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August 2006 Archive
29 August - Claws and Stripes Forever
Cat Maxine looks fast, even at rest, due to her excellent stripeyness. The stripes of Maxine remind me of Hogarth's Line of Beauty.
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27 August - Updates and Comments
Dr. John Herrera of the High Speed Triumph Research Laboratory adds detail to yesterday's Erickson Air-Crane story:
The Erickson Air Crane crew based in the eastern US stopped at FDK [Frederick Municipal Airport] several years ago.The orange Sikorsky in which they came is affectionately nicknamed "Bubba" and is the one that put the statue on the Capitol (is "Capitol Dome" redundant? [No - "Capitol" refers to the building entire - T.S-Z]). They were installing air conditioning units on top of some building in Frederick. I walked my students to the helicopter for a Field Trip.
The Air Crane has two pilot positions. The normal one and one facing backwards so the pilot can watch the load as he flies. It's a really big helicopter!
Erickson is headquartered in Washington and has several Air Cranes based around the world. The Sikorskys use so much fuel it is cheaper for them to stay on the road than to return to Washington. A truck follows the helicopter from job to job pulling a trailer that carries parts and a fully-equipped maintenance shop. Mechanics and ground crew ride along. Another truck brings fuel for the Sikorsky! I guess they don't trust locally-procured fuel. I asked a mechanic (in front of the students)if being away from home caused any hardship. He said that his wife and her boyfriend didn't mind it at all.
The crew said that the placing of the statue was the job they were best known for, yet it was an easy job compared to many others. But it was high-profile. My pun, not their's.
The data plate on the helicopter said Erickson Air Crane, not Sikorsky, reflecting Erickson's ownership of the Type Certificate. I don't think Erickson made any Air Cranes, though.
Back in July, I posted a photograph of a ceramic artifact dug from the site of the 17th century Wallingford Grove manor:
In my posting, I had suggested that it was too big to be a clay pipe stem, and that it might be connected with ritual cannibalism rites. Thanks to Stoney56 of the Treasurenet forum, we now know that it's a tube for electrical wires - the tube would be inserted into a framework beam, and it prevented contact between wires and wood - a component of "knob and tube wiring", so probably not 17th century at all, nor yet to do with ritual cannibalism. I'm pretty depressed at my egregious misidentification - live and learn, I hear you say. But every animal is sad after tuition.
Gibbons Burke, an old Friend of the Museum, wonders if Monoplane the Flying Dog could have been the inspiration for Triumph the Comic Insult Dog:
If looks are an indication, then - yes, probably. I now yearn for a mashup between the famous rubber dog and Dr. John Herrara, with the High Speed Triumph Comic Insult Laboratory as the result.
Last and least, I've found the tape of the former Museum fellow "singing" I Gave My Love a Cherry, AKA The Riddle Song, which I mentioned yesterday. It was recorded at an annual staff Christmas party, year unknown, and it sounds like he'd been hitting the common room sherry pretty hard. In more than one way, it is a truly pathetic performance - here it is (streaming Real Audio format).
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26 August - Distinguished Dinner Guest
For dinner tonight, an eggplant in the shape of Richard Nixon. Heartburn to follow, probably.
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26 August - A Folk-Song Examined
Some years ago we had a resident fellow whose study was the British folk-song - how well I remember his rendition of I Gave My Love a Cherry, which would grow more quavering and pathetic according to the amount of Fellows' Common Room sherry he had swilled down - I may have a recording of it, which I'll try to hunt down. One of my tasks here at the Museum is to put into some sort of order the papers that the fellows deposit with us, and one of the folk-song fellow's efforts recently came to the top of the stack. He was generally an affable enough fellow, devoted to his subject, but I was amazed at the bile exhibited in the following study, an analysis of a old song - he must have been recovering from a sherry bender when he was working on it. First the song, and then his footnotes:
MY JOHNNY WAS A SHOEMAKER
Anonymous
My Johnny was a shoemaker and dearly he loved me.
My Johnny was a shoemaker but now he's gone to sea. 1
With pitch and tar to soil his hands, 2
And to sail across the sea, stormy sea -
And sail across the stormy sea.
His jacket was a deep sky blue and curly was his hair.
His jacket was a deep sky blue, it was, I do declare. 3
For to reive the topsails up against the mast, 4
And to sail across the sea, stormy sea -
And sail across the stormy sea. 5
Some day he'll be a captain bold,
with a brave and a gallant crew. 6
Some day he'll be a captain bold,
with a sword and spyglass too. 7
And when he has a gallant captain's sword,
He'll come home and marry me, marry me -
He'll come home and marry me. 8
Notes
1. The fact that Johnny, the protagonist of the song, has gone to sea, despite the statement that he dearly loves the song's narrator, suggests dire economic need. At the period that this song was sung, the early 19th century, shoe manufacture had been greatly modernized, along with many other aspects of the industrial sector, by the Industrial Revolution. Shoemakers and other craftsmen found themselves without employment; the Navy provided a refuge for destitute workers. Perhaps Johnny thought he might, with his previous craft experience, find a berth as a sailmaker's mate. On the other hand, perhaps the narrator is deluding herself (We are assuming that the narrator is of the feminine gender) on the depth of Johnny's affection, and the Navy provided Johnny a convenient way to discontinue an unsatisfactory or unfulfilling relationship.
2. If he has pitch and tar on his hands, Johnny's hopes for a somewhat more exalted position in the sailmaker's crew must have been for naught, and he has probably been rated a landsman, fit only to haul on a designated rope on command.
3. This curious emphasis on the nature of Johnny's wardrobe and hair-styling has a disturbing quality. Most listeners would take the narrator's statement that Johnny has a blue coat and curly hair at face value: very likely to be true, but at bottom not entirely necessary to the dramatic flow of the narrative, and not terribly interesting to people that are not acquainted with Johnny, presumably the great percentage of listeners. The repetition, along with the emphatic "...it was, I do declare..." leads one to the sad conclusion that the narrator is not coping well with the separation. One wishes that she could have been guided to a self-help group of seamen's wives and doxies to aid her during this difficult and trying period.
4. Topsails are not reived to the mast, but to the topsail yard. The narrator's ludicrous effort at "coming it the old salt" with this self-conscious display of nautical jargon may be a way to attempt to share, at a distance, some of Johnny's work-place experience. Though it may be the case that Johnny, in his infrequent letters home, has communicated in an inexact or mistaken manner his duties aloft, as one might expect an ignorant first-cruise landsman to do.
5. The constant repetition of the meteorological conditions that Johnny is presumed to be meeting with may serve as further evidence that the narrator is not handling Johnny's career-change very well (see note 3). Perhaps she's drinking heavily. "Talking it through", as she is doing through this song, may be of some short-term help, but professional counselling might have been necessary at this stage.
6. The narrator's fantasy that Johnny, a newly-joined landsman, will someday be promoted to command his own ship, would be laughable were it not so tragically indicative of the narrator's declining mental state. Although it was not unknown for seamen to reach high rank (the period slang for advancement from the fo'c'sle to the quarterdeck was to "climb through the hawse-hole"), it is absurd to think that a failed former cordwainer, almost totally without knowledge (as his letters amply demonstrate) or experience, could ever rise to command. He may, through diligence, hope for promotion to warrant rank. Johnny would be better off continuing to try for the sailmaker's crew, instead.
7. The narrator's enthusiatic account of the details of Johnny's fantasy command - notice the repetition of the detail of "the gallant captain's sword" in the following line - suggests that her mood swings have reached a dangerously high point. It may now be suggested that she is suffering from la folie circulaire - manic-depression; most folk-song commentators now prefer the term "Bipolar Ballad Disorder" (BPBD).
8. If the narrator believes that Johnny, having somehow miraculously achieved high rank, is going to come home and pick up his dry-land life exactly where he left it and actually marry her, she'd better think again. This woman needs help.
Oy vey... Here's a performance of the song (streaming Real Audio format), sung by Maddy Prior of Steeleye Span, from the album The Lark in the Morning.
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26 August - Freedom is Taken for a Ride
We usually leave this sort of material to the National Air and Space Museum (though the Janus Museum once had a significant aviation collection), but when I came across this video I took in 1993 of Thomas Crawford's statue of Freedom being lifted back to the top of the US Capitol dome following restoration, I thought it might be of sufficient interest to warrant posting here.
The helicopter is an S-64F operated by Erickson Air Air-Crane. The S-64 was originally built by Sikorsky, and Erickson bought the type certificate and manufacturing rights in 1992. I think this aircraft was built by Erickson. Let's go to the tape:
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25 August - From the Collection
We haven't featured a treasure from the Museum's collections for a while, so here's a fine tintype (collodion positive on metal plate) of the brig Unicorn at the Washington Navy Yard, taken by Allan Janus. Nice, very rare - nautical tintypes by an identified photographer are not exactly thick on the ground, you know.
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25 August - Historic Cottage Painting Update
The initial sketch is done, and the color is coming in rapidly. Glenn is a little concerned about the changing light, but he perseveres.
Update to the Painting Update - Glenn has lost his light and has adjourned for the day, but will be back tomorrow morning.
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25 August - Cottage Art
I stepped out of the Historic Cottage this morning to welcome a tour bus of Japanese tourists and found noted Washington Grove artist Glenn Perry slaving away over a hot easel, just starting on a painting of the HC:
I'll try to document his progress through the day, other duties allowing. One of Glenn's paintings is in the Museum's permanent collection. The Historic Cottage is a frequent subject for plein air artists - we have a splendid painting of it by Susan Lawson-Bell in the permanent collection - very satisfying to occupy such an inspirational structure.
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22 August - Summer Set
These long summer days... Leroy waits for something to happen in The Circle. Nothing happened, so he had a wallow in the North Wallow. Later, we went for a catwalk. Then we all just set for a while. After I finish this report, I may just go set some more.
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21 August - A Tale of Aubrey and Maturin
We're pleased to feature this heretofore unpublished story of Captain John Aubrey and his friend Dr. Stephen Maturin for admirers of the novels of Patrick O'Brian:
The Royal Progress
Captain Jack Aubrey and his particular friend and ship's surgeon, Dr. Stephen Maturin, once planned a great dinner on board HMS Surprise. They invited a host of post-captains and other worthies, and, as their pockets were temporarily well-lined from the profits of a fine prize, they were able to provide a fine feast for their guests. There was to be turtle, oysters, a proud turbot and an only slightly less arrogant saddle of roe-buck. Of puddings, there would be both Spotted Baby and Drowned Dog, and also a floating island in the shape of - and very nearly the size - of the Isle of Wight. Jack's steward, Preserved Killick, polished, painted and cleaned in such a frenzy that Maturin was obliged to sedate him with a dose of laudanum in his grog.
All was made ready, and the captains' barges were on the point of pulling for Surprise, when a fine '74 suddenly emerged from the mist and anchored close by. The signals midshipman reported to Jack, "Begging your pardon, sir; she's made her number - it's Porphyria!" Jack frowned - HMS Porphyria was commanded by Prince William, the Duke of Clarence, son of the old King, brother of the Regent - a stunning bore and the least attractive member of the deeply unattractive House of Hanover. But there was nothing for it; Jack had to invite him. Presently, all were seated in the great cabin amidst the blaze of silver, and the feast began. Jack was ever a hospitable host, and he made certain that when the turtle went round, every guest was served generous portions of both calapash - the meat of the turtle's upper shell, and calapee - that of the lower shell. There was a fine flow of spirits - Jack almost said something witty. From time to time, the Duke made an unfortunate remark in a penetrating roar; but on the whole, Jack thought the evening was going rather well and began to hope that the evening might be brought to a close without disaster. At one point, Clarence excused himself with a coarse oath and retired to the quarter-gallery, the captain's place of ease. The dinner wound its way to its cheerful end; the port circulated, and coffee was taken to the quarter deck. The captains finally descended - some of them a bit uncertainly - to their barges and returned to their own ships.
Tired but relieved, Jack and Stephen retired to the cabin and had just congratulated each other on a splendid evening, when a muffled cry was heard from the quarter-gallery. The two friends stared at each other, aghast. The Duke had been in the quarter-gallery for several hours - they had clean forgotten him! They dashed to the quarter-gallery's door - it was locked. "Your Grace - Sir!" Jack cried, "Are you all right? Can we help you?" The Duke responded, in a strangely hollow tone, that he was fine, absolutely fine, and would be out in a minute or two - just now washing his hands. Concerned, Jack and Stephen returned to the great cabin and nibbled a little toasted cheese. Too preoccupied by the duke in the lav. to pick up their instruments, they returned several times to the door of the quarter-gallery to ask Clarence how he did. Each time they were answered with a genial, though curiously muffled "Almost done, Aubrey, hey? There's a fascinating article in the Naval Chronicle I simply must finish, damme!"
Finally, as rosy-fingered dawn greeted the holystoners, Jack and Stephen could stand it no longer, and with the help of the afterguard, forced the quarter-gallery door open. There they gazed upon the hideous sight of the Duke of Clarence, Prince of the Realm, second in line to the Throne of England, with his head firmly stuck in the seat of ease! The seamen quickly stifled their rude laughter as Jack organized the rescue attempt. The carpenter's crew was called, a block and tackle rigged and a line was bent around Clarence's royal body. Finally, not without the aid of a small charge of powder, the Duke was freed; and without even mentioning to his ordeal, he thanked Jack for his dinner with a genial oath and was off to his barge.
Jack and Stephen considered the wreckage of the quarter-gallery shook their heads, amazed. "We shall have to call it the Butt of Malmsey from now on," said Jack, pointing to the place of imprisonment, "For Clarence was bunged up in it! Haw, haw!" They sat down to breakfast in the day cabin. "But why do you suppose Clarence put us off so long? Why not just tell us and have it done with? We'd have had him out hours ago. He has his dignity to think of, of course - he may be King one day, but Lord! To spend the night in the - that place, while keeping us away with falsehoods! And damn poor falsehoods they were, too; 'pon my word and honour!"
Stephen shook his head sadly. "Uneasy lies the Crown that wears the head," he said, and engulfed another rasher.
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20 August - Filmic Animals in Aviation, Part 2
To continue our fascinating study of animals in aviation in film: I recently had a sudden desire to see the 1965 comedy Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines, possibly brought on by the Museum's acquisition of a model of an A. V. Roe Triplane. In the movie, the villain, Sir Percy Ware-Armitage (played by Terry-Thomas) flies a similar Tripe. I was pleased to see the scene shown above - Lieutenant Parsons, RN (played by Jeremy Lloyd), crossing the Channel with friend. Around the dog's neck is a sign that reads "I AM THE FIRST DOG TO FLY". It's based on the famous 1909 flight of Hugh Moore-Brabazon and a pig...
... Which was mentioned here previously. It's still a jolly good movie, well worth seeing. So who was the first dog to fly? It's not mentioned in an otherwise splendid recent book, Animals Aloft, but a likely candidate is the fellow with the cigar in this picture:
It's Monoplane, here shown with his owner, Shakir Jerwan, instructor at the Moisant School of Aviation, Mineola, New York. Monoplane is said to have loved flying - would whine piteously if anyone went aloft without him. Sad to think that nowadays Monoplane wouldn't be allowed to light up a stogie in flight - couldn't even take his lighter with him. Progress? I think not.
CORRECTION - An erudite Friend of the Museum, Rebecca Richters, wrote to tell me that a recent quote I cited - "People who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like", which I had attributed to Max Beerbohm, is actually one of Abraham Lincoln's. She's right, as a quick lookup in the Oxford Book of Quotations confirms. I'm sure I've found it attributed to Beerbohm, too - though I can't find it in the Oxford, or on online quotation sites, or in Hesketh Pearson's Lives of the Wits. I must have dreamt it, though surely dreams of misattribututed quotations must be fairly rare.
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19 August - My Brilliant Career
A few days ago I mentioned the epic Yorktown visitors' center movie that I, along with the rest of the 1st Maryland Regiment, appeared in about 20 years ago. I was in another scene, the nighttime assault on the British fortifications - Redoubts 9 and 10. That's me (I think), above and circled, hanging on to a scaling ladder. I remember being scared out of my gourd - explosions were going off all around us (the pyrotechnics guy was missing an arm, which didn't do much for our confidence). We had to run at top speed with our ladder, shouting manfully, up to the fortifications, fling down the ladder, and help the lads up to the top of the works, through the abatis. The lads were quite excited, and were also carrying muskets with bayonets fixed, which they tended to gesture with dramatically and dangerously. When the ladder was fixed, I flung myself down in the dirt and played dead - it seemed the wisest course. My big ladder scene comes about a minute into the clip:
It took hours - lots of takes, so lots of running and shouting manfully - I was fair tuckered out by the end. Later on, I was made to put on a French regimental coat and was filmed wearily walking through the bodies on the glacis. I was splendidly pathetic, but the scene ended up on the editing room floor. It could have been my big break. You know, I doubt I have the energy to storm a redoubt anymore.
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19 August - Filmic Animals in Aviation, Part 1
We recently watched a thrilling adventure from 1929, The Lost Zeppelin. This Navy airship is going to fly to the South Pole, you see. The captain's wife is carrying a torch for the executive officer - the captain knows - he's damned noble about it, but it can't help the cockpit dynamics. Above, the departure from Washington DC. The part I really liked is that the captain, Commander Hall (played by Conway Tearle) has a mascot, a little terrier:
It's a cinematic axiom that if an airship appears in a movie, there will be a disaster in the last reel - an explosion if it's a foreign airship, or a crash if it's a helium-filled American airship. This film is no exception - the airship gets to the South Pole and crashes in a storm, thrillingly conveyed through the use of slide-whistles on the soundtrack. The only survivors are Commander Hall and the two-timing exec, Tom Armstrong (played by Ricardo Cortez)...
... to say nothing of the dog. The dog even has his own cute little parka! I won't reveal the shattering conclusion, except that for animal lovers, it turns out better than the story of another South Pole mascot, Mrs. Chippy of Shackleton's expedition. The story was obviously inspired by the tragic North Pole flight of the Italia, 1928. A superb recent book, Animals Aloft, tells the story of the Italia's commander, Umberto Nobile, and his dog Titina:
This shot is from an earlier successful flight, that of the Norge. Italia's flight was treated cinematically in the 1969 film, The Red Tent, starring Peter Finch as Nobile. Dunno who played Titina.
Tragic data loss update - our data's home! Many thanks to everyone who considered thinking about making a contribution to our Data Recovery Fund.
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14 August - Passion on the Porch
Here's a brief but torrid drama starring the Circle Cat Players - The Eternal Triangle:
I may convert it to black and white to emphasize its noir atmosphere. UPDATE - here's the decolorized version - it has a more early silent one-reel melodrama feeling now than noir.
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14 August - The Faded Coat of Blue, Now on Video
I've mentioned that I once belonged to the 1st Maryland Regiment, a Revolutionary War reenactment group. Going through my old videos, I came across a copy of the movie shown at the Yorktown battlefield visitors' center, for which the old regiment had been hired to appear in. I was able to find only one shot of me, a fleeting glimpse of my stalwart form in the ranks while we march past the camera - that's me on the left, in the specs. I've put on about 350 pounds since that anabasis, and no longer allow myself to be photographed. Still have the cocked hat, though.
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14 August - North vs. South
I've mentioned previously that the local cats once mainly hung around the North Wallow - it was the feline equivalent of the local mall for teenagers. Starting this spring, though, the South Wallow became the fashionable place to wallow and to be seen, and the North Wallow was deserted. So I was surprised to see Cat Leroy frisking about in the North Wallow yesterday - he had realized that one wallow doth not a summer make.
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13 August - Buffalo Cats, Won't You Come Out Tonight?
The moon being full, the cats being frisky, and the camcorder being equipped with the cool night vision feature, we followed Cats Leroy and Natasha around the other evening as they scampered about in the Circle:
In other news, I'm still suffering from Data Separation Anxiety as I await the prognosis of the data recovery team working on the Museum's defunct data storage device. So far, I've gone through a couple of the stages of data loss: denial (the data has to be somewhere) and bargaining (as I attempted unsuccessfully to negotiate the cost of the data retrieval). The anger stage is still with me, as I continue to kick Gus whenever he tries to sneak past me. I'm sure the other two stages, Sneezy and Grumpy, will be showing up soon. Blogging may be light for a while while I work my way through this, and decide on a remote location for Gus's body.
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11 August - Your Poor Almanac Fix
This week's Richard's Poor Almanac, courtesy of the Washington Post, provides helpful hints for keeping your cool in DC's subtropical weather. And if you like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing you'll like, to quote Max Beerbohm.
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11 August - Disaster Strikes
Oh, it hurts... we have to report that our file storage has suffered a fatal stroke, taking with it all of the Museum's data files, including all of our priceless scans of Allan Janus photographs and documents. And it turns out that our "back-up strategy", designed by our maintenance man Gus, was, er, faulty... Did I say "faulty"? I meant criminally inept. The storage drive is currently being examined by a sympathetic but very expensive data recovery service, and we hope for at least a partial rescue. If any of our readers would care to make a wee contribution to our Data Recovery Fund, we've opened up an Amazon tip page. We'll be delighted to send a handsome Allan Janus photograph to all contributors (when we get the image files back) - just send me your name and mailing address the address is refdesk at janusmuseum.org. Thanks for your concern. I now have to go strangle Gus.
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10 August - Buttering a Bomb
Our maintenance man Gus butters our bomb - a World War II practice bomb donated to the Museum by the Washington Grove Pacer Farm. The bomb had been plastered with bumper stickers by a previous owner, and Gus conceived that slathering the bomb with butter - it was the best butter - would loosen the glue. It didn't work, and he had to be physically prevented from trying to use my extra virgin olive oil on it next. No doubt he's have dipped the damn thing in egg and rolled it in panko by the end of the day. Here's the strangely compelling video:
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8 August - The Rattown Tigers
The Rattown Tigers, L.A. De Ribas
Here's a jolly Prang chromolithograph by L.A. De Ribas of a fine soldierly-looking body of cats from the New York Public Library's Digital Gallery, well worth a visit.
It reminds me a bit of the Washington Grove Croquet Club's drill team, for some reason. Here they are on the 4th of July, 1995:
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6 August - Catwalks Resume
It being so hot and dank and horrible, lately, we've suspended our usual healthy catwalks. Yesterday brought a bit of a break in the heat, though, so we took a swing through the Janus Museum Forest Preserve as far as the Olde Footbridge, where we sat and gasped for a while. It was not as you would say our normal brisk catwalk. But Natasha did climb a tree, which I wouldn't do at this time of year, and her in her fur coat and all. Here's the video, using our exciting new Catcam technology:
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5 August - Diva Dog
In another classic family video, our dear old Dog Snow, a Silesian terrier, sings the Queen of the Night's aria Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem herzen ("The wrath of Hell boils in my heart") from The Magic Flute. She was also a Handel specialist - maybe I'll post her thrilling performance of a couple of airs from Messiah.
There is no truth to the rumor that Dame Elisabeth Schwarzkopf's recent death was related to her having watched this video. It's entirely coincidental.
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5 August - Movie Mustang
The beautiful 1964½ Mustang owned by Friend of the Museum Brian Nicklas and his brother Steve has made appearances here a couple of times. Brian sent me these snaps and a report on its recent cameo role in a new movie, Talk to Me, now in production. Above, Brian in his authentic period Rayon shirt. Here's his report:
Mustang used as a "vehicle extra" in the upcoming movie about DC radio/TV host Petey Greene: "Talk To Me."
The car was driven by Chiwetel Ejiofor, who plays Dewey Hughes. Hughes is the program director at the radio station where Petey Greene (played by Don Cheadle) works.
In some photos, Chiwetel ("chew-it-tell") is driving the car, with director Kasi Lemmons riding behind him. Camera man Stéphane Fontaine rides in the passenger seat, and a sound man is behind him:
Notice the other period cars and the period 'fros! -ed.
The car was used to travel between Madison and Jefferson Drive on 7th Street, so that the Capitol Building showed in the background (so you KNEW he was driving in Washington DC). This took with setup and takes from inside the car, and shots outside the car from 8 am until 10 am. The DC MPD [the cops -ed.] had the street blocked off, and production assistants directed DC joggers to run down in front of the museums, instead of along the Mall where they would be visible.
I was given a period shirt (a heat-retaining shiny rayon short-sleeve) to wear in case I would be background in any shots, but as far as I know a camera was never pointed my way. Other areas shot included Ben's Chili Bowl, the Grant Memorial and a church in SE [Southeast] near the new stadium construction.
Photograph by Brent McConnell
Stéfane setting up his camera to see if he could shoot from the passenger seat (Thank goodness it worked, otherwise it would have been a mount on the car door).
The car was needed as they had to have a red on red '65 Mustang to match one they had previously shot during the major shooting in Toronto.
Here's a Post article on the film and the shoot.
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1 August - The Vine Menace
Here's a sobering look at the Vine Crisis over at the Washington Post's Richard's Poor Almanac. Yes, I know - there hasn't been a new installment for a month. Richard Thompson, artist and Friend of the Museum, reports that he had a press of other projects on his plate.
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1 August - Visiting the U. of Lawsonomy
Continuing my videotape digitization project, I came upon a tape of a short visit to the beautiful campus of the University of Lawsonomy in Sturtevant, Wisconsin back in 1994. The place was deserted when I visited, so there's no guided tour, I'm afraid. We discussed the great Alfred Lawson, founder of Lawsonomy and the Direct Credits Society, back in January.
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1 August - In Spinal Veritas
I think this is very beautiful - it's a detail from a local chiropractor's sign. See, starting at the left, it's a representation of a human spine. As we move to the right, the individual vertebrae artistically morph into a little person waving his arms about, presumably because he's now free from back pain due to his chiropractor's expert manipulations. Possibly, though, The little person is waving his arms about in agony because he's late for his treatment, or because the chiropractor's expert manipulations went horribly wrong, or because he's high as a kite on Oxycontin and plum brandy. Whatever - I just think it's very beautiful.
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