Blows Against The (Expensive) Empire</a><br />
<i>“Have you seen the stars tonight?”</i><br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>This bit of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_hopping">star-hopping</a><br />
really does work.<br />
<br />
I did it Wednesday night, at<br />
around <b>10pm</b> Chicago time.<br />
Every night the stars will get<br />
a little higher, but the relationships<br />
between them will stay the same.<br />
<br />
But, soon, more bright stars will<br />
be appearing in the sky as<br />
the <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/08/where-scorpion-sits-down-for-tea_12.html">Summer Triangle</a> rises.</i><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-6781984872345362642013-05-14T23:54:00.001-05:002013-05-15T01:40:08.429-05:00The Song And Sight Exactly<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I was <i>planning </i>to do a post about the <i>Dawn </i>spacecraft out at the asteroids, using its ion thruster to move from the asteroid <b>Vesta </b>to the asteroid <b>Ceres</b>. I’ve posted about the <i>Dawn </i>spacecraft a couple of times, and I wanted to follow-up on something I said in one of those posts.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/scientist-at-hamburger-stand.html">Scientist At A Hamburger Stand</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-piece-of-paper-above-asteroid.html">A Piece Of Paper Above An Asteroid</a><br />
<br />
And I was going to say that the <i>Dawn </i>spacecraft was like a plot from a science fiction movie but it was real, carrying on with the “science fiction movie” language from <a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/lost-in-science-fiction-parking-lot.html">yesterday’s post</a>.<br />
<br />
But my thinking, today, got completely derailed in a completely unexpected way.<br />
<br />
So I may return to the <i>Dawn </i>spacecraft tomorrow. I’m not sure. Today I’m just going to recount what happened to me this afternoon.<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
Late this afternoon I was in Chicago for a while. At some point I realized I was right next door to a Chicago Public Library. So I went in to see if they had an old, obscure book about oil painting I’ve been looking for. They didn’t. And I noticed the Chicago library used a slightly different numeric classification system than our suburban libraries.<br />
<br />
(Chicago did still use <i>numeric </i>classifications, though, they haven’t embraced the so-called “bookstore model” many libraries are adopting. If you don’t know what the "bookstore model" refers to you are lucky. I wish I didn’t know and I’m not going to post any links to it here.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, although the Chicago library didn’t have the oil painting book I was looking for, I tracked down their fine arts section and looked through the painting books they did have on the shelf.<br />
<br />
I noticed that with their classification scheme the shelves right <i>next </i>to the fine arts books contained pop music books. And as that registered with my thinking, I saw a photograph on the spine of one of the music books and that derailed my thinking completely. I gave up, for the moment, and for the day, really, looking at painting books and I pulled out the book with the familiar picture on the spine. I even took a photo of the cover.<br />
<br />
This book. <b>Pattie Boyd’s autobiography</b>, <i>“Wonderful Tonight.”</i></span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0Mpksq2QAay4DGr3Xib5hDzHIbNWHErCbKFxc8NoFoIbIxXETaMdqrh9m2U6G5X8ItZNHBhZrxiKvg3CfDeRQsgw5o9PfHJSpsNNru5VMmHzDugrgnk3cBKRrCyAMkRSMrMx/s1600/pattieBoydChicago1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0Mpksq2QAay4DGr3Xib5hDzHIbNWHErCbKFxc8NoFoIbIxXETaMdqrh9m2U6G5X8ItZNHBhZrxiKvg3CfDeRQsgw5o9PfHJSpsNNru5VMmHzDugrgnk3cBKRrCyAMkRSMrMx/s400/pattieBoydChicago1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pattie Boyd, of course, is the <i>real </i><b>Layla</b>. She was the muse and inspiration behind Eric Clapton writing <i>“Layla” </i>and George Harrison writing <i>“Something” </i>and other great songs. I’ve posted about Pattie Boyd, and her autobiography, a few times.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-old-daysumm-yeah.html">The Good Old Days—Umm, Yeah...</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/09/equally-and-as-hopelessly-lost.html">Equally And As Hopelessly Lost</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/01/thinking-about-arranging-layla.html">Thinking About Arranging “Layla”</a><br />
<br />
For some reason it was something like <i>shocking, </i>seeing that book next to the painting books.<br />
<br />
I’m so used to our suburban library system of classification that the juxtaposition was completely unexpected for me.<br />
<br />
So then I got to thinking, again, about <b>paintings versus photographs</b> because I think that cover photograph of Pattie Boyd from her modeling years is <b>more beautiful than <i>any </i>painting</b>.<br />
<br />
<br />
And I wondered, again: <b>With photographs creating a kind of “standard” for what is possible in the realm of images, is it even possible for painters to live up to that standard, or even surpass it in one way or another?</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/notes-from-france-victorine-meurent.html">A few weeks ago</a> I found a very interesting essay by artist <b>Alexi Worth</b> speculating that Manet may have developed his bright and blunt style of portraiture partially as a response to the enthusiastic embrace by the French public of the then new medium of photography: <a href="http://www.alexiworth.com/writings/writing_html/The%20Lost%20Photographs%20of%20Edouard%20Manet.htm">The Lost Photographs of Edouard Manet</a><br />
<br />
And I’ve done posts about the trend in fine arts called hyperrealism, where artists embrace photorealism as a craft and make selection or some other criteria a part of the process: <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/09/margins-of-water-in-wild.html">The Margins Of Water In The Wild</a> and <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/03/abandonment-of-meaning.html">The Abandonment Of Meaning</a> and <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/11/kari-loses-underwire-from-her-bra.html">“Kari Loses An Underwire From Her Bra...”</a>.<br />
<br />
I don’t think Manet’s style is the answer, if there is one, to this issue. As eye-catching and beautiful as many of his canvases might be, I don’t think any of them match, or could have matched, the beauty captured by that photograph of Pattie Boyd.<br />
<br />
I don’t think modern hyperrealism is the answer, because that simply makes a copy of a photograph.<br />
<br />
I don’t think any of the abstraction approaches to images that developed after the post-impressionists are the answer. Abstraction doesn’t even attempt to directly mirror reality in any recognizable way.<br />
<br />
I’m starting to think that photography may have capabilities—the “autographic” value maybe that I posted about in <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/this-woman-from-canals-of-mars.html">This Woman From The Canals Of Mars</a>—that cannot be matched by any painting approach.<br />
<br />
There very well may be some option available to painters that I’m not immediately aware of. Painters can be amazingly skillful, passionate and creative. Just because I can’t think of something that certainly doesn’t rule out a painter, some contemporary thoughtful and skillful person <i>like </i>Manet, looking at the issue and developing an approach or style which can duplicate or even surpass the power of photographs.<br />
<br />
But I don’t think anybody has done it yet. And I don’t think I’m going to figure out what it is myself.<br />
<br />
<br />
Of the image-making <i>things </i>I know and am familiar with, the only open question in my mind is: <b>I wonder what Cezanne would have created if Pattie Boyd had posed for him?</b><br />
<br />
<br />
I don’t know what I would imagine Cezanne would have come up with. He almost always seemed to work out something only he would have thought of.<br />
<br />
I don’t think a Cezanne image would have been powerful or beautiful in the <i>same way </i>as that photograph. But I don’t know. Maybe Cezanne would have found a way to capture Pattie Boyd’s image, her beauty, or his reaction to it, in such a way that the power and beauty of his image would have equaled or exceeded the power and beauty of that photograph.<br />
<br />
Maybe the “answer”—if there is one—is the classic French business that I quoted in my post <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/09/tache-and-touche.html">The Tache And The Touche</a>: A painter looking at the <i>motif</i>, reacting to it, and shaping <i>every touch </i>of paint on the canvas to match the painter’s reaction to the corresponding bit of real life in front of the painter. <br />
<br />
I don’t know. That seems to take the answer out of the realm of a process or style an artist could adopt, and it would ask the artist, always, to look within, to be able to introspect so deeply and respond to that introspection so honestly, that the power and beauty the artist saw and responded to would not be duplicated, but, sort of, brought to life, again, in a different way. The famous Cezanne phrase of <b>a harmony parallel to nature</b>.<br />
<br />
Such an outcome wouldn’t <i>duplicate </i>photography. But it would, in its way, accomplish a similar end. And, in fact, it would accomplish something outside the capabilities of photography, by building on what was happening inside the artist.<br />
<br />
I don’t know.<br />
<br />
I’m glad we have photography.<br />
<br />
And I’m sorry painting isn’t as dynamic a cultural happening as it was in nineteenth century France, because I think I’d really enjoy seeing a great many different artists trying to deal with this in their own way.<br />
<br />
In the modern academic world painters seem to establish a consensus and then stick with it regardless of any popular reaction (or lack of one). And modern commercial fine arts seems to be driven by arbitrary, even chaotic, market forces—whatever galleries and auction houses can manage to sell. And modern pop art is hardly even accessible to painting.<br />
<br />
I bet in some way or another painters will work out this issue of mechanical images versus hand-crafted images and come up with something better than just painting quickly or abstraction or hyperrealism.<br />
<br />
Maybe it will be something like Cezanne’s approach to realism, motif-inspired <b>harmony parallels</b>.<br />
<br />
I’d really love to see what they come up with.<br />
<br />
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*<br />
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<br />
<b>Songs capture <i>something</i><br />
an artist sees in someone<br />
and a camera<br />
<br />
captures <i>exactly</i><br />
whatever an artist sees.<br />
Can any painting<br />
<br />
capture <i>both </i>such things<br />
the song and sight exactly<br />
to hold forever?</b><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/12/reduction-of-muse.html">Reduction Of The Muse</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/06/librarian-and-painter.html">“The Librarian And The Painter”</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-34573519617104823282013-05-13T23:49:00.002-05:002013-05-14T00:59:05.685-05:00Lost In A Science Fiction Parking Lot<div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NTvjaB0AZrCT4Owd8QPyQg_4BRlLfbxySUwqxKqfL6W44nRHmKzprIsL46oO5Xentzc53GjYCxcAm3rf0OC1jlxjxSG72cHa0k6kb3FYfrWpCx_lUuH1LOVUDEYPz3Xh1OAN/s1600/lindheimer1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NTvjaB0AZrCT4Owd8QPyQg_4BRlLfbxySUwqxKqfL6W44nRHmKzprIsL46oO5Xentzc53GjYCxcAm3rf0OC1jlxjxSG72cHa0k6kb3FYfrWpCx_lUuH1LOVUDEYPz3Xh1OAN/s400/lindheimer1.JPG" width="341" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many decades back, north of Chicago,<br />
Northwestern University had two<br />
astronomical observatories.<br />
<br />
One, with an old large refractor, was used<br />
for public relations activities.<br />
<br />
The other was used for student research<br />
and had two large Cassegrain reflectors<br />
in a beautiful building on the lake<br />
that looked like a science fiction setting<br />
from a big budget science fiction film<br />
except it was real and did real science.<br />
<br />
During my high school summer vacations<br />
I attended every astronomy<br />
and astrophysics class I could convince<br />
the university I could handle.<br />
<br />
Once or twice I was able to visit<br />
both observatories and hang around<br />
asking questions, helping or just watching,<br />
feeling like a science fiction movie<br />
was in production around me except<br />
the equipment and scientists were real.<br />
<br />
The science fiction building on the lake<br />
was torn down just a few years after that.<br />
<br />
The maintenance costs were becoming high<br />
and the location close to Chicago<br />
getting to the twenty-first century<br />
wasn’t a realistic location<br />
for gathering astronomy data<br />
when more and more dark sky sites came online<br />
out west away from any city lights.<br />
<br />
I miss that building but I was thinking<br />
here now in the twenty-first century<br />
understanding change and accepting change<br />
might be the heart of this new century.<br />
<br />
But then something else occurred to me, too.<br />
<br />
As a high school student I would borrow<br />
the family car to drive to Northwestern.<br />
<br />
The parking lots where I would park the car<br />
to attend class, hang out with scientists<br />
or visit the two observatories<br />
are still in the same places on campus.<br />
<br />
Change here in the twenty-first century<br />
is easier on our cars than on us.<br />
<br />
And apparently all the parking lots<br />
occupy realistic locations<br />
for parking twenty-first century cars.<br />
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<a href="http://ciera.northwestern.edu/Observatory/lindheimer.html">Lindheimer Astrophysical Center</a><br />
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*<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/01/saturn-and-titan-and-pleiades.html">Saturn and Titan, And The Pleiades</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/09/ancient-art-of-knowing-sky.html">“The Ancient Art Of Knowing The Sky”</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/08/parking-lots.html">Parking Lots</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/11/five-parking-lots-and-i-wonder.html">Five Parking Lots And I Wonder</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/04/everything-is-out-of-order.html">Everything Is Out Of Order</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/10/lost-in-astrophysics.html">Lost In The Astrophysics</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-63773220802798145152013-05-10T23:54:00.002-05:002013-05-11T01:52:09.944-05:00The Volcano And The Heretic There<div><br />
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<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I expect this is going to be a hard weekend for me. A few weeks ago when I was <a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/let-it-go-forget-about-it-try-smiling.html">moving around all my stuff for spring cleaning</a>, it occurred to me that I’ve accumulated a lot of junk. I think I’m pretty careful about not buying useless stuff, but even so, over time, I’ve acquired a lot of stuff I don’t really want. So I’m going to dedicate next week to throwing stuff out. Every day I’m going to pick a different area or direction in here, and I’m going to ruthlessly get rid of stuff—donating stuff to groups and just tossing a lot of stuff into the trash. In general I’m not good at getting rid of things—that’s one reason I try to be careful and not buy things I don’t really want—but sometimes if I brace myself and gear up I can get in the mood of the process and enjoy the spirit of cleaning house and, well, then I can really clean house. So this weekend I’m going to start getting my thoughts ready, getting my emotions ready, to really get into spirit of clearing away unwanted junk. This is one way I start.<br />
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*<br />
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<br />
It’s too bad there is no volcano here.<br />
<br />
If there was a volcano around here<br />
I could put stuff on a rickety cart<br />
and drag the cart up a rocky pathway,<br />
trudging along, suffering in the heat,<br />
struggling up to the volcano’s summit,<br />
coughing and squinting in the sulfur fumes.<br />
<br />
It would be something like a pilgrimage,<br />
just hauling each load up to the crater.<br />
<br />
And it would be something like religious,<br />
staring down into the glowing magma<br />
bubbling up from nobody knows how deep<br />
as if the molten rock is the Earth’s blood.<br />
<br />
It would be something like an offering,<br />
me tossing my things into the lava.<br />
<br />
Calculators that are twenty years old.<br />
<br />
Pants, shirts and neckties that have been hanging<br />
so long in the closet the hanger line<br />
is permanently bent in the fabric.<br />
<br />
Zombie DVDs, slasher DVDs<br />
and Sarah Michelle Gellar DVDs.<br />
<br />
Random gadgets that I haven’t bothered<br />
buying batteries for in a decade.<br />
<br />
It would be something like an offering,<br />
me tossing my things into the lava.<br />
<br />
As I type these words someone’s reading them<br />
and although that person isn’t speaking<br />
I’m witnessing something like precursors<br />
to that person’s eruption of laughter.<br />
<br />
She says, “You’re lucky there’s no volcano<br />
because if you tossed your junk into it<br />
it would erupt and kill everybody<br />
for miles around and you’d be remembered<br />
by those who survived the catastrophe<br />
as the guy who caused it by insulting<br />
the spirits of the Earth with your rubbish.”<br />
<br />
It would be something like a pilgrimage.<br />
<br />
It would be something like an offering.<br />
<br />
And it would be something like religious.<br />
<br />
But all religions have their heretics.<br />
<br />
</span></div><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-24149051688919124582013-05-09T23:30:00.001-05:002013-05-09T23:55:33.099-05:00Something Like Clouds<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>“My colleague David Sands from Montana State University proposed the concept of ‘bioprecipitation’ over 25 years ago and few scientists took it seriously, but evidence is beginning to accumulate that supports this idea,” said Christner.<br />
<br />
But, what makes this research more complicated is that most known ice-nucleating bacteria are plant pathogens. These pathogens, which are basically germs, can cause freezing injury in plants, resulting in devastating economic effects on agricultural crop yields. <br />
<br />
“As is often the case with bacterial pathogens, other phases of their life cycle are frequently ignored because of the focused interest in their role in plant or animal health,” said Christner. “Transport through the atmosphere is a very efficient dissemination strategy, so the ability of a pathogen to affect its precipitation from the atmosphere would be advantageous in finding new hosts.” <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> It is possible that the atmosphere represents one facet of the infection cycle, whereby the bacteria infects a plant, multiplies, is aerosolized into the atmosphere and then delivered to a new plant through atmospheric precipitation. </span><br />
<br />
“The role that biological particles play in atmospheric processes has been largely overlooked. However, we have found biological ice nuclei in precipitation samples from Antarctica to Louisiana – they’re ubiquitous. Our results provide an impetus for atmospheric scientists to start thinking about the role these particles play in precipitation,” said Christner. “This work is truly multi-disciplinary, bridging the disciplines of ecology, microbiology, plant pathology and climatology. It represents a completely new avenue of research and clearly demonstrates that we are just beginning to understand the intricate interplay between the planet’s climate and biosphere.”</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2008-02/lsu-lsf022808.php">LSU scientist finds evidence<br />
of 'rain-making' bacteria</a></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bacteria can be aerosolized<br />
and lifted up into the atmosphere<br />
and water droplets will form around them<br />
and clouds then for a while have DNA.<br />
<br />
Scientists can speculate that the clouds<br />
are one link in the larger lifecycle<br />
of the bacteria reproducing.<br />
<br />
But anybody can speculate too<br />
and wonder if the bacteria here<br />
I mean on the ground in plants whatever<br />
are one link in the larger lifecycle<br />
of clouds reproducing making more clouds.<br />
<br />
Bacteria can be aerosolized<br />
and lifted up into the atmosphere<br />
and water droplets will form around them<br />
and clouds then for a while have DNA<br />
like plants and like animals and like us.<br />
<br />
If clouds have DNA something like us<br />
as scientists maybe mad scientists<br />
can we speculate looking up laughing<br />
and wonder if we are something like clouds?</span></div><br />
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/ice-nucleation-as-narrative.html">Ice Nucleation As A Narrative</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/one-bluebird-between-sky-and-mud-time.html">One Bluebird Between Sky Time And Mud Time</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/08/clouds-want-to-be-secret-book.html">Clouds Want To Be A Secret Book</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/04/waiting-for-clouds.html">Waiting For Clouds</a><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/11/somewhere-between-chicago-and-paris.html">Somewhere Between Chicago And Paris</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-secret-laboratory-of-immutable.html">The Secret Laboratory Of Immutable Laughter</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/09/thunderous-glamour-of-batteries.html">The Thunderous Glamour Of Batteries</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/09/thunderous-tragedy-of-batteries.html">The Thunderous Tragedy Of Batteries</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-2516044052525428132013-05-08T23:56:00.001-05:002013-05-09T00:30:45.924-05:00Transforming Reality: Ray Harryhausen<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>“Fantasy is essentially a dream world. An imaginative world. And I don’t think you want it quite real. You want an interpretation. And stop-motion to me gives that added value of a dream world that you can’t catch if you try to make it too real. And that’s the essence of fantasy, isn’t it, transforming reality into the imagination.”</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ray Harryhausen<br />
<i>quoted in </i>“The Harryhausen Chronicles”<br />
<i>available on almost all his DVDs<br />
in the special features menu</i></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On May 7, stop-motion wizard <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Harryhausen">Ray Harryhausen</a> passed away. He was 92.<br />
<br />
There have been many tributes to him on the internet. Two are:<br />
<br />
At <b>Deadline.com</b>: <a href="http://www.deadline.com/2013/05/ray-harryhausen-dies-special-effects-ico/">R.I.P. Ray Harryhausen</a><br />
<br />
At <b>CartoonBrew</b>: <a href="http://www.cartoonbrew.com/animators/ray-harryhausen-1920-2013-82388.html">Master Animator and Director Ray Harryhausen Dies at 92</a><br />
<br />
I never met Harryhausen and I never worked on any serious stop-motion projects. But low-res <i>amateur </i>stop-motion has become such a fun activity for me and I’ve done it so often here at the blog that I wanted to do a post pointing out a couple of things that almost never get said about Ray Harryhausen.<br />
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*<br />
<br />
Although Ray Harryhausen was a great stop-motion artist, I think the most amazing thing Harryhausen came up with was dedicating his stop-motion work to one particular <i>approach—</i><b>using rear projection to create whole environments, the front and back views of a location around some action, and “sandwiching” his stop-motion footage in between the two areas of rear projection</b>.<br />
<br />
There are many ways of integrating stop-motion with live footage. When Harryhausen was young he was a close friend of stop-motion pioneer <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willis_H._O%27Brien">Willis O’Brien</a>, who had created the effects of “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_Kong_(1933_film)">King Kong</a>.” O’Brien typically liked to work with a <i>whole team </i>of technicians. Some people to build models, others to build miniature sets, others to make glass paintings, others to perform the animation on the models, and so on.<br />
<br />
Harryhausen saw that when Willis O’Brien tried to pitch ideas for new films to studios very often the studio would be discouraged by the projected budget of the special effects and pass on the project. Almost none of O’Brien’s ideas were produced.<br />
<br />
Harryhausen realized that working individually or with just one or two assistants he could work on a tight budget that would not frighten studio executives.<br />
<br />
And at the same time Harryhausen had a commitment to quality. His work always lived up to a certain standard. He did not make ridiculous productions like, say, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ed_wood">Ed Wood</a>. And he did not make trivial, <i>almost-</i>laughable productions like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Corman">Roger Corman</a>.<br />
<br />
Ray Harryhausen had remarkable <b>common sense</b> and <b>uncommon business savvy</b>. These characteristics almost always get lost, nowadays, when people look only at his work animating models. But he very possibly never would have gotten the chance to do model-animation if he hadn’t framed his project ideas within budgets and production designs the industry would support.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
Almost all directors, nowadays, acknowledge how influential Ray Harryhausen’s movies were and even <i>continue </i>to be.<br />
<br />
But none-<i>not one!—<i></i></i>of the “famous” directors who have been successful enough to allow themselves to shape their own projects has even made an effort to emulate Ray Harryhausen in any way, or even to work to similar ideals as the ideals championed by Harryhausen.<br />
<br />
In fact every well-known director, today, has embraced the exact <i>opposite </i>kind of ideals from Harryhausen.<br />
<br />
Everyone acknowledges that Ray Harryhausen’s attitudes and approaches created remarkable films that have lasted for generations and will <i>continue </i>to inspire for generations to come.<br />
<br />
<b>But nobody wants to work that way today.</b><br />
<br />
I’m going to give two examples to explain what I mean. These are phrased anecdotally. I will speak of budgets but I am not going to “correct” dollars to different decade values. And I will speak of production practices without naming specific companies involved in specific scenes. I think the general points are enough.<br />
<br />
Everyone acknowledges that Ray Harryhausen created amazing films working with a low budget and a very small team of filmmakers. And, of course, “small” is almost a euphemism here since in all of Harryhausen’s classic films “small” meant him working by himself.<br />
<br />
<b>Nowadays a single special effects sequence in a movie may involve <i>hundreds </i>of people working for half a dozen different companies</b>.<br />
<br />
For instance, and this is phrased anecdotally but I believe accurately or even understated, in a typical <i>Harry Potter </i>special effects scene there may have been one company to create Lord Voldemort’s nose and another company to create the digital backdrop or location and another company to create the light effects of a magic wand and another company to create the atmosphere effects swirling around the light effects and another company to create an animal moving behind the action.<br />
<br />
And there may be even <i>more </i>companies involved with just a single shot.<br />
<br />
This is not uncommon.<br />
<br />
This is why movie credit sequences might take fifteen minutes to scroll.<br />
<br />
And this is why many modern movies <i>(most? all?) </i>don’t look so much like one movie but look more like stitched-together sequences of half-a-dozen movies all edited together in an attempt to shove along, to force along, various plot devices into a single coherent story.<br />
<br />
I don’t like to talk about the <i>“Star Wars” </i>saga but I’m going to make one specific comment comparing Ray Harryhausen to George Lucas because Lucas gets quoted now and then praising Harryhausen. It is almost difficult to imagine a filmmaker who has so consistently embraced the exact <i>opposite </i>of almost all the practices and ideals that Ray Harryhausen built his career around than George Lucas.<br />
<br />
I’m just going to point out some Wikipedia raw numbers.<br />
<br />
It’s interesting in a sad sort of way to look at <i>three </i>of Ray Harryhausen’s most famous films and compare them to <i>one </i>of George Lucas’s films.<br />
<br />
After George Lucas had a phenomenal success with <i>“American Graffiti” </i>he had an opportunity to make just about anything he wanted in just about any way he wanted. And he elected to do <i>“Star Wars” </i>and the generally accepted budget for “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_(film)">Star Wars</a>”—what Wikipedia uses—is <b>$11 million</b>.<br />
<br />
Ray Harryhausen made three ‘Sinbad’ films: “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seventh_Voyage_of_Sinbad">The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad</a>,” “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Voyage_of_Sinbad">The Golden Voyage of Sinbad</a>” and “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sinbad_and_the_Eye_of_the_Tiger">Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger</a>.” Working with technology from the late Fifties [!] through the Seventies, Harryhausen crafted three movies that are still fun and exciting to watch and are still landmark special effects films that film buffs go back and watch again and again.<br />
<br />
The respective budgets for those three films were <b>$650k</b>, <b>$983k</b>, and <b>$3.5 million</b>.<br />
<br />
I don’t like to talk about <i>“Star Wars” </i>so I’m not going to talk about the general <b>coherency </b>of the films, comparing the <i>narratives </i>and the <i>visuals </i>of Harryhausen to Lucas. It is interesting to do so, though.<br />
<br />
But look at those budget numbers. Even if you imagine them normalized to some set decade they are still amazing.<br />
<br />
<b>For all practical purposes Ray Harryhausen (and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_H._Schneer">Charles Schneer</a>!) created <i>three </i>amazing films for something like <i>half </i>of what George Lucas spent on <i>one</b>.</i><br />
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*<br />
<br />
Ray Harryhausen passed away and it is wonderful that everyone acknowledges what a great artist he was.<br />
<br />
But it would be cool, also, if more people acknowledged what a buttoned-down business approach Harryhausen had to filmmaking, too.<br />
<br />
<b>And it would be cool, too, if someone, <i>anyone, </i>made an effort to emulate him, to live up to the standards he set.</b><br />
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I don’t see that happening, though.</span></div><br />
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<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .<br />
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<br />
<i>I’ve done a lot of posts about Ray Harryhausen,<br />
but I want to single out four that aren’t even<br />
directly about him. But these are four posts<br />
that are about me saying goodbye.<br />
<br />
A young woman named Jamie worked<br />
at our local library. She looked<br />
a lot like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faith_Domergue">Faith Domergue</a>. And I’m a big fan,<br />
of course, of “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It_Came_From_Beneath_The_Sea">It Came From Beneath The Sea</a>.”<br />
So when Jamie moved on to another job, I wrote<br />
a little goodbye song for her. I didn’t get<br />
to post the video of the song at the time,<br />
but I did later.<br />
<br />
<b>And now we’re all saying goodbye<br />
to Ray Harryhausen</b>.<br />
<br />
So here are three posts about Faith Domergue<br />
in Harryhausen’s great monster movie<br />
“It Came From Beneath The Sea,”<br />
and then a fourth post with me singing<br />
my <b>goodbye song</b>:</i><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/06/scenes-from-it-came-from-beneath-sea.html">Scenes From “It Came From Beneath The Sea” – A</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/06/scenes-from-it-came-from-beneath-sea-b.html">Scenes From “It Came From Beneath The Sea” – B</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/06/scenes-from-it-came-from-beneath-sea-c.html">Scenes From “It Came From Beneath The Sea” – C</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/03/quasi-una-atomic-octopus-fantasia.html">Quasi Una Atomic Octopus Fantasia</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-51280076967422453512013-05-07T15:16:00.001-05:002013-05-07T16:13:11.399-05:00One Bluebird Between Sky Time And Mud Time<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>A bluebird comes tenderly up to alight<br />
And turns to the wind to unruffle a plume,<br />
His song so pitched as not to excite<br />
A single flower as yet to bloom.<br />
It is snowing a flake; and he half knew<br />
Winter was only playing possum.<br />
Except in color he isn't blue,<br />
But he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom.</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>from </i><a href="http://www.etymonline.com/poems/tramps.htm">“Two Tramps In Mud Time”</a><br />
Robert Frost</span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wikipedia doesn’t have a page for Robert Frost’s poem, <i>“Two Tramps In Mud Time” </i>but part of the poem, the final stanza, appears at <i>another </i>Wikipedia page as a kind of illustration. On the Wikipedia page for the word “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avocation">Avocation</a>” the final stanza of Frost’s poem appears.<br />
<br />
I don’t know that the poem is <i>about </i>‘vocation’ and ‘avocation’ any more than it is about the two tramps, no matter which of the characters you interpret as the “two” of the two tramps from the title.<br />
<br />
Wikipedia doesn’t put the stanza about the bluebird on the Wikipedia page about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bluebird">bluebirds</a> and I’d be more comfortable teaching the poem as being about <i>birds </i>than about work and play. If I were a poetry teacher, I mean.<br />
<br />
After all, the bluebird is neither working nor playing. And it’s not paying attention to the tramps or the guy chopping wood.<br />
<br />
The bluebird is just being a bluebird, singing and maybe thinking about flowers.<br />
<br />
Wikipedia puts the poem to <i>work.</i><br />
<br />
Wikipedia doesn’t even include the part about the bluebird.<br />
<br />
Wikipedia takes Robert Frost’s <i>song </i>and turns it into <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muzak">Muzak</a>.<br />
<br />
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*<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>Dinosaurs In Cloud Time</b></i><br />
<br />
Bits of DNA<br />
blow around something like clouds<br />
helping raindrops form<br />
<br />
as if clouds themselves<br />
are alive with DNA<br />
and reproducing<br />
<br />
with a life cycle<br />
lived in sky time and mud time<br />
and who knows what else.<br />
<br />
Maybe bluebirds know<br />
and they’re careful with their songs<br />
so they don’t scare us.</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/05/ice-nucleation-as-narrative.html">Ice Nucleation As A Narrative</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/06/puddle-monsters-puddles-in-sky.html">Puddle Monsters: Puddles In The Sky</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/12/parsimony-and-aberrant-forms.html">Parsimony And Aberrant Forms</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/02/why-i-almost-never-use-rhyme.html">Why I Almost Never Use Rhyme</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/09/pumpkin-are-free.html">Pumpkin Are Free</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-8705459309540473812013-05-06T00:44:00.001-05:002013-05-06T01:27:44.082-05:00“Serene Bewilderment”<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Serene bewilderment </i>is a good thing.<br />
<br />
These days, you don’t get to feel it very often. Last week I did.<br />
<br />
The phrase—as I’m using it today—comes from a <b>Richard Brautigan</b> story. And what happened to me was kind of similar because without consciously trying to emulate Brautigan I often find myself doing the same thing he writes about here:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I also told everybody that I had seen a moose in my back yard, right outside the kitchen window. Then I did not give any more details. I just stood there staring at them while they waited patiently for me to continue talking about the moose, but that was it.<br />
<br />
A man I told my moose story to said, “Was that the same moose you told me about yesterday?” I looked a little shocked and then said, “Yes.” The shocked expression slowly changed into one of serene bewilderment.</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>quoted at, </i><a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/04/one-degree-of-richard-brautigan.html">One Degree Of Richard Brautigan</a></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I often find myself telling the same story, or making the same or similar comments, to different people and just randomly being aware of how different people react differently.<br />
<br />
Last week my brother and I exchanged e-mails. My brother is much, much better than I am about being social and remembering people and keeping in touch. So every now and then he writes me and we bring each other up-to-date. For me that never takes very long because, well, I’m pretty darn close to fossilized. (Or, more exactly, <a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/01/creatures-of-doctor-tina-puppet-show.html">I see myself like this</a>.) Not a lot changes here and that’s the way I like it.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
So my brother wrote that the weather up around Seattle where he lives was very nice, very spring-like.<br />
<br />
I recounted some of the very bizarre weather we had last week—cold, hot, cold, threats of snow, etc.—and then to make the point about <i>how </i>strange the weather felt, I added that the weather here felt: “<b>Very strange. I wouldn't be at all surprised if the world ended soon. Very strange.</b>”<br />
<br />
My brother is a very down-to-earth and matter-of-fact kind of guy. He just took my bit of hyperbole in stride and let it pass.<br />
<br />
Then, the next day—<i>the very next day—</i>at some point I was standing at a Redbox machine looking at movie titles and a couple of neighborhood people I knew walked by and stopped to talk. I continued to flip idly through the movie titles as we talked. At some point, one of the people brought up the weather and said something about how strange it had been. So, again, idly looking at Redbox movie titles as I talked, I repeated what I’d said to my brother, that the weather had been, “<b>...very strange. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the world ended soon. Very strange.</b>”<br />
<br />
And the guy—normally a relaxed middle aged guy—gasped. I mean, very audibly.<br />
<br />
I turned to look at him. He said, “My brother’s a Marine. He said <i>exactly </i>the same thing to me yesterday.”<br />
<br />
I just stared at him.<br />
<br />
And I’m guessing if I tracked down some security camera footage of what my face looked like, the expression on my face as I stared at that guy would have been: <b>Serene bewilderment.</b><br />
<br />
I love moments like that.<br />
<br />
You don’t get them that often.<br />
<br />
And it makes for a good way to start this week: Telling a story about <i>serene bewilderment.</i><br />
<br />
<b>Maybe this summer I’ll do some trout fishing.</b></span></div><br />
<br />
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<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/08/leaving-mandy-moore.html">Leaving Mandy Moore</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/10/kite-flying-in-america-with-trout.html">Kite Flying In America (With Trout)</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/05/ghost-fishing-in-america-freddy.html">Ghost Fishing In America Freddy</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-67375335665856153692013-05-03T23:56:00.001-05:002013-05-04T02:21:59.453-05:00Butterflies From Atlantis: Love And Migration<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Butterflies bask in the sun, wings open<br />
left and right, warming themselves in the light.<br />
<br />
Books lie open in front of us, pages<br />
left and right, like butterflies letting us<br />
study the pretty patterns on their wings.<br />
<br />
But books aren’t like real butterflies from<br />
the physical place we remember as<br />
Atlantis. Books are like butterflies from<br />
Atlantis, the magical place of myths.</b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
If books are butterflies from Atlantis<br />
then maybe the good books disappearing<br />
isn’t what book-lovers should be fearing<br />
and the books leaving might be like showbiz<br />
<br />
a grand final <i>Ars Gratia Artis</i><br />
something like a song we should be hearing<br />
a sad love song with lyrics endearing<br />
a plea to us to learn why they did this.<br />
<br />
If the good books <i>flew home </i>a better fear<br />
is we won’t figure out where they went to<br />
and their song will be a hollow poem<br />
<br />
like modern lyrics here and gone next year<br />
and we’ll never learn their detachment too<br />
that all we have to do is follow them.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ars_gratia_artis">Ars Gratia Artis</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/10/paris-hilton-and-butterflies-from.html">Paris Hilton And The Butterflies<br />
From Atlantis #1: Et In Arcadia Ego</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/10/paris-hilton-and-butterflies-from_17.html">Paris Hilton And The Butterflies<br />
From Atlantis #2: Paris Hilton</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/10/paris-hilton-and-butterflies-from_18.html">Paris Hilton And The Butterflies<br />
From Atlantis #3: Fons Et Origo</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/10/paris-hilton-and-butterflies-from_19.html">Paris Hilton And The Butterflies<br />
From Atlantis #4: Atlantis</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/10/paris-hilton-and-butterflies-from_20.html">Paris Hilton And The Butterflies<br />
From Atlantis #5: The Butterflies From Atlantis</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2008/04/looking-back-at-butterflies-from.html">Looking Back At Butterflies From Atlantis </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/09/where-there-are-no-butterflies.html">Where There Are No Butterflies</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/10/lost-world-where-distance-is-gods-anger.html">A Lost World Where Distance Is God’s Anger</a><br />
<i>“...the longest mammal migration<br />
ever documented”</i><br />
<br />
</span></div><br />
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .<br />
<br />
<i><b>A Postscript:</b></i><br />
<br />
This is a post where I can say exactly what prompted me to write it. It’s not really important, I’m guessing, what inspired me, I mean. But since it is all fresh in my mind and this is just a blog, I don’t think it will hurt to explain the background to this post. And since this postscript is about two books that I like which have been “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disappeared">disappeared</a>” (or maybe they <b>flew home</b>) it’s a nice conclusion (possibly) to this whole set of topics.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/01/things-libraries-throw-away.html">Things Libraries Throw Away</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/06/can-we-reboot-world.html">Can We Reboot The World?</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/06/ha-man-throws-away-library.html">Ha! Man Throws Away Library!</a><br />
<br />
The general topic of <b>libraries throwing away books</b> is so sad to me (as it is to almost <i>everyone </i>except the vicious and dehumanized decision-makers who’ve created the modern library paradigm) that I simply try not to think about it. After all, nobody is going to be able to do anything about it. <i>Everything </i>in the modern world is thought of as a <b>commodity</b>, a production-line item. So the old production-line items always need to be cleared away for the new production-line items. So old books have to be cleared away to make room for new books. It’s all so simple. To the monsters in charge.<br />
<br />
(It would be interesting and fun to say something like: <i>If books always need to be cleared away to make room for new books, what about all the young people graduating from college every year, surely people are more important than books, so shouldn’t old library administrators and old library staff members be cleared away every year, too, to make room for the new batch of contemporary and desirable administrators and staff members? </i>But that would be pointless, just mean-spirited snarking.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, so I’ve learned more or less what kind of books to expect to find, these days, in libraries and I manage my expectations reasonably well.<br />
<br />
But every now and then library <b>book purges</b> become <i>so </i>extensive that even recent books get thrown away and then, sometimes, I get taken by surprise. And, for a while, then, I’m sad thinking about more books gone, like friends who’ve passed away.<br />
<br />
<b>A couple of weeks ago this happened with <i>two </i>books on the same day from <i>two </i>different libraries. So it’s been on my mind.</b><br />
<br />
First I went to a library south of here to check out a book about painting I re-read every now and then. It’s not a great book, but for some reason I find it interesting and thought-provoking and even a little inspiring. I’d checked out the book from that particular library so often that I knew exactly where on which shelf I’d find the book.</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTNFIYzv2ITc6n09wIyQqJ3B4HoKVXLXmL3Z8_sMoDI69Ht8l7bFNTuOY8HfCBtWXBE850h66shFtV1SaprXungYvm65vlAsfh5KRlvXN_XofSaLRRZR8twbhXp9XD1y3Lnnk/s1600/acrylicWorkbook1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTNFIYzv2ITc6n09wIyQqJ3B4HoKVXLXmL3Z8_sMoDI69Ht8l7bFNTuOY8HfCBtWXBE850h66shFtV1SaprXungYvm65vlAsfh5KRlvXN_XofSaLRRZR8twbhXp9XD1y3Lnnk/s200/acrylicWorkbook1.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This book. “<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Acrylic-Workbook-Complete-Course-Lessons/dp/0715312251/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367650056&sr=1-3&keywords=jenny+rodwell+acrylic+workbook">Acrylic Workbook: A Complete Course In Ten Lessons</a>,” by Jenny Rodwell. The text is by Rodwell, but the illustrations and examples are by <b>Ian Sidaway</b>. Sidaway is one of my favorite contemporary artists and I’ve posted about him a few times. Exchanging e-mails with him about one of his watercolor paintings was one of the most pleasant experiences I’ve had here at the blog.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/05/people-become-things-carreg-samson.html">People Become Things: Carreg Samson</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/08/thinking-about-watercolors-drawings-and.html">Thinking About Watercolors, Drawings And Photos</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/08/typewriters-preserved-from-roman-times.html">A Typewriter Preserved From Roman Times</a><br />
<br />
So I enjoy flipping through this book, now and then, and being amazed at the simple yet beautiful illustrations.<br />
<br />
And the book always makes me smile, too, because this is one of the <i>many </i>art instruction books where the author advises <i>against </i>using black in paint mixtures, but then <i>does </i>recommend using Payne’s Gray, apparently without realizing that Payne’s Gray is in fact a mixture of blue and black and that black mixed with almost any <i>one </i>modern color produces a shade almost always as beautiful for that hue as is Payne’s Gray.<br />
<br />
So I went to a library south of here to check out this book but it wasn’t on the shelf, and when I checked the card catalog to see when it would be back, it wasn’t even listed at that branch any more. Gone, gone, gone. <i><b>Disappeared</b>.</i><br />
<br />
I don’t know why this particular bit of library violence against books makes me so sad. Like I said, it wasn’t really that great of a book. But the illustrations were beautiful. And it was fun to flip through. It just seems like such an <i>inoffensive </i>book that I’d have thought there would be no reason to throw it away. But I would have been wrong.<br />
<br />
Right after that happened, I went to a library west of here to check out a pop introduction to Vermeer, because I’d been reading a bit about the Dutch realist and his times.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/man-reading-book-at-window.html">Man Reading A Book At A Window</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/madonnas-in-meadows.html">Madonnas In The Meadows</a></span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9yBrfyMs-u3j9EzKtfsYLMbGbSTIgR2qUYYInZc4kYfzz2l974T752M8Uz4d9hyi5jxVRIYyY_fyYMMzTpDwo-O7AmCEh_A__a7WNYIaO36FJQyJvOtTL0Mumi61ZBOfXa46/s1600/dkArtBookVermeer1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9yBrfyMs-u3j9EzKtfsYLMbGbSTIgR2qUYYInZc4kYfzz2l974T752M8Uz4d9hyi5jxVRIYyY_fyYMMzTpDwo-O7AmCEh_A__a7WNYIaO36FJQyJvOtTL0Mumi61ZBOfXa46/s200/dkArtBookVermeer1.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This book. “<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dk-Art-Books-STEFANO-ZUFFI/dp/0751307793/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367650383&sr=1-1&keywords=dk+art+book+vermeer">DK Art Book: Vermeer</a>” published by Dorling Kindersley. They’re one of my favorite publishers. Their books are almost always well made, thoughtful, interesting and fun. They’re usually not detailed and deep books, but they’re almost always well-crafted books that contain enough good material that they lead you to some interesting fact or story that you can follow up on in more detailed books.<br />
<br />
And just like with the acrylic painting book, I had checked out this little Vermeer book so often from the library west of here that I knew exactly where on which shelf I’d find the book. But the book wasn’t on shelf, where it was supposed to be, and when I looked it up in the catalog I saw, in fact, that it wasn’t in the catalog any more for that branch. And it was a comparatively new book, all modern and colorful. Yet, still, it got disappeared. Gone, gone, gone. Tossed into the trash, or sold for a couple of quarters.<br />
<br />
<br />
It’s so sad. And strange. I never would have thought it. So many people in so many positions of power are so dedicated to their bizarre passions of turning this world around us all into a nightmare.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>But ultimately a wonderful part of growing up and being an adult is learning—<i>knowing!—</i>that there is never any reason to be afraid of nightmares. They go away as soon as you open your eyes. All you have to do is wake up.</b><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-3363297760930494972013-05-02T08:59:00.000-05:002013-05-02T11:08:43.700-05:00Ice Nucleation As A Narrative<div><br />
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<div><blockquote><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXuwPWs6ePCB2tgdRaoB6WFoX3TyS8X2hymPVXGaqv0sEwPj2G2HZKRavXO4LL0gIAzyEy4fA4u5TUSXFfiSKRXkajK45HZaJxkQWlfWP780NXnXs9Rx7CoZu7CjISke86Pm8/s1600/balloon2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXuwPWs6ePCB2tgdRaoB6WFoX3TyS8X2hymPVXGaqv0sEwPj2G2HZKRavXO4LL0gIAzyEy4fA4u5TUSXFfiSKRXkajK45HZaJxkQWlfWP780NXnXs9Rx7CoZu7CjISke86Pm8/s200/balloon2.JPG" width="148" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On April 20th in the Sierra Nevada mountains near Bishop, California, a group of high school students launched a "space weather balloon" into the stratosphere. Their goal is to monitor the effects of solar flares on Earth's atmosphere. ... The silver capsule, built by Mihai Ciustea of Sammamish WA and launched by the Earth to Sky team of Bishop CA, is bristling with sensors to measure, e.g., ozone, pressure, humidity, acceleration and other variables of interest. The capsule travels to 125,000 feet--well inside Earth's ozone layer--and lingers there for approximately two hours before parachuting back to Earth with the data. The April 20th launch was a test flight to measure baseline levels when solar activity is relatively low. <br />
<br />
The capsule also serves another purpose: <span style="color: #660000;">It is a bacteria collector. A door at the bottom of the capsule can open, guiding air into a filter designed to capture microbes during the flight. Mihai Ciustea hopes to find <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bioprecipitation">ice-nucleating bacteria</a> and other lifeforms living high above Earth's surface.</span> Stay tuned for updates about this mission! </b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.spaceweather.com/archive.php?view=1&day=22&month=04&year=2013">SpaceWeather.com: Space Weather Balloon</a><br />
<i>Monday, April 22, 2013</i></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
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<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To the best of my conscious memory<br />
I’ve never been kidnapped by aliens.<br />
<br />
But I’ve never been interrogated<br />
under hypnosis about the topic.<br />
<br />
I don’t know what my subconscious might hide.<br />
<br />
I’d guess aliens don’t want to take me<br />
because they can just look at me and know<br />
if they kidnapped me for experiments<br />
I probably wouldn’t want to come back<br />
and I’d wake up wherever they took me<br />
and I’d pester them: “What’s <i>this? </i>What’s this <i>for?</i><br />
You’d be better off doing it like <i>this.”</i><br />
<br />
When scientists kidnap bacteria<br />
from the upper atmosphere to study<br />
ice nucleation at the edge of space<br />
they never put back the bacteria<br />
where their high altitude balloons found them.<br />
<br />
That works for me. I mean, with aliens.<br />
<br />
I mean, with me putting together words<br />
substituting for ice nucleation.<br />
<br />
I mean, bacteria, aliens, us.<br />
<br />
Creatures who do things should stick together.</span></div><br />
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<br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panspermia">Panspermia</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.panspermia.org/index.htm">COSMIC ANCESTRY:<br />
Life comes from space<br />
because life comes from life</a><br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/12/narrative-and-freud.html">Narrative, And Freud</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/01/narrative-and-creatures-that-take-us.html">Narrative, And Creatures That Take Us Away</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/02/apocalypse-of-her-yellow-dress.html">The Apocalypse Of Her Yellow Dress</a><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/07/watermelon-rain.html">Watermelon Rain?</a><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/08/fred-hoyle-on-time-and-really-odd.html">Fred Hoyle On Time And Really Odd Explanations</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/08/fred-hoyle-on-insensate-fury-and-really.html">Fred Hoyle On Insensate Fury And Really Odd Explanations</a><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/scientist-at-hamburger-stand.html">Scientist At A Hamburger Stand</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/dinosaur-by-moonlight-puppet-show.html">Dinosaur By Moonlight: A Puppet Show</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-47503150381152274532013-05-01T00:03:00.000-05:002013-05-01T00:03:01.093-05:00Cutting Fences<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Prologue to <i>“Cutting Fences” </i>—<br />
An Introduction in Three Parts</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>1) A Song</i></span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xG6vjUG2luELcfQJ8payvYQ8GWyFI_3DFnRy7HyjlNFYNfTD6frY9wnsfMnYaH2vHt5qhfWaS8aas3CynW_03MdD42Oa2ep2zMbvTp-3JDm-fQlP17I9Wchl5BocoHbOyzYS/s1600/somethingLikeASong2.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="36" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xG6vjUG2luELcfQJ8payvYQ8GWyFI_3DFnRy7HyjlNFYNfTD6frY9wnsfMnYaH2vHt5qhfWaS8aas3CynW_03MdD42Oa2ep2zMbvTp-3JDm-fQlP17I9Wchl5BocoHbOyzYS/s400/somethingLikeASong2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>It’s wild forever<br />
It echoes every song<br />
It’s wild and it’s singing<br />
With us</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>2) A Theology</i> (Isaiah 42:10)<br />
<br />
<b>Sing to the Lord<br />
A new song<br />
And His praise<br />
From the ends of the earth<br />
You who go down to the sea<br />
And all that is in it</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>3) A Haiku</i><br />
<br />
Who doesn’t go down<br />
to the sea? And who doesn’t<br />
<i>become </i>what’s in it?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Cutting Fences: Part 1 —<br />
The Nature Preserve, Wire Cutters, the Wild is Forever</b></span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSliiYstMcQL0EBOiMwTvTm78VHfGOuVNMZ0DvVOT25QOX-N3t7jKpIyfud6_UZB6eHw9SVAS3LWBAbZaOkLQsR-Y_6cvbM9sj63jEew7Y3MM9OLmOh1iqNPyYBXmB8JQk9hqe/s1600/cutFence1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSliiYstMcQL0EBOiMwTvTm78VHfGOuVNMZ0DvVOT25QOX-N3t7jKpIyfud6_UZB6eHw9SVAS3LWBAbZaOkLQsR-Y_6cvbM9sj63jEew7Y3MM9OLmOh1iqNPyYBXmB8JQk9hqe/s400/cutFence1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There’s a small nature preserve near here. Right now there is a construction project going on next to the nature preserve and the construction company erected a chain-link fence right through the nature preserve itself. But the fence cut across an informal path people trampled through the wilderness as a shortcut from one part of the suburb here to another. Rather than give up that path and walk around the fenced-off area, some enterprising people simply brought wire cutters and snipped the chain-links and rolled back the section of fence blocking the foot path.<br />
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<b>Cutting Fences: Part 2 —<br />
Karen Kilimnik, Wire Cutters, Stonehenge is Forever</b></span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKL3mdvsUfkH-X_KpY8gyb-iX8BAoQe2LiCNwinlGGpr9ox1wstfsuM1Vk80Aaxwy1UGKfOTJWj-phPe7boFdl4umFMIjy_n37gv7Wi5bq3_zVeID9zqpep1yky7vqsqZtN_t/s1600/kilimnik1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKL3mdvsUfkH-X_KpY8gyb-iX8BAoQe2LiCNwinlGGpr9ox1wstfsuM1Vk80Aaxwy1UGKfOTJWj-phPe7boFdl4umFMIjy_n37gv7Wi5bq3_zVeID9zqpep1yky7vqsqZtN_t/s200/kilimnik1.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>“Me—I forgot the wire cutters—getting the wire cutters from the car to break into stonehenge:”</i><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>KAREN KILIMNIK</b>, <i>oil on canvas</i></span><br />
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A couple of years ago I drove up to the north side and visited the Museum of Contemporary Art when they had the Karen Kilimnik exhibit. I saw this painting in real life. I got to stand about two feet away from it. I was pretty excited seeing this in real life, even though I know in the contemporary fine arts world it is not unusual for “artists” to sub-contract the actual painting of their images. I don’t know if Karen Kilimnik actually painted this—I’ve never read any suggestion that she doesn’t paint her own works—but I really don’t care. I like the image, and it’s a cool title. I don’t even care if the narrative about Stonehenge and wire cutters is real autobiography or as fantasized—<i>Kate Moss?—</i>as the face and body of the “self-portrait.” I don’t care. I like everything about this exactly as it is regardless of how or why it came to be what it is.<br />
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<b>Cutting Fences: Part 3 —<br />
The Ocean as Avril Lavigne, Wire Cutters, the Ocean is Forever</b><br />
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I don’t know who cuts fences in real life.<br />
<br />
Teenage girls who look like Avril Lavigne<br />
with teenage boys who look like Kurt Cobain?<br />
<br />
I’ve never cut a fence but I’m still here<br />
and now and then I bump into a fence<br />
and often, now, I find myself thinking<br />
of cutting fences that get in my way.<br />
<br />
I’m not a teenage boy and I don’t look<br />
like one. And I don’t look like Kurt Cobain.<br />
<br />
But if I ever see someone who looks<br />
like Avril Lavigne on the other side<br />
of a fence and she looks like she’s waiting<br />
for me regardless of what I look like<br />
I’ll cut that fence. It’s just technology.<br />
<br />
Like a phone, a computer or a boat.<br />
<br />
Boats float. But the ocean is forever.</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2007/12/karen-kilimnik.html">Karen Kilimnik</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/03/mirandas-words-and-calibans-music.html">Miranda’s Words And Caliban’s Music</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/07/freedom-from-wildlost-in-metonymy.html">Freedom From The Wild/Lost In Metonymy</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-63356592362171799382013-04-30T01:01:00.000-05:002013-04-30T01:50:43.146-05:00Miranda And Caliban In A Late 60s Piano Bar<div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is going to be a very strange post.<br />
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And I apologize in advance if any of this offends anybody.<br />
<br />
Here’s some set-up for this.<br />
<br />
At the end of last year, I did a post that included <b>three jokes</b> “a nineteenth century comedian might tell” — <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/12/new-calendar-and-pioneering-birds.html">New Calendar And Pioneering Birds</a>. And recently I did a post that included a visit to “The Obsolete Technology Website” — <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/searching-for-miranda-and-caliban.html">Searching For Miranda And Caliban</a>.<br />
<br />
Today’s post is something like sort of a kind of combination of those two posts. Today’s post is <b>three jokes</b> that are themselves obsolete technology, obsolete <i>humor </i>technology, because the jokes are about people and personalities and a whole era that probably almost nobody these days even remembers.<br />
<br />
So I’m including Wikipedia links at the end of the post to all the people the jokes are about. That of course won’t really capture the <i>tone </i>of the people and their personalities, but, well, I wanted to do the post anyway.<br />
<br />
It seems to me that in the world of <i>writing, </i>there must be nothing worse than dubious jokes which have to include Wikipedia links to even make sense to anybody in the current world.<br />
<br />
That having been said, for some reason that my conscious mind has no grasp of at all, a few days ago I made up these jokes.<br />
<br />
The only context I can imagine for these things is that maybe there’s an outside chance a mad scientist, mouse or otherwise, will invent <b>time travel for real</b> and I’ll be able to go back and get a job singing pop songs in a piano bar in some highway town between Los Angeles and Las Vegas in the late Sixties or early Seventies, and, <i><b>someday back then</b>, </i>I will need <i>patter </i>to fill time between songs.<br />
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I don’t know. Your guess is probably better than mine.<br />
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Maybe someday a future me will use a time machine to come back and explain why I made up these things. I don’t know. But I’m going to put these here just in case.<br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzwjzbl0oZ3oHehyTnxHw43-bhyphenhyphenRWhPJrplBx8TlfG8M4t4klNNjQRx4shX4RRwGcB6JPK6zPi6jXb9rr_vSsZW8llaz2f0h_eQR-CWLBtPcVC1jkhl9kUcUO2kjFQ3-ijV5d/s1600/goldie_bob_kurt1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzwjzbl0oZ3oHehyTnxHw43-bhyphenhyphenRWhPJrplBx8TlfG8M4t4klNNjQRx4shX4RRwGcB6JPK6zPi6jXb9rr_vSsZW8llaz2f0h_eQR-CWLBtPcVC1jkhl9kUcUO2kjFQ3-ijV5d/s400/goldie_bob_kurt1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1) A Laugh-In’s </i>Bikini Girl<i> Joke</i><br />
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<b>Bob Newhart and Goldie Hawn walk into a bar. Kurt Russell is sitting at a table and looks up and says, “There you are, Newhart! I just spent the last half hour looking all over the bar trying to find where you were playing hide-and-seek with my Goldie.” And Bob Newhart says, “What a coincidence. I just spent the last half hour looking all over Goldie trying to find where to play hide-and-seek with my bar.”</b></span></div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2) A Rat Pack Joke, Part One:</i><br />
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<b>Joey Bishop, Charlie Callas and Shelley Berman walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Hey, you guys just missed Joey Heatherton, Angie Dickenson and Shirley MacLaine.” And Joey Bishop says, “No, you heard wrong. We just missed Joey Heatherton, but you should see what we did to Angie Dickinson and Shirley MacLaine.”</b></span></div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3) A Rat Pack Joke, Part Two:</i><br />
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<b>Joey Heatherton, Angie Dickinson and Shirley MacLaine walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Hey, you girls just missed Joey Bishop, Charlie Callas and Shelley Berman.” Angie Dickenson and Shirley MacLaine don’t say anything, they just blush. And Joey Heatherton says, “No, we didn’t. But they did just miss me again.”</b></span></div><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goldie_Hawn">Goldie Hawn</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Newhart">Bob Newhart</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurt_Russell">Kurt Russell</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joey_Bishop">Joey Bishop</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Callas">Charlie Callas</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shelley_Berman">Shelley Berman</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joey_Heatherton">Joey Heatherton</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angie_Dickinson">Angie Dickinson</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shirley_maclaine">Shirley MacLaine</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-91692383874656120562013-04-29T02:35:00.001-05:002013-04-29T02:43:09.557-05:00Madness And What The Mouse Saw<div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “I’m sorry I gave you bad info,” the mouse said,<br />
“but sometimes it isn’t really clear to us mice<br />
which of you humans are female and which are male.”<br />
<br />
“I knew Ub Iwerks was a man,” the writer said,<br />
“but it was fun going back in time and seeing<br />
the Iwerks/Disney friendship as a mouse saw it.<br />
To be honest, in a theater production, <br />
Anne Hathaway might do a good job as Iwerks.”<br />
<br />
The time-traveling mad scientist mouse just shrugged.<br />
“The story’s about mice and people,” the mouse said.<br />
“The real people never wondered if the real mice<br />
were male or female. Why should the mice have wondered<br />
about the people? Why would it even come up?”<br />
<br />
“In a theater production,” the writer said,<br />
“casting a woman to play the part of a man<br />
underscores the marginal nature of gender<br />
that is the marginal nature in that story<br />
but at the same time would create controversy.<br />
Some people think gender can’t be marginalized.”<br />
<br />
The time-traveling mad scientist mouse just shrugged.<br />
The mouse looked at the writer. “What are <i>you </i>again?”<br />
<br />
“I’m a man,” the writer said. “And, umm, what are <i>you?”</i><br />
<br />
The time-traveling mad scientist mouse just shrugged.<br />
“I’m a female. But don’t get any ideas.”<br />
<br />
The writer laughed. “At some point I’ll have to decide<br />
how to animate the mice. How they should be drawn.<br />
Some people think gender can’t be marginalized.”<br />
<br />
“You can create a conversation,” the mouse said,<br />
“and have Iwerks and Disney discuss mouse gender.<br />
That would be a tease if an actress plays Iwerks.<br />
And you could indirectly explain your own mice.”<br />
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“That’s a good idea,” the writer said, nodding.<br />
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“I’m a scientist,” the mouse said, shrugging again.<br />
<br />
“True,” the writer said. “But you’re a <i>mad </i>scientist.<br />
And why exactly are you a <i>mad </i>scientist?”<br />
<br />
“Mice don’t think it’s good for mice to mix with people.”<br />
<br />
“Same here. I’d probably be called a <i>mad </i>writer.”<br />
<br />
For a moment the scientist and writer sat<br />
silently, enjoying each other’s company.<br />
<br />
“I hope the play can get a good budget,” one said.<br />
“It’s nice to see a cool story about friendship.”<br />
<br />
“Yes,” the other agreed. “It’s more or less true, too.<br />
Although probably it’s easier to believe<br />
in the time-travel part than in the friendship part.”<br />
<br />
Nodding, they both shrugged, and they both laughed quietly.</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ub_Iwerks">Ub Iwerks</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_hathaway">Anne Hathaway</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Hathaway_(Shakespeare)">“Anne Hathaway” <i>was the name<br />
of </i>Shakespeare’s <i>wife</i></a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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*<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/03/things-of-no-value-to-hangman.html">Things Of No Value To The Hangman</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/03/twenty-four-hundred-man-years-for-what.html">Twenty-Four Hundred Man-Years For What?</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/08/dinosaurs-are-searching-for-path-to.html">Dinosaurs Are Searching For A Path To Disney</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/time-as-wreckage-blood-as-school-device.html">Time As Wreckage, Blood As A School Device</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-9866415560072058862013-04-26T00:03:00.000-05:002013-04-26T01:18:26.015-05:00Time As Wreckage And Broken Guitar Strings<div><br />
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<div><blockquote><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Back when the Police were very, very hot, some late night TV show broadcast live coverage of some big European music festival. The Police were performing live. In the middle of some song—I don’t even remember which song—Summers was playing one of those beautiful chord-and-melody solos he built his style around and <i>SNAP </i>right there live on television he strummed a chord and one of his guitar strings broke. Instead of getting all shocked or panicked, Andy Summers reacted very cool and professional. And interesting. When the string broke—it was his fifth or sixth string—he just stared at his fretboard and his face got this very cool expression, it was something like amusement, something like a serene, Zen-like amusement. And without missing a beat—literally <i>without missing a beat—</i>he just shifted his left hand three or four frets up the fretboard and continued the chord-and-melody solo playing the exact same chords and notes, but playing them on the middle or bass strings rather than the treble strings. It was one of the coolest moments I’ve ever seen a performer perform.</b></span></div><br />
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<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/05/celebrity-talk-and-epistemology-of.html">Celebrity-Talk, And The Epistemology Of Hippie</a></span></div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqh779oTDxvolqgOW9kaaO83uQqBzC1n-haTxxg0UYtjwTKAwZiNbbS7qrEHFBbh-bVui4M-OHieWJfgigST_kCL-uWuzVC6YZvemwzYtPS2oEG1qS_mUq3B-800MVIwyarfLo/s1600/streetLightShadow1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqh779oTDxvolqgOW9kaaO83uQqBzC1n-haTxxg0UYtjwTKAwZiNbbS7qrEHFBbh-bVui4M-OHieWJfgigST_kCL-uWuzVC6YZvemwzYtPS2oEG1qS_mUq3B-800MVIwyarfLo/s400/streetLightShadow1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>A shadow moves under a streetlight<br />
She looks at the brightness next to it<br />
The shape that was casting the shadow<br />
Is a man turning to walk away</i><br />
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When I make up a melody<br />
I play a guitar with a pick,<br />
my left hand fingers like slapstick<br />
falling, tangled, then working free,<br />
<br />
performing like a company<br />
of clowns orchestrating a trick<br />
just right, not too slow, not too quick,<br />
with slides and hammers desperately<br />
<br />
wrestling down each note and approach<br />
and the song is the mess they make.<br />
There’ll be smiles if their act rings true.<br />
<br />
If not, clowns are beyond reproach.<br />
And who cares if guitar strings break—<br />
People who play guitars break, too.<br />
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<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/time-as-wreckage-blood-as-school-device.html">Time As Wreckage, Blood As A School Device</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/03/torn-picture-of-guitar.html">The Torn Picture Of A Guitar</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/04/shattered-chessboard.html">A Shattered Chessboard</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-64476312336534347782013-04-25T04:04:00.001-05:002013-04-25T04:18:50.930-05:00Time As Wreckage, Blood As A School Device<div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OCu-xu9mg4NCemsuinleuhFY_FKVIs7kK3ZROpU7vq3w0AE3kacdaY6mV-ZL-ut3wZB_BeXOD4GUXKzjf28a-niOZyL11uFDx_J8CvtSxeXHNiR__bmwPLLhhi2ZKaEtj5RA/s1600/antikythera1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OCu-xu9mg4NCemsuinleuhFY_FKVIs7kK3ZROpU7vq3w0AE3kacdaY6mV-ZL-ut3wZB_BeXOD4GUXKzjf28a-niOZyL11uFDx_J8CvtSxeXHNiR__bmwPLLhhi2ZKaEtj5RA/s200/antikythera1.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The Antikythera mechanism is an ancient analog computer designed to calculate astronomical positions. It was recovered in 1900–1901 from the Antikythera wreck, but its significance and complexity were not understood until a century later. Jacques Cousteau visited the wreck in 1978 but, although he found new dating evidence, he did not find any additional remains of the Antikythera mechanism. <span style="color: #660000;">The construction has been dated to the early 1st century BCE. Technological artifacts approaching its complexity and workmanship did not appear again until the 14th century AD</span>, when mechanical astronomical clocks began to be built in Western Europe.</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antikythera_mechanism">Antikythera Mechanism</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A wooden fence still stands there. Children bring<br />
bits of food to the ruins by the shore<br />
and leave the food by the frame with no door<br />
and mice come. Kids wait for the other thing<br />
<br />
and tell stories and laugh but their hands wring<br />
as the kids jump over boards from a floor<br />
rather than step on them. Kids know folklore.<br />
Kids know the words to say, chant, even sing<br />
<br />
as if the wreckage were a mad device,<br />
a construction of wood fragments on rocks,<br />
a device to occupy the creature,<br />
<br />
keep it busy trapping, eating the mice,<br />
like bloody gears turning in bloody clocks.<br />
Kids learn time like it’s a bloody teacher.</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/08/no-doubts-about-party.html">No Doubts About The Party</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/12/this-bright-old-world-of-ours-as-rune.html">This Bright Old World Of Ours As A Rune</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2009/10/ancient-cities-of-moon.html">Ancient Cities Of The Moon</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/12/when-all-my-words-about-britney.html">“When All My Words About Britney Disappear”</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-52475286547124539522013-04-24T02:28:00.001-05:002013-04-24T02:48:55.655-05:00Madonnas In The Meadows<div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I want to tie up a couple of little loose ends. I don’t know what I’ll be posting about the rest of this week, but I want to do a couple of things today that will sort of wrap up stuff from recent posts.<br />
<br />
I spend too much time, I know, thinking about entertainment and art—there’s a <i>real </i>world out there. I know. And I’m going to be talking today, again, first about Vermeer, and then about the TV show <i>“Smallville.” </i> And the show isn’t even in production any more. I know that, too.<br />
<br />
But the thing is, when you spend any time at all with what is almost euphemistically called the “fine” arts it is almost a relief to return to what is simply and appropriately called pop art, <i>popular </i>art.<br />
<br />
Last week Friday and this week Monday make a kind of case-in-point.<br />
<br />
Monday I did a post about <b>Vermeer</b>—<a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/man-reading-book-at-window.html">Man Reading A Book At A Window</a>—and over the weekend I was reading about Vermeer and those paintings are certainly very beautiful and certainly very peaceful and certainly very serene and all that jazz.<br />
<br />
But you know it’s the “fine” arts world and almost nothing is what it appears to be and even those Vermeers are examples of that. Most everyone knows—at this point in history—that a great deal of European art contains images where the models were, bluntly, hookers. Of one kind or another. It’s just the way of the world. Fillide Melandroni, Victorine Meurent. Models. Hookers. Six of one, half a dozen of another. It’s the world of the “fine” arts. You just try to roll with it.<br />
<br />
Okay. Anyway.<br />
<br />
But Vermeer.<br />
<br />
But those beautiful, peaceful, serene Dutch women. Those peaceful interiors. It’s all so serene. Beautiful, too.<br />
<br />
<i>Yeah, right.</i><br />
<br />
Look at this painting. This is called <i>“The Milkmaid” </i>and it is usually regarded as Vermeer’s “first” masterpiece, although most of his paintings aren’t dated so nobody knows when this was painted. And this is almost certainly a “real” Vermeer—whatever <i>that </i>means. I take it to mean that this was almost certainly painted by the central guy, the <i>best </i>of the painters who crafted the images that we now collectively call “Vermeers.” Okay, so, isn’t this a wonderful image? Peaceful. Serene. Just a wonderful young woman pouring milk. Modern American and south European types who are fans of Vermeer sometimes refer to this painting as a “<b>Madonna of the meadows</b>” because of the simple purity of the image.</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDdSFf6xPyCbsAoZc0F-eQyEh5ilRHcN_yXjulGM3Jo4AJvSmkIS7w8gab0pe0bMkWyOwuhyphenhyphenW5Ql6wnPBTvgsuUUxT_SVQxbzUIVkUWXF-atRIx8sF6RLJM1NLnff2CIwe3pS/s1600/vermeerMilkmaid1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDdSFf6xPyCbsAoZc0F-eQyEh5ilRHcN_yXjulGM3Jo4AJvSmkIS7w8gab0pe0bMkWyOwuhyphenhyphenW5Ql6wnPBTvgsuUUxT_SVQxbzUIVkUWXF-atRIx8sF6RLJM1NLnff2CIwe3pS/s400/vermeerMilkmaid1.JPG" width="357" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay. It turns out an <b>art historian</b> sees some different things in this image, armed as he or she is with knowledge of the customs and practices of northern Europe in the seventeenth century. First of all, the whole “milk” and “milking” business would have been emblematic to a seventeenth century Dutch man or woman of the same things Shakespeare’s “country matters” would have referred to.<br />
<br />
<i>Yeah.</i><br />
<br />
Here’s the way a real art historian puts it:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The essential reason that <i>The Milkmaid </i>has been so profoundly misread as a madonna of the meadows—“her stature is enhanced by the wholesomeness of her endeavor: the providing of life-sustaining food”—is that the painting comes from a social context that largely disappeared in western Europe during the past century and was never quite at home in America (Jeffersonian exceptions aside). One could compose a dissertation on the social life of gentlemen and female servants or simply follow Samuel Pepys through the pages of his diary, with its oyster girls, kitchen maids, and, at an inn in Delft, “an exceedingly pretty lass and right for the sport.”</b><i></i></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walter Liedtke<br />
<i>in </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vermeer-School-Metropolitan-Museum-Series/dp/0300088485/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366787193&sr=1-1-fkmr0&keywords=vermeer+and+the+eflt+school">“Vermeer and the Delft School”</a></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Isn’t that nice?</i><br />
<br />
I’m being snarky. That’s the “fine” arts world. Almost any time I look in there I come out and just want to watch <i>“Smallville” </i>for hours and hours and pretend the whole world is smart and decent high school kids trying to deal with the operatic melodrama of superheroes and supervillains.<br />
<br />
And I know they’re actors and actresses which, for the most part, takes us back into the world of the “fine” arts. But my thinking just stays in <i>“Smallville.”</i><br />
<br />
Okay, so, anyway, I’ve had enough of the “fine” arts for a while.<br />
<br />
<i>“...an exceedingly pretty lass and right for the sport.”</i><br />
<br />
Yeah. <i>Thanks.</i><br />
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*<br />
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So last Friday I did a post built around <i>“Smallville”—</i><a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/lana-and-pretty-unclear-parts.html">Lana, And The Pretty Unclear Parts</a>—and I used a couple of images and a bit of drama from season six. I really like season three best, and most of season four. But a couple of years ago I also purchased seasons five and six because those two years wrap up the whole saga of Lana choosing between Clark and Lex. Mostly, still, I like season three best. But last week I went back and watched seasons five and six again and I noticed a trivial little thing that somehow I had missed in earlier viewings.<br />
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In my post <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/03/big-grasshoppers-fake-driving.html">Big Grasshoppers, Fake Driving, Other Stuff</a> I talked about little errors you see if you watch things carefully. Film people call such things “continuity errors.”<br />
<br />
This is an example of that.<br />
<br />
At the end of season five of <i>“Smallville” </i>a very long story-arc is concluding where Lex is becoming possessed by the evil General Zod of Krypton. In the season finale of season five, Lex is compelled to drive out to a deserted field where he will be kidnapped by the robot spaceship known as “Brainiac.” Lana chases Lex through the woods and across a field. It’s a <b>meadow</b>! It is windy. Her hair and clothing are blowing in the breeze. We see she is wearing big loopy earrings and a flashy necklace because her jewelry is jostling around when she runs and everything is blowing in the breeze. Look, here is Lana stopped, looking at Lex as the robot spaceship is moving overhead. Notice you can clearly see the big hoop earrings and the necklace:</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6SQpS6XkzE_W17N0yfrZTYzRKMQ8pTlm3StMGs_YWW6tI-tarXrebLahdtX6kd-yFkmIHk8CJsZ8QIcegdmoESvl4e1ndLyKpjPsKEbkYg9THRZ-RHychJHZZLero6FQoztT/s1600/lanaJewelry1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6SQpS6XkzE_W17N0yfrZTYzRKMQ8pTlm3StMGs_YWW6tI-tarXrebLahdtX6kd-yFkmIHk8CJsZ8QIcegdmoESvl4e1ndLyKpjPsKEbkYg9THRZ-RHychJHZZLero6FQoztT/s400/lanaJewelry1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a bright beam of light kidnaps Lex, as the light is fading Lana runs into the beam and, to no avail, looks up searching for Lex. Look at Lana the very next second in the light:</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3i_Uj8DatSi4XAAz5putqfer_t5aU01GKQq-snNFv9VHeCLfAKXV7vh84m-Nm5R5gEM1AV4FGSUyIE6GaQreHiNNsg7gwdE9Nm8NeGvVtF8X9lMVvpNjV_hXBmLaqPGbJJzc1/s1600/lanaJewelry2.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3i_Uj8DatSi4XAAz5putqfer_t5aU01GKQq-snNFv9VHeCLfAKXV7vh84m-Nm5R5gEM1AV4FGSUyIE6GaQreHiNNsg7gwdE9Nm8NeGvVtF8X9lMVvpNjV_hXBmLaqPGbJJzc1/s400/lanaJewelry2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No earrings and no necklace.<br />
<br />
It’s a continuity error.<br />
<br />
Apparently the special effects shot of Lana in the flickering lights was filmed quite separately from the scene out in the field. And even though this was the big season finale, the climax of one of the biggest stories the show ever told, the filmmakers didn’t notice that Lana’s jewelry didn’t match from one cut to the next.<br />
<br />
So, it’s a little thing. But it’s interesting. To me. And, I know, who cares, the show has been off the air for years now.<br />
<br />
But I just wanted to wrap up that <i>“Smallville” </i>stuff.<br />
<br />
And now I have.<br />
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I don’t know what the rest of the week will be, but I’m going to try to move away from both <i>“Smallville” </i>and so-called “fine” arts stuff.<br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-9086118305444420222013-04-23T01:50:00.001-05:002013-04-23T02:04:21.298-05:00Kings And Queens Of The Mixed Up Seas<div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlK5NFr7Cjxil-p3NChylWbv3JH-aeB6bRqwOgwS4_jPSPoFpAyx3koO664dA-MjVSbqTf1lcwqI0WkL2SpUSDvsvFVzK2vC_8S3y3HwR6_ROO4FWVnUMpG7jnKJHY2ds4c51D/s1600/robertCecil1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlK5NFr7Cjxil-p3NChylWbv3JH-aeB6bRqwOgwS4_jPSPoFpAyx3koO664dA-MjVSbqTf1lcwqI0WkL2SpUSDvsvFVzK2vC_8S3y3HwR6_ROO4FWVnUMpG7jnKJHY2ds4c51D/s200/robertCecil1.JPG" width="181" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If we can believe the possibly dubious but very well-made and entertaining movie <i><i>“Anonymous,” </i></i>possible real-life supervillain <b>Robert Cecil</b>, this guy, may have matched wits and competed ruthlessly against <b>Edward de Vere</b>, Earl of Oxford, and completely defeated him and then at some point in history said something like <i>this </i>to the man who may have been the real-life Shakespeare, the Earl of Oxford, that guy down there:<br />
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<b>“Why do you think he worked so hard to become your guardian after your father died? He had it all planned years in advance. He would teach you everything he knew about statecraft, marry his daughter to you, and, after Elizabeth's death, proclaim you</b></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53_i7eTVYJPlC8XYSsB7GNINnJoM6K_BxXZCBtTh8Xi30aTxTcJVoDUW98JlUv1wSndMP3fO0BegdalLyWJiptyLLrFwu8cLwnYh-Ie8X7fp861RbqOrRdpXDyEZQdglizBbV/s1600/edwardEarlOxford1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53_i7eTVYJPlC8XYSsB7GNINnJoM6K_BxXZCBtTh8Xi30aTxTcJVoDUW98JlUv1wSndMP3fO0BegdalLyWJiptyLLrFwu8cLwnYh-Ie8X7fp861RbqOrRdpXDyEZQdglizBbV/s200/edwardEarlOxford1.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>heir. His own grandchild to follow you on the throne. But he couldn't possibly predict what kind of failure you would become. How you would fail in politics, ignore your estates to the point of bankruptcy, all to write</b>— <i>[Cecil sneers]</i>—<b>poetry. You could have been a king, Edward. And your son after you. Except for the fact that you were, well, <i>you.”</i></b></span></div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlK5NFr7Cjxil-p3NChylWbv3JH-aeB6bRqwOgwS4_jPSPoFpAyx3koO664dA-MjVSbqTf1lcwqI0WkL2SpUSDvsvFVzK2vC_8S3y3HwR6_ROO4FWVnUMpG7jnKJHY2ds4c51D/s1600/robertCecil1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlK5NFr7Cjxil-p3NChylWbv3JH-aeB6bRqwOgwS4_jPSPoFpAyx3koO664dA-MjVSbqTf1lcwqI0WkL2SpUSDvsvFVzK2vC_8S3y3HwR6_ROO4FWVnUMpG7jnKJHY2ds4c51D/s200/robertCecil1.JPG" width="181" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If history is what we make it, and there’s some evidence it <i>is, </i>then I’d make history arrange for possible real-life supervillain <b>Robert Cecil</b>, this guy, to match wits and compete ruthlessly against <b>Britney Spears</b>, pop star, and completely defeat her and then at some point in history say something like <i>this </i>to the woman who very probably isn’t the real-life Shakespeare, the pop star, that girl down there:<br />
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<b>“Why do you think he worked so hard to become your guardian after your father died? He had it all planned years in advance. He would teach you everything he knew about statecraft, marry his son to you, and, after Elizabeth's death, proclaim you heir. </b></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxRlDab36zee7bc4UYd-pDQ0NJjYZg3XPZN4-0kj9TPBDGaRlqSopkfeqX-c2sN2EO63y9UKjpXsDGiVLRi2LWfVy5IKRAywp1X3seKHW2hSF5YRs0wt1_58fIIkkPVSF8J6u/s1600/britneySpearsQ1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxRlDab36zee7bc4UYd-pDQ0NJjYZg3XPZN4-0kj9TPBDGaRlqSopkfeqX-c2sN2EO63y9UKjpXsDGiVLRi2LWfVy5IKRAywp1X3seKHW2hSF5YRs0wt1_58fIIkkPVSF8J6u/s200/britneySpearsQ1.JPG" width="173" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>His own grandchild to follow you on the throne. But he couldn't possibly predict what kind of failure you would become. How you would fail in politics, ignore your estates to the point of bankruptcy, all to sing</b>—<br />
<i>[Cecil sneers] </i>—<b>pop songs. You could have been a queen, Britney. And your daughter after you. Except for the fact that you were, well, <i>you.”</i></b></span></div><br />
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anonymous_(film)">“Anonymous”</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Cecil,_1st_Earl_of_Salisbury">Robert Cecil</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_de_Vere,_17th_Earl_of_Oxford">Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Britney_spears">Britney Spears</a><br />
<i>at Wikipedia</i><br />
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*<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/06/consequence-of-puppets.html">A Consequence Of Puppets</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/05/kings-and-queens-of-ancient-seas-part.html">Kings And Queens Of The Ancient Seas (Part One)</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/05/kings-and-queens-of-ancient-seas-part_25.html">Kings And Queens Of The Ancient Seas (Part Two)</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2006/05/kings-and-queens-of-ancient-seas-part_26.html">Kings And Queens Of The Ancient Seas (Part Three)</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-73723625733907792522013-04-22T00:03:00.000-05:002013-04-22T00:03:00.889-05:00Man Reading A Book At A Window<div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibg8urq81be5afnkOy958dHxvsavAKkf1myHzSISyqFJhMfiTvl3EAFs7he4nOV6Bb6b-YhaYhEYE9MGxp_LNn8WP78bqFoCWImNf2u8eRLExb6MSBk_2jSfsAAEL9wfSkLTHr/s1600/manReading1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibg8urq81be5afnkOy958dHxvsavAKkf1myHzSISyqFJhMfiTvl3EAFs7he4nOV6Bb6b-YhaYhEYE9MGxp_LNn8WP78bqFoCWImNf2u8eRLExb6MSBk_2jSfsAAEL9wfSkLTHr/s400/manReading1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Over the weekend I stood by my window here south of Chicago, enjoying the seventeenth century Dutch sunshine in Delft and reading a book about a bizarre episode in the fine arts world that happened just before, during and just after World War Two.</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmYJDdLyFIau_D2S8gB2Q3pJ0xuF0Dbt-5kvdvx6KdEReXviQ125V0JPc6OqnNFWlwtLgrmuoNnGzV4UkQ-_WBLM6FBGf9f6TeuCVjBW4Ga_HahbJ-ogjduIOI2Ef-V_1duL5/s1600/forgersSpell1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmYJDdLyFIau_D2S8gB2Q3pJ0xuF0Dbt-5kvdvx6KdEReXviQ125V0JPc6OqnNFWlwtLgrmuoNnGzV4UkQ-_WBLM6FBGf9f6TeuCVjBW4Ga_HahbJ-ogjduIOI2Ef-V_1duL5/s200/forgersSpell1.JPG" width="131" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This book. “<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Forgers-Spell-Vermeer-Greatest-Twentieth/dp/0060825421/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366590891&sr=1-1&keywords=the+forger%27s+spell">The Forger’s Spell</a>,” by Edward Dolnick.<br />
<br />
It’s a very interesting book, very entertaining, and it has a very strange element to it, also. Before I get to the strange element, I want to talk about a couple of other things.<br />
<br />
First of all, the copy I read was a library book. When I checked out the book, I noticed someone had folded-over a corner of one of the pages. I unfolded the corner without looking at the page. I figured either that was as far as the previous reader got before getting bored and abandoning the book, or the previous reader had found something on that page extremely interesting and wanted to remember the location. I wanted to read the book without expectations, so I unfolded the corner and just started at the beginning.<br />
<br />
When I got to the page that had been marked by the folded-over corner—I could tell because the page had been folded so long the paper had become creased—the stuff on the page was so interesting that I folded-over the corner again, just as I’d found it. This is what was on the marked page:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The revolt against Spain began on June 5, 1568, when two Dutch noblemen, the Count of Egmont and the Count of Hoorn, sought to negotiate with King Philip’s representative in the Netherlands. By way of response, the Spanish official arrested the two Dutchmen and had them beheaded before a gaping crowd. Peace would not come for eighty years. The war was “still going on when Vermeer was born,” one historian writes, “as it had been when his father—and probably his grandfather—were born.”<br />
<br />
Against this backdrop, Vermeer’s achievement stands out all the brighter. A few years ago, the journalist Lawrence Weschler traveled to The Hague to cover the Yugoslav War Crimes Tribunal. There he fell into conversation with the tribunal’s chief judge, who spent his days listening to detailed accounts of torture. The judge told Weschler the story of a torture victim who had gone mad. Weschler asked the judge how he coped with such testimony. On his lunch hour, the judge replied, he hurried to the Mauritshuis Museum “to spend a little time with the Vermeers.”<br />
<br />
Weschler, too, had been communing with The Hague’s Vermeers. (<i>The Girl with a Pearl Earring, A View of Delft, </i>and <i>Diana and Her Companions </i>are at the Mauritshuis.) The judge’s remark, Weschler wrote, opened his eyes to “the true extent of Vermeer’s achievement—something I hadn’t fully grasped before. For, of course, when Vermeer was painting those images which for us have become the very emblem of peacefulness and serenity, <i>all Europe was Bosnia </i>(or had only just recently ceased to be): awash in incredibly vicious wars of religious persecution and proto-nationalist formation, wars of an at-that-time unprecedented violence and cruelty, replete with sieges and famines and massacres and mass rapes, unspeakable tortures and wholesale devastation.”<br />
<br />
Perhaps it is not surprising that Vermeer chose to spend his days depicting quiet.</b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s pretty cool stuff. It reminds me, of course, of the Impressionists dealing with the Franco-Prussian War, and the Paris Commune.<br />
<br />
It’s a bizarre inequality: How much peace and tranquility the entire world has derived from looking at and contemplating the beautiful and peaceful images created and passed along by the Impressionists, as compared to the almost unimaginable sufferings the artists themselves experienced living through their whole world—their <i>ideal </i>of the most civilized possible world—devolve into chaos, violence and brutal widespread death.<br />
<br />
It’s the same kind of bizarre inequality—if not more so—with Vermeer. He was certainly part of a community in Delft and well-respected in his own lifetime. But he did not have around him an entire social movement the way the Impressionists had. He was not surrounded by passionate companions engaged so energetically in the same artistic struggle as he was, the way the Impressionists were. And the paintings he created—the <i>few </i>paintings, possibly less than fifty; there are almost as many <i>self-portraits </i>of Van Gogh in existence as there are paintings <i>of any kind </i>by Vermeer—and the few paintings Vermeer created have been a fountainhead of peace and reassurance and sanity and even humanity to every generation since. (Even when Vermeer was not famous as a <i>name, </i>his paintings were still loved and widely hung, just often attributed to an inaccurate source.)<br />
<br />
And it’s bizarre too, isn’t it, that our own time marginalizes peaceful images, reducing the entire concept to heartless mechanical rubbish like the cottages of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_kinkade">Thomas Kinkade</a> or the landscapes of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Ross">Bob Ross</a>?<br />
<br />
And our own time, of course, glorifies the exact opposite. Recently, an entertainment world businessman was quoted as saying, <a href="http://www.deadline.com/2013/04/hollywood-violent-movies-cool-nato-chief-says/">“It’s cool to be Quentin Tarantino.”</a> And a very famous animator recently described how his very special, personal project will be <a href="http://www.cartoonbrew.com/animators/richard-williams-reveals-details-about-his-secret-film-project-81530.html">“grim, but also funny and salacious and sexy”</a>.<br />
<br />
<b>What the hell is wrong with us?</b><br />
<br />
Everybody around the whole world—all economic strata, every educational background, every cultural background—can recognize and respond to the beauty and serenity and deep humanity in the images created by the Impressionists and by some individual artists like Vermeer, but nonetheless, every mainstream source of art and entertainment in the modern world is dedicated to cranking out images that are the exact opposite, images that glamorize and even romanticize violence, brutality and animal rage.<br />
<br />
<b>What the hell is wrong with us?</b><br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
The strange thing about the book <i>“The Forger’s Spell” </i>is a very strange thing indeed.<br />
<br />
Like almost all carefully written books about forgery in the fine arts world, the author acknowledges that the issue is almost certainly vastly more widespread than anyone will speak about publically. And, frankly, most experts publically will admit the issue is very widespread to begin with. So, we can only imagine how bad the problem of forgeries must really be.<br />
<br />
This book looks very carefully at one very famous case—the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Han_van_Meegeren">Van Meegeren forgeries of Vermeer paintings</a>—and it touches on any number of almost unbelievable conditions within the fine arts world that make forgeries possible: The narrow training of many experts, the pressures of big money, the politics of prestige, the difficult nature of the artifacts themselves, the obscuring veil of time, and, of course, the pernicious and/or mischievous creativity of sometimes immensely talented artists and/or con men.<br />
<br />
But the author—and I’m guessing this must have been on purpose—the author doesn’t raise one very particular and interesting point, although he writes so very carefully and so very fully <i>around </i>the particular and interesting point that you can see the unwritten bit, so to speak, <i>outlined </i>by what is written.<br />
<br />
Before I state that particular and interesting point, it’s worth saying that one reason the Van Meegeren forgeries of Vermeer are so interesting is because Van Meegeren was such a bad artist and the forgeries themselves look nothing like any known or suspected Vermeer images.<br />
<br />
<b>What the hell were people thinking?</b><br />
<br />
Nobody knows what people were thinking.<br />
<br />
The author, here, examines a lot of psychological theories of perception and expectations, and the cultural imperatives within any given time period.<br />
<br />
But, still, nobody knows what people were thinking.<br />
<br />
The Van Meegeren forgeries were ugly paintings that looked <i>nothing </i>like any known Vermeer, yet they fooled art experts and collectors and all the fringe kind of advisors that move within the big-money art world.<br />
<br />
The point that seems to stand out to me as particular and interesting is that the author, here, never delves into the issue of unusual characteristics within the <i>accepted </i>body of Vermeer paintings.<br />
<br />
Again, the author writes around the issue. He specifically brings up that within the forty or so paintings almost universally <i>accepted </i>as real Vermeers there are two “groups” of paintings. The author writes:</span></div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>But the great riddle is that the two groups seem to have almost nothing to do with each other. Even today scholars point at the gulf in bewilderment. Many of them cite <i>The Milkmaid </i>as Vermeer’s first masterpiece, the earliest painting in Hannema’s second group. But eloquent as the scholars are in praise of <i>The Milkmaid, </i>they stammer when they try to sort out how Vermeer achieved the new look. “It is,” the art historian Christopher Wright observes, “as if Vermeer had suddenly decided to change his style almost out of recognition.”</b></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He never asks: Could the “two groups” have been painted by two, or more, different painters?<br />
<br />
But even beyond the “two groups” business, there are elements within even the most famous of <i>accepted </i>Vermeers that are strangely not discussed. In the famous <i>The Girl with a Pearl Earring </i>the model’s very close, very engaging and direct gaze is very unusual and to a modern eye looks almost like a Manet painting rather than something from two hundred years earlier. The almost equally famous <i>Allegory of Faith </i>has a typical Vermeer interior, but in the middle of the floor is a bloody, writhing snake [!] that looks like cover art from a fantasy or science fiction book. The almost equally famous <i>Painter in his Studio </i>has too many bizarre points to even list completely: The painter is working but his painting supplies are out-of-reach; he’s applying color to an almost blank canvas, not a carefully shaded under-painting; and probably most odd, at the scale the artist is portrayed as working, the model in front of him wouldn’t even fit on the artist’s canvas.<br />
<br />
There are other similar issues with other accepted Vermeer paintings.<br />
<br />
The author simply never asks: <b>How many accepted Vermeers are actually very, very beautiful and successful forgeries that never got questioned and never got caught?</b><br />
<br />
Throughout the book the author gives examples of people reacting very badly to discovering that paintings they had loved were actually forgeries. Many people react very badly to such news. Some people burn such paintings. Some people, but very few, simply shrug and say a beautiful image is a beautiful image and it doesn’t really matter if a master in Delft painted it four hundred years ago or, say, a master in Britain painted it one hundred years ago.<br />
<br />
<b>I guess the idea is the accepted body of work is so small and brings so many people so much joy that there is just no strong imperative to cause any trouble at all about it.</b><br />
<br />
On one hand that makes sense.<br />
<br />
But if a person accepts that line of thought—that a possibly unreal belief is okay because of some perceived larger existential good—<b>doesn’t that raise the possibility of all sorts of dubious temptations?</b><br />
<br />
Should historic narratives be true, or just appropriate?<br />
<br />
Should historic biographies be true, or just appropriate?<br />
<br />
Or should there be two sets of “facts” available: The general mass-market set, and a more detailed and more “true” set for people interested enough to investigate some issue further?<br />
<br />
These are complicated issues and I certainly don’t have any deep answers.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I do have one thought on this topic.<br />
<br />
<br />
In the New Testament, there are incidents where Jesus addresses a general crowd and speaks in <b>parables</b>. Then, later in private, the apostles ask Jesus what He meant by this or that parable. Jesus then provides the apostles with an elaboration on how the parable was meant to be interpreted. <b>In those instances—every time, and without exception—the meaning Jesus explains to the apostles is completely consistent with a simple, thoughtful reading of the parable itself</b>. Jesus never, not once, engages in tricky word play or odd figures of speech and He certainly <i>never </i>implies one meaning to the masses and reveals an entirely different meaning to the apostles. Jesus doesn’t always say the <i>same </i>thing to the general public as to the, so to speak, “insiders.” But Jesus never, not once, provides two different <i>meanings. </i>The parables are always clearly driving at the exact same point Jesus reveals to the apostles.<br />
<br />
My experience is that very, very few people choose to follow the example Jesus sets in the New Testament.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>I wonder what the world would be like if more people even just <i>tried </i>to follow the example Jesus set with the parables?</b><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-71860901550472098002013-04-19T23:55:00.001-05:002013-04-20T03:33:13.366-05:00Lana, And The Pretty Unclear Parts<div><br />
</div><br />
<div><blockquote><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkn2kOn_kmWERrmiwpACVVjTHxOPfbUeNwbyvzMB8l8c72XQOIRRA4C12Kr5ljixtaZUE9od1o8YX6h61Gg_JKiW437Fp8RKsB_NfOZB7hn2NGUCrEi2_eIHFT4Q9WTrxhcSQy/s1600/lanaChloe1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkn2kOn_kmWERrmiwpACVVjTHxOPfbUeNwbyvzMB8l8c72XQOIRRA4C12Kr5ljixtaZUE9od1o8YX6h61Gg_JKiW437Fp8RKsB_NfOZB7hn2NGUCrEi2_eIHFT4Q9WTrxhcSQy/s320/lanaChloe1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">LANA: </span><b>“I just keep running what happened through my head.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">CHLOE: </span><b>“Lana, you can’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">LANA: </span><b>“That part I’m pretty clear on.”</b></span></div><br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmQcvLlziti8C_39-UPSF43zNuOpE_xXX71Vxd2kUb3po_l2ReGsDbytiiHxmpRKaWhy567_IVicYA6caCjA7w6ejXZkOMT-A-hTMkzm9pAIV2D7TV44Ly_XMRrxtlAVE9smg/s1600/lanaChloe2.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmQcvLlziti8C_39-UPSF43zNuOpE_xXX71Vxd2kUb3po_l2ReGsDbytiiHxmpRKaWhy567_IVicYA6caCjA7w6ejXZkOMT-A-hTMkzm9pAIV2D7TV44Ly_XMRrxtlAVE9smg/s320/lanaChloe2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">CHLOE: </span><b>“Look, nobody wanted to see her die. But if you hadn’t come when you did it would have been my obit on the front page. Maybe. Of section D. Anyway, thank you. Again.”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">LANA: </span><b>“How do you do that? Just brush it under the rug, as if nothing happened?”</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smallville">Smallville</a><br />
<i>Episode 120, Season 6<br />
“Hydro”</i></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><br />
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<br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the TV show about Superman<br />
as a young man, the TV show <i>“Smallville,”</i><br />
very often characters asked questions,<br />
and when the other character answered,<br />
they answered a question that wasn’t asked.<br />
<br />
Characters who deal with superheroes<br />
just keep running what happened through their head<br />
and things are as unclear to them as to<br />
characters who deal with supervillains.<br />
<br />
I’d ask a question about cameras.<br />
<br />
I’d ask about photographs and paintings.<br />
<br />
And I know Chloe would just say something<br />
about how newspapers run on deadlines<br />
and it would be ridiculous to wait<br />
for a painter to compose a painting<br />
when a breaking story is happening.<br />
<br />
I wouldn’t even bother asking her<br />
why she had answered that way. Once you know<br />
the person you’re talking to is thinking<br />
of supervillains and superheroes<br />
I think the only way to understand<br />
why they’re answering you the way they are<br />
and what might be your question’s real answer<br />
is just to run what happened through your head<br />
again and again, the way a painter<br />
might stand in front of a blank white canvas<br />
just stand there staring at the empty space<br />
or work away scribbling in a sketchbook<br />
trying out random shapes on random shapes<br />
until, in their head, an image takes form<br />
that they can paint on the canvas by craft.<br />
<br />
And I know Chloe would just say something<br />
about how newspapers run on deadlines<br />
and it would be ridiculous to wait<br />
for a painter to compose a painting<br />
when a breaking story is happening.<br />
<br />
A camera’s a mechanical thing<br />
and it can be something like hypnotic<br />
watching gears turn and all the gear teeth mesh.<br />
<br />
Who wants to watch an artist stand around<br />
staring at a canvas, or sit around<br />
sketching random scribbles on scratch paper?<br />
<br />
I’ve come to suspect questions and answers<br />
are something like a boring old art form<br />
and we should build museums for people<br />
who run things through their heads <i>like </i>gears turning<br />
when they could be watching <i>real </i>gears turning.</span></div><br />
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<div><blockquote><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I spend so much time lost in fantasy<br />
that it feels strange to feel so terrified<br />
at having slipped away for an instant<br />
but I ask myself what if this woman<br />
had a voice that sounded like the actress<br />
who played “Lana Lang” and had noticed me<br />
looking at her and had smiled and said, “Hi.”<br />
<br />
I don’t think I’d be here typing these words.<br />
<br />
It’s like a <i>LuthorCorp </i>experiment<br />
is going on around me in real life.<br />
<br />
And Chloe says these things never end well!</b></span></div><br />
<br />
<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/11/fons-et-origo-of-mad-laughter.html">The Fons Et Origo Of Mad Laughter</a></span></div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>... if I never see<br />
Miranda though I know<br />
where to look, then I hope<br />
Miranda won’t hate me.</b></span></div><br />
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<div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/04/miranda-and-miranda-and-miranda.html">Miranda And Miranda And Miranda</a></span></div><br />
</blockquote></div><div align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/notes-from-france-victorine-meurent.html">Notes From France! (Victorine Meurent Update!)</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/03/mirandas-words-and-calibans-music.html">Miranda’s Words And Caliban’s Music</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/05/gardens-edge.html">“The Garden’s Edge”</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2010/09/application-of-beyond-understanding.html">The Application Of Beyond Understanding</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/wood-of-ancient-castles-and-cathedrals.html">“Wood Of Ancient Castles And Cathedrals”</a><br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-stars-from-here-puppet-thriller.html">“The Stars From Here: A Puppet Thriller”</a><br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26336792.post-80078871243219939262013-04-18T16:19:00.002-05:002013-04-19T13:18:16.896-05:00Notes From France! (Victorine Meurent Update!)<div><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday was my <b>seventh <i>complete </i>year</b> here at the blog.<br />
<br />
Today has been a strange day. I’ve had some less-than-wonderful things to do out in the <i>real </i>world, and I was taking my time about a post for today because I wasn’t sure how to start out my eighth year blogging.<br />
<br />
Then this afternoon some <b>weird things</b> happened.<br />
<br />
First of all, before I get to <i>today’s </i>weird things, I want to say that <b>the strangest thing about doing this blog—by far and absolutely the strangest thing—is the extreme coincidences I’ve sometimes experienced</b>. It’s happened four or five times over the course of these seven years, but the coincidences have been <i>so </i>bizarre and of <i>such </i>a personal nature that I haven’t even blogged about them because they’ve just been, well, so weird and so personal.<br />
<br />
Generally they’ve been interesting, too, so it’s been fun. But it’s been fun mixed in with crazy. Sometimes quite a bit of crazy.<br />
<br />
Someday I’ll go back to the beginning and recount the incidents as a kind of chronology. It would be a strange post, but I suppose it would be fitting <i>someday </i>to do the summing up.<br />
<br />
Not today though.<br />
<br />
Today I’ve got some <i>other </i>things to talk about.<br />
<br />
Weird coincidences, though.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
First I’m going to start with an easy thing.<br />
<br />
Last year, in fact <i>coincidentally </i>right around this time last year, I did a few posts talking the extraordinary French musician <b>Olivier Messiaen</b>. For instance,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/04/songs-husband-heard.html">Songs A Husband Heard</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/04/process-of-passages.html">A Process Of Passages</a><br />
<br />
I had been reading the great biography of him by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Messiaen-Professor-Peter-Hill/dp/0300109075/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1335413972&sr=1-1">Peter Hill and Nigel Simeone</a>.<br />
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I had planned to write more, but then <b>a really, really <i>dumb </i>thing happened</b>.<br />
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I put the hardcover book on top of a large bookcase. At some point I bumped into the bookcase and the book fell down, behind the bookcase, between the bookcase and the wall.<br />
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Well, the bookcase was large and heavy and kind of jammed into a corner. I couldn’t reach around the side and it was too tall for me to reach down from the top.<br />
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So the book was kind of <i>lost </i>back there just a few feet out of reach.<br />
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When I did <a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/let-it-go-forget-about-it-try-smiling.html">spring cleaning last week</a> and moved everything out and around I was finally able to move the big bookcase and get my Messiaen book. So I’ve washed off the dust and cobwebs and here it is:</span></div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KQSu1BpipYJdHD-wteuc29gLUdsOKaG0HKAqnBk4EtyFkQlExmxTe3AURozgh3pg84pgGMzKBSzX_Tud0uOhli2ClpAXaLO_KzbevpmUTWXJSPp_MlojiAlGvXdSCBh6sHZb/s1600/messiaenBook1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KQSu1BpipYJdHD-wteuc29gLUdsOKaG0HKAqnBk4EtyFkQlExmxTe3AURozgh3pg84pgGMzKBSzX_Tud0uOhli2ClpAXaLO_KzbevpmUTWXJSPp_MlojiAlGvXdSCBh6sHZb/s400/messiaenBook1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s a really good book and I’m glad to have it back. I’ll be getting back into it again, slowly but surely, trying to read it more carefully. I like everything about it except one thing: The authors do not dwell on Messiaen’s approach to music theory at all. There are mentions, almost in passing, to his “modes of limited transposition.” But they seem to get into it without background as if readers will just know what is being talked about. And I am unclear, really, about what many Europeans seem to take for granted as a common understanding or common practice in general about “tonality,” which I’ve come to believe has some context encompassing key structures versus twelve-tone chromatic writing. In quoted letters people sometimes write of the tension between “destroying tonality” and “enriching” it, and they write as if the debate and its bounds and its parts are common knowledge. Maybe in academic circles it is old hat, but it is mostly unknown stuff to me. I was hoping this book would contain more details. If it does, I have to read through more carefully to find them. I’m working on it.<br />
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I’ve got a couple more things about France. And they’re both good.<br />
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My e-mail day, today, started with me getting <b>a note France</b> [!] from a French researcher who is preparing a documentary on <b>Manet</b>. She had seen the photograph of <b>Victorine Meurent</b> here at the blog and asked me if I could give her some background on the image.<br />
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The photo she’s talking about is at my post: <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2011/09/indigestion-and-indigestion.html">“Indigestion” (And A Victorine Meurent Update!)</a><br />
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On that page I include a link to the photographer’s blog where I got the photo, and a link to the British newspaper article about Meurent the photographer had quoted.<br />
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After I replied to the French researcher explaining that I didn’t have any new info except for those two links, I looked around the net for a bit to see if any blogs I’ve since stumbled across may have new info. I didn’t find new info, but I discovered something unpleasantly surprising.<br />
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<b>That photo here at my blog and at the photographer’s blog is <i>not </i>a photo of Victorine Meurent.</b><br />
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Damn it!<br />
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I’ve posted about the French photographer <b>Nadar</b>—in <a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/03/ah-that-renaissance-sunshine.html">“Ah, That Renaissance Sunshine”</a>—and I assumed if it <i>was </i>a photograph of Victorine Meurent it would have been Nadar who took it. Well, in the course of looking through Nadar photographs at the <i>J. Paul Getty Museum </i>I saw that the photograph from the photographer’s blog was actually Nadar’s wife, <b>Mme. Ernestine Nadar</b>. Here’s a link to the <a href="http://www.getty.edu/art/gettyguide/artObjectDetails?artobj=45523">J. Paul Getty Mme. Ernestine Nadar</a> page.<br />
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So, that’s sad, all this time I thought I’d seen a picture of Victorine Meurent but it was really the photographer Nadar’s wife.<br />
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Damn it!<br />
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<b>Still, I guess it’s better to know what’s real, rather than to keep believing something unreal.</b><br />
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<i>I guess.</i><br />
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*<br />
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Finally, in the course of looking around for a <i>second </i>photograph of Victorine Meurent I <i>thought </i>I remember seeing recently at a painting blog, I didn’t track down a second photograph, but I stumbled across a remarkable essay at a different painting blog, <b>an essay about Manet and his possible use of photographs himself!</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.alexiworth.com/index.htm">Alexi Worth</a> is an American artist and writer who lives on the east coast. Worth wrote a very interesting essay about Manet and photographs:<br />
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<a href="http://www.alexiworth.com/writings/writing_html/The%20Lost%20Photographs%20of%20Edouard%20Manet.htm">The Lost Photographs of Edouard Manet</a>, by Alexi Worth. The subtitle is: <i>Why did the young Manet choose an unusual kind of lighting? And why did no one notice it for 100 years?</i><br />
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It’s great stuff!<br />
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If Manet used photographs, this wouldn’t be incredibly surprising. Even though the Impressionists themselves didn’t speak a lot directly about their use of photography, from journals and correspondence of people close to them it has become clear that photography was a very happening topic in that era. Degas, of course, did photography himself and often based his own images on the croppings and angles more or less common to photographs which had been, up till then, almost unknown in paintings. And even Manet has been directly mentioned in letters as using photographs to help achieve likeness of individuals within some of his large group scenes.<br />
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But there is speculation that Manet’s famous “front lighting” and his extreme approach to lights and darks while minimizing halftones may be a more direct response to the look of photographic imagery.<br />
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This is certainly an interesting thought. And, to be honest, once you think it and then review Manet’s paintings, it is almost one of those things that seems something like bluntly visually obvious. That doesn’t make it true, of course—I mean that Manet made extensive use of photographs or that the (then) very popular “look” of photographs had an influence on Manet’s approach to highlights and darks—however it is certainly something worth giving a great deal more thought to.<br />
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At least for me. But hardly a day goes by, for me, when I don’t struggle with issues around the focus of photography versus drawing/painting.<br />
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<b>I’d <i>just </i>written a post about it <i>the day before </i>I found the Manet essay:</b> <a href="http://www.impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2013/04/saturn-in-libra-in-our-night-sky.html">Saturn In Libra In Our Night Sky</a><br />
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I can’t tell you how much thought I’m going to give this business of Manet’s possible use of photographs. I was already interested in the topic of Impressionists and photography, and this just brings the topic to center stage.<br />
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*<br />
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So that’s some of what’s been going on <i>here </i>today.<br />
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Music stuff and painting stuff and photography stuff.<br />
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<a href="http://impossiblekisses.blogspot.com/2012/11/somewhere-between-chicago-and-paris.html">Somewhere Between Chicago And Paris</a><br />
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Here.<br />
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<i>Somewhere </i>between Chicago and Paris.<br />
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<i>Somewhere </i>between the nineteenth and twenty-first centuries.<br />
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Assuming distance is real. Assuming time is real.<br />
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Possibly I should just say “here” and leave it at that.<br />
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I mean, rather than think “here” is, in fact, <i>between </i>“this place” and any other place or “this time” and any other time.<br />
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277564562398563302noreply@blogger.com0