Friday, January 27, 2006

Pipe organ building...?!


Here’s a very strange photo. Sorry I can’t provide a larger shot, but my photo links to the photo page, which in turn links to a very large full-size original — of a building, somewhere in Japan, whose façade seems to have been designed to mimic an organ!

A bit of googling gets you nowhere, because if you search for “pipe organ building” you’ll get pages about the building and construction of the musical instruments themselves. If anyone happens upon this post and has any knowledge, please let me know via comments, or my username at gmail dot com. Thanks...

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Thursday, January 26, 2006

Historical miscellany


Dropping by the excellent Things Magazine tonight, I’ve found one of the best repositories of historical maps of cities there could possibly be online. And of course, when I visited the London page, and another site linked from it, I started to think yet again about London. — Although not before I’d also looked at another recommendation which seems to be mostly maps of Swiss towns and cities.

Handy, then, that I clicked into Wikipedia’s page about London’s streams and rivers (now all fascinatingly hidden underground) — this is the real value of a site like Wikipedia. Many people call for its destruction but I can’t think of another way to get a comprehensive list and helpful links about such a subject on a single page. Can you?

To further business. We don’t often think too much about the now fragmentary and evanescent ‘street history’ of London. Mostly we think of the great fire or the menace of the Spanish Armada, but not how Moorgate got its name, or whether the new, shining walls of the corporations can measure up to those of the Romans. Nor do they think of the hidden delights like Bunhill cemetery, which I encountered before a job interview near Old Street, and in which William Blake is buried.

Which is all very strange, because in London, the modern world and the open wells of living history coexist on the streets. So next time you wander your city, do it with your eyes open.

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Friday, January 20, 2006

Cold... and snow on the wind...?


It’s a cold night, and I have been dreaming of London, and walks along Bankside past the New Globe, to get to Tate Modern. Where they will have a new gallery space this December, called Poetry and Dream. It sounds enchanting. And the above painting will be shown there.

Tate Modern in winter was dark and spacious — in winter it seemed even more spacious than it did in summer. Perhaps it was the neutral light and commanding works inside standing monolithic against the ever-changing city outside. Anyway, I only really posted this because I love this painting and it suits the night.

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Thursday, January 12, 2006

Uncledom

I just called a friend of mine and the first thing I heard when he answered was not his voice, but the half-babyish, half-boyish attempts at speaking of his nephew.

Of course, we can never remember that far back in our lives, but how wonderful it must have been to realise, in glimpses, that our parents’ noises meant something. That we could make those noises. And how adventurous and exciting to start to make them ourselves.

My niece’s first properish word (or that I heard, at least) apart from ‘mamamamamamam’ was ‘shit’. But sort of like ɕɪʔ rather than ʃɪt. The wonders of a characterful mother! ;o)

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Wednesday, January 04, 2006

New Year musings

Well, another year... we’re in the strange and wonderful interregnum between the start of 2006 and the end of Christmas. I know that when the new year glow dies down for many, they assume that’s it — the end of the holidays; time to stow presents and cards away into the usual places of everyday life; the candles don’t get lit again; perhaps the tree even gets put away early.

All of which is anathema to me. Although religion has nothing to do with it as far as I’m concerned, I still like to think I keep Christmas in the way it should be kept: a reservation of time shared with family and friends, an appreciation of the childlike magic inherent in the season as winter really starts in earnest and all the contrasts between humanity and shivering nature are on display.

I love the decorations — around this house are sprigs of holly, some gathered from our tree in the garden, some from elsewhere, and to me it brings an exciting, sharp reminder of coldness and pagan ceremonies into a warm, cosy house. The tree contains some sparkling glass decorations and painted eggshells which I remember marvelling at when I was 5 or so.

For at least a few minutes each Christmas — possibly more — I go back to being 5. This is not about holding back the return of the everyday for a little while longer; every Christmas, I simply don’t feel the return of the everyday until sometime mid-January, even when I’m back at work.

For now, this house is warm, a cold sun shines on the ice-filmed twigs in the garden, and pies and cakes bulge with dark, spicy fruits laden with fiery alcohol. Millions of children still look at their empty stocking in wonder because Santa actually touched it... why waste that? Happy New Year, everybody. :o)

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Thursday, December 22, 2005

Absences

This article says that prolonged silences on blogs are usually the result of bloggers getting disillusioned with the process, or lazy, or affecting a writerly repose. That’s not the reason for the latest silence here — and I apologise for it — which has instead been caused by a mixture of work, work, tiredness, more work, The Lord of the Rings DVD set, and most recently a week without a wireless router.

However, all of that is now solved. Today I was pointed towards an excellent blog about cooked breakfasts to be had in London, and reminded, with the arrival of a Christmas card from Jonathan, that I haven’t followed through with my cunning plan of actually writing cards to people this year and including little haiku in them. Oh well. *blush*

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Sunday, December 04, 2005

Ice wine


If you are at all excited by food and wine, the approach of Christmas, the excitement of shopping for increasingly special food and drink as this month progresses, you need to read this article in today’s Observer Magazine, in which Nigel Slater is educated by Tim Atkin:

As I bring in the long, thin mincemeat tart straight from the oven, Mr Atkin produces a glass of Riesling from the most elegant bottle I have ever seen, long and slim like a Giacometti sculpture. The contents are the colour of purest acacia honey. This is Tim's ‘navel’ wine and I see precisely what he means, though he declines my suggestion of a hands-on demonstration. He passes me a glass of garnet-red Port.

We take a mouthful of hot mince pie, followed swiftly by another of the chilled Riesling ice wine. ‘Look at the legs on that,’ says Tim, pointing out the rather beautiful pattern of streaks and dribbles trickling slowly down the sides of the glass. ‘The Germans call them “Cathedral windows”, the French call them “legs”.’ Their presence is a big clue as to the viscosity and richness of the wine. I’m listening, but it is difficult when you are eating a mouthful of food and wine that is so utterly, gloriously sublime. Soft, honeyed, sweet, hot, icy, intensely fruity and buttery — a mouthful that tastes like all your Christmases have come at once.

The wine, by the way, is this and is buyable here. You will have to make your own mincemeat and apple tart. And it will be a pleasure. Trust me.

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Friday, December 02, 2005

Of waking from dreams

A few nights ago, I went to bed feeling not exactly anxious about the morrow, but aware that I would have to uncurl myself from my warm cocoon at an obscene hour and drag myself, defenceless and half-asleep, into an alien world. The following morning, I woke of my own accord a few minutes before the sterile bleep of the alarm.

For all of you who have done the same, here’s why. Absolutely fascinating.

When the volunteers knew they would be woken at six, levels of the central stress hormone adrenocorticotropin began rising around 4:30 a.m. But subjects expecting to wake at nine and rudely awakened at six experienced no such hormonal surge. Our bodies, in other words, note the time we hope to begin our day and gradually prepare us for consciousness…

The next question to be answered is: how is it that we are able to start the process of waking ourselves up, about an hour before a set time, while we are unconscious?

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Thursday, November 24, 2005

‽


Sorry I haven’t been posting too much of late. Work, and all. Not that I haven’t wanted to — but tiredness and the desire to vegetate takes over...

So, to business. It’s snowing outside. Not heavily, and not forecast to be that heavy here either, but it is snow! And it’s also the first snow I can remember this early in the winter. So, I think it deserves a hearty “WTF?!”.

So here, for your enjoyment, are two typographical delights: the WTF ligature (which also includes ROFL for good measure), and the interrobang. (Warning: the first link isn’t suitable for work at time of posting, due to a rather yucky picture a good way down the page; hopefully the forum ops will remove it.)

Via MetaFilter.

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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Big scary clouds


Now, that is one massive big fuck-off scary cloud. Actually, if you want to get technical, it’s a supercell. Who are we to argue? I found it, via Plep (see sidebar) at the Cloud Appreciation Society (aww), and it links to the photographer’s own staggering site.

If you ever wanted to tell whether that 400-year-old document or Roman tablet you have is authentic, or just understand them better, go to this Palæography site.

“You need not say anything. You have nothing to hope from any promise or favour and nothing to fear from any threat whether or not you say anything.” The Miranda warnings of the world, at Metafilter.

And finally, and most importantly of all, BBC Radio 3 is broadcasting the complete works of J.S. Bach from the 16th of December, ending on Christmas Day. There will be quite a galaxy of performers, presenters and interviewees — and, arguably, the finest single corpus of pieces by any composer/musician, ever.

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Tuesday, November 08, 2005

A miscellany (mostly Londonish, actually)


I went on an unashamedly pleasureable surf just now to distract myself from the looming job (pah) and in the process turned up some rather fine things. The Virtual Tours of Architecture site has a basic layout but gems within. Among them are London’s Black Friar pub (which I’ve never been to and really must go before they ban smoking) and the Frank Lloyd Wright room inside the V&A.

Even if you’re not interested in astronomy, the BBC’s Sky at Night TV series, presented since time immemorial by Patrick Moore, is enchanting. Moore is always fun to watch anyway, but the most endearing thing is that the programme never pitched itself to mass appeal, so you feel you are eavesdropping on geekery. The site’s strength is that you can actually watch the episodes.

Sticking to London (it is autumn after all and I won’t be able to make Thanksgiving with Jonathan), Croydon Tramlink is the capital’s only tram network. Apart from trains and tubes, it was one of my first well-used routes when I lived in South London and had to commute to the meadows outside Mitcham each day.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec inspired licentiousness in his own time, and his work has inspired many artists since. The site concentrates on how his work and Montmartre worked off each other.

Belfast has, so far this week, felt very autumnal and raw — lots of high wind and cold wetness. Already the Christmas decorations have gone up in the local shopping-centre, and while I hate that kind of thing because it dissolves the magic of having a very concentrated celebration, this small exhibition of London Underground posters inspired by winter and Christmas is worth a look.

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Thursday, November 03, 2005

Razzle-Dazzle

God, I never thought I’d be starting a post with that title anytime soon. Boing Boing has a post about Razzle-Dazzle camouflage, used primarily in World War I battleships to confuse the enemy.

When painted with strange stripes and colours, it’s difficult for a submarine commander, for example, to tell precisely which heading the ship is on, as well as its size, outline and speed.* You can see why. The effect must have been bewildering, as this painting shows.

* This mattered because torpedoes were slow and the movement and angle of the target were crucial to a hit which would actually pierce the hull in the right place to cause magazine explosions or enough flooding to force a capsize or sinking.

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Monday, October 31, 2005

Halloween


The eve of the Feast of All Saints, early evening, and I hear fireworks going off outside. I remember standing in the back garden, in darkness, as a small child with the fiery magic of a sparkler held before me, watching as elfin friends’ faces, lit up with different-coloured fire, seemed to zoom disembodied through the air.

I never once got burned at Hallowe’en, and we never had fireworks — those have always been associated with Christmas for me — but I do remember the pumpkin — or, in our case, the turnip — hung up on the beam outside, so wicked on the night and so corpselike the next day, wizening gradually until it started to smell of decay and old candles and had to be thrown out. I remember not liking toffee apples, but loving putting our pennies, covered in candle-drippings, into a bowl of boiling water after we got back from trick-or-treat.

From Wikipedia:

Some games traditionally played at Halloween are forms of divination. In Puicíní (pronounced “pooch-eeny”), a game played in Ireland, a blindfolded person is seated in front of a table on which several saucers are placed. The saucers are shuffled and the seated person then chooses one by touch. The contents of the saucer determine the person's life for the following year. A saucer containing earth means someone known to the player will die during the next year, a saucer containing water foretells travel, a coin means new wealth, a bean means poverty, etc. In 19th-century Ireland, young women placed slugs in saucers sprinkled with flour. The wriggling of the slugs and the patterns subsequently left behind on the saucers were believed to portray the faces of the women's future spouses.

It’s all very pagan, really. The Celts believed that the new year started on the 1st of November, with the celebration of Samhain, the beginning of winter and a time when the boundaries between the living and the dead were blurred. And on this night in 1938, Orson Welles played a frightening trick on radio listeners by broadcasting his production of The War of the Worlds.

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Friday, October 28, 2005

Despair, Inc.


Now, I know I don’t usually post links to companies, but this one, selling superb reworkings of workplace ‘motivational’ posters, is inspired. And since I just got word that I’m starting another job in a fortnight, I thought it best to focus on essentials.

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Thursday, October 20, 2005

Greenland

Everything you always wanted to know about Greenland, but were too clueless to ask. Additionally — original documents all about World War 2. Come on, I can’t be the only person out there to be interested in this sort of thing. A Passion for Jazz, which contains, among other things, a really impressive interactive tool for displaying various keys, chords, modes and scales on graphical piano keys.

Night photography in the UK, which has a stupendously good opening image. All these links are from the superb Plep, which is just about the richest and most linkworthy weblog I've ever seen, and which has been added to the blogroll. However it has a glaring fault: its archive pages are white text against a horribly–coloured background so please, Plep person, if you read this... change it? Please?

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Monday, October 17, 2005

Light, wood, and angles


And you get this as a result. It’s a ‘mirror’ made of little wooden panels, lit from the top, and when someone stands in front of it the panels are tilted by a computer to produce a corresponding image. Once you think about the understanding of light and shade required to create it, rather than just the computer which operates it, it’s quite amazing.

Also, inspired by wonderful and expansive threads about classical music on Metafilter, I decided to nick a big pile of my dad’s CDs and rip them. (Remember, when ripping classical music to mp3, use LAME for encoding, and make sure that you choose the “extreme” preset to make sure that the bitrate averages about 300. If you want lossless ripping, still with some compression, but very large filesizes, use FLAC.)

And what riches I rediscovered. If blogs are your way of finding out about anything new or interesting, try reading these classical music blogs: PostClassic, Sequenza21, The Rest is Noise.

Panoramic views of the extravagantly decorated metro stations of Moscow. An utterly superb site.

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Thursday, October 13, 2005

House on the Rock


Following on from the earlier post which touched on the wild Winchester Mystery House, I was introduced (via a post on MetaFilter about said abode) to the House on the Rock, Wyoming Valley, US. It seems to be a chaotic museum with insanely large collections of everything, including some cobbled-together organ consoles with 15 manuals, etc. etc. Also, there’s an infinity room — really a huge cantilevered glass spike projecting horizontally over the treetops. Its end is the photo above.

Other things: Gothamist announces that Apple have a new iPod out, and a new iMac too. No official announcements yet, but MetaFilter links to advance photos.

Finally, again, shameless linking to other sites with no real discoveries of my own — Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony — lots of interesting resources. And for the sake of completeness, take a look at how the creaky classical industry responded to the BBC’s Beethoven download-fest earlier this year.

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Saturday, October 08, 2005

Lovely roofscapes, and more


A while ago, I was entranced by a feature in Time Out New York about rooftop homes and gardens in New York. From the old Brooklyn Daily Eagle building (where a wonderful loft apartment has been created) to Rockefeller Center above, it has photos of wonderful homes, not to mention a Japanese tea garden. Photos from ground level are also included to give some perspective on how magic these places are.

This month, New York opens its doors for the yearly NY Open House — places you usually wouldn’t be able to see can be home to your wandering feet and prying eyes. I particularly like the building of the Folk Art Museum, and the Prince George Hotel — those are in Manhattan alone.

I’m reminded of my wander around various forbidden London places in 2001. London Open House was the aider and abetter of those transgressive trips over a weekend, in which I visited the Midland Grand Hotel, 19 Princelet Street (wonderful place, wonderful), the Old Operating Theatre (stuck in the roof of a Queen Anne church!)... and I probably intended to visit more after the Hotel, but Jonathan and I probably had more immediately pressing engagements with a cosy café.

Back to New York for a moment: a young poet drowned in the Hudson River after jumping in to retrieve a dropped bag containing his notebook. Writers among you will understand. And moving away from New York while still including it: amazingly goodlooking underground railway stations throughout the world.

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Monday, October 03, 2005

It's not safe! Not safe, I tell you! - Cut!

A can of worms is always opened up when members of a utilitarian profession criticise the way in which members of a creative, or (literally speaking) useless profession go about their work. Angry exchanges arise because, after all, utilitarian professionals have chosen their particular career in line with their concerns — and people with particular concerns usually feel that those concerns should be shared by all. So they give their opinions a passionate airing.

And in the wider world outside narrow subjects of concern, the majority of people listen to the raised voices and hear a risible, interfering whine.

That’s what I hear in today’s accusation by doctors, writing in the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, that Hollywood films are very bad and irresponsible because in the space of one film, characters have sex but don’t often develop STDs.

Other concerns proceeding from the furrowed medical brow are that drugs are used, but with no health warning flashing up onscreen. Or condoms aren’t held up to the camera in what could, in the end, only be seen as a sermonizing way which would arguably ruin a film.

Dr Gunasekera and his two co-authors, Simon Chapman and Sharon Campbell, studied the top 200 movies of all time, as listed on the Internet Movie Database in March 2004. The researchers excluded any movie filmed before 1983, the pre-HIV era.

In 68%, people smoked and in 32% they got drunk. In only 8% was cannabis used and in 7% people took other non-injecting drugs. The researchers say the portrayal tended to be positive and without negative consequences. “The study showed there were no references to important consequences of unsafe sex such as HIV transmission, spread of STDs or unwanted pregnancy,” said Dr Gunasekera. “The social norm being presented in movies is concerning, given the HIV and illicit drug pandemics in developing and industrialised countries.”

Basic Instinct has six episodes of sex with no condoms used, no birth control and no public health consequences. American Pie has seven sex scenes, all involving new partners with no condoms or birth control measures. The “only consequences were social embarrassment”, the report says. Die Another Day has three sex episodes, all with new partners, “no condoms, no birth control, no consequences at all”.

Far be it from me to claim knowledge of all the intricacies of medical knowledge undoubtedly possessed by the concerned physicians. But, in the nicest possible way, bollocks to them. :o) Exhibiting all the awareness of cro-magnon man, they have spectacularly failed to recognise an exceptionally simple, visible, downright glaring point — which I’ve occasionally taken issue with here — Hollywood is not about providing culturally relevant teaching, but largely mindless entertainment.

Please, good doctors, realise this: the ramifications of your profession indeed extend to the bodies of every single one of us, but we all have wider lives countless times more massive than any profession can be. Don’t sermonise, or we’ll be forced to issue statements expressing our urgent and pressing concern regarding the lack of incidence of top-notch acting in medicine. ;o)

If you want to write to one of the doctors, follow the first link above: contact info’s given, refreshingly.

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Thursday, September 29, 2005

Harvard's 'Court' against homosexuality

In 2002, a researcher for The Harvard Crimson came across a restricted archive labeled “Secret Court Files, 1920.” The mystery he uncovered involved a tragic scandal in which Harvard University secretly put a dozen students on trial for homosexuality and then systematically and persistently tried to ruin their lives.

In May of 1920, Cyril Wilcox, a freshman suspended from Harvard, was found sprawled dead on his bed, his room filled with gas — a suicide. The note he left behind revealed his secret life as part of a circle of homosexual students. The resulting witch hunt and the lives it cost remains one of the most shameful episodes in the history of America’s premiere university. Supported by legendary Harvard President Lawrence Lowell, Harvard conducted its investigation in secrecy. Several students committed suicide; others had their lives destroyed by an ongoing effort on the part of Harvard to destroy their reputations.

The above is from the blurb of a book about the matter; I happened upon this subject for the first time ever just now, on this Metafilter thread, whose main link is a lengthy, thorough and devastating article in the Harvard Crimson, backed up with another opinion piece and a Washington Post column. If you find the article link expires in future, contact me for a copy via the comments.

If I lived even close to Harvard, I’d be trying to find out all I could about the members of ‘the Court’ and why, in 1920, they felt privately compelled and lawfully able to not simply investigate and expel gay students in secret, but to then hound them throughout their future lives. It’s not as creepy, exactly, as Yale’s posture photos and the rather Nazi ideals behind them, but it is as glaring and grotesque a story of ceaseless, ruthless, deliberate ruination of lives as any I’ve seen.

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