Tales of the Islander

Got to feel it all/No time for sleep/No time at all...

The paintings of Walter Anderson, especially The Cottage Murals, inspired this beautiful song by Caroline Herring. Caroline gave a stunning performance on A Prairie Home Companion last Saturday night. As she sang, all I could think of was the ongoing BP-Gulf disaster (you'll see why). The David Byrne-directed video is terrific & interspersed with more Anderson images & information about him, a true eccentric & treasure. A huge part of me is relieved that he's not here to see this, it would surely kill him. Update two minutes later--the Gulf disaster; I doubt the video would kill him.

I hope you will visit your favorite music site & download Caroline's music. Here's her website; the songs change two at a time so you can sample them. If you need further recommendation, Julie is a huge fan & cat-gallops to the source upon hearing the opening of Tales of the Islander. (She really does.)

PS: There's some sort of trouble with the YouTube video--I dis-enabled cookies & now it doesn't seem to want to play. Pls click through to the link to Caroline's website. It's really worth it.

[Horn Island by Walter Anderson via Smithsonian American Art Museum; roseate spoonbills in flight by Kerri Oddeni via From the Bay to the Bayou; Caroline Herring by Jeffrey Fasano (on CH website)]

Love & Fury

Here are some sisters...in no particular order.

From an article in the Telegraph; this latter part cracked me up (which I need because at the moment, growl...):

"... But for many sisters competitiveness and a loving rage is what binds them. In her biography of the writer Rebecca West, Victoria Glendinning tells the story of going to lunch with West and her sister, the surgeon Dr Letitia Fairfield.

It was 1975 and West was in her eighties. Her sister, aged 90, did most of the talking, while West fell into "the well-rehearsed role of recalcitrant younger sister... sighing loudly, casting her eyes up to heaven, looking at a nonexistent watch on her wrist, while her sister's voice winds on".

The sisters boasted and squabbled about their aristocratic connections, "calling each other 'dear' with emphatic frequency". The moment Fairfield left the room, West remarked: "Now you see. She's always been like this. I've had to listen to her all my life."

Which, as sisters don't tend to gush about each other, is really as close as one could get to a declaration of the love and fury that is so often the hallmark of the sibling bond.

[Vanessa Redgrave & Lynn Redgrave; Suzy Parker & Dorian Leigh via LIFE Archives; Catherine Deneuve & Françoise Dorléac via radiofrance.fr]

One Too Many Mornings

Happy Birthday, Bob Dylan, you cranky cuss. I was slow off the mark (again!) & La Clever Pup beat me to it. Here's her post Not Dark Yet.

The image here is via BabyBlueOnline. The longish quote because the painter deserves credit (though only the painter's sibling is named. Hmmm.).

"One of our regulars here at the cafe, Dabney Oakley, has sent us a painting done by his sister in 1964. The story is that a "'Bob Zimmerman' was visiting a friend at Randolph-Macon Womans College in Lynchburg. Not looking like the usual prepsters from Hampden-Sydney, Washington & Lee, or UVa, he was asked to 'sit' for a 'Studio Portrait Class.' The portrait shown was done by my sister. I'm sure there are others 'out there,' too."

Would love to know more about those paintings (that college isn't far from here & friends teach/have taught there). Alas, one more cup of coffee is needed on this new morning. (OK, I'll stop.) Still, hey painter lady--get in touch.

Some years ago I attended a Dylan birthday party (no, he wasn't there). My then-newish boyfriend looked at me in muted horror (it's possible, believe me. He was a diplomat's son from a Byzantine culture - well, that's redundant. Levantine with the Byzantine diplomatic background overlay.) I assured him the tiny harmonicas thrust at us upon arrival were party favors, nothing more. He parked himself in a corner with Dylan (the Resident Cat) & fiddled around with the plastic. An hour later, he played something (don't remember what). Not bad though, not bad at all.

Week's End - Seaside

Oh, I was going to write such cheeky nonsense. But it was very hot today, the ride home on Metro unpleasant. A visit to a large garden, on the tidal Potomac, was lovely. The climbers & shrub roses were stunning; very cottage garden, Gertrude Jekyll-y (everything can be an adjective when one is this tired), unpretentious, clotted cream dense, & blown-out. If I weren't such a good girl, I might have pinched one. People were there for a wedding rehearsal; we didn't go near them as I was afraid I'd yell out: Don't do it!

This morning, I downloaded four ocean-wave-seagull-iTune thingies. I'm off to lie in front of a fan with the feline, fall off thinking of Chincoteague, the Outer Banks, or generous Giampaolo Macorig's Mediterranean seascape with the long view perspective. I'm trying to attain one of those, as well.

Have a dreamy weekend.

Sleep On It

On a search though it won't be these...& the poem &/or essay is not about safety railings & crib recalls.

A friend (who never comments here) sent an e-mail memo detailing what is wrong with the blog...ahem. She meant well but a bit of advice: if someone hasn't asked for your opinion about a painting, a poem, a song, your new hat, your latest wacky outfit, etc...stifle yourself. I know that's supposed to be a bad thing, but I don't think so. People have blogs for different reasons. I've been quite clear about mine. (And I am looking for a new bed frame, so this is fun. A lot of white rooms but I'm not feeling that tonight. Next week.)

Off to gardens tomorrow with Maria Caterina di Perugia. The only thing is, I find very few lovely straight (single) men go to these gardens. Well, it'll keep my mind on the David Austin rose collection. (Sob.)

[photographs via here, here, here, & here]

Verba volant, scripta manent

Words fly away, writing remains.

(One of several ways to translate, don't argue, I'm not up to it today. Truly.) Latin Phrases link for amusement. [photograph by Phil Bray]

Egrets

All types of egrets--I love them & associate them with Chincoteague/Assateague*. Here's a link to Birds of Assateague. That's where the little ponies hang out...you might remember Misty of Chincoteague. The link has some terrific videos of the scenery, birds, & sea. You just haven't lived, I think, unless you see the wild ponies running on the beach. My favorite place on the East Coast, perhaps in the States (outside of a few cities/towns). Unfortunately, it has been invaded by something worse & more obnoxious than kudzu. More on that another day...not in the mood to be sued.

*This barrier island, along with nearby islands and lagoons, is important for migrating birds. It's a World Biosphere Reserve of the United Nations because of its great ecological value.

[real bird photo via Birds of Assateague; girl-egret via bomehian punk tumblr; coincidentally also the tumblr for today's automatism post (right sidebar)]

Lunatic on Bulbs

Well, that's what she said. (Emily Dickinson). I'm preoccupied with gardens, the lack of one, & so on lately/always. Tiger lilies mean something to me (& to Miss D), these illustrations were in a folder, & I finally read this NYTimes article Emily Dickinson's Garden at the New York Botanical Gardens. It's on through 12 June. G'night.

[botanical image via Ray Allen's wildflowergardening.wordpress.com; second image Flora's Feast, a Masque of Flowers by British illustrator Walter Crane; third, guess who?]

Top Hat

It's raining, the world is a mess (gee, thanks BP for making it so much worse), but I'm resisting one of my gloomy, moody umbrella photographs. Because of the now-dead-in-the-water "Top Hat" idea to contain the spill in the Gulf, I keep humming the song. From the Fred & Ginger movie. Which is massively irritating & ruining a re-viewing. Fume.

If you missed SNL's cold opening about LLPOF* BP's list o' let's try-it-maybe-it'll work, you should take a peek. The Dolphins with Mops idea -- it will take some time to find a suitable photograph. I'll stick with the stuff I'm writing off-line. But if I could draw...[photographs via brittanica.com & doctormacro.com]

*As in liar, liar + trousers a-lit, smokin', flaming, spontaneously combusting, etc.

Week's End - Mirage/Mirare

Some additional The English Patient stills (by brilliant Phil Bray). I've used them to help with some research/writing prompts & as I'm metaphorically stuck in the desert/Middle East (& Italy), they continue to resonate. The shots in the Cairo apartment were not done there but I could swear they were shot in the Garden City quarter. Those maniacal production artists.

By the way, I recently read the late (so sad) Anthony Minghella's award-winning screenplay & it is well worth buying for any would-be adapters, fans of the film & novel. You'll find that many things you think are in the novel are not - they're in the screenplay; since it didn't bother Michael Ondaatje, it sure doesn't bother me. I am sorry there aren't more stills available of the Hana/Kip story thread; I have some in folders, but that can wait. I'm beyond indulging myself here. [many images from www.availableimages.com/movies/1996/english-patient-the/pictures; other credits, from here. But everything really comes down to Phil Bray.]

Have a great weekend.

Rose Clothes

[Nina Leen/LIFE archives]

Roses in May

I have to live vicariously through a friend redoing a garden (or rescuing it). She didn't know David Austin roses & so I gave her my catalogue which she has devoured.* Just spoke with her & she's chosen a lovely climber, Abraham Darby. It will work here in our annoying climate. These photographs are from the D.A. US 2010 catalogue. Here's the link to order one. Many years ago a British friend introduced me to them...when you had to order from the UK. No longer, yay.

*She's ordered a new catalogue & will give it to me; I need it, along with a decent fan/& or heater, to get to sleep. It's my bedtime book.

Leonor in Black & White

That is, painter Leonor Fini (1907-1996) born in Argentina, raised in Trieste, & lived in Paris. Her traumatic early life as a pawn of warring parents on different continents couldn't have helped, surely hurt this person. What makes me laugh is that though considered a Surrealist, ah non, she refused the 'honor'. But of course, that didn't annoy the Surrealists. Her personal wild style apparently rivaled only Dali. Now that, might interest some of you. (I'm not a big Wikipedia fan but this page seems fairly good.)

No time, nor energy to write something as The Clever Pup [right sidebar] surely would, but I want to post the photographs before some wild thunderstorm arrives. Here is an excellent summation from the Leonor Fini page on Lenin Imports. The photographs are via the LIFE Archives (John Phillips, 1947) & Museo Revoltella. On that site, there are pages for a Fini exhibit in 2009 . Also an interview (in Italian). The third photograph reminds me of an old Bedouin in North Africa. Not sure if that was what she was going for, but it seems so. But I'm in that desert-frame-of-mind. So.

Oh, yes, Leonor also loved cats but possibly took this too far.

Towards the Oasis

Camels on parade. Here's the story (& eight additional photographs) about the Master of Miniatures, Nikolai Aldunin on My Modern Met.

Blonde with Black Umbrella

I saw this* the other day & it keeps popping out of pix files. If I post it for Tina, Our Lady of the Pink Gloves, Black Cats, Eden climbing roses & much else at The English Muse, it'll leave stay where it belongs & send her good cheer at the same time. Buona fortuna, Tina.

Update: I'm so very sorry to report that Tina's beloved father, John Daunt, passed away on Wednesday, 19 May 2010.

[*Tina has an excellent copy but I cannot locate it quickly on any of her blogs. To avoid an unnecessary nervous breakdown, it appears via way-too-many-places w/out attribution via we heart it. Got that?]

Nick, the Sicilian Druid - 2 Kids & a Dog

Do you want to laugh?

I had other plans but they're grim compared to 2 Kids and a Dog's latest episode. Watch as Nick & his father-in-law have a misunderstanding (perhaps abetted (?) by Alexia) about, let's call it provenance. I've not asked Alexia yet if I can embed the video, so please do click. They are a funny, funny family. On further thought, this is more on the fly than usual, start with May's first web episode (all very short), so you can follow this hybrid Highlander-Sicilian-Roman family in their quest to honor Alexia's heritage. (Her father wrote a book about his family history from Scotland to Virginia. Alexia grew up near where I live now.)

Now I have to go get ready for a Frenchie & fils visit.

Update early evening: Farewell, Lena.

[I've no time to be clever about photographs. It's Fred Astaire's birthday & for possible post on Funny Face I had this in a folder. Therefore, via Audrey1.org: Fred & Audrey feeling silly.]

Garden Party Hats

Not everyone finds it easy (or even possible) to choose a suitable parental day celebration card. This is not because there's an overabundance to choose from. Think about it before you send email & the like to friends whose mothers (&/or fathers) you know to be, uh, not nice. I like the photograph because I've been looking at hats & it reminds me of some personal family photos from the 1950s & 1960s. Especially hats & grabbing a flower just before the white shutter noise started. That merciful noise that made some people straighten up, shut up, & otherwise behave, if even for a few moments. On that cheery note, have a peaceful day (really).

Week's End - Docking & Mooring

I just lost an argument with a cat & feel ridiculous. (I could almost blast off like a rocket--so it really is about evil news abroad in the world. Julie & I see eye to eye on politics--that's a condition for living in this apartment. Otherwise, she'd kick me out.) Having returned from a lovely outing, I was going to post on it. But someone is not cooperating.

I have a new hat (a gift! I am a hat person) & coral geraniums for my window box. I'll have someone take a photograph over the weekend; perhaps with me in it (the hat, not the geraniums--I can't wear coral though I do love it). Part of me would rather walk across hot coals than post a clear photograph. Too many taken in a lifetime can make one camera-shy...I wouldn't have thought it. (No, I didn't ask Julie to take a photograph; merely asked her to sit still for two seconds (!) as part of a genius somewhat-still life. Have a great Friday/Saturday wherever you find yourself. [Rings bokeh by talented & generous Olga]

Outbound Plane

I don't wanna be standin' here/Don't wanna be talkin' here/And I don't really care who's to blame/'Cause if love won't fly on it's own/Free will/It's gonna catch that outbound plane.-Nanci Griffith & Tom Russell

I have to cool things down from last night. Do a search for "oasis" & most of what pops up quickly are those copycat, feuding Gallagher brothers. New-to-me-scanner/printer soon. Meanwhile...I wish I had my own environmentally-selfish plane this afternoon. This is via myvintagevogue, a terrific site. See you later.

The Sheltering Sky

I was on the edge of a dust storm today (as here), just the edge; but enough to make one wonder "Why do you do these things? Why?!" Helping unpack & cull fabulous-to-good baskets from Darfur, Sudan, destined for sale here in the States. (The poor uh-oh baskets--we're thinking of what/how to salvage.)

The travel time for these boxes of baskets...what a journey. A new intern, "I think these boxes are older than me!" I think so, too. We had the Sahel all over us, the dust & grime. I said, "Look? Ugh" "I prefer to not think of it," she said in a funny voice. Naturally, I began thinking of the provenance of every piece of grit.

A nice bit of serendipity--Tina Tarnoff, fantastic artist & author of Thought Patterns has a post on tarting up a steamer trunk. (I have had one in my bedroom since I was very little & am enthused by the possibilities. This enthusiasm may wane. We shall see.) Tina & her husband were inspired to acquire & do something with a steamer trunk after they watched The Sheltering Sky, the adaptation of the Paul Bowles novel. And so I take that title for the post or else it will just be titled Desert Grime. Or something worse.

I just realized, yes only now, that I was unpacking things-that-were-shipped from a far away land. Camels were involved. Yep.

Thanks to everyone for their comments here, on Facebook, & in email about Giulia Geranium's birthday. The cat herself remains unimpressed by me & my machinations on her behalf. She is very interested in the basket I brought home tonight, though. After all, she descends from North African desert lands....as do all domesticated felines (anywhere in the world...how weird is that?).

Thursday update: Here's an interesting post called Writing Morocco from Peony Moon blog (gorgeous photographs).

[photographs by Tim Navis (via Sebastian tumblr), Fady Habib (via Beauty in Everything) & the sea is from Noa's tumblr (inactive) all via we heart it]

Geranium Kiss

The kings of Tyrus with their convict list/Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss- B. Dylan

The top image is by Hazel Smith of The Clever Pup & The Plum Plum. She generously whipped it up at the last moment for Giulia Geranium's 2009 blog anniversary. I've been caught up short again this year & thank her for allowing me to use it.

Always loved the image from Bob Dylan's Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands...& somehow it reminded me of the other photographs. These young women are searching for their perfect geranium mouth. I know that cosmetics were in short supply during & at WWII's end, but what a weird (& funny) way to choose a lipstick. From Nina Leen's wonderful 1945 shoot for LIFE.

I'm too tired to whip up & fold in the kings of Tyrus to the mix. Just enjoy musing on it, if you like.

Mille grazie, Hazel.

Summer Sandals

These are nearly identical to beloved sandals I had for about 18 years. Up & down countless steps & hills, deserts & cities, seashores & villages. Pulling out of a Metro station two days ago, I saw a woman wearing-- my sandals! (Or close.) Where, where? Did you get them? OK, I thought-yelled it. I do not believe they exist in this world--now--for less than $500 dollars. I don't remember where I bought them (a dust storm was kicking up), but they were in a half-smashed cardboard box. I searched for a left & then a right, paid, & left wearing them, running from that storm. So many people asked me about those sandals. They served me well. Until one day, a cobbler said Not even I, Signorina, can mend these. You must say good-bye. I know it is hard. Much history, yes? Only enough to break your heart. The kind that breaks your heart. [photograph by Nina Leen, LIFE Archives]

Week's End - Floralia/Country Girl

Mother of flowers, Flora, present be, / We raise the chant midst jocund games to thee. / Begun in April, unto May deferred, / For both are thine, the jocund song is heard/Upon the confines of both months we stand/Embellished with the bounties of thy hand.--Ovid (sexy devil)

Update: I'm editing the mess that was this post. Enjoy the images. (Saturday, 3 July 2010)