Monday, June 29, 2009

Sunday in the Park with George or Answer to First Impressions # 5


The George famous for 1,000 points of light is Georges Seurat, not George Bush.

Born 1859, Georges-Pierre Seurat didn’t even make it to the age of 32. In his short career, this French painter and draughtsman produced highly sophisticated drawings and invented the technique of painting known as pointillism. He was the leading figure in the Neo-Impressionism movement.

Seurat was interested in science as well as art, especially scientific colour theory. His aim in his paintings was to separate each colour into its component parts – this process is called Divisionism. Instead of using his palette to mix colours, he allowed them to be blended optically and in order to do this, each colour had to be applied in a small dot of pigment.

Born into a wealthy Parisian family (aren’t they all?) Georges attended the École des Beaux-Arts in 1878 and 1879. After a year of military service, he spent the next two years devoting himself to mastering the art of black and white drawing.

His first major painting, a huge canvas titled Bathers at Asnières (1883) was rejected by the Paris Salon. Seurat then shunned the Salon, instead allying himself with the independent artists of Paris.


Seurat's most celebrated demonstration of pointillism, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, was started in 1884 and finished two years later.
Seurat lived secretly with a young model, Madeleine Knobloch, (Garlic, in German) whom he portrayed in his painting Jeune Femme se Poudrant. In February 1890 she gave birth to his son. It was not until two days before his death that Seurat introduced his young family to his parents.


The cause of Seurat’s death is uncertain. His last ambitious work, The Circus,was left unfinished.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Polly's Self-Portrait Wall


I'm in here somewhere. A little too glamourous and a little too purple but my mother knew me right away saying, "You've managed to capture your fierce mouth"...

Mother's, eh?

Please visit Polly's site Paint-Paint-Paint to view the other particpant's excellent work. And if you can't guess which one's supposed to be me, you can find the answer to that too.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Feliz cumpleaños a mí !


For my b-day my husband, son, brother and I went to Julie's Cuban Restaurant; a really vibrant place.

It was my second time there. Food was as interesting and great-tasting as the first time. We forgot the camera but desert was a margarita cheese cake (that tasted just like condensed milk) topped with a sparkler.

I'm inspired learn about Cuban food. www.juliescuban.com/index.

Blackstone, The World's Master Magician


Here is the cool poster my brother gave me for my birthday. Mine does not have the floating sheep water mark!
Thanks Big Brother!

Friday, June 26, 2009

June 26 - Birthdays


1817 – Branwell Bronte, British painter and poet (d. 1848)
1819 – Abner Doubleday, American Major General (d. 1893)
1824 – Lord Kelvin, Irish-born physicist (d. 1907)
1854 – Robert Laird Borden, Canadian politician (d. 1937)
1865 – Bernard Berenson, American art historian (d. 1959)
1866 – George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon, English financier of Egyptian excavations (d. 1923)
1892 – Pearl S. Buck, American writer, Nobel laureate (d. 1973)
1898 – Willy Messerschmitt, German aircraft designer (d. 1978)
1904 – Peter Lorre, Hungarian-born actor (d. 1964)
1908 – Salvador Allende, Former President of Chile (1970-1973) (d. 1973)
1909 – Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis Presley's manager (d. 1997)
1911 – Babe Didrikson Zaharias, American athlete (d. 1956)
1914 – Laurie Lee, British writer (d. 1997)
1929 – Milton Glaser, American Designer
1940 – Billy Davis, Jr., American singer (The Fifth Dimension)
1943 – Georgie Fame, British singer
1955 – Mick Jones, British guitarist (The Clash, Big Audio Dynamite)
1956 – Chris Isaak, American singer
1959 – Mark McKinney, Canadian actor
1962 - Me!

Photo: cardsunlimited.com
Thanks Wiki for the list.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

First Impressions 5 - Name The Artist


This French Neo-Impressionist developed a new technique of painting. He was interested in scientific colour theory. He didn't mix much colour on the palette; his colours blended optically.

Who is this creator of truly scintillating masterpieces?

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

I Have a Gumbie KAT in Mind...


I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots.
All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat;
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
And when all the family's in bed and asleep,
She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep.
She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice--
Their behaviour's not good and their manners not nice;
So when she has got them lined up on the matting,
She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots.
All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet,
She is sure it is due to irregular diet;
And believing that nothing is done without trying,
She sets right to work with her baking and frying.
She makes them a mouse--cake of bread and dried peas,
And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots.
She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that's smooth and flat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment
To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment.
So she's formed, from that lot of disorderly louts,
A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts,
With a purpose in life and a good deed to do--
And she's even created a Beetles' Tattoo.

So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers--
On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.


T.S. Eliot


HAPPY BIRTHDAY POETIKAT!

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder







First 3 images: www.ecodigerati.com
Third: Van Gogh, Glass Of Absinthe And A Carafe
Fourth: Degas, The Absinthe Drinker

Sunday, June 21, 2009

What Fools These Mortals Be


I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 2. Scene 1

Happy Summer everyone!

Things From Your Life


“Décor” and the conception of “interior design” have spread so widely, that very often people forget their instinct for the things they really want to keep around them.

Recently we found a great book written by architect Christopher Alexander which will probably fill the role of my decorating bible.

A Pattern Language is the second in a series of books by Christopher Alexander which describe an entirely new attitude (circa 1977) to architecture and planning.

In A Pattern Language, Alexander has a series of 253 mini-chapters or patterns, describing the macro to the micro. From topics as large as the distribution of towns to topics as small as the width of space between paving stones.

Every time I dip into this book I find myself agreeing totally with what Alexander has to offer. Austria’s Hundertwasser affects me in the same way. Alexander’s a bit dictatorial in his approach - it reminds me of when I was 7 or 8 – I used to create crazy lists and edicts. “All bathing suits should be green”, “All lipstick should be coral.” Anyway, I think Christopher Alexander’s thought about it a bit more than my childhood self.

Here’s some of the wisdom taken from the last chapter of his book, Things From Your Life. See if you agree or disagree.

“From the owner’s point of view, it is obvious that the things around you should be the things that mean the most to you, which have the power to play a part in the continuous process of self- transformation, which is your life. That much is clear.

But this function has been eroded, gradually, in modern times because people have begun to look outward, to others, and over their shoulders, at the people who are coming to visit them, and have replaced their natural and instinctive decorations with the things which they believe will please and impress their visitors. This is the motive behind all the interior design and décor in (women’s) magazines. All designers play on these anxieties by making total designs, telling people they have no right to move anything, paint the walls, or add a plant because they are not party to the mysteries of Good Design.

But the irony is, that the visitors that come into a room don’t want this nonsense any more than the people who live there. It is far more fascinating to come into a room which is the living expression of a person, or a group of people, so that you can see their lives, their histories, their inclinations, displayed in manifest form around the walls, in the furniture, on the shelves…the artificial scene-making of “modern décor” is totally bankrupt…

…Examples we know: A motel run by a Frenchman, mementos of the Resistance all around the lounge, the letter from Charles de Gaulle. An outdoor market on the highway, where the proprietor has mounted his collection of old bottles, all shapes and colours; some of them are down for cleaning; there is an especially beautiful one up at the counter by the cash register. An anarchist runs the hot-dog stand, he plasters the walls with literature, proclamations, manifestos against the State.

A hunting glove, a blind man’s cane, the collar of a favourite dog, a panel of pressed flowers from the time when we were children, oval pictures of grandma, a candlestick, the dust from a volcano carefully kept in a bottle…”

Christopher Alexander ends by saying,

“Do not be tricked into believing that modern décor must be slick or psychedelic, or “natural” or “modern art” or “plants” or anything else that current taste-makers claim. It is most beautiful when it comes straight from your life – the things you care for, the things that tell your story.”

If you stayed with me to the end, what do you feel about what Christopher Alexander has to say? I find something true every time I open this book, but I feel he’s preaching to the converted.

Alexander, Christopher, A Pattern Language: Towns-Buildings-Construction. Oxford University Press, New York, 1977.

The Muse That Blew the Fuse



Back in the 80s when I used to visit the Art Gallery of Ontario, one of my favourite paintings to see was the Marchesa Casati; a fiery red head with a smoldering gaze. Painted by Augustus John, the Marchesa was largely a mystery to me. This was in the pre-internet days.

Fast forward to the early 90s and the day when I took my love to see my favourite painting. It was gone. I was momentarily deflated but the intelligent people at the AGO had launched a retrospective on the Marchesa Casati that very week and just a few feet away was all the information I could absorb about the naughty lady in her negligee.

The Marchesa was born into a rich Italian family in 1881. The early deaths of her parents made Luisa and her elder sister the wealthiest heiresses in Italy and then she into married an equally rich family. She was a women born ahead of her time who probably never should have married. Predictably, when the shackles of marriage had begun to frustrate her, Luisa began an affair - with poet and dramatist Gabriele D’Annunzio as her subject.

She began to live an extravagant and eccentric lifestyle, living separately from her husband and throwing the most elaborate parties money could buy. This society girl of the early 1900s became the most notorious celebrity of her circle. She was as free and bohemian as a 21st Century party girl; except she was very rich. Gilded nude servants waited at her table. She wore live snakes as jewelry and walked through Paris with cheetahs on diamond studded leashes.

She became the muse of many painters and photographers, leaving many lovers in her wake. Augustus John, painter of the portrait I was so enamoured with, was one of them. He is credited with saying, “Luisa Casati should be shot, stuffed and displayed in a glass case."

Besides Augustus John, Luisa Casati was painted by Giovanni Boldini, Kees Van Dongen, Romaine Brooks; sculpted by Giacomo Balla, and Jacob Epstein; and photographed by Man Ray and Cecil Beaton. More than 130 images of her would be completed before she became destitute.

She had an amazing rose-coloured marble palazzo that lay just outside Paris featuring a a private art gallery where she herself was the star attraction. At the her Villa San Michele on the Isle of Capri, she partied with the likes of Jean Cocteau, Serge Diaghilev, and the Art Deco painter, Tamara de Lempicka.

At one of her later and more extravagant parties she wore a costume covered with electric lights. She blew the fuses.

Though the masquerades and the commissions seemed endless, Luisa's fortunes were not. Little by little her money ran out. By 1930, Casati had amassed a debt of twenty-five million U.S. dollars. She ended her days in London where she was rumoured to be seen rummaging in bins searching for feathers to decorate her hair She died in 1957 in her London bed-sit.

Several years ago, Augustus John's 1919 painting of Casati was voted the most popular work in the Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto. My husband found a poster of the beloved picture in a bin for $2.00. $200 worth of framing later the picture hangs in my hall.

I bought the book Infinite Variety: The Life and Legend of the Marchesa, by by Scot D. Ryersson and Michael Orlando Yaccarino when it first came out in 1999. If I’ve piqued your interest, the book is well worth getting your hands on. Ryersson and Yaccarino also have an incredibly lush and detailed website dedicated to their favourite subject. http://www.marchesacasati.com

Decadence and Decay - Mary Gomez Cueto


A Canadian-born women who witnessed the Cuban revolution died just days away from her 109th birthday in the crumbling Havana mansion where she watched history unfold.

Mary Conception McCarthy Gomez Cueto was born on April 27, 1900, to a prosperous Irish-Catholic family not far from the bustling harbour of St. John’s, Newfoundland. The McCarthys were at the centre of St. John’s cultural circles. Mary’s uncle was the accompanist for silent films and Mary herself was often cast as the ingénue in local theatre productions.

Sufficiently talented for her well-to-do family to send her to study at the Boston Conservatory of Music, the tall, blonde and sultry Mary attracted the attention of the wealthy Spaniard Pedro Gomez Cueto. They married and after a seven-month European honeymoon they set up house in Havana where Pedro had business interests. Behind the filigreed gate of Villa Mary Mary could be found in a sumptuous white mansion of marble floors, neo-classic sculpture and Napoleon III furniture. A coterie of peacocks roamed about in a garden of palm and mangoes in the pre-revolutionary millionaire’s paradise of Cuba.

While Pedro made his fortune with properties and a lucrative boot-making enterprise (he made boots for the American military during WWII), Mary helped found the Havana Philharmonic Orchestra and, perhaps because she was childless, an orphanage.

Mary knew the cultural elite in Havana’s headiest days of Batista. Frank Sinatra was a neighbour.

After Pedro died in 1950 Mary remained in Havana running his business. She did not remarry and wished to be buried at his side. Fidel Castro’s 1959 revolution nationalized their boot factory and Pedro’s other properties. Mary and other wealthy foreigners lost everything but their homes and she continued to live on in her eponymous villa despite the exodus of wealth and friends from Havana. She was deeply unimpressed when the grounds of her orphanage became part of a Soviet nuclear installation.

Mary described Castro's rise to power as the toughest time of her life and the subsequent U.S. embargo froze a small fortune Pedro had left her in a Boston bank.

Eking out a living teaching English, piano and voice, she gradually became as dilapidated as her villa with its peeling façade, boarded-up windows, overgrown garden and its decrepit Steinway. Mary herself was always wildly made-up and wore her vintage dresses whenever she came out in the evening. She never refused a party invitation. And while enjoying the round of parties she was sometimes disappointed to see younger guests leaving around midnight.

Hints of her past glory were embodied in her chauffeur who doubled as a gardener, in her peacocks who still paraded her grounds and in her antique Cadillac, with tires shipped in from Canada. However, the pearls she wore around her neck were fake. She eventually received a very modest stipend from the Cuban government, as well as the odd sum liberated from Boston.

A fall just after her 100th birthday left Mary an invalid. Her former student and godson, Elio Garcia, fussed over her, soaking her fingers in perfumed water, fixing her hair, tiara and makeup, sheathing her in satin.*

Mary was still lucid and spoke fondly of encounters with Castro and Che Guevara admitting to conflicting views about Castro and his revolution. She conceded that the illiteracy and the poverty had ended, and was glad her money had been put to good use. But she disliked communism, and was adamant that it was wrong to confiscate what belonged to her.Mary died of respiratory illness on April 3, just twenty-four days shy of her 109th birthday.

*Nicholas Köhler, McLeans.ca

The Blue Rider in the Yellow House


“You can imagine the opposite.”

Scrawled in violet neon across the yellow Italianate façade of Lenbachhaus these words make you pause and say “it doesn’t get much more opposite than that”. Inside too, Munich's Lenbach House exhibits distinct styles of art. Here advocates of Romanticism and Biedermeier share space with the proponents of the "Blaue Reiter" movement.


My son and I had been to the Paläontologisches Museum in Munich, and while that was fun, mainly from an architectural standpoint, he nixed the idea of anymore museums. Little did I know that the yellow building we had been looking out upon was The "Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus", the former villa of the "painter prince" Franz von Lenbach, The palatial house had been on my list. So I told him "Just 45 minutes."

Franz von Lenbach was a Bavarian who spent most of his career in Munich. Remembered as a portraitist, his Venetian style of painting appealed to the aristocracy and rulers of Germany. He met and befriended Otto von Bismarck in 1878. Lenbach painted the Iron Chancellor nearly one hundred times during his career. Richard Wagner, Franz Liszt, and William Gladstone were other subjects.

Lenbach’s fame gained him the title of "Malerfürst" or “Painter Prince”, and the accompanying commissions made it possible for him to build palatial house for his family and himself. Gabriel von Seidl designed his Florentine villa and the years 1887 – 1891 saw its construction on Munich’s Königsplatz. After his death, Lenbach’s house was turned into a museum.

Today Lenbachhaus owes its reputation as an internationally significant museum to its unique collection of works by the group of artists known as “Der Blaue Reiter” or "The Blue Rider". “Der Blaue Reiter” was a group of expressionist artists who established themselves in Munich in 1911 and contributed greatly to the development of abstract art. The museum contains examples of works by Wassily Kandinsky, Gabriele Münter, Franz Marc, Paul Klee, and August Macke.

Many examples of “The Blue Rider” contained within Lenbachhaus are courtesy of Gabriele Münter. Once Kandinsky´s pupil and companion she left many of their works to Lenbachhaus on the occasion of her eightieth birthday in 1957.

In addition, Lenbachhaus also offers a look at the 19th century Munich painters such as Lenbach himself, his teacher Carl Theodor von Piloty, August von Kaulbach, and Franz von Stuck.

Also on display are works by members of the Munich Secession founded in 1892, including painters such as Lovis Corinth, Max Slevogt and Fritz von Uhde. Some of the rooms have kept Lenbach’s original design and it’s staggering just how rich an artist could be. The 45 minutes I allotted myself was not enough. Next time I’ll be at my leisure and also visit the amazing gift shop and restaurant on the terrace.

Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus

http://www.lenbachhaus.de/cms/index.php?id=41&L=1

Address: Luisenstraße 33, 80333 München

Phone: (089) 233 320 00

Opening Hours: Tue. – Sun. from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., Mon. closed

A daily ticket is 12 Euros with reductions for concessions.

Happy Father's Day



“When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”
-Mark Twain


Happy Father's Day, lovey! See you soon.

Friday, June 19, 2009

All is Revealed


Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient ends with a letter from Hana to her stepmother. In it she mentions my hometown.


"I am sick of Europe, Clara. I want to come home. To your small cabin and pink rock in Georgian Bay. I will take a bus up to Parry Sound and from the mainland send a message over the shortwave radio out towards The Pancakes. And wait for you, wait to see the silhouette of you in a canoe coming to rescue me from this place we all entered, betraying you."




Ondaatje, Michael, The English Patient, Random House

Hint # 2


A painting by Group of Seven artist A.J. Casson, depicting my hometown in the 1930s, sold for $64,350 in November 2008.

Hint # 1


Bobby Orr is from my hometown.

Where in the World?


Where in the world is the Clever Pup?

The first pic is the view I get after walking 60 seconds from my mother's front door.

Second pic is an aerial view of the little berg I grew up in.

Any guesses?

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Car Sick


I’m writing this from the front seat of a bus. A coach line called Ontario Northland. I’m going back to my hometown to be with my mother.

As I sit on the bus, in the front seat (any Canadian will respect my choice to stay near the front), I’m stuck wondering about public transit.

As I alluded to in a blog from the beginning of the week, I hate car culture. It’s polluting; it perpetuates our need for oil; abetting urban sprawl - it gives the suburbs a reason for being, where driving to the store for a quart of milk is a way of life.

I never learned to drive. I was taking lessons at 17 when my father was in a horrendous crash. I never regained the nerve.

So here I am, on the bus, an alternative for the poor and very poor alike, wishing I was on a train.

My hometown is about 150 miles away from where I live in Toronto. Taking the train is a great big production, like something out of a 1940s movie. The train leaves Toronto and journeys right across Canada to Vancouver. Sounds great – Positively romantic. The thing is the train only runs 3 days a week. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. It leaves at 10:30 at night.

Because there are only 2 of these cross-country trains, the schedule can be pretty loosey-goosey. Once the train leaving Toronto was 8 hours late. The return trip can be worse. There is not waiting room or ticket booth, just a platform and a 1-800 number. One summer night it was 9 hours late. Luckily, I had a home base to wait at.

What I would love would be a train system like the Europeans have. While I realize distances are shorter there and trains are electric, I dream of going to the train station and catching the hourly train to my hometown. And if I missed the 11 o’clock I could always catch the one at 12:00 not have to wait until next Saturday.

I remember being in Munich and having to catch the commuter train to the airport. The board above my head said “S8- next train in 45 seconds”. Bah! Riiight. Sure. As if. And after two other trains efficiently sailed in and out, there was my train before the minute was up.

To get from Munich to Salzburg there is a choice of at least 6 trains per day. Some direct; some through many delightful towns and villages.

In my heart I wish that some of the billions that the Canadian and American governments spent bailing out the car industry had been spent alternatively setting down an infrastructure for good mass transit. Wonderful, non-polluting, electric trains that leave when I want them to.

To my blog friends, I’m going to be away from my email for a while. Excuse me for not getting to you right away.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The Cafeteria


In 2005 we had the great fortune of staying for a couple of nights in Vienna. On our first full day there, we walked from our pension just outside the Ring, through Vienna's lovely old city centre.

We stopped for a while and admired the trompe l'oeil ceiling in the State Library and moved on to the Kunsthistoriches Museum. I told G-pup that I would have to have a bite to eat in the museum's cafeteria before we started to look around at the art.

"Bah, cafeteria!" said G-Pup, "Let's sit here on the Ring and get a hot dog from a vendor. After all it doesn't get much better than this."

There's a picture of me somewhere trying to gag down the worst wiener (how ironic) that I'd ever had in my life. It was disgusting.

As for "not getting much better than this", the above picture is the "cafeteria" at the Kunsthistoriches Museum. I did enjoy a slice of Sachertorte there.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Big Box Bitch


I’m the first to admit that Amazon.com is like the 8th wonder of the modern world and I love poking around Home Depot, but as a society I think we have to rage against the Big Box stores. They are soul-sucking.

There are many things I hate about this continent I live in (car culture, suburbs, garbage) but today I think I’ll just bitch about shopping.

I think the draw with box stores and malls is convenience, familiarity and security. Parking is a definite benefit. But it’s not news to anybody that malls and stores like Wall-Mart suck the vitality out of the established down town areas in many a small town or city. This can be witnessed in Premium T’s post of June 11.

It can be witnessed in my home town of 5,000. Townsfolk think the arrival of the monolithic stores signify success. But never a thought is given to the vibrancy of the old main streets with their wealth of architecture and history. It used to be in my hometown you could walk for 5 minutes and be at the grocery store to pick up a loaf of bread. Now there is nothing left to do but take the car and drive out to the conglomeration of box stores, while the old main street itself could soon be housing 10-pin bowling.

It seems to me that the proliferation of big box stores is akin to the airbrushing of North America. Unique differences are gone - as if a patchwork quilt has been drained of all colour. Independent stores are going the way of the Dodo. The sameness of these tumorous outcroppings of Pottery Barns and Barnes & Nobles will certainly make clones of us all.

I feel that quality of life has given in to so-called convenience. And we should rage against it.

We’ve all had those “Aha” moments when we find a really neat second-hand book store, or funky restaurant, or a stretch of art galleries or a hidden café. Those discoveries make us pause and think “Hey, life’s pretty wonderful.” We can live like that all the time. Let’s put our money into our neighbourhoods and our neighbourhoods will pay us back with quality of life.

Some of you might think I sound ostentatious but I like to shop like a European. I have the good fortune to live in a very vibrant neighbourhood and I can go with my shopping bag up to my top road and grab cheese, fresh fruit and vegetables, coffee, meat and bring them home to stock up my little fridge. In a couple of days I'll do the same. It may sound poncy but it’s anything but. My eco-footprint is very small. I haven’t used the car. I’ve met people on the street, made some local shop keepers happy. I’ve seen posters for things happening in the neighbourhood. I’ve had the experience of hearing at least two languages different from my own.

A lot of people don’t have the luxury of such a great neighbourhood, or the surplus of time that I have. But a quick Google tells me that 80% of North Americans live in urban settings. We don’t all have to get in the car on Saturday and shop till we drop at The Gap, or H & M, or Banana Republic. We should shun Cineplexes and East Side Marios for the local Rep theatre and the Polish café around the corner.

I say shop locally; shop small; shop independent. What say you?

photo of French Market:www.franceguide.com

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Flowers at a Funeral - Question



I attended a funeral parlour last night for the visitation of my husband's aunt. We'd had a week to adjust and, as sometimes happens, the event turned into a pleasant family reunion.

I also got to see what the $100 I spent on flowers looked like. I was deeply disappointed. Truly, I could have gone to my corner grocery/flower shop and bought the same arrangement and stuck them in a glass vase for under $25.00. My question is: has anybody brought their own flowers to a funeral parlour and gone without the middle-man?

I have a feeling in the extremely polite and hygenic North American funeral system it's probably not "done".

I don't want to sound cheap, but Aunt Mary deserved more than the meager display the florists sent. For my $100 I could have made something spectacular.

Do any of my gentle readers have experience in this regard?

Sorry, I can't remember where I lifted this picture from but I assure you it was not the flower arrangement I'm bitching about.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Flapper Fashion Friday



The Sartorialist was at last weekend's Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governor's Island, N.Y. He snapped many pictures of the event and has generously allowed me to use two.

This event utterly beguiles me. The 1920's theme seems so esoteric, but I believe the event is extremely popular. Revelers put a lot of earnest thought into assembling the right Gatsby-Era get-up and many of them know how to dance to the old songs. The setting looks idyllic and the remoteness of Governor's Island from the bustle of Manhattan must make the party seem almost completely removed from the present day. One day I hope to attend.

I think this would be a great thing to do on a honeymoon. But what do I know? Remember what Groucho said about marriage?

Please check out the other photos on The Sartorialist and take a gander at my post of May 31, 2009 in which I featured Michael Arenella and his Dreamland Orchestra. He's really worth a listen.


Photos used with the permission of Scott Schuman.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Theme Thursday - Swing



You get a shiver in the dark
It's raining in the park but meantime
South of the river you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowin' Dixie double four time
You feel alright when you hear that music ring

And now you step inside but you don't see too many faces
Comin' in out of the rain you hear the jazz go down
Competition in other places
Oh but the horns they blowin' that sound
Way on down south, way on down south London town

You check out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
Mind he's strictly rhythm he doesn't wanna make it cry or sing
Yes and an old guitar is all he can afford
When he gets up under the lights to play his thing

And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the scene
He's got a daytime job, he's doin' alright
He can play the honky tonk like anything
Savin' it up for Friday night
With the Sultans... with the Sultans of Swing

And a crowd of young boys they're fooling around in the corner
Drunk and dressed in their best brown baggies and their platform soles
They don't give a damn about any trumpet playing band
It ain't what they call rock and roll
And the Sultans... yeah the Sultans play Creole

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the time bell rings
'Goodnight, now it's time to go home'
And he makes it fast with one more thing
'We are the Sultans... We are the Sultans of Swing'

Mark Knopfler/Vertigo Records

Please check out the other, more prompt, participants at Theme Thursday.

One Person's Treasure II


A manager of a Goodwill store in Toronto found two treasures in the charity shop’s overnight donation bin. Helen Zhuang knew the minute she laid her eyes on the two framed oil paintings last Fall, that she had found something special. The extraordinary paintings were framed and Zhuang found them positively luminous.

The two paintings were taken to Waddingtons Auctioneers and Appraisers for assessment and it was revealed that the two oils were by Peruvian artist Federico del Campo.

One painting shows a sunny Venetian backwater complete with gondoliers; the other, two ships moored quayside on a canal. The 16-by-23-inch oils are both signed by the artist and dated 1895. Del Campo was born in Peru in 1837. He traveled to Madrid to study art and lived mostly in Italy until his death in 1927, catering to the artistic tastes of wealthy European and North American tourists, perhaps on the “Grand Tour”.

This Tuesday, June 9th, the paintings were sold by Waddington’s to an anonymous overseas buyer via telephone. After brisk international bidding, the combined total was $159,100. (Gavel prices were $80,700 and $78,400)

"There was great competition today," said Susan Robertson, head of the International Art Department at Waddington's. "The artist (Del Campo) is well-known and we expected interest."

Congratulations to Goodwill! Proceeds from the sale of the Del Campos will support Goodwill programs to assist those facing employment barriers

There is no way to find out who donated the paintings.

Monday, June 8, 2009

One Person's Treasure ...



I found the ends of this great old cast iron bed in the trash last week. Besides turning it back into a bed, does anyone have any unique ideas for what I can do with the head and foot boards?

Right now it's propped up in the yard. I thought I could train sweetpeas on it but I'm scared it will get rusty out there.

Nora the Piano Cat





More "Nora" videos can be seen at her owners' website, www.ravenswingstudio.com/

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Found On My Camera






I left my camera out all night on the dining table and look what happened.

I'll put a trap out for them tonight. Will peanut butter and bacon be enough, I wonder.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Daisy


Polly Jackson at Paint-Paint-Paint has hosted another paint-off and posted the results on her site. Please check out the other particpant's contributions on Polly's Wall-of-Fame below and on her website.

The subject this month was this white cow named Daisy. The chubby girl above is my attempt.

Daisy Wall

Please check out Polly's website Paint-Paint-Paint to see these lovely bovines in more detail.

A D-Day Memory


An e-mail yesterday from my mum contained this D-Day reminiscence

I have been sitting on the deck all afternoon thinking about D-Day among other things. I was nearly 16 as you know. A very grown up 16. Troops had been pouring through the Medway Towns for days on their way to the coast and the dock-yard was full of war ships.

Did I ever tell you about the Sunday morning the Centurion tanks came through? We heard this huge noise and we knew it could not be a buzz bomb as they were just about finished. My Dad said "Come on" and he and I ran up to the top of the road.

These massive tanks were rumbling along the main road. You should see what they did to the road surface! I'll never forget the sight. At least they were ours and not an invading force! Most big track vehicles had been taken down on the backs of trailers but these were way too massive.

We got a lot of waves from the guys hanging out the tops. Then a few nights later, after about 10p.m., there was the non-stop drone of the planes going over. It went on for hours. And so the end began.


Mum grew up about 30 miles south-east of London, near the mouth of the Thames.

Image from www.paoyeomanry.co.uk. Thanks!!

Friday, June 5, 2009

Marseilles Dress SHABBY APPLE GUEST GIVEAWAY!!!!


Grossgrain has a giveaway for this fantastic dress. The Marseilles dress is not only hard to spell but seems to be very flattering too. Check out the link to see how you can win.Marseilles Dress SHABBY APPLE GUEST GIVEAWAY!!!!

Regency Fashion Friday





In keeping with a string of fashion-themed Friday posts I present a series of photos of Hugh Laurie dressed in the Regency costume of Mr. Palmer from the 1995 adaptation of Sense and Sensibility. The top picture reminds me strongly of a Reynolds or a Gainsborough or a portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence.

Thomas Lawrence: Henry Bougham, 1825

Here's a montage of clips from the film Sense and Sensibility, demonstrating Mr. Laurie sharpening his saturnine wit for his outing as Dr. House.