Moreau Making Waves

The Ocean On Bicycles from runrobot on Vimeo.

As long as you don't make waves, ripples, life seems easy. But that's condemning yourself to impotence and death before you are dead. Jeanne Moreau

Lovely little film, The Ocean on Bicycles: A Gray Afternoon in June via Cycle Chic - The Original from Copenhagen. Here is Roger Ebert review of Jules et Jim ( 1962), many years later (in 2004). I may burst before I get to the sea (soon). I hope to have the energy to cycle at least one loop around a wildlife refuge. I'll try. In my Breton stripes, of course. Update - click through to the vimeo site above to see a larger version of the video.

[photographs by Raymond Cauchetier, uncredited still photographer; also Douglas Kirkland]

La Grotta Azzurra

Here's an article I missed when first published in The Guardian, about a favorite writer, Shirley Hazzard, who is (or was in 2006) living part-time in Italy (again). This time on Capri. It's always been the south for her & her late genius husband, Francis Steegmuller, another favorite. For that alone--diluting the Tuscany-festish--I salute them. Hazzard's memoir Greene on Capri is compressed & in crystalline prose, as always. The photochrom travel series from the Library of Congress is lovely & public domain, so give it a visit & post some of their images if it suits. There are two images on Julie's site today from Capri, as well. A hat tip to the LOC; their blog is in the right sidebar under writers, readers.

No hat tip to the Azzurri - they couldn't stop an admittedly terrific & determined Kiwi team. Congratulations to friends in Welly. I'm making myself sick by being such a good sport. In fact, I am not very well & will be putting up a postal break soon. Cheers.

Week's End - Down By the River

The war is over & there are bathing fashion shots in 1947 France. Nina Leen for LIFE. Yes, I know what the song is about, so I'm not putting in the lyric. I still like it though--wouldn't do for me to ignore the dark side of things. Though, rather mean remarks in e-mail & non-published comments indicate, nay, insist I should. Back with cheerfulness (or something like it) later. But no pink unicorns. (If you like them, fine, I've nothing against unicorns, pink or blue...). Cheers.

Can't Find My Way Home

Steve Winwood. Someone asked me yesterday who I'd seen in concert the most times. I answered quickly, Bruce Springsteen. The first time in a union hall (yes) when I was very young. On my way home today, arriving here only due to an end-of-the-line train & muscle memory, I realized the borrowed-indefinitely-iPod (but the music is mine) was playing over & over & over Blind Faith's original version of above. SW's membership in several groups at such an early age & the fact that I went to concerts (alone if necessary) when I was quite a baby face, too, means it was Steve I saw in concert more than any other person. (Well, it matters to me. I don't know why.)

I decided to see what Steve was up to. Well, well. A new BBC Documentary & Concert was announced recently & it will be on tomorrow night. Jealous North Americans have been assured that a video stream is in the works. The excellent SW official site, & a bit blurry but good video shot by a guy at the Academy of Music in Milan in 2008. It was meant to be.

[images via www.stevewinwood.com]

Bloomsday Wedding

In your pink wool knitted dress / Before anything had smudged anything / You stood at the altar. Bloomsday--Ted Hughes

I've been writing a remembrance of the only Molly Bloom (to me), Siobhán McKenna. Difficult to edit in time, though, & I want to post a photograph. So I thought, yes, well this will do nicely--a 54-year anniversary. I don't think of it as a failed marriage, actually. Wanted to link to the Hughes poem but it is not an easy task to find one without the requisite "He killed her" business. Then we get to the matter of photographs; same unsavory stuff. There is not a photograph--or if there is I don't remember & am too lazy to look through my bookshelves. The one that stands in on many websites is actually from a Paris honeymoon, before a Spanish summer (about which Plath wrote vividly in her notebooks, including good sketches/drawings.) This chandelier looks very celebratory out there in what I think of as a meadow, edged with darker woods.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out whether or not to take Julie to the beach overnight (soon). This is a sudden & welcome question & possibility.

[chandelier by Leigh Miller Photography via we heart it ]

On the Phone - Charmed, I'm Sure

I will call, just a moment. Keep repeating to self: Go to the party, you idiot cow. What is wrong with you?" Oh, I should be kinder to self? As in, I never speak to people the way I speak to myself. Right. What could be so scary? You've done this most of your life. Why didn't I read the book beforehand? Shall not pretend to have done so. Shall remain calm in manner of Bridget...oh no, that wasn't charming. Funny, yes. Goal: no funny business (tonight). Especially no unintentional slapstick. No, you absolutely cannot go in nightgown & ballet slippers. Only maniacs, people under 20, & Julian Schnabel wear their pajamas at public events.

Oof.

[images of AH (except AH reading book) via Lia Chang's Backstage Pass blog. A new-to-me scanner/printer sits just where it did more than 2 weeks ago when a friend dropped it off. Of course it does. AH reading book by Mark Shaw; in pjs, by Alfred Eisenstaedt, both via LIFE Archives]

Red, Seeing Red, Red Room

Last evening, John Logan's play Red about artist Mark Rothko & his young assistant won the Tony Award for Best Play. Hoorah. In addition, I am seeing red about things of which I cannot speak, much less write. So. Red.

The Phillips Collection played host to actors Alfred Molina (genuis!) & Eddie Redmayne in March before the New York opening. (As did the National Gallery, but I am partial to the Phillips--where nothing bad can happen to you; it's not allowed.) Congratulations to Redmayne for his first Tony as Featured Actor in a Play.

The Washington Post article was exceptionally good, considering the downfall of the Post. There's a good image gallery & insight into Molina's (& Redmayne's) preparation. I adore Molina, so I did not have a jealous twinge that the pair had the Phillips & the famous Rothko Room to themselves. The Collection is closed on Mondays; the only day off for the actors is...Monday.

Speaking about color, Italia v Paraguay: Azzurri!

[Orange and Red on Red, 1957/The Phillips Collection, Washington, D.C. via www.beyler(dot)com; the second photograph is via The Clever Pup, who has a brief post involving John Donne...& it's funny. So you see, you must go. Alas it is not her bedroom but the image can be found here.]

Week's End - Possibilities

Some men give up their designs when they have almost reached the goal; While others, on the contrary, obtain a victory by exerting, at the last moment, more vigorous efforts than ever before.--Herodotus

Go US v. England, today at 2pm EDT. (Well, we won in 1950, I hear. I wasn't born yet.) Go Azzurri on Monday. I saw the Italians play Mexico in the 1994 World Cup quarterfinals here in Washington, DC. I still have my l'il plastic Il Tricolore. Yes, it is possible to be a romantic & love sport. I am aware of the corporate-hyena stuff, spare me. You must understand that I look at these events through the prism of my Western classical academic training. Ahem. And it is stress relief of the first order.

Speaking of stress relief...American ex-pat in Italia, Michelle Fabio of Bleeding Espresso (visit her!) posted this hilarious Daily Show clip from Thursday's show on Facebook. John Oliver is just determined to undermine the Americans on behalf of the Brits. (It's funny whether you like football/soccer - or not.)

[photograph - a rugby footballer kissing his wife (or girlfriend) by the wonderful Australian photographer Sam Hood, 1934]

Taking Off

A Great egret taking off. I'd like to grab hold & go with him. Alas, eh. I'm running late. I thought today was Thursday until late last night. If that makes any sense. Friend awaits, I'm wearing a new Liberty of London via Target top & worry that I look like an over-sized cupcake (or a chubby peacock). Here's Naomi Watts wearing it in Elle & here's the link to order if any are left. I await one more item; I ordered in early March but they've just restocked.

Update: GOAL! South Africa scored the first goal of the World Cup a few moments ago. I care, that's who. And Univision is coming in clearly, learning sports Spanish, excellent. (No cable.)
So, real stuff later. [image via Birds of Assateague.]

Hardwired for Blue

I am, that's for sure. Here are some random images with/of blue from a folder; but not the monochromes of Yves Klein, currently on exhibition in Washington, DC at the Hirshhorn. Here are two related Washington Post articles (with illustrations) about Yves Klein, his blue, & other blues. I am beyond tired...so I look at blue(s). It's not even a choice, really. I'm waiting for the crowds to clear out (ha) before I go to the exhibit.

I was going to put in links to tumblr & other image sites using blue hues...wow. Too many to check out tonight. Read up on Yves & yes, I know the top shot has a lot of violet in it.

[images backward (!): sunbrella by Olga; blue (with green) room, blue window, gull take-off, & diptych on deviant art, via we heart it.

My Baroque Brain (Breathe II)

The afternoon before I had lain across

my bed and my cat leapt up to lie

alongside me, purring and slowly

growing dozy. By this ritual I could/ clear some clutter from my baroque brain...
The Cloisters, Wm. Matthews, greatly missed.

I must have 100+ images of (North African/Levantine baroque) bedrooms but not for tonight. This is from the Verhext tumblr; marvellous San Francisco artist Tina Tarnoff of Thought Patterns has a post using images from this site. I highly recommend a visit to Pleasure.

Off to the virtual Libyan desert tomorrow for more basket magic. If only he would...hold that thought.

Breathe

I just like it, that's all. And it's an unusually cool night & I took down the curtains except for the ones like these. (Sleep mask, that's how. Or drugs. Legal! If only the ocean were this close.)

[photograph by jane flanagan, via we heart it]

That's Richard & Elizabeth to You

& me. Not Liz & Dick! Some of Richard Burton's love letters to Elizabeth Taylor are in the July 2010 Vanity Fair. This is not news, I know. I look forward to receiving my copy; yes, I take it, don't judge! (With the hideous images, descriptions of human rights abuses I have to read & gaze upon...eye candy is what I need, baby.) When there is a highly-publicized VF cover, sometimes it does not arrive in my mailbox. (Grace Kelly arrived in May, so I have hope.) Monday night update: nope not here; it's on the stands. Hmmm.

I can't believe I'm posting these but the couple loomed large when I was little. Anyway, the "Liz & Dick," "Dick & Liz" is annoying. When one is preoccupied with more important matters, small things can grate. So that's my excuse to post photographs of them. (Yes, of course it's also because Burton was Welsh.)

Very few images are attributed, oddly. Some of the black & white are by Gjon Mili in LIFE archives; the others are from The Burtons - a tumblr blog. It's fun, pay a visit. And though there's a super-mushy song playing behind it, here's a well-done, high quality YouTube tribute to E&R. Very clear & beautiful photographs, many I'd not seen before. So on a June Monday, have a little fun.

Sunday Shopping - Sailor Stripes

I hate to see people taken advantage of. Ending on a preposition & I do not care. My mother dressed me in these (& sailor collars) from about 3 weeks old - yes, I remember. Late last night, I flipped through a J. Crew catalogue; they've been pestering me with their 20% off emails (one offer ends today - I shall let it go, please read on). In one scenario, a stick-insect girl (not like egret-girl--there is a difference) dripping in frippery. Twisted behind her, a suspiciously familiar striped shirt. I thought: eh what? Only on-line. Hmmm. I just looked.

The Saint James shirt is more expensive than buying it from France (including shipping!). Mine are from France & I did not pay these amounts, so I'm cheesed off on behalf of others. Depending on the number of items purchased the weight, etc. you might be assessed customs/douane. But if you're in the market for one shirt, for heaven's sake do not buy it through J.Crew. Here's a link to Brittany-boutique. It must be the connection between Brittany & Wales. My Welsh is up. Fume.

If you want to buy a coat or several shirts, it may well do to break up your purchases. E-mail the nice guy who runs the shop. If you're in NYC or will be & just cannot wait, well go for it at Saint James boutique. Who am I to tell you that instant gratification is wrong? But I'm not linking to them (unless they buy me off with a free shirt. I'm only half-kidding. But I'd tell you, I really would.).

If you want a similarly made/designed striped shirt, go looking--they're ubiquitous. But I'm telling you, most of the fashionista sites are showing shirts over $USD85 (or made by enslaved people). A good place to look is agelessbeautyalways or go ask Sasha at Liberty London Girl for responsible & fashionable recommendations.

More important: it's the 66th anniversary of D-Day--the Normandy Invasion. If you think that's ancient history, I submit that you are out of your mind. Go stand on those beaches & imagine a cold, horrible Tuesday (it was) with all those Allied soldiers & sailors waiting to wade into that. I can barely think about it. (See? Flaming liberals have feelings.) I decided not to do posts on Giulia Geranium (here's last year's - June 6, 1945 - Only the Beginning ) or here this year. Still...

Back to work. I'll be seeing you.

(photographs via brittany-boutique (dot) com/Audrey T. from a cute site Pink Peony--to the author: props to you for discussing cruelty-free diamonds)

Week's End - Day at the Beach

This was going to be 'no day at the beach' but these are too cute, though that older one seems a bit bossy. These are not necessarily two sisters as I have older cousins & felt like a little sister quite often. However, the three younger sibsters will fill your ear about my alleged bossiness. Propriety - & a lack of time to write a clever riposte (for now) - prevents me from making my case. (I said, for now, B, E, J....mwahahaha). If they're not good, I'll scan photos on a new-to-me printer/scanner & post them. Let me think on what I shall take in return for not doing so...hmmm.... Nope, can't be bought. Ciao!

[photographs by Nina Leen, LIFE Archives]

On the Horizon

On the way here (huge storm)...but click here if you want to see a funny photograph of a friend's nephew; Ian is in the 2010 Scripps National Spelling Bee. Hilarious. That's what we've all been doing (watching on-line or at the downtown DC Hyatt). I spoke with Ian & his auntie Maria Caterina di Perugia on speakerphone just a bit ago--live from the hive (sorry, I can't help myself; it's a sickness). So far, so good. (He reminds me of Calvin - of Calvin & Hobbes!) Buona fortuna, Ian!

{Update: Ian is the third photo--the exact link did not "take."}

[Gorgeous photograph by Giampaolo Macorig who does storms better than anyone. Look at it up close. I want to live right there. Now.]

The Unruly America(i)ne

Lovely photographs from Sidi Bou Said, Hammamet, Nabeul, & other Tunisian towns. Birdcages & iron beds & neroli. That was the plan. But my blood pressure must be spiking because there's a new crack in the ceiling above my desk & I'm running late. For Mediterranean loveliness, visit calm Canadian Diane's Things We Love 2. Barcelona is the starter on the menu; sounds good to me, The Unruly America(i)ne. I feel like a Nervous Lemon. Ahem.

Two classic shots of Sidi Bou Said; the window, [looking for the wiki link]; the street, here. Off to Nabeul & Hammamet tomorrow, I guess.

Dancing in France

A well-known photograph by photojournalist Paul Almásy (1906-2003), Rock 'n' Roll sur les Quais de Paris but I want to get June on the road here. The last thing I feel like is dancing but I could be persuaded by just the right (or wrong) sort. I love the second photograph, too, so I'm including it though they're not dancing; maybe just a little break. It's about 1948 in Paris. Everyone can make up their own story.

I just noticed the third image in my folder--an atmospheric (short-hand for 'messed up':) shot of Audrey Hepburn & Fred Astaire rehearsing a dance in France. Can't resist putting it in--yes, Funny Face by Avedon via Audrey1.org.

[Here is the Almásy archive, owned by akg-images. If you just have to have a copy of Rock 'n' Roll, there are some on sale at allposters (dot) com.]

Dream Sleep

Good night from Julie the Grand Poobah's apartment. (Well, why pretend that I'm in control? I was up heating her favorite food at 5am & no, that is not usual.) I'll be off tomorrow doing all sorts of things, worthy & a bit of fun, too. But right now, I'd just like to crawl into this photograph & go to sleep. I'm not complaining, I love my terracotta-colored walls (a collaboration with an artist friend & self). Julie wants a pouf or ottoman to curl up on--so she can be more of a focus. Oh, why not? Many lovely (& some quite cheeky) blogs & sites both here & on Giulia Geranium. Good night, all.

[room interior via miss wallflower, via we heart it]

A Kiss in Times Square

I wasn't going to post today but Edith Shain (see above--she's the nurse:) will be an honored guest in The National Memorial Day Parade today. How could I resist? If you're in DC & see this, here's a link to parade info--it begins at 2pm. There will be live video (I think). Have a safe holiday (anywhere you happen to be).

Update, Later that day: Dear Anonymous Weisenheimers, I well know just what the day commemorates. NACP - No. Anonymous. Comments. Period. If you're that angry, froth elsewhere. Cheerio.

[Kiss in Times Square on V-J Day, Alfred Eisenstaedt, August 14, 1945 via LIFE Archives]

Week's End - For Daphne on the Beach

...who got away & did not turn into a laurel tree, after all.

A toe touched the tip of North Africa & I took off, ran, ran, ran along the beach,* shouting over loud waves, too loud for the Med, really, about finally getting to the continent. Possibly I was shouting in my head. Only recently 18, one would've thought I'd journeyed that long to get there. I knew it would be a long haul to get from there to the rest-of-there. Must always remind people, "Africa is a continent, the largest."

Three companions & the beach caretaker (who became a self-appointed guardian & two-week Arabic tutor), maybe they were rolling their eyes. It was the far end of dusk, so I didn't see & for once I didn't care what anyone thought about my exuberance.

*I love these photographs by Rengim Mutevellioglu. They remind me of the eastern Mediterranean shore (the top one is marked as 'Beirut' here, but not on RM's CV, nor on Kropp Creative Database). Definitely check out Rengim's portfolio - a 19-year-old Russian living in Paris.

NB: re pix & labels. I know Lebanon is not in Africa, people, but I was near Carthage & that means something to me, if no to one else. Additionally, that first NA trip coincided with the beginning of the Lebanese civil war...the story of begging an unaccountably smitten young English diplomat in Tunis to get me, g-damn it, on a plane to Beirut or Damascus is for another time. (I've possibly said too much already & have to check.) I conflate those two places because they conflated & collided simultaneously in my life & in other people's lives, many whom I'd yet to meet.

Tempest

A great storm is on the way. Exciting if, big IF, we don't lose power for a week+. Julie is causing/having a mini-tempest; off to see to HRH's latest complaint about the service. Go to the link to see the original size of this very cool photograph by Giampaolo. All those punctuation marks are birds... ciao

Here's Your Hat...

Though it sounds very Blondie (the comic strip, not Deborah Harry), I need one more (hat). It's so hot outside that I'm delaying errands until early evening (when the hail & thunder will no doubt arrive...timing is not my forté), hence the hat hunting. The b&w Nina Leen photographs were shot for fun. Perhaps that's why Suzy Parker popped the goofy number on her head. It's definitely a case of "one of these things is not like the others." (I love the blue dress.) And that's why I need one more hat; I miss my beloved messed-up (real) Panama. It's less girly when that is necessary & it has a coolness factor that I need.

Unfortunately, a few years ago, I left the hat in my mother's car. It was a somewhat contentious weekend & very hot, as well. I painted a lot of trellises, pruned a lot of roses, & whatever else was on her list. She popped out to do some errands & a pint of Ben & Jerry's was placed in the upended hat. Panama hats can withstand a lot of abuse, but a desert-battered chapeau will go to hat heaven when it becomes a Chunky Monkey Lake. I don't even like that flavor!

[I can't remember where I got the color Suzy pix but myvintagevogue has a very nice selection, so here's that link. The Panama is via Village Hat Shop (dot) com]

Bayou in Black & White

[Photograph by Rodney Smith, via SEBASTIAN]