And
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If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says
"15 miles to the Love Shack"
Love Shack, yeah, yeah
I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway
Lookin' for the love getaway
Headed for the love getaway
I got me a car, it's as big as a whale
And we're headin' on down to the Love Shack
I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20
So hurry up and bring your jukebox money
The love shack is a little old place
Where we can get together
Love Shack, baby (a-Love Shack, baby)
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (Love, baby, that's where it's at)
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (Love, baby, that's where it's at)
Sign says (woo) "Stay away, fools"
'Cause love rules at the Love Shack
Well, it's set way back in the middle of a field
Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back
Glitter on the mattress
Glitter on the highway
Glitter on the front porch
Glitter on the highway
The Love Shack is a little old place
Where we can get together
Love Shack, baby (Love Shack, baby)
Love Shack, that's where it's at
Love Shack, that's where it's at
Huggin' and a-kissin'
Dancin' and a-lovin'
Wearin' next to nothin'
'Cause it's hot as an oven
The whole shack shimmies
Yeah, the whole shack shimmies
The whole shack shimmies when everybody's
Movin' around and around and around and around
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin', baby
Folks linin' up outside just to get down
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin', baby
Funky little shack
Funky little shack
Hop in my Chrysler
It's as big as a whale and it's about to set sail
I got me a car
Like, it seats about 20
So come on and bring your jukebox money
The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together
Love Shack, baby (a-Love Shack, baby)
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (Love, baby, that's where it's at, yeah)
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (Love, baby, that's where it's at)
Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby
Knock a little louder, baby
Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby
I can't hear you
Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby
Knock a little louder, sugar
Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby
I can't hear you
Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby (Knock a little louder)
Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby
Bang, bang (On the door, baby)
Bang, bang (On the door)
Bang, bang (On the door, baby)
Bang, bang
Your what?
Tin roof, rusted
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (Love, baby, that's where it's at, yeah)
Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (Love, baby, that's where it's at)
Love, baby, Love Shack
Huggin' and a-kissin'
Dancin' and a-lovin'
At the Love Shack
That's my attempt at signing "Recycle."
I wanted to have an Earth Day inspired photo. :]
It's better viewed large, I think.
And my bracelet it's 99% recycled, or something like that, so it was appropriate.
Thanks to Heather for checking that my signing wasn't way off, as I was simply looking at a piece of paper with the letters on it, haha.
Draußen schneit es hier. Es gibt ja auch Winterfans und die wird es freuen. Ich gucke nicht raus, sondern lieber Frühlingsboten drinnen an.
It's snowing outside here. All winter fans will be pleased. I don't look outside, I look at signs of spring inside.
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Self-portrait At Ocotillo Moons
(November 7th, 2020)
Terlingua, Texas, U.S.A.
After the first encounter last year, I returned there again. I had to because it was love at first sight. The desert is not a landscape that shouts. It whispers, inviting you to look closer. I think I found my place on Earth. The Chihuahuan desert, the largest desert in North America and the third most diverse in the world, is where I went for a 10-day road trip in November. It was a peak season, but I was able to find my solitude, rebuild harmony, and feed my soul. Aride and alive, the fascinating paradox about the Chihuahuan could be the metaphor of my poor existence in this world.
I took this mirrored self-portrait at my new place called 'Ocotillo Moons' where I moved to for next four days. It was a secluded luxuary barn sitting on 40 acres of beautiful desert landscape. It made me really sad seeing quite a comfortable lodging that I didn't expect with a spacious bathroom, a separate bedroom, a well equipped kitchen, a little rest area and an incredible covered patio. Even the refrigerator was giving natural water after pressing a proper button, or if you wanted potable water with glace straight to your cup! Gosh! All this made me feel bad and guilty. I started missing my Ghost Town Ruin where I stayed for the first three days, and all the hard work I had to do in order to wash dirty dishes, get potable water or a cup of tea. Such life makes you humble, and only this way you start understanding better the desert. Well, in fact, it was at Ocotillo Moons where I took two showers, my only ones during a 10-day road trip. Still, there was no a bathub, and everywhere I looked at, signs with conserving water, so I thought quite a bit before I decided to use it.
After a day or so of my stay there, I started slowly liking this place more and more. It's because I figured out its name, and fell in love with a new desert plant: ocotillo. It was so amazing looking at so many flourishing ocotillos surrounding the barn. To me they were like a synonyme of the essence of the Chihuahuan desert aride and alive. For most of the year the ocotillo appears devoid of life, but its dry, woody, thorny stems sprout small green leaves in spring and after heavy rains, followed by a cluster of bright red flowers.
I was able to take some self-portraits only twice at this place. First photoshoot was focused on ocotillos of course (sadly, I lost my mind dancing at the Golden Hour in the desert, and completely forgot to take a mirrored self-portrait for my project), the second one- on yucca trees. All these belong to the project "My Life Is a Picture" documenting my life.
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About the project:
I wish to look at myself in all reflected streets and places I will be passing by. These self-portraits are inspired by Vivian Maier's self-portraiture: www.vivianmaier.com
We need to know! (Warning: rude words)
At the request of the Real Richard Herring...
Lighting: 580EXII with snoot pointing at sign, fired by ST-E2. Face side light provided by the sun.
On Colorado Blvd (Route 66); Pasadena, CA
Being a fan of The Big Bang Theory, I was delighted to be able to walk to this train store -- Sheldon's favourite, maybe lol -- from our hotel during our stay in Pasadena in 2016. It's a fantastic sign and the neon train even lights up like it's moving! Definitely worth seeing in person for all neon lovers.
Many thanks for your visits, faves and comments. Cheers.
Banded Lapwing
Scientific Name: Vanellus tricolor
Description: The Banded Lapwing is a large plover with a broad black breast band and white throat. The upperparts are mainly grey-brown with white underparts. There is a black cap and broad white eye-stripe, with a yellow eye-ring and bill and a small red wattle over the bill. The legs are pinkish-grey. These lapwings have an upright stance and a slow walk, breaking into a faster trot when alarmed. They fly with quick, clipped wing-beats - giving them the name 'lapwing'.
Similar species: The Banded Lapwing is much smaller than the Masked Lapwing,Vanellus miles, with a longer tail and shorter legs. The u-shaped breast band is diagnostic.
Distribution: Banded Lapwings are endemic to (found only in) Australia in the east, south and west of the mainland and in Tasmania. They are rarely found in northern Australia.
Habitat: Banded Lapwings prefer open, short grasslands such as heavily grazed paddocks, agricultural lands and saline herblands in dry and semi-arid regions.
Seasonal movements: Banded Lapwings are nomadic, flying considerable distances at night to find suitable conditions of food and water.
Feeding: Banded Lapwings chase insects with short runs and darts and may eat seeds in dry times. They prefer areas with very short grass, to find insects, worms, spiders and molluscs (snails and slugs).
Breeding: Banded Lapwings need rain before breeding. The nest is a scrape on the ground, lined with dry grass and even sheep droppings. The eggs and chicks are speckled and well-camouflaged. They freeze and keep quite still at sign of danger. The parents defend their nest and young with great courage and will fly at human intruders, often with a distraction display, pretending to drag a broken wing.
Calls: Loud strident calls when alarmed or for contact - a plaintive three-note call, descending in pitch: 'a-chee-chee-chee'.
Minimum Size: 25cm
Maximum Size: 29cm
Average size: 27cm
Average weight: 190g
Breeding season: June to November, varies with rainfall.
Clutch Size: 3 to 4 eggs
Incubation: 28 days
(Source: www.birdsinbackyards.net)
© Chris Burns 2018
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All rights reserved.
This image may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed, posted or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying and recording without my written consent.
Excerpt from dancingravenstudio.wordpress.com/tag/yellowknife-artist/:
This past May I put in a proposal to the City of Yellowknife’s call for painting various electrical/traffic control boxes around town. I sent in 4 drawings like this one below.
When I was designing for this project I had a number of things that I wanted to consider.
1. The final painting will be seen from a vehicle driving past (I had no idea which box I would possibly get) which meant that the design needed to be large and adaptable.
2. Winter lasts a long time up here, so I felt that the design needed to be something colourful and cheerful.
3. I love painting flowers, so painting something I know really well seemed to make sense. Plus I could paint flowers that grows in profusion around Yellowknife – Wild Roses (one of my favourites). I got to indulge in one of my favourite colours – Pink!
4. And I wanted to address something that is of concern – aka the Bee population.
In the end there were 15 boxes to be painted.
It was most likely the busiest corner in all of Yellowknife, which had its own challenges as you can imagine.
There were a lot of firsts with this project. It was the first time I have painted outside. It was the first time I have painted this large. As well, it was the first time I painted on metal.
There were many challenges to deal with. I had recently hurt my back, this meant that I really had to be mindful of how I moved while I was painting. As soon as my back allowed I got to working on the mural.
The weather was hot this July and when I returned from our holidays in August. I was painting outside in temperatures ranging from a very cool 10C (I wished I had long johns on that evening) to 30C.
Another challenge were the amount of interruptions that happened every time I was painting. I enjoyed (for the most part) interacting with people as I don’t get to do that day to day in my studio, but I have to say that it took a lot of energy and then it added so much more time. It took me more twice as long (well maybe even more) to get the painting completed than others who’s boxes were in more out of the way places or even a few blocks over on Franklin.
The wind was yet another challenge that I hadn’t considered. LoL! It made the paint dry faster and made it hard to hold my image to see where I needed to go next. Thankfully I figured out the ball cap to keep my hair from being in the way before I started.
The last big challenge was the constant beeping from the cross walks. This nearly drove me batty. Thankfully my son Sean borrowed me his noise cancelling headset so I could listen to podcasts and not listen to the beep, beep, beep, beep…
When I got the box assigned to me, I went down to check it out, I discovered that the traffic control box has two smaller boxes attached to the large main box. I had intended to wrap the flowers around the box. But this wasn’t going to work so well on this box. See below a bit of the painting progression. I kept forgetting to take photos each time I finished painting for the day.
This meant that I had to put on my artist-problem-solving-thinking-cap on. One morning I woke up with the idea of painting the sides of the small boxes pink and putting quotes on them. Thanks to Janet at Signed for printing them for me and to my friend Henri Brown for helping to put them on!
I also have to thank Kelly Bluck for coming to watch my stuff so I could take bathroom breaks, which allowed me to stay and paint longer. I was limited to 2 hours until she came to my rescue.
I have been told that people stop at my mural and walk around the whole box to read the four quotes on the mural: “When the flower blossoms, the bee will come.” ‘Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.’ “The Earth laughs in flowers.” ‘A flower blooms for its own joy.’ That makes me smile.
Here I am at the end. I am happy with the results and also happy to have it done. I do hope in February, when winter is in full swing, that my mural will cheer people up and remind them that indeed the wild roses will bloom again in a few short months.
@MAS museum , Antwerp, BE
"Antwerp à la carte" exhibition. The naming of streets all over the world are often inspired by food and drinks.
All content posted in the Blogtrepreneur Flickr Photostream is available for use under the Creative Commons Attribution License.
Please provide attribution via a link to howtostartablogonline.net
You get convenient access to this free original image in exchange for a simple attribution.
Looking down at the Sign of the Kiwi where has been a fire that destroyed the building.
September 25, 2015 Christchurch New Zealand.
A Christchurch resident has put up a $1000 reward to find arsonists who destroyed a Port Hills landmark. Fire crews were called to the Sign of the Bellbird at 9.30pm on Saturday 6.6.2015, after a fire started in the roof. It was being treated as suspicious, a fire service spokesman said. Bill Johnson, better known for his war on graffiti and rewards issued to find taggers, has offered a $1000 reward to anyone that can provide information that leads to identifying the person who lit the fire. Johnson frequently walked in the area, as did many others, he said. "It's a great spot." The damage to the roof was so severe it was on the verge of collapsing and had to be taken apart by fire crews.
For More Info on the Sign of the Kiwi: www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/71782998/Suspicious-fire-a...
© Ben Heine || Facebook || Twitter || www.benheine.com
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Enlarge HERE (the third detail is a small part of his nose)
Made with thousands of "@" symbols (the common "At sign" typographic character). It took me a few days of work. I applied each character one by one and used several references for the accuracy of the portrait. Each symbol is made of a single color and tone. (I left the portrait unfinished on purpose, I think it's better this way).
"@" like "@mbitious", "@ctivism" and "@ssange"... Julian is a courageous man fighting for Justice and Democracy despite many criticisms...
Julian Paul Assange is the founder, spokesperson and editor in chief of WikiLeaks (a whistleblower website and conduit for news leaks). He is also an Australian publisher, journalist, software developer and Internet activist.
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Tomb of Nefertari, burial chamber: East wall, fifth portal
The eastern walls portrays Chapter 146 of the Book of the Dead. This is Nefertari's passage through twenty-one portals (each guarded by a single keeper) of the domain of Osiris. Each of the portals is represented in the same way, a simple door frame topped with a uraeus frieze. Inside each is the keeper, sitting on a green dais in the form of a Ma'at sign, holding a knife to his knees.
The doorkeeper of the fifth portal is a strange figure of a naked child with a malformed head. Unlike the other keepers, he does not hold a knife on her knees, but holds two (one in each hand) across her chest.
SCOUT: “Hhhmmm…” *Ponders as he peers over the top of a rose.* “Hhhmmm… no.”
PADDY: *Watches Scout with mild bemusement.*
SCOUT: “Hhhmmm…” *Lifts petals with paw.* “Hhhmmm… no, not that either.”
PADDY: “Hullo Scout!”
SCOUT: “Oh! Hullo Paddy.” *Distracted.* “Hhhmmm… I wonder.” *Peers between petals.* “Hhhmmm… no, not that either.”
PADDY: “Scout, what on earth are you doing?”
SCOUT: “Paddy? How can you tell?”
PADDY: “Tell what, Scout?”
SCOUT: “How can you tell whether a rose is a lady or a man?”
PADDY: “I beg your pardon, Scout?” *Perplexed.*
SCOUT: “How can you tell whether a rose is a lady rose, or a man rose, Paddy?”
PADDY: “Why on earth are you asking that, Scout?”
SCOUT: “Well, I was taking to Daddy when we were looking at these roses before, and he told me that they are lady roses. I’ve been looking at this rose for ages now, and I can’t tell any difference between it and any other rose. How can Daddy tell that it’s a lady rose?”
PADDY: “Well Scout it might…”
SCOUT: “Oh! Is it because it is because it as apricot pink colour, Paddy? Is that why?”
PADDY: “Well no, Scout. It’s actually bec…”
SCOUT: “That’s such a relief, Paddy!”
PADDY: “Why is that such a relief, Scout?”
SCOUT: “Well, because I like to wear an apricot pink scarf sometimes, but I’m a boy, not a girl! I don’t want to be categ… categori… I don’t want to be called a girl just because I like to wear apricot pink.”
PADDY: “Oh Daddy would never categorise you, Scout. No Daddy identif…”
SCOUT: “Is it because the rose is all ruffly, like a tutu. Paddy?”
PADDY: “Well no, Scout. Daddy actuall…”
SCOUT: “Oh that’s a big relief too!”
PADDY: “And why is that such a big relief, Scout?”
SCOUT: “Well, I would have thought that was obvious, Paddy! It’s because I like to wear tutus sometimes.”
PADDY: “You can wear your tutus as much as you like, Scout. It’s fine. Nobear has called you a girl because you wear tutus, have they?”
SCOUT: *Thinks for a moment. “Well no, Paddy.”
PADDY: “Exactly.”
SCOUT: “So how does Daddy know this is a lady rose and not a man rose then, Paddy?”
PADDY: “Well, if you’d just let me finish, Scout,” *Frustrated.* “I’ll tell you!”
SCOUT: “Well, there is no need to shout, Paddy. I’m not ancient and deaf, like some bears I know… who I would like to point out remain nameless to protect your… err, I mean… their identity.”
PADDY: “Ahem! I am not deaf, Scout… nor ancient, as I keep telling you.”
SCOUT: “Paddy!” *Offended.* “I never said it was you I was talking about… even if it was you I was talking about.”
PADDY: *Frowns.* “Do you want to know how Daddy knows that this is a lady rose or not, Scout?”
SCOUT: “Well of course I do, Paddy! That’s why I am asking you. I hope you aren’t suffering from heatstroke from the sun.”
PADDY: *Nonplussed.* “The reason how Daddy knows that this is a lady rose is because he read it off the sign down there.” *Points to a sign imbedded into the brick garden edging.*
SCOUT: “Oh why didn’t you just say so, Paddy?”
PADDY: “But I just did, Scout.”
SCOUT: “Humph!” *Huffs.* “There is no need to be so literal, Paddy.”
PADDY and SCOUT: *Walk over and looks at sign.*
SCOUT: “What does it say, Paddy?”
PADDY: “You can read it, Scout! You know enough of your letters to at least try reading it.”
SCOUT: *Reads aloud.* “Rosa ‘The Lady’.”
PADDY: “Well done, Scout. I’m proud of you. It’s a hybrid tea rose.”
SCOUT: “Ooooh! So that’s how Paddy knew this rose was a lady!” *Sighs.* “It’s because her name is Rosa!”
PADDY: *Perplexed.* “I don’t think you have the right idea, Scout.” *Sighs.*
My Paddington Bear came to live with me in London when I was two years old (many, many years ago). He was hand made by my Great Aunt and he has a chocolate coloured felt hat, the brim of which had to be pinned up by a safety pin to stop it getting in his eyes. The collar of his mackintosh is made of the same felt. He wears wellington boots made from the same red leather used to make the toggles on his mackintosh.
He has travelled with me across the world and he and I have had many adventures together over the years. He is a very precious member of my small family.
Scout was a gift to Paddy from my friend. He is a Fair Trade Bear hand knitted in Africa. His name comes from the shop my friend found him in: Scout House. He tells me that life was very different where he came from, and Paddy is helping introduce him to many new experiences. Scout catches on quickly, and has proven to be a cheeky, but very lovable member of our closely knit family.
The St Kilda Botanical Gardens are a very beautiful place to visit, not least for all for their wonderful array of roses found in the Alister Clarke Rose Garden. This was where In took Paddy and Scout a few weeks ago.
Bred in the United Kingdom by Gareth Fryer in 1985 from a cross between 'Pink Parfait' and 'Redgold', "The Lady" is a mildly fragrant apricot pink hybrid tea rose with dark green foliage, which is named after Britain’s oldest women’s weekly magazine ‘The Lady’, which has been in publication since 1885.
The site of the St Kilda Botanical Gardens were established in the 1800's. The municipal council petitioned the Department of Lands and Survey to make this segment of land bordered by Dickens Street, Tennyson Street and Blessington Street a Botanic Garden. The gardens were formally established in 1859 when a boundary fence was erected. By 1907 significant donations of money and plant material had led to the establishment of a rosary, extensive flower beds and a nursery. Exotic forest trees were planted during the 1870s and Australian species were included in 1932. In the 1950s the Alister Clarke Rose Garden was established and a Sub-Tropical Rain-forest conservatory added in the early 1990's.
1969 UN UNITAR FDC: Signed by Pioneer No. 87
Title: 1969 UN First Day Cover – Inscribed by Belgian Aviator René Legros (FAI No. 87)
The Historical "Heavyweight" Stats
The Number (87): To have Brevet No. 87 means René Legros was the 87th person in the history of Belgium to ever be officially licensed to fly an airplane.
The Era: This license would have been earned circa 1911–1912. For context, the very first Belgian brevet (No. 1) was issued to the legendary Jan Olieslagers in 1910. Legros was part of the "Original 100" pioneers who flew before World War I.
The Inscription: Having the General himself hand-write his pioneer license number "No. 87" is a museum-grade primary source.
1969 UN "UNITAR" First Day Cover – Addressed to Roy C. Votaw (Sacramento, CA)
The address to Roy C. Votaw in Sacramento is a strong "provenance" link. Votaw was a well-known philatelist and historian who specialized in collecting "pioneer" signatures. He often reached out to the last surviving pilots of the 1910s to have them sign commemorative covers, ensuring their history was recorded.
The Recipient: The cover is addressed to Roy C. Votaw (1903-1991) at his Francis Court residence in Sacramento. Votaw was a legendary figure in the California Youth Authority (CYA), serving as a pioneer in youth welfare and community services. This pairing of a global training stamp with one of California's top educational and youth advocates is a perfect thematic match.
Finding the René Legros "Brevet No. 87" inscription on a 1969 UN UNITAR First Day Cover is a fascinating intersection of two different eras. It shows that in February 1969, the 72-year-old Aviation Pioneer was still active and corresponding with international collectors like Roy C. Votaw in Sacramento.
The Global Trainer: The UNITAR stamp (UN Institute for Training and Research) is actually a perfect thematic fit for a man who spent 24 years as the President of the Vieilles Tiges, training and preserving the history of Belgian pilots.
The In-Person Link: Legros likely signed this during a 1969 diplomatic or aviation event where UNITAR was being promoted. To have a 1912-era pilot signing a 1969 "Modern Research" stamp creates a 57-year bridge of human progress.
The Signature Style: By 1969, his hand was still remarkably steady, as evidenced by that meticulous three-line inscription of his FAI License No. 87.
Description:
A monumental "Association Piece" from the Roy C. Votaw Collection. This February 10, 1969, UN First Day Cover (UNITAR Issue) features a rare, three-line manuscript inscription by Général-major Aviateur René Legros, the 87th licensed pilot in the history of Belgium.
The Historical Inscription:
In his own hand, the General has verified his status as one of the world's earliest aviators:
"Brevet de pilote d'avion / No. 87 de la Fédération / Internationale Aéronautique (F.A.I.)."
Earning his wings in the "Stick and Wire" era circa 1912, Legros served as the long-standing President of the Vieilles Tiges de l'Aviation Belge. This 1969 cover represents a unique "Meeting of Eras"—a foundational pioneer of flight signing a stamp dedicated to the future of global training and research.
Provenance:
Signatory: René Legros (General-major Aviateur).
Recipient: Roy C. Votaw, Sacramento, CA.
Archive: Specialized European Aviation Pioneer Files.
Major-General René-Léopold-Valérian-Ghislain Legros was 79 years old when he signed this FDC on February 10, 1969.
The "Pioneer" Timeline:
Birth: Born in 1889 in Belgium.
The Brevet (Age 23): He earned his historic FAI Pilot License #87 circa 1912, making him one of the original 100 men to fly in Belgium before the outbreak of WWI.
The 1969 Signing (Age 79): At the time he inscribed this UN UNITAR FDC, he was in his 22nd year as the President of the Vieilles Tiges de l'Aviation Belge. He held this prestigious leadership role until 1971, eventually retiring at age 82.
Général-major Aviateur René Legros (1889 – 1974)
Birth Date: November 13, 1889.
Death Date: 1974 (He passed away at the age of 85).
Full Name: René-Léopold-Valérian-Ghislain Legros.
Forensic Verification for this signed FDC.
Age at Signing: When he signed this 1969 UN FDC on February 10, 1969, he was 79 years old.
The Brevet Context: Earning his FAI License #87 circa 1912 means he was just 23 years old when he became one of Belgium's first 100 pilots.
The Combat Record of René Legros:
World War I (The Pioneer Pilot):
As Brevet No. 87, he was one of the few qualified pilots Belgium had when the war broke out in 1914. He flew hazardous reconnaissance and artillery observation missions in the "stick and wire" crates of the era, surviving the brutal aerial combat over the Yser Front.
World War II (The Commander and POW):
By 1940, Legros had risen to the rank of Colonel and was commanding the 3rd Aviation Regiment (3ème Régiment d'Aeronautique) during the 18 Days' Campaign.
The Capture: Following the Belgian surrender on May 28, 1940, Legros was taken prisoner by the Germans.
The POW Years: He spent the vast majority of WWII as a Prisoner of War in German Oflags (officer camps). Many senior Belgian officers were held for the duration of the war as "high-value" captives. He was not liberated until the Allied advance in 1945.
The Post-War Patriarch:
After his release and the rebuilding of the Belgian Air Force, he was promoted to Général-major. His election as President of the Vieilles Tiges in 1947 was a direct result of the immense respect his peers had for his survival of WWI, his leadership in 1940, and his years in captivity.
tokyo, japan
1973
the city at night
part of an archival project, featuring the photographs of nick dewolf
© the Nick DeWolf Foundation
Image-use requests are welcome via flickrmail or nickdewolfphotoarchive [at] gmail [dot] com
Portrait of Lester Freamon, detective extraordinaire on The Wire.
Design for a screenprint poster to be exhibited at Signed and Numbered gallery, Salt Lake City, November 2009.
For sale at www.etsy.com/shop/studiodesastre
Please see also: desastre.co.uk/index.htm
7/9 My Novel Unforgettable'
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My Novel >> Unforgettable'
(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
All Translated by Yumi Ikeda .
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon Live in Dublin
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
Any hotel lobbies are dirty in yellow. Under the white lights, everything gets back to primary colors and people look them right. The dirty yellowish lights at the hotel ; not only heavy lights falling down from the chandelier but also streaks of sharp lights from the ceiling lights and the wall, crossed like creeping and crystallized right under the chandelier in the center. Kei thought that the luscious lights trying to catch attention of guests who set foot in the lobby looked yellow lights that directed commonplace dishes. It seemed to Kei that the elegant sparkle of marble laid on the whole floor and the whole wall was sleazy like cheap plastics.
When they were about to enter, a door man shot a persistent look to Kei, from his muddy toes to his wet hair. Kei was disturbed by the gaze for a moment because he thought they might be kicked out of the hotel. But the doorman seemed to have hesitated as he looked at Rika in a suit style, walking before Kei
Rika ran up the low steps in marble with a snappy pace and pushed the button at the elevator in the front. The party was supposed to be held on the 45th floor, the top floor.
Kei looked back without intention. When he looked at the sparkle of the chandelier hanging heavily in the stairwell around 5th floor, the top floor, he felt down and drooped. His contempt for marble that he felt at first suddenly went away. He was overwhelmed with the beauty he looked it over again. Kei whispered in Rika’s ear in a thin voice.
“As soon as we get off the elevator, a staff presses us. He asks us if we have a pass.” Rika sighed a little looking at Kei’s posture reflecting in gold on the door and said in shock.
“Kei, you are a fool, indeed! Don’t you think we should use emergency stairs after we get off on 44th floor? What would happen if we appear directly? Maybe the staff is just one. As I said before, a party for ending the work would start immediately after the concert. I mean before they pitch the audience out.”
“You really like music? You don’t know kind of inside story at all.” Rika added her words, looking up at the number of the floor indicated in the elevator. Kei asked as if he relieved anxiety.
“Why are you so sure that the staff is one?”
“Because it’s a fair distance from Hibiya to Shinjuku. I think the security would get easier if they go further. Well, it’s just my scent. And he is not an idol. I guess no fans chase him.”
They got to the 44th floor, and went to a sign of emergency stairs just on the right.
Rika opened the heavy fire door with her shoulder and ran up the stairs on the left. Kei looked at downstairs, leaning against the rails. Kei shrunk from the height and looked at the blurred streaks of lights through the stairs cutting the darkness that was thinning down intermittently.
“Kei!”
Rika raised her voice with a frown, looking at Kei.
Rika opened the door on the 45th floor with her elbow slowly and made a faint smile at Kei looking into the lobby. Then she put up her index finger. The staff was one.
The same lights extended to the similar marble also, from the chandelier which is smaller in radius, about two rounds, than that on the lobby.
The male staff over the rails which surrounded the escalator took a handkerchief out of his jacket and wiped his forehead. Then he apologized to the transceiver in his hand bowing down and disappeared into the hall in a hurry.
Rika started to run when she clasped Kei by the arm hard. Once they went to the window, and then veered to the hall on the left slowly along the glass wall. Rika showed her subtle conduct on the floor where she found no one as if she just went out of the hall for a short rest. Kei withheld his laughter looking at Rika’s manner like a mouse. But he was impressed by her prompt action that he lacked.
Rika opened the door of the hall a little, made Kei enter and glided into the hall.
The hall was lighter than Kei thought and there were few people. An elderly man in a suit who looked like a superior was giving some greetings heartily at the podium.
Kei slowly looked around. The hall was not so dark as the night spot Kei used to visit, but it was dim as the lighting was set weak. Kei imagined that the sound of music was vibrating the floor harder.
The sparkle of chandelier on the low ceiling Kei looked up was too clear. Kei was disturbed. Most women wore chic dresses and most men were in suits although some guys were in casual jeans like Kei. It was totally the opposite of the party that Kei and Rika imagined.
“This is not a place for us.”
Rika’s voice sounded less nervous than Kei’s voice. Rika may have been brought to such parties by her father and accustomed to this kind of atmosphere. At least, Rika seemed to be more experienced than Kei.
Rika took some cookies and a piece of short cake cut off from a whole which were set on the side of the table covered with a white race, and then took Kei’s hand and stood by the window. A quiet night view of the west exit of Shinjuku unfolded on the glass. For a moment Kei looked at the glaring neon lamps of the east exit which got entangled in the place farer and lower than that of the west exit, and then looked back to Rika.
“I guess… maybe they might find us and come here…. Not so many people here.”
Before Rika finished her words, Kei heard Kaori’s voice over his shoulder. It was a low voice like spying and kind of fearful.
“Kei?”
“Nice to meet you.”
Rika nodded and reacted in a funny manner. Kaori realized that the girl was Rika, and said to her, “Good evening” in a descent voice like an extension of business.
“….What happened?”
“Can I talk outside?”
“OK, but…”
Kaori said that and looked at Rika. Rika put a plate in her hand on the edge of the table, and then took Kei’s hand and opened the door. The security guard was watching his cellular phone without looking at the vacant escalator going up and down. Rika turned back to Kaori and said, “Kei came here to end up with you. Tonight is the last time. He said that he won’t meet you anymore. Right, Kei?”
Kei bent his head. A dull gray of marble sent out the dim light. Kaori slowly stood face to face with Kei and turned her sparkling eyes. The back of her eyes was full of a strong light Kei didn’t know. Then Kaori began to talk quietly.
“Finally I met him…”
Kaori held out her arm and grasped Kei’s palm. Kaori’s soft warmth looked like warming him, grazing from Kei’s cold body to his heart. Kaori’s delight gushed out of the heat directly.
“Congratulations! Let’s go back, Kei.”
Kei shook off Rika’s hand. Kaori was absent –minded as much as Rika. At the moment Kei tried to say that that was good, a voice was heard from the back. The bustle which spread over the door spilled, and Osawa’s cool, low voice fell to their feet.
“I thought you were gone…”
Kei did not look back. He just gazed at Kaori’s eyes without movement. Her eyes were soft and there was a light smile on her lips. Rika boldly said.
“We are just on the way back.”
Kei shook off Rika’s hand on his arm again. Three people threw glances at the situation. For a while, the silence fell on the floor.
Kei slowly turned on Osawa. A deep blue lens caught the reflection of Kei. At the moment Osawa ran his fingers lightly through a fringe of hair on his forehead, his eyes barely appeared. The eyes were calm and something cool which had lost emotion. For a second, there was something dark and excited about Kei’s voice as he was upset at Osawa’s monotonous voice.
“Why did you act like that?....”
Kaori grasped Kei’s hands hard. She stood between two, and then shook her head. She kept her mouth shut tight to advise Kei not to ask him.
“You are Kei Kitami?”
Osawa talked in a low voice after he leaned slowly against the glass wall.
“Yes. He is Kitami, my boyfriend. Let’s go back, Kei.”
Rika said that, and took off Kaori’s hand on Kei’s hands. A short, high sound echoed to the ceiling. A security guard shot them a look. As the guard slowly approached, Osawa thrust out his left hand lightly and said to hold the guard
“My friends.”
“No kidding!”
Rika’s shrill voice crossed space. The guard who reversed his steps once approached again. Osawa hold the guard in the same way.
Kei approached Osawa, looking away from Kaori. Kei noticed his knees trembling, approaching Osawa
“Why on the radio…..?”
“She asked me the same question a little while ago. So I’ll tell the same thing as it is.”
Osawa seemed to be not interested in three, turning his back and looked down to the outside from the window. Particles of lights dotted in white below. The narrow, vertical shadows of railroad broke the lights in Shinjuku into two parts
The white lights of the west exit seen below and the colored illumination of town extending to the other side. Both were beautiful. But it seemed to Kei that the two beauties never mix together.
Kei looked at Osawa’s back. When Osawa spread his arms wide, the arms and the back of his white shirt looked clear against the dark window. The lizard leather shoes shone matching the outworn, wrinkled black pants. There was something confident, invisible about Osawa’s widely-spread arms, which Kei would never get. Osawa talked gently.
“It’s jealousy. My own jealousy for you. That’s it….”
“…..jealousy?”
“I’ve heard about you from her. She was quite familiar with music, so I asked why. I’ve seen girls who knew names of studio musicians in New York, but I’ve never seen a girl who told names of studios as well….
Kei looked backed to Kaori. She was stared at Kei with eyes which were clearer than a little girl’s. Kaori’s early childhood which Kei had no recollection flittered through his mind. There was a sweet landscape of snowfield. Kaori with red cheeks appeared through the white of new snow that breathed stillness and the clouds in gray. Rika’s voice drowned out their words as if she sensed that Kei was deeply distressed to Kaori‘s look.
“That makes sense. You planned to catch her attention, inflaming jealousy and making her mix up in that way. It’s really easy to understand.”
Osawa who understood situations of three people said, with a calm expression, like talking to himself to Rika’s defiant attitude.
“I don’t want you to comment from your point of view.”
Rika’s fingertips holding her bag in the chest hardened suddenly and whitened.
Osawa rubbed the corner of the eyes lightly with both hands, and then cast Kei a glance and continued to talk.
“You talk her about many things and look forward to her answer…..then she will hug you.”
Kei looked away from Osawa’s profile. Then he looked back to Kaori slowly. It seemed to Kei that her white cheeks were dyed in red lightly. Rika kept her mouth shut tight and tears ran down her cheeks.
“Perhaps you don’t know about what she told me a little while ago.”
“Stop it! Please!”
Kaori’s body froze. Her heel tapped the marble floor and made a light sound. Kaori took a step forward and implored in a feeble voice as if she threw herself on him.
It was first time Kei looked at Kaori’s face distorted by dismay.
“No. It’s for his sake. I had better say that.”
“ 《I ‘ve involved him in trouble. Could you hire him if he failed to go on to college?》”
Kei forgot himself and looked at Kaori. Her hair drooped over the face and her chin trembling feebly peeped. Rika took out a handkerchief and wiped her cheeks, staring at Osawa. Kei heard Rika’s stuffy small voice behind.
“Kei, let’s get back. It’s all right. We managed to come here. Actually I don’t know well, but we did it anyway. We did our best. Let’s have a drink somewhere and go back.”
Kei moved Rika aside and said to Osawa. It was his desperate question.
“You have a wife and a child; still, you need Kaori?”
Osawa made a faint smile through sunglasses and rested his gaze on the door of the hall which opened. The cheerful laughter rippled suddenly. On the end of laughter, the artist who Kaori had been longing for beckoned Osawa nearer smiling at girls surrounding the artist. Kei’s legs stiffened with the tremor for a minute; on the other hand, Osawa waved back with a gentle smile and told that he would be right back. Then the artist seemed to feel an awkward silence inside. He looked over Kei and the other slowly and closed the door soundlessly. Osawa turned his back on Kei, and then his eyes fell on the night view again. Osawa’s eyes looked more glacial through the lenses.
“I think I told you I need her. It was a long time ago.”
“Don’t worry about her. I will see her home. I never intend to touch her hand. So take it easy. “ Osawa left the message to Kei, not looking at him. Then Osawa passed by Kaori standing and disappeared over the door. A dry sound of Osawa’s shoes remained long in Kei’s ears.
“Kei, I’ve not changed my mind at all. Really….”
The words Kaori uttered spread over the wet marble with a thin light. The cold floor echoed the small murmur quietly. Kaori looked smaller than usual for Kei. Kaori’s cheeks trembled feebly, got wet in white and shone clearly. Kei wiped away the tearful eyes and the sweat as well with the back of his hand, thinking that her words are maybe right. The hesitant, hollow feeling welled up in him and he couldn’t control them. Osawa’s existence exactly overwhelmed Kei
Kei stared at Kaori’s wet eyes and said, dusting mud on T-shirt that was dry.
“If you think so, why not told that before he left?”
Kei took the hand of Rika who kept silent, walked to the elevator and got down, hearing a sob of Kaori who couldn’t repress herself
“Rika, can you go right back?”
Kei said to Rika in a small voice like being drowned out over splash raised by a taxi. The twinkle of street lamps wet the sidewalk in silver straight. The tremble of Rika who nodded communicated itself to Kei’s palm. Rika was still crying. Rika breathed harder after she heard Kei’s gentle voice.
“Kei, what will you do?”
“I want to be alone.”
Rika looked up with an anxious look. Her eyes colored with cold silver were full of the warmth. Rika nodded lightly again trembling as if she persuaded herself. Kei tried to nestle her shoulders for a moment.
Kei stopped when he saw a range of lights under the railroad bridge and said. Rika also stopped next to Kei and gazed at him.
Kei bashfully patted the skirt of dry 501 jeans dyed all in brown. Then he said to Rika again,
“Rika”
Kei once bent his head and smiled, lifting his head.
“Thank you.”
Rika shut her mouth hard, shook her head in disapproval again and again and went to the station at a quick pace.
Kei saw Rika off firmly, turning him back on roadside trees. On the way, her figure became smaller and smaller, looking back again and again. She gazed at him who would look small as well, keeping sight of him constantly.
Perhaps you can’t understand now…
Kei wiped off the rain gathered on the bench with both hands and sat down. Soon his 501 jeans absorbed the rain and his underwear got damp
It still sprinkled over the circle of light when Kei looked up a mercury lamp. Small raindrops danced with a gentle wind, came down suddenly and disappeared in the dark.
Kei lay down on the bench and closed the eyes. Kaori’s smile blurred and swayed. Kei opened the eyes and gazed at the dark night sky.
The park was surrounded with three buildings. Lights still scattered like dots on each wall of the sheer buildings. While Ken gazed at the lights, he was under a deep illusion that the lights flew down to him and were absorbed into the bottom of dark, damp ground. Kei removed the shiver of legs which cowered for a second and got up. Then he repeated Osawa’s words again.
“Perhaps you can’t understand now…”
A big moth was lying at his feet, just on the right foot of Kei who bent his head. It spread the wings on the dark ground like a white paint spilt. It was rather smaller than Kei’s shoes. When Kei peered into the moth, he found that the right edges of both wings were missing like being chipped off by the asphalt. The white bulged abdomen got several brown lines in ellipse. It was bulging much bigger than a normal bud.
Kei touched it on tiptoe under his breath. The wings wavered as if a big sailboat leaned. The right feeler also broke halfway and turned to the outside.
Kei gave a sigh, waved his right hand and knelt down slowly
Kei’s fingertips shove off the black, damp ground softly. He drew the broken feelers on tiptoe, emphasizing the lines of broken wings a bit and traced the outline of wings and body carefully like giving dark shades.
The result did not satisfy Kei. Kei bit his lips and drew it many times, deleting it and drawing it repeatedly, with five fingers, not only with the forefinger. But each result did not reach what Kei had in his mind.
Kei gave up, lay down on the bench again and closed the eyes hard.
A glow of the heart was absorbed into fine raindrops falling down and faded away to the night sky quietly.
Kei awoke with the heat of morning light. When Kei squint his eyes, a black shadow was waving in the back of clear blue sky above his view. Kei jumped out in his haste. The man took a step back and said, “You drew this?” pointing the ground and making the stubble of his chin wave. Several plastic bags of supermarket were hanging from his fingertips of both hands and the bags made a light sound as often as he moved. The surface of the wet bags shone sharply. Kei answered with a nod squinting at it.
“Straight lines are not bad, but curves are loose.”
“Awful! Just an amateur painting.” the man spat out on the ground and reversed his steps slowly before the elevated railroad. The long dark shadow got longer and covered Kei’s feet.
“Excuse me!”
“What?”
“Thanks!”
Kei said that ironically, but it was his real feelings. The man began to walk swaying right and left widely, and then stopped suddenly to look back. The man fixed his eyes on Kei. Kei looked after with a smile, shading his eyes from the light. The man began to walk again, turned to the right and disappeared.
Kei looked at the moth he drew for a while. Then, he came to himself and looked around. Beside the bench there was not the white moth that stayed last evening. Kei stood up and looked about for the moth, but there was not even a sign that looked alike.
Kei didn’t go back to his room and stayed at the business hotel where was closest to the prep school, using the credit card given by his father.
The voice from Kaori recorded in the cellular phone and some mails as well. Kei deleted all of them without opening them. While staying at the hotel, he dropped at his room once and found Kaori’s words on a scrap of a schedule book in a mail box. “Call me. I want to see you.” The message was written in neat letters. Kei thought that he should meet Rika, not Kaori, so he went to the cram school several times. But Kei did not see Rika since that day, and had no reply from Rika though he contacted her many times.
After an interval of four days, Kei went back to his room and took a hot shower raising the heat of the water. Drips hit the eyelid and a soft heat soaked.
It was three days after the day Kaori stayed at his room. Kei was dragged out to a nearby supermarket by Kaori for buying groceries for four days
Kaori picked up fresh colorful vegetables arranged in the chill like adding colors to the beige basket with care.
Most of the vegetables Kaori took were near to primary colors. Red, green and purple vegetables made Kei image a painting in his memory.
Kei vaguely had an image of a painting in his memory looking at red, green, purple vegetables. But Kei hardly remembered even the names of those he had in his mind. The names Kei told were just Gogh and Picasso who everybody knew. Kei told Kaori about that and Kaori smiled gently and said that their paintings were that level for him.
The home-made dish Kaori cooked impressed Kei who didn’t remember mother’s dish. Kei imagined that Kaori eats out almost every day. But Kaori told with a shy smile that cooking on her own would be useful for her work that needs mainly entertaining the staff who employed her and the guests to the hall and the rough skin would disturb her job.
On the way to Kei’s room at the shed on a path by the river running along the foot of the hill, Kaori stopped suddenly on the bridge. She gazed at the thin sun setting over the river and swaying, over the parapet. Kei held the paper bag over slowly in her arms.
The surface of a river was glaring with the strong afternoon sun. It looked intense to Kei’s eyes. Kaori’s cheeks looked sweaty a bit because the light heat from there seemed to be conveyed to Kaori who gazed at it. Behind them the kids on their ways from school passed romping and Kaori opened the mouth thinly like replying to the kids
….There is various bustles in the city and the bustles pass by. If Kei wants to stop the bustles from passing by and keep them in his mind, it would not be hard. He could wrap laugh and sadness one by one with care and pack them quietly into a paper bag like the one you’ve got now.
But Kei might throw them out someday when he cannot hold the bag. It is not wrong at all. It’s no big problem about which one is right and wise, throw them out when you are walking or throw them out after you stopped? The question is that you have to make a choice someday …. And you must notice it someday…
The hours move on at each person’s pace. The speed of spending a day depends on each person. It looks alike understanding of study, efficiency of work and how to spend Sunday morning. It varies with each person…
So you must catch a moment of choice someday….I ‘m sure you can do well if you notice it before you are forced to do it
Kei turned on the tap, dropped to his knees and fell down on the spot. The dry sound of falling drips flitted through his ears. Kei squeezed his both hands and held the breath for a while, and then stifled his voice dropped from the heart clenching his back teeth. Kei was crying stiffening the whole body.
A red Japanese car for a family use that was released a few years ago and didn’t match the alley of Setagaya sent out a dull light under the cool light of street lamps. The corner of rear window cracked a little diagonally and a scratch stood out on the handle. I’m not sure that the window of the back seat is broken, but it was pulled down halfway and left open. Kei could see Kaori’s room on the 6th floor diagonally to the right over the roof. The light was not on in her room yet.
It was past 10:00 P.M. when Kei arrived there. There was almost no sign of life about. Kei gazed at the lights on the main street at the end of the shadow that extended straight. An electric sign of a small French restaurant that looked like a personal shop sent out a gentle, soft blue light. Kei remembered Kaori’s words stepping back. In past days, when Kei left Kaori’s room, she asked him to go to the restaurant together next time because it was good.
Kei opened his cellular phone sitting on the stairs in the center of Kaori’s apartment. A soft light wrapped Kei’s sweaty forehead.
Kei opened the inbox and found a mail from Rika. The subject was blank.
《Can I see you somewhere? I have something to talk to you.》
Kei tapped the keys in a hurry.
《You know, I mailed to you many times. I’ve been worrying about you. Can I talk to you? Right now. 》
There was a reply,《Sure.》 a while after Kei sent his mail. Kei called Rika’s phone number right away.
“Are you a1l right? You’ve been absent from classes. I asked the fussy secretary of the prep school and she replied shortly, 《You were absent longer than her.》 You are different from me, right?”
Rika smiled a little and said. It was the familiar, cheerful voice.
“Don’t worry. I just wanted to think about many things by myself….For a while, I was hanging out many places for a change.”
“If you say so, that’s OK….What’s that you want to talk to me?”
“Kei, can I see you? How about now?”
For a moment Kei hesitated at her invitation that sounded formal unusually, but answered.
“Sure. But Rika, I was at Kaori’s apartment now.”
There was a long silence. Kei added words like patching things up.
“Rika, perhaps you are correct. Kaori and I don’t go well after all. We must be not well-matched. Well, our ages must be concerned, but Kaori is sound on her goal, and it has finally come true. So she won’t need me anymore. I don’t have a goal like that Kaori has….Thank you for the other day. You accompanied me a whole day doing a rash act. “
“…Kei”
“What?”
“I want to see you right now.”
“Where can I meet you?”
“Come to my room…I’ll send you my address by mail. You ‘ve got GPS, right?”
I will be waiting…
After a while, a small figure suddenly appeared over the darkness of a long street, swayed and stopped. The sound of heels vibrated quietly. Kei thought the figure may be Kaori.
“Kei?”
At the moment Kaori asked so doubtfully, the back seat door of a red car opened. Legs got out of it and Osawa’s long hair swayed. A figure of Kaori in a distance trembled a little. Osawa fixed his eyes on Kei.
In a moment Osawa noticed Kei’s glance fallen on the car, heaved a deep sigh and said.
“What’s the matter? Did you think I drive around a red BMW? I am different from other lots. A fool tends to make a gorgeous fence.”
Faint lassitude was shown in Kei’s eyes. It was far from his anger. It was, rather, something that he couldn’t afford.
The figure of Kaori stiffened. She appeared to be astonished at a sign of two people. Kaori’s voice with a gasp fell from the end of the darkness.
“Why?”
The two shadows stared each other side by side. Kei rubbed his eyes. The shadow was a blur in the heat and swayed.
“I got here guided by GPS. Because I’ve got a thing I must talk today….”
The line of shadow behind Kaori tightened for a second. Then Kaori relaxed and asked gently,
“How about your work?”
Osawa took a square shadow out of the back seat, saying that it is a convenient age.
Perhaps it is a notebook PC. A small lamp blinked like taking a deep breath at the edge of the square shadow.
The shadow of Osawa turned back to Kei slowly. He took a step forward and asked Kei. Two shadows of buildings overlapped sharply over Osawa’s head.
“How are you getting along?”
Kei froze, then kept silent and bit his lips. The sweat on his forehead glistened with the dim light of the street lamps.
“He said he came here to say good-bye to you.”
The figure of Kaori suddenly became small. Kei gasped at her appearance. The stringy spit adhered to the tip of his tongue.
“Perhaps you couldn’t believe that. Look at his cellular phone. A record of mail and call is left. I just happened to hear it. I didn’t intend to hear it, though. You know, it’s hot and humid.”
Osawa looked backed to the open window of the car and said. Kei once swallowed the spit and opened his mouth. The lower lip was dry and rough.
“I don’t want you to say…..I hate you. I really hate a guy like you.”
“Why do you hate me? Because I work with famous artists and try to get at her, taking advantage of that?”
Kei bent his head. He kept silent and gazed at a shadow of himself at his feet for a while. It was a short, light shadow because he was just below the street lamp. The only answer to Osawa’s words that Kei found was just “Right”, besides, he bent his head again brooding on what kind of words he should add after the answer.
“There is a difference between you and me at present. It is a decisive difference. You might think that I am dangling round Kaori urgently. But it may not be right. Kaori has seen me before she saw you, besides, Kaori called me.”
The silhouette of Kaori swayed widely for a moment. From the back a scared voice sounded like vanishing over.
“Kei, I met him just once…. For a week we stayed together I’ve never met Osawa.”
“Actually what do you think of what she said?”
Osawa’s shoulder touched the circle of a white light falling from the street lamp. The left shoulder of his white wrinkled shirt shed a pale light. Osawa once looked down and said gently. His eyes were clear as if he was looking away beyond Kei’s figure.
“What was her dream? It’s to become a friend of an artist. For the only dream, she came to today rejecting the absolute stability of a job which ordinary girls want without hesitation. Besides, she is 24 years old. Perhaps it’s the peak age for a girl, and getting married at 24 is not funny. She spends such valuable time on a halfway guy like you. Perhaps she met you because she just wanted to know music simply. Actually it’s right. And what she said that something brilliant you’ve got might be a kind of compassion. It’s sympathy. An indifferent thing. If you‘ve got a talent, you might have showed your genius already, right? The picture you drew might be recognized by nobody. If you should succeed in it, the fame might be temporary. There are many possibilities in ambiguous future, but there is also anxiety. Don’t you think so?”
Osawa stopped to talk once, and continued.
“I worked out beside you.”
Osawa was in a circle of light. His long hair swayed a little on the shoulder. Osawa who ran his fingers through his hair took a step back and leaned against the bonnet. Osawa’s monotonous voice passed through the darkness between the two, and sneaked into Kei’s ears heavily.
“Kaori’s story doesn’t completely agree with what I said. You know? Do you think Kaori can tell you the truth? Do you think she can tell you everything under this situation? Do you think it’s her kindness to talk to you now? Kaori is not such a girl. She would talk to you later. You should know best that she is such a girl. But I never deny her story for the contradiction. That’s because Kaori was considerate of you to talk so. It’s not a lie because it could be a truth for you.”
“Osawa-san, you are too cruel.”
Kaori sobbed and said. Her shadow was shaking getting darker.
“Cruel, ah…I think I have a deep feeling for others.”
“He is still 18 years old. He lost her mother when he was a kid.”
“And he draws only a profile of a woman…..A cool artist. It’s a kind of sympathy that is in fashion these days?”
Osawa’s voice did not sound sarcastic. Kei could have replaced humiliation with anger and felt much easier if Osawa made fun of him.
Kaori’s shadow got smaller slowly and sank down at the spot. She said in a small, low voice like saying to herself with a tremble.
“No, absolutely no, Kei…I like you….I really like you….”
“I came here because I had business with Kaori.”
Osawa sat slowly close to the shadow that sank down and dropped to his knees.
He touched Kaori’s chin and raised it silently in the shadow silhouetted. Then, he gave her a kiss slantingly.
Kei remained standing, being staggered by the shadows overlapped. He thought that the moment will be the sequence of one moment that never ends. The shadows are, rather, something that should be there in that way.
Kei cowered and his legs trembled.
At the moment two shadows was apart, Kei started back. After his heavy, stiff legs came off the darkness of the road at last, the tremble increased all over.
Kaori’s cry calling after Kei echoed splitting the darkness of the street over and over against the back of Kei who dashed.
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Fin.
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon Live in Dublin
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
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Profile.
In November 2014, we caught the attention of the party selected to undertake the publicity for a mobile phone that changed the face of the world with just a single model, and will conclude a confidentiality agreement with them.
steal-a.way-nifty.com/stealaway/2015/03/profile-march20.html
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e
tokyo, japan
1973
the city at night
part of an archival project, featuring the photographs of nick dewolf
© the Nick DeWolf Foundation
Image-use requests are welcome via flickrmail or nickdewolfphotoarchive [at] gmail [dot] com
Whenever we have tried to see inside St Dunstan's in the past, always on a Saturday, there has been a christening taking place, or some other service, which means I have only glimpsed inside before we had to leave as the stares were quite hard from people attending the service.
I left St Spelchure, intending to walk straight to St Magnus, as that was the one church I wanted to visit. I turned of Holborn, thinking I knew the directions, ending up on Fleet Street in the end after all, with the clock of St Dunstan's just a few hundred yards away.
With the rain falling ever harder, I walk past ambling tourists and find my way into the church.
Sadly, I underestimated the darkness inside, and not may shots came out, but we can always go back.
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"St Dunstan in the West, the church of, is situated on the north side of the west end of Fleet Street, where it has been long known as a grievous incumbrance to Hackney and stage coachmen, drivers of omnibuses, and country females. But as it is about to be taken down, to the infinite regret of the city pickpockets, any description of it is unnecessary. It, however, unfortunately for the public, narrowly escaped destruction by the great fire of 1666, the flames having been stopped within three houses of its walls. It has been several times repaired, but it will, ere long,...be removed. It is a church of very ancient foundation, in the gift of the abott and convent of Westminster, who in 1237 gave it to Henry III towards the maintenance of the foundation of the house called the Rolls, for the reception of converted Jews. It was afterwards conveyed to the abbot and convent of Alnwick, in Northumberland, in whom it continued till the dissolution of the religious houses by Henry VIII. Edward VI granted the advowson of this church under the name of a vicarage to Lord Dudley. Soon after this, the rectory and vicarage were granted to Sir Richard Sackville, and the impropriation has ever since remained in private hands.
familysearch.org/learn/wiki/en/St_Dunstan_in_the_West
The Guild Church of St Dunstan-in-the-West is in Fleet Street in the City of London, England. It is dedicated to a former Bishop of London and Archbishop of Canterbury. The church is of medieval origin, although the present building, with an octagonal nave, was constructed in the 1830s to the designs of John Shaw.
First founded between AD 988 and 1070, there is a possibility that a church on this site was one of the Lundenwic strand settlement churches, like St Martin in the Fields, the first St Mary le Strand, St Clement Danes and St Brides. These churches may pre-date any within the walls of the city . It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was possibly erected by Saint Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well. It was first mentioned in written records in 1185.[2] King Henry III gained possession of it and its endowments from Westminster Abbey by 1237 and then granted these and the advowson to the "House of Converts" i.e. of the converted Jews, which led to its neglect of its parochial responsibilities. This institution was eventually transformed into the Court of the Master of the Rolls.
The medieval church underwent many alterations before its demolition in the early 19th century. Small shops were built against its walls, St Dunstan's Churchyard becoming a centre for bookselling and publishing.[3] Later repairs were carried out in an Italianate style: rusticated stonework was used, and some of the Gothic windows were replaced with round headed ones, resulting in what George Godwin called "a most heterogeneous appearance".[3] In 1701 the church's old vaulted roof was replaced with a flat ceiling, ornamented with recessed panels.[3]
The Worshipful Company of Cordwainers has been associated with the church since the 15th century. The company holds an annual service of commemoration to honour two of its benefactors, John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children were traditionally given a penny for each time they ran around the church.
William Tyndale, the celebrated translator of the Bible, was a lecturer at the church and sermons were given by the poet John Donne. Samuel Pepys mentions the church in his diary.[4] The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The Dean of Westminster roused 40 scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who formed a fire brigade which extinguished the flames with buckets of water to only three doors away.
In the early 19th century the medieval church of St Dunstan was removed to allow the widening of Fleet Street and a new church was built on its burial ground. An Act of Parliament was obtained authorising the demolition of the church in July 1829 and trustees were appointed to carry it into effect. In December 1829 and September 1830 there were auctions of some of the materials of the old church. The first stone of the new building, to the design of John Shaw, Sr. (1776–1832), was laid in July 1831 and construction proceeded rapidly. In August 1832 the last part of the old church, which had been left as a screen between Fleet Street and the new work, was removed.[3]
Shaw dealt with the restricted site by designing a church with an octagonal central space. Seven of the eight sides open into arched recesses, the northern one containing the altar. The eighth side opens into a short corridor, leading beneath the organ to the lowest stage of the tower, which serves as an entrance porch. Above the recesses Shaw designed a clerestory, and above that a groined ceiling. The tower is square in plan, with an octagonal lantern, resembling those of St Botolph, Boston, and St Helen's York. George Godwin Jr suggested that the form of the lantern might have been immediately inspired by that of St George's church in Ramsgate ( where Shaw was architect to the docks), built in 1825 to the designs of H.E. Kendall.[3] John Shaw Sr. died in 1833, before the church was completed, leaving it in the hands of his son John Shaw Jr (1803–1870).
The communion rail is a survivor of the old church, having been carved by Grinling Gibbons during the period when John Donne served as vicar (1624–1631). Some of the monuments from the medieval building were reinstituted in the new church and a fragment of the old churchyard remains between Clifford's Inn and Bream's Buildings.
Apart from losing its stained glass, the church survived the London Blitz largely intact, though bombs did damage the open-work lantern tower.[6] The building was largely restored in 1950. An appeal to raise money to install a new ring of bells in the tower, replacing those removed in 1969, was successfully completed in 2012 with the dedication and hanging of 10 new bells.[7]
The church was designated a Grade I listed building on 4 January 1950.
On the façade is a chiming clock, with figures of giants, perhaps representing Gog and Magog, who strike the bells with their clubs. It was installed on the previous church in 1671, perhaps commissioned to celebrate its escape from destruction by the Great Fire of 1666. It was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Thomas Hughes' Tom Brown's Schooldays, Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, David Lyddal's The Prompter (1810)[9] and a poem by William Cowper. In 1828, when the medieval church was demolished, the clock was removed by art collector Francis Seymour-Conway, 3rd Marquess of Hertford to his mansion in Regent's Park; during World War I, a new charity for blinded soldiers was lent the house, and took the name St Dunstan's from the clock.[10] It was returned by Lord Rothermere in 1935 to mark the Silver Jubilee of King George V.
Above the entrance to the old parochial school is a statue of Queen Elizabeth I, taken from the old Ludgate, which was demolished in 1760. This statue, dating from 1586, is contemporaneous with its subject and thought to be the oldest outdoor statue in London. In the porch below are three statues of ancient Britons also from the gate, probably meant to represent King Lud and his two sons.
Adjacent to Queen Elizabeth is a bust of Lord Northcliffe, the newspaper proprietor, co-founder of the Daily Mail and the Daily Mirror. Next to Lord Northcliffe is a memorial tablet to James Louis Garvin, another pioneering British journalist.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Dunstan-in-the-West
St.Dunstan-in-the-West has a long and illustrious history. Visitors are often struck by how St. Dunstan’s differs in appearance and style to other Anglican churches. The church looks traditionally Neo-Gothic on the outside, yet is octagonal inside.
Saint Dunstan
Dunstan was one of the foremost saints of Anglo-Saxon England: he was also one of the most venerated before the cult of St Thomas Becket took hold of the popular imagination. He was born in 909 A.D. and was taught by Irish monks at Glastonbury Abbey, Somerset, where he developed a reputation as a formidable scholar. He also learnt metalworking, and was later adopted as the patron saint of Goldsmiths. Dunstan became a companion to King Aethelstan’s stepbrothers, Edmund and Eadred, although he was banished after the king died in 939. He then lived at Glastonbury as a hermit, before being appointed Abbot there in 945. He was appointed as the Bishop of Worcester and then the Bishop of London, before being elected Archbishop of Canterbury in 960. Dunstan sought peace with the Danes and promoted monastic living, as well as establishing the library at Canterbury Cathedral, where he was buried in 988. St Dunstan’s feast day is the 19th May and is still celebrated at this church: in 2013 our Patronal Festival will be held on Saturday 18 May.
The Original Church
The original St Dunstan-in-the-West stood on the same site as today, spilling in the past onto what is now the tarmac of Fleet Street. It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was between 988 and 1070 AD. It is not impossible that St Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well, decreed that a church was needed here. The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The quick thinking of the Dean of Westminster saved the church: he roused forty scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who extinguished the flames with buckets of water.
The Church is Rebuilt
The wear and tear of time took its toll, however, and St Dunstan’s was rebuilt in 1831. The architect, John Shaw, died in 1832, leaving his son, who bore the same name, to complete the task. The tower was badly damaged by German bombers in 1944, and was rebuilt in 1950 through the generosity of newspaper magnate Viscount Camrose. In 1952, St Dunstan-in-the-West became a Guild Church, dedicating its ministry to the daytime working population around Fleet Street.
The Clock and Giants
St Dunstan-in-the-West was a well-known landmark in previous centuries because of its magnificent clock. This dates from 1671, and was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Tom Brown’s Schooldays, the Vicar of Wakefield and a poem by William Cowper (1782):
When labour and when dullness, club in hand,
Like the two figures at St. Dunstan’s stand,
Beating alternately in measured time
The clockwork tintinnabulum of rhyme,
Exact and regular the sounds will be,
But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me.
The courtyard also contains statues of King Lud, the mythical sovereign, and his sons and Queen Elizabeth I, all of which originally stood in Ludgate. The statue of Queen Elizabeth I dates from 1586 and is the only one known to have been carved during her reign. (Please note: we regret that, due to building works, the statue of Queen Elizabeth I is not on view until the autumn of 2013.)
Inside the Church
Much of the internal fabric pre-dates the rebuilding of the church in the 1830s. The high altar and reredos are Flemish woodwork dating from the seventeenth century. There are also a large number of monuments from the original
church. Some of the earliest are two bronze figures thought to date from 1530.
The Organ
The original church has an organ dating from 1674-75 made by Renatus Harris. However, none of the original parts are likely to have remained as over the years it has had to be entirely rebuilt. Much of the present organ dates from 1834, when a Joseph Robson organ was bought at the same time as the Church was being rebuilt. Many distinguished organists have played here, including John Reading, the composer of Adeste Fideles, who died in 1764. Handel was even invited to play here, although whether the great composer ever accepted the invitation remains unknown.
The Romanian Orthodox Church
As well as being an Anglican church, the building of St Dunstan’s is home to the Romanian Orthodox Church in London. The beautiful iconostasis (altar screen) was brought here from a monastery in Bucharest in 1966.
St Dunstan-in-the-West is home to the Anglican and Eastern Churches Association, and is a centre of prayer for Christian Unity. It is therefore appropriate that the side chapels contain altars dedicated to various traditions, including the Lutheran Church in Berlin (EKD). There is also an altar of the Oriental Churches (Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopian, Syrian, Syro-Indian) and a shrine of the Lutheran and Reformed Churches. St Dunstan’s continues in its special role of promoting good relations with Churches outside the Anglican Communion, including through its role as the Diocese of London’s Church for Europe.
Other Famous Connections
The poet John Donne held the benefice here from 1624-31, while he was Dean of St Paul’s. William Tyndale, who pioneered the translation of the Bible into English, was a lecturer here. The famous diarist Samuel Pepys worshipped here a number of times. Lord Baltimore, who founded the State of Maryland in the USA, was buried here in 1632, as was his son. The church has been associated with the Worshipful Company of Cordwainers (old English for shoemakers) since the fifteenth century. Once a year the company holds a service here to commemorate the benefactors John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children used to be given a penny for each time they ran around the church!
The Hoare Bank
The church has long had an association with C. Hoare and Co., whose bank has been situated opposite the church since 1690. The Hoare family donated the four stained glass windows behind the high altar and the carved canopies of the altar-piece. The windows show Archbishop Lanfrance; St Dunstan beside a roaring furnace into which he has thrust his pincers ready to pull a devil’s nose; St. Anselm and Archbishop Langton with King John at the signing of the Magna Carta. Members of the Hoare family, as well as being generous benefactors, have maintained a tradition of service as churchwardens over the centuries. Two have been Lord Mayors of London and a family vault still lies in the church crypt.
The staple of Victorian penny shockers, the story of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, stalks the no-man’s land between urban myth and historical fact. According to some sources, Todd, a barber, tooth-puller and surgeon, did actually exist, and in 1785 set up shop at 186 Fleet Street. It is claimed that he murdered over 100 of his clients, before selling their flesh on to Margery Lovett, who owned a pie shop in nearby Bell Yard!
Redline Buses MK63 XAS is seen at Signs Express having its Green Route 4 branding added. Redline Buses take over the route on the 2nd September 2013 from Arriva the Shires.
Peculiarities of American Cities by Captain Willard Glazier
PHILADELPHIA: HUBBARD BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, No. 723 Chestnut Street. 1886
CHAPTER II.
BOSTON.
Geographical Location of Boston.—Ancient Names.—Etymology of the Word Massachusetts.—Changes in the Peninsula.—Noted Points of Interest.—Boston Common.—Old Elm.—Duel Under its Branches.—Soldiers' Monument.—Fragmentary History.—Courtship on the Common.—Faneuil Hall and Market.—Old State House.—King's Chapel.—Brattle Square Church.—New State House.—New Post Office.—Old South Church.—Birthplace of Franklin.—"News Letter."—City Hall.—Custom House.—Providence Railroad Station.—Places of General Interest.
Boston sits like a queen at the head of her harbor on the Massachusetts coast, and wears her crown of past and present glory with an easy and self-satisfied grace. Her commercial importance is large; her ships float on many seas; and she rejoices now in the same uncompromising spirit of independence which controlled the actions of the celebrated "Tea Party" in the pioneer days of '76. Her safe harbor is one of the best on the Atlantic seaboard, and is dotted with over a hundred islands. On some of these, garrisoned forts look grimly seaward.
Boston is built on a peninsula about four miles in circumference, and to this fact may be attributed the origin of her first name, Shawmutt, that word signifying in the Indian vocabulary a peninsula. Its second name, Tremount, took its rise from the three peaks of Beacon Hill, prominently seen from Charlestown by the first settlers there. Many of the colonists were from old Boston, in Lincolnshire, England, and on the seventh of September, 1630, this name supplanted the first two.
BOSTON, AS VIEWED FROM THE BAY.
[Pg 39]
In this connection may be given the etymology of the word Massachusetts, which is somewhat curious. It is said that the red Sachem who governed in this part of the country had his seat on a hill about two leagues south of Boston. It lay in the shape of an Indian arrow's head, which in their language was called Mos. Wetuset, pronounced Wechuset, was also their name for a hill, and the Sachem's seat was therefore named Mosentuset, which a slight variation changed into the name afterwards received by the colony. Boston, as the centre of this colony, began from the first to assume the importance of the first city of New England. Its history belongs not only to itself, but to the country at large, as the pioneer city in the grand struggle for constitutional and political liberty. A large majority of the old landmarks which connected it with the stormy days of the past, and stood as monuments of its primeval history, are now obliterated by time and the steady march of improvements. The face of the country is changed. The three peaks of Beacon Hill, which once lifted themselves to the height of a hundred and thirty feet above the sea, are now cut down into insignificant knolls. The waters of the "black bay" which swelled around its base have receded to give place to the encroachments of the city. Made lands, laid out in streets and set thick with dwellings, supplant the mud flats formerly covered by the tide. Thousands of acres which were once the bed of the harbor are now densely populated.
The house on Harrison avenue where the writer is at present domiciled is located on the spot which once was occupied by one of the best wharves in the city. The largest ocean craft moored to this wharf, on account of the great depth of water flowing around it.[Pg 40] The land has steadily encroached on the water, until the peninsula that was is a peninsula no longer, and its former geographical outlines have dropped out of sight in the whirl and rush of the populous and growing city. A few old landmarks of the past, however, still remain, linking the now and thethen, and among the most prominent of these are Faneuil Hall, the Old South Church, which was founded in 1660, King's Chapel, the Old Granary Burying-ground, Brattle Square Church, quite recently demolished, the old State House, and Boston Common. The Common antedates nearly all other special features of the city, and is the pride of Bostonians. Here juvenile Boston comes in winter to enjoy the exciting exercise of "coasting," and woe to the unwary foot passenger who may chance to collide with the long sleds full of noisy boys which shoot like black streaks from the head of Beacon street Mall, down the diagonal length of the Common, to the junction of Boylston and Tremont streets. This winter (1874-5), owing to several unfortunate accidents to passers-by across the snowy roads of the coasters, elevated bridges have been erected, to meet the wants of the people without interfering with the rights of the boys. The Common was originally a fifty-acre lot belonging to a Mr. Blackstone. This was in 1633. It was designed as a cow pasture and training ground, and was sold to the people of Boston the next year, 1634, for thirty pounds. The city was taxed for this purpose to the amount of not less than five shillings for each inhabitant. Mr. Blackstone afterwards removed to Cumberland, Rhode Island, where he died, in the spring of 1675. It is said that John Hancock's cows were pastured on the Common in the days of the Revolution. On the tenth of May,[Pg 41] 1830, the city authorities forbade the use of the Common for cows, at which time it was inclosed by a two-rail fence. The handsome iron paling which now surrounds the historic area has long since taken the place of the ancient fence.
Perhaps the most noticeable, certainly the most famous object on Boston Common, is the Great Tree, or Old Elm, which stands in a hollow of rich soil near a permanent pond of water, not far from the centre of the enclosure. It is of unknown age. It was probably over a hundred years old in 1722. Governor Winthrop came to Boston in 1630, but before that period the tree probably had its existence. It antedates the arrival of the first settlers, and it seems not unlikely that the Indian Shawmutt smoked the pipe of peace under its pendent branches. In 1844 its height was given at seventy-two and a half feet—girth, one foot above the ground, twenty-two and a half feet. The storms of over two centuries have vented their fury upon it and destroyed its graceful outlines. But in its age and decrepitude it has been tenderly nursed and partially rejuvenated. Broken limbs, torn off by violent gales, have been replaced by means of iron clamps, and such skill as tree doctors may use. In the last century a hollow orifice in its trunk was covered with canvas and its edges protected by a mixture of clay and other substances. Later, in 1854, Mr. J. V. C. Smith, Mayor of the city, placed around it an iron fence bearing the following inscription:—
"The Old Elm."
"This tree has been standing here for an unknown period. It is believed to have existed before the settlement of Boston, being full-grown in 1722. Exhibited[Pg 42] marks of old age in 1792, and was nearly destroyed by a storm in 1832. Protected by an iron inclosure in 1854."
What a long array of exciting events has this tree witnessed! In the stirring days of the Revolution the British army was encamped around it. In 1812 the patriot army occupied the same place, in protecting the town against the invasion of a foreign foe. Tumultuous crowds have here assembled on election and Independence days, and its sturdy branches have faced alike the anger of the elements and the wrath of man. Public executions have taken place under its shadow, and witches have dangled from its branches in death's last agonies. Here, in 1740, Rev. George Whitfield preached his farewell sermon to an audience of thirty thousand people; and here, also, at an earlier date, old Matoonas, of the Nipmuck tribe, was shot to death by the dusky warriors of Sagamore John, on a charge of committing the first murder in Massachusetts Colony. An incident of still more romantic interest belongs to the history of the Old Elm. On July third, 1728, this spot was the scene of a mortal combat between two young men belonging to the upper circle of Boston society. The cause of dispute was the possession of an unknown fair one. The names of the young men were Benjamin Woodbridge and Henry Phillips, both about twenty years old. The time was evening, the weapons rapiers, and Woodbridge was fatally dispatched by a thrust from the rapier of his antagonist. Phillips fled to a British ship of war lying in the harbor, and was borne by fair breezes to English shores. He did not long survive his opponent, however, dying, it is said, of despair, shortly after his arrival in England.[Pg 43]
Frog Pond, or Fountain Pond, near the Old Elm, has been transformed from a low, marshy spot of stagnant water, to the clear sheet which is now the delight of the boys. October twenty-fifth, 1848, the water from Cochituate Lake was introduced through this pond, and in honor of the occasion a large procession marched through the principal streets of the city to the Common. Addresses, hymns, prayers, and songs, were the order of the day, and when the pure water of the lake leaped through the fountain gate, the ringing of bells and boom of cannon attested the joy of the people.
Near the Old Elm and the Frog Pond, on Flagstaff Hill, the corner-stone of a Soldiers' Monument was laid, September eighteenth, 1871. Some idea of the style of the monument may be gathered from the following description:—"Upon a granite platform will rest the plinth, in the form of a Greek cross, with four panels, in which will be inserted bas-reliefs representing the Sanitary Commission, the Navy, the Departure for the War and the Return. At each of the four corners will be a statue, of heroic size, representing Peace, History, the Army, and the Navy. The die upon the plinth will also be richly sculptured, and upon it, surrounding the shaft in alto-relievo, will be four allegorical figures representing the North, South, East and West. The shaft is to be an elegant Doric column, the whole to be surmounted by a colossal statue of America resting on a hemisphere, guarded by four figures of the American eagle, with outspread wings. 'America' will hold in her left hand the national standard, and in her right she will support a sheathed sword, and wreaths for the victors. The extreme height of the monument will be ninety feet. The artist is Martin Millmore, of Boston."[Pg 44]
In the year 1668, a certain Mr. Dunton visited Boston, and wrote the following letter to his friends in England. It will serve to show the custom of Bostonians on training day, and recall some of the scenes which transpired over two hundred years ago on the historic Common. "It is a custom here," he says, "for all that can bear arms to go out on a training day. I thought a pike was best for a young soldier, so I carried a pike; 'twas the first time I ever was in arms. Having come into the field, the Captain called us into line to go to prayer, and then prayed himself, and when the exercise was done the Captain likewise concluded with a prayer. Solemn prayer upon a field, on training day, I never knew but in New England, where it seems it is a common custom. About three o'clock, our exercises and prayers being over, we had a very noble dinner, to which all the clergymen were invited."
In 1640, Arthur Perry was Town Drummer for all public purposes. There being no meeting-house bell in town, he called the congregation together with his drum. "He joined the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company in that capacity, for which yearly service he received five pounds. The second additional musical instrument was a clarionet, performed on by a tall, strapping fellow with but one eye, who headed the Ancient and Honorable a few strides." The first band of music used in Boston was in 1790, at the funeral of Colonel Joseph Jackson. Yearly, for a period of between two and three hundred years, this military company has appeared on the Common, to be received by the Governor of the State, with his aides, who appointed the new commissions for the year to come and received those for the year just past. Their anniversary occurs on the first Monday in June.[Pg 45]
The Brewer Fountain, the Deer Park and the Tremont and Beacon Street Malls complete the list of conspicuous attractions on the Common. The Beacon Street Mall is perhaps the finest, being heavily shaded by thickly-set rows of American elms. A particular portion of this mall is described as the scene of at least one courtship, and how many more may have transpired in the neighborhood history or tradition tells us not!
The "Autocrat of the Breakfast-table" loved the schoolmistress who partook of her daily food at the same board with himself and listened quietly to his wise morning talks, with only an occasional sensible reply. The schoolmistress returned his passion, but the young Autocrat, uncertain of his fate, rashly determined that if she said him "nay" to this most important question of his life, he would take passage in the next steamer bound for Liverpool, and never look upon her face again. The fateful hour which was to decide his fate approached, and the Autocrat proposed a walk. They took the direction of the Beacon Street Mall, and what happened next his own charming pen-picture best describes:
"It was on the Common that we were walking. The mall or boulevard of our Common, you know, has various branches leading from it in different directions. One of these runs down from opposite Joy street, southward, across the length of the whole Common, to Boylston street. We called it the long path, and were fond of it.
"I felt very weak indeed (though of a tolerably robust habit) as we came opposite the head of this path on that morning. I think I tried to speak twice without making myself distinctly audible. At last I got out the question:—'Will you take the long path with me?'[Pg 46]
"'Certainly,' said the schoolmistress, 'with much pleasure.'
"'Think,' I said, 'before you answer; if you take the long path with me now, I shall interpret it that we are to part no more!' The schoolmistress stepped back with a sudden movement, as if an arrow had struck her.
"One of the long, granite blocks used as seats was hard by, the one you may still see close by the Ginko tree. 'Pray, sit down,' I said.
"'No, no,' she answered softly, 'I will walk the long path with you.'"
Propositions to convert the Common into public thoroughfares have ever met with stout resistance from "we the people"—the Commoners of Boston—and only this winter a meeting was held in Faneuil Hall for the purpose of protesting against this causeless desecration. The occasion of the meeting was a clique movement to have a street-car track run through the sacred ground. One of the speakers—a workingman—waxed eloquent on the theme of the "poor man's park, where in summer a soiled son of labor might buy a cent apple and lounge at his ease under the shady trees."
In 1734, by vote of the town, a South End and North End Market were established. Before this the people were supplied with meats and vegetables at their own doors. In 1740, Peter Faneuil offered to build a market-house at his own expense, and present it to the town. His proposition was carried by seven majority. Faneuil Hall, the "Cradle of Liberty," was first built two stories high, forty feet wide, and one hundred feet in length. It was nearly destroyed by fire in 1761, and in 1805 it was enlarged to eighty feet in width and twenty feet greater elevation. "The Hall is never let for[Pg 47] money," but is at the disposal of the people whenever a sufficient number of persons, complying with certain regulations, ask to have it opened. The city charter of Boston contains a provision forbidding the sale or lease of this Hall. For a period of over eighty years—from the time of its erection until 1822—all town meetings were held within its walls. It is "peculiarly fitted for popular assemblies, possessing admirable acoustic properties."
The capacity of the Hall is increased by the absence of all seats on the floor—the gallery only being provided with these conveniences. Portraits cover the walls. Healy's picture of Webster replying to Hayne hangs in heavy gilt, back of the rostrum. Paintings of the two Adamses, of General Warren and Commodore Preble, of Edward Everett and Governor Andrew, adorn other portions of the Hall. Nor are Washington and Lincoln forgotten. The pictured faces of these noble patriots of the past seem to shed a mysterious influence around, and silently plead the cause of right and of justice. The words which echoed from this rostrum in the days before the Revolution still ring down from the past, touching the present with a living power whenever liberty needs a champion or the people an advocate.
Faneuil Hall Market, or Quincy Market, as it is popularly called, grew out of a recommendation by Mayor Quincy, in 1823. Two years later the corner-stone was laid, and in 1827 the building was completed. It is five hundred and thirty-five feet long, fifty feet wide, and two stories high. Its site was reclaimed from the tide waters, and one hundred and fifty thousand dollars were expended in its erection.[Pg 48]
The capital for its construction was managed in such a judicious way that not only the market was built, but six new streets were opened and a seventh enlarged, without a cent of city tax or a dollar's increase of the city's debt.
The Old State House was located on the site of the first public market, at the head or western end of State street. It was commenced with a bequest of five hundred pounds from Robert Keayne, the first commander of the "Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company." It was known as the Town House, and was erected about the year 1670. The present Old State House was built in 1748, on the same site. Its vicinity is historic. The square in State street below the Old State House, was the scene of the Boston massacre, March fifth, 1770. "The funeral of the victims of the massacre was attended by an immense concourse of people from all parts of New England." About the same year also, in front of this Town House, occurred the famous battle of the broom, between a fencing master just arrived from England and Goff, the regicide. This English fencer erected an elevated platform in front of the Town House and paraded, sword in hand, for three days, challenging all America for a trial of his skill. At this time three of the judges who signed the death warrant for beheading Charles the First, of England, had escaped to Boston, and were concealed by the people of Massachusetts and Connecticut. Their names were Goff, Whalley and Dixwell, for whom, dead or alive, Parliament offered one hundred pounds each. The fencing master made such a stir about his skill that Goff, hearing of it at his place of concealment in the woods of Hadley, came to Boston and confronted the wordy hero.[Pg 49] His sword was a birch broom, his shield a white oak cheese slung from his arm in a napkin. After he had soaked his broom in a mud-puddle he mounted the platform for battle. The fencing master ordered him off, but Goff stood his ground and neatly parried the first thrust of the braggart. The battle then commenced in earnest, and the cheese three times received the sword of the fencing master. Before it could be withdrawn, Goff each time daubed the face of his antagonist with the muddy broom, amid the huzzas of the crowd which had gathered from all quarters to witness the contest. At the third lunge into the huge cheese the swordsman threw aside his small blade, and, unsheathing a broadsword, rushed furiously upon Goff.
"Stop, sir!" exclaimed Goff; "hitherto, you see, I have only played with you, and have not attempted to hurt you, but if you come at me with the broadsword, know that I will certainly take your life!"
"Who can you be?" replied the other; "you are either Goff, Whalley or the devil, for there was no other man in England could beat me!"
Goff immediately retired, amid the plaudits of the crowd, and the subdued fencing master slunk away with chagrin.
The interior arrangement of the Old State House has been entirely remodeled, and is now used exclusively for business.
King's Chapel, at the corner of Tremont and School streets, is another noteworthy point of interest. The corner-stone was laid in 1750, and four years were occupied in its construction, the stone for the building material being imported. Its church-yard was Boston's first burial-ground, and some of the tombstones date[Pg 50] back as far as 1658. Mr. Isaac Johnson, one of the founders of Boston, is said to have here found his last resting place. John Winthrop, his son and grandson—all governors of Connecticut, lay in the same family tomb in this yard. Four pastors of the "First Church of Christ in Boston" are also buried here. The body of General Joseph Warren was placed in King's Chapel before it was re-interred at Cambridge, and "dust to dust" has been pronounced over many other distinguished men at this stone church. The edifice is constructed in a peculiar way, with Doric columns of gray stone, and is sure to attract the attention of the stranger. It was the first Episcopal, as well as the first Unitarian church in Boston, and its pulpit is now the exponent of Unitarian doctrine, added to the Church of England service.
Going down Washington street towards Charlestown, we come to the famous Brattle Square, and its church, which once consecrated the spot. Here Edward Everett preached to his listening flock, and here, on July thirtieth, 1871, Dr. S. K. Lothrop pronounced the last sermon within its walls. Its ancient bell has ceased to ring, and the old-fashioned pulpit echoes no more to the tread of distinguished men.
The first Brattle Square Church was built in 1699. It was torn down in 1772, and the next year rebuilt on the same site, the dedication taking place July twenty-fifth.
On the night of March sixteenth, 1776, the British under Lord Howe were encamped in this neighborhood, some of the regiments using Brattle Square Church as a barrack. A cannon ball, fired from Cambridge, where the American army was then stationed, struck the church, and was afterwards built into the wall of the historic edifice, above the porch. On the next night[Pg 51] ten thousand of Lord Howe's troops embarked from Boston. In 1871 the building was sold by the society, and a handsome granite block now takes its place.
The new State House on Beacon street is one of the most prominent geographical points in all Boston, and the view from its cupola is second only to that obtained from the glorious height of Bunker Hill monument. Its gilded dome is a conspicuous object far and near, and glitters in the sunlight like veritable gold. The land on which the State House stands was bought by the town from Governor Hancock's heirs, and given to the State. The corner-stone was laid July fourth, 1793, the ceremony being conducted by the Freemasons, Paul Revere, as Grand Master, at their head. The massive stone was drawn to its place by fifteen white horses, that being the number then of the States in the Union. Ex-Governor Samuel Adams delivered the address. The Legislature first convened in the new State House in January, 1798. In 1852 it was greatly enlarged, and in 1867 the interior was entirely remodeled. Chantry's statue of Washington, the statues of Webster and Mann, busts of Adams, Lincoln and Sumner, and that beautiful piece of art in marble, the full-length statue of Governor Andrew, in the Doric Hall—all attract the attention of the visitor. In this rotunda there are also copies of the tombstones of the Washington family of Brington Parish, England, presented by Charles Sumner, and the torn and soiled battle-flags of Massachusetts regiments, hanging in glass cases. In the Hall of Representatives and the Senate Chamber, relics of the past are scattered about, and the walls are adorned with portraits of distinguished men. The eastern wing of the State House is occupied with the State Library[Pg 52] Large numbers of visitors yearly throng the building and climb the circular stairways for the fine view of Boston to be obtained from the cupola.
The new Post Office is accounted one of the finest public buildings in New England. It has a frontage on Devonshire street, of over two hundred feet and occupies the entire square between Milk and Water streets. It was several years in building, being occupied this winter for the first time since the great fire. Its cost was something like three millions of dollars. Its style of architecture is grand in the extreme. Groups of statuary ornament the central projections of the building, and orders of pilasters, columns, entablatures and balustrades add to it their elegant finish. Its roof is an elaboration of the Louvre and Mansard styles, and the interior arrangement cannot be surpassed for beauty or convenience. It has three street façades, from one of which a broad staircase leads to the four upper stories. On these floors are located important public offices. The Post Office corridor is twelve feet in height and extends across two sides of the immense building. At the time of the great fire of 1872 this structure was receiving its roof, and became a barrier against the onward sweep of the flames. The massive granite walls were cracked and split, but they effectually stopped the work of the fire fiend.
In the heart of the city, at the corner of Milk and Washington streets, stands one of the most famous buildings in Boston, and perhaps the most celebrated house of religious worship in the United States. It was founded in 1669, and received the name of the Old South Church. The first building was made of cedar, and stood for sixty years. In 1729 it was taken down, and the present building erected on the same spot. The[Pg 53] interior arrangement is described as having been exceedingly quaint, with its pulpit sounding board, its high, square pews, and double tier of galleries. During the Revolution it was frequently used for public meetings, and Faneuil Hall assemblies adjourned to the Old South whenever the size of the crowd demanded it. Here the celebrated "Tea Party" held their meetings, and discussed the measures which resulted in consigning the British tea, together with the hated tax, to the bottom of Boston Harbor. Here Joseph Warren delivered his famous oration on the Boston Massacre, drawing tears from the eyes of even the British soldiery, sent there to intimidate him. In 1775 the edifice was occupied by the British as a place for cavalry drill, and a grog-shop was established in one of the galleries. In 1782 the building was put in repair, and has stood without further change until the present time, nearly a hundred years. In 1872 it was occupied as a Post Office, and has only been vacated this winter. Its day of religious service is doubtless over. It will probably be used for business purposes, but never again as a society sanctuary.
Opposite the south front of the Old South Church, on Milk street, stood the house in which Benjamin Franklin was born. Here, on the seventeenth of January, 1706, the great philosopher was ushered into existence, and on the same day was christened at the Old South. When he was ten years old, he worked with his father in a candle manufactory, on the corner of Union and Hanover streets, at the sign of the Blue Bell. He was afterwards printer's devil for his brother James, and at eighteen established the fourth newspaper printed in this country. It was entitled "The New England Courant."
The first newspaper of Boston was also the first in the[Pg 54] colonies, and was printed on a half sheet of Pot paper, in small pica. It was entitled "The Boston News Letter. Published, by authority, from Monday, April seventeenth, to Monday, April twenty-fourth, 1704." John Campbell, a Scotchman and bookseller, was proprietor.
Now the Boston press stands in the front rank of the world's journalism, and is commodiously accommodated; as the elegant buildings of the Transcript, Globe, Journal, Herald and other papers, testify. The Advertiser is the oldest daily paper in the city.
It is impossible to properly describe Boston within the limits of so short a chapter, and only a glance at a few other points of interest will therefore be given.
The City Hall, on School street, is on the site of the house of Isaac Johnson, who lived here in 1630, and who has been styled the founder of Boston. The corner-stone of the new building was laid December twenty-second, 1672. It is of Concord granite, and is in the finest style of modern architecture. Here, under the arching roof of the French dome, the fire-alarm telegraph centres, and the sentinel who stands guard at this important point never leaves his post, night or day. The mysterious signal, though touched in the city's remotest rim, is instantly obeyed, and in less time than it takes to tell it the brave firemen are rushing to the rescue. A fine bronze statue of Benjamin Franklin stands in the inclosure in front of the building.
The Custom House, on State street, is built of granite, even to the roof. It is constructed in the form of a Greek cross, and is surrounded by thirty-two granite columns, a little over five feet in diameter. The site was reclaimed from the tide waters, and the massive building[Pg 55] rests upon about three thousand piles. Over a million dollars were expended in its erection.
The Old Granary Burying-ground, once a part of the Common, received its name from a public granary which formerly stood within its limits. Some of the most distinguished dust in history is consigned to its keeping. Paul Revere, Peter Faneuil, Samuel Adams, John Hancock, the victims of the Boston Massacre, the parents of Franklin, the first Mayor of Boston, and a long list of other names famed in their day and ours, lie buried within this ancient ground. Near by, between the Common and the Granary Cemetery, stands the celebrated Park Street Church, of which W. H. H. Murray, the brilliant writer and preacher, was, until lately, the pastor. It used to be known as "brimstone corner." This winter we attended Park Street Church on the same day with the brunette monarch, Kalakaua and suite.
One of the most commodious and elegant stations in New England, or this country, is that of the Boston and Providence Railroad. It is about eight hundred feet in length, and is built of brick, with two shades of sandstone. The track house is seven hundred feet long, covering five tracks, and has a span of one hundred and twenty-five feet. Its cost is somewhere in the neighborhood of six hundred thousand dollars. The interior arrangement is quite novel in style. The waiting-rooms open out of an immense central apartment with a balcony reaching around the entire inner circumference. Theatre tickets, flower and cigar stands, a billiard room and a barber shop, are some of the special features of the station. Refreshment rooms and dressing rooms, in oak and crimson, are also an integral part of the building.[Pg 56]
Hundreds of interesting places in this singular and devious city of Boston must go unnoticed in these pages. The beautiful Tremont Temple and its Sunday temperance lectures; Music Hall, with its big organ of six thousand pipes, through one of which Henry Ward Beecher is said to have crawled, before its erection; the Parker House, one of the crack hotels of the city; the Revere House, where all the distinguished people stop, with its special suite of rooms upholstered in blue satin, where King Kalakaua smoked his cigars in peace; the beneficent Public Library; the Boston Athenæum, home of art; the Boston Theatre, the new and elegant Globe Theatre, and the suburban limits, including Charlestown and famous Bunker Hill, Cambridge and Harvard University, Mt. Auburn, Dorchester Heights, Roxbury and East Boston, which was formerly known as Noddle's Island, and where now the Cunard line of steamers arrive and depart—all these tempt my pen to linger within their charmed localities. But it is a temptation to be resisted. When, after many weeks' sojourn in the intellectual "Hub," I was at last seated in the outward bound train, ticketed for the west, a regret, born of pleasant associations and a taste of Boston atmosphere, took possession of me. The farewells I uttered held an undertone of pain. But the train sped onward, unheeding, and the city of the harbor seemed to dissolve and disappear in the smoke of her thousand chimneys, like a dream of the night.
________________________________________
[Pg 57]
-this FILM photograph is a 3-photo stitched together to create the panoramic
- I'm sorry but i do not remember which film camera I used to take this photo. If I was to guess it was my Canon A-1 Film SLR.
- this stadium, the Original Yankee Stadium was demolished in 2010.
-i kind of like how the exposure is slightly different in each three exposures
-if you look at sign on the upper right of stadium it is announcing an upcoming World Series game.
A return to St Dunstan, but on another dull and overcast day, many shots did not come out, so a third visit is required, this time with self timer and a tripod. However, it is still glorious.
-------------------------------------------------------------
St.Dunstan-in-the-West has a long and illustrious history. Visitors are often struck by how St. Dunstan’s differs in appearance and style to other Anglican churches. The church looks traditionally Neo-Gothic on the outside, yet is octagonal inside.
Saint Dunstan
Dunstan was one of the foremost saints of Anglo-Saxon England: he was also one of the most venerated before the cult of St Thomas Becket took hold of the popular imagination. He was born in 909 A.D. and was taught by Irish monks at Glastonbury Abbey, Somerset, where he developed a reputation as a formidable scholar. He also learnt metalworking, and was later adopted as the patron saint of Goldsmiths. Dunstan became a companion to King Aethelstan’s stepbrothers, Edmund and Eadred, although he was banished after the king died in 939. He then lived at Glastonbury as a hermit, before being appointed Abbot there in 945. He was appointed as the Bishop of Worcester and then the Bishop of London, before being elected Archbishop of Canterbury in 960. Dunstan sought peace with the Danes and promoted monastic living, as well as establishing the library at Canterbury Cathedral, where he was buried in 988. St Dunstan’s feast day is the 19th May and is still celebrated at this church: in 2013 our Patronal Festival will be held on Saturday 18 May.
The Original Church
The original St Dunstan-in-the-West stood on the same site as today, spilling in the past onto what is now the tarmac of Fleet Street. It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was between 988 and 1070 AD. It is not impossible that St Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well, decreed that a church was needed here. The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The quick thinking of the Dean of Westminster saved the church: he roused forty scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who extinguished the flames with buckets of water.
The Church is Rebuilt
The wear and tear of time took its toll, however, and St Dunstan’s was rebuilt in 1831. The architect, John Shaw, died in 1832, leaving his son, who bore the same name, to complete the task. The tower was badly damaged by German bombers in 1944, and was rebuilt in 1950 through the generosity of newspaper magnate Viscount Camrose. In 1952, St Dunstan-in-the-West became a Guild Church, dedicating its ministry to the daytime working population around Fleet Street.
The Church Today
The Clock and Giants
St Dunstan-in-the-West was a well-known landmark in previous centuries because of its magnificent clock. This dates from 1671, and was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Tom Brown’s Schooldays, the Vicar of Wakefield and a poem by William Cowper (1782):
When labour and when dullness, club in hand,
Like the two figures at St. Dunstan’s stand,
Beating alternately in measured time
The clockwork tintinnabulum of rhyme,
Exact and regular the sounds will be,
But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me.
The courtyard also contains statues of King Lud, the mythical sovereign, and his sons and Queen Elizabeth I, all of which originally stood in Ludgate. The statue of Queen Elizabeth I dates from 1586 and is the only one known to have been carved during her reign. (Please note: we regret that, due to building works, the statue of Queen Elizabeth I is not on view until the autumn of 2013.)
Inside the Church
Much of the internal fabric pre-dates the rebuilding of the church in the 1830s. The high altar and reredos are Flemish woodwork dating from the seventeenth century. There are also a large number of monuments from the original
church. Some of the earliest are two bronze figures thought to date from 1530.
The Organ
The original church has an organ dating from 1674-75 made by Renatus Harris. However, none of the original parts are likely to have remained as over the years it has had to be entirely rebuilt. Much of the present organ dates from 1834, when a Joseph Robson organ was bought at the same time as the Church was being rebuilt. Many distinguished organists have played here, including John Reading, the composer of Adeste Fideles, who died in 1764. Handel was even invited to play here, although whether the great composer ever accepted the invitation remains unknown.
The Romanian Orthodox Church
As well as being an Anglican church, the building of St Dunstan’s is home to the Romanian Orthodox Church in London. The beautiful iconostasis (altar screen) was brought here from a monastery in Bucharest in 1966.
St Dunstan-in-the-West is home to the Anglican and Eastern Churches Association, and is a centre of prayer for Christian Unity. It is therefore appropriate that the side chapels contain altars dedicated to various traditions, including the Lutheran Church in Berlin (EKD). There is also an altar of the Oriental Churches (Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopian, Syrian, Syro-Indian) and a shrine of the Lutheran and Reformed Churches. St Dunstan’s continues in its special role of promoting good relations with Churches outside the Anglican Communion, including through its role as the Diocese of London’s Church for Europe.
Other Famous Connections
The poet John Donne held the benefice here from 1624-31, while he was Dean of St Paul’s. William Tyndale, who pioneered the translation of the Bible into English, was a lecturer here. The famous diarist Samuel Pepys worshipped here a number of times. Lord Baltimore, who founded the State of Maryland in the USA, was buried here in 1632, as was his son. The church has been associated with the Worshipful Company of Cordwainers (old English for shoemakers) since the fifteenth century. Once a year the company holds a service here to commemorate the benefactors John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children used to be given a penny for each time they ran around the church!
The Hoare Bank
The church has long had an association with C. Hoare and Co., whose bank has been situated opposite the church since 1690. The Hoare family donated the four stained glass windows behind the high altar and the carved canopies of the altar-piece. The windows show Archbishop Lanfrance; St Dunstan beside a roaring furnace into which he has thrust his pincers ready to pull a devil’s nose; St. Anselm and Archbishop Langton with King John at the signing of the Magna Carta. Members of the Hoare family, as well as being generous benefactors, have maintained a tradition of service as churchwardens over the centuries. Two have been Lord Mayors of London and a family vault still lies in the church crypt.
The staple of Victorian penny shockers, the story of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, stalks the no-man’s land between urban myth and historical fact. According to some sources, Todd, a barber, tooth-puller and surgeon, did actually exist, and in 1785 set up shop at 186 Fleet Street. It is claimed that he murdered over 100 of his clients, before selling their flesh on to Margery Lovett, who owned a pie shop in nearby Bell Yard!
www.stdunstaninthewest.org/history
First founded between AD 988 and 1070, there is a possibility that a church on this site was one of the Lundenwic strand settlement churches, like St Martin in the Fields, the first St Mary le Strand, St Clement Danes and St Brides. These churches may pre-date any within the walls of the city . It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was possibly erected by Saint Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well. It was first mentioned in written records in 1185.[2] King Henry III gained possession of it and its endowments from Westminster Abbey by 1237 and then granted these and the advowson to the "House of Converts" i.e. of the converted Jews, which led to its neglect of its parochial responsibilities. This institution was eventually transformed into the Court of the Master of the Rolls.
The medieval church underwent many alterations before its demolition in the early 19th century. Small shops were built against its walls, St Dunstan's Churchyard becoming a centre for bookselling and publishing.[3] Later repairs were carried out in an Italianate style: rusticated stonework was used, and some of the Gothic windows were replaced with round headed ones, resulting in what George Godwin called "a most heterogeneous appearance".[3] In 1701 the church's old vaulted roof was replaced with a flat ceiling, ornamented with recessed panels.[3]
The Worshipful Company of Cordwainers has been associated with the church since the 15th century. The company holds an annual service of commemoration to honour two of its benefactors, John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children were traditionally given a penny for each time they ran around the church.
William Tyndale, the celebrated translator of the Bible, was a lecturer at the church and sermons were given by the poet John Donne. Samuel Pepys mentions the church in his diary.[4] The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The Dean of Westminster roused 40 scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who formed a fire brigade which extinguished the flames with buckets of water to only three doors away.
In the early 19th century the medieval church of St Dunstan was removed to allow the widening of Fleet Street and a new church was built on its burial ground. An Act of Parliament was obtained authorising the demolition of the church in July 1829 and trustees were appointed to carry it into effect. In December 1829 and September 1830 there were auctions of some of the materials of the old church. The first stone of the new building, to the design of John Shaw, Sr. (1776–1832), was laid in July 1831 and construction proceeded rapidly. In August 1832 the last part of the old church, which had been left as a screen between Fleet Street and the new work, was removed.[3]
Shaw dealt with the restricted site by designing a church with an octagonal central space. Seven of the eight sides open into arched recesses, the northern one containing the altar. The eighth side opens into a short corridor, leading beneath the organ to the lowest stage of the tower, which serves as an entrance porch. Above the recesses Shaw designed a clerestory, and above that a groined ceiling. The tower is square in plan, with an octagonal lantern, resembling those of St Botolph, Boston, and St Helen's York. George Godwin Jr suggested that the form of the lantern might have been immediately inspired by that of St George's church in Ramsgate ( where Shaw was architect to the docks), built in 1825 to the designs of H.E. Kendall.[3] John Shaw Sr. died in 1833, before the church was completed, leaving it in the hands of his son John Shaw Jr (1803–1870).
The communion rail is a survivor of the old church, having been carved by Grinling Gibbons during the period when John Donne served as vicar (1624–1631). Some of the monuments from the medieval building were reinstituted in the new church and a fragment of the old churchyard remains between Clifford's Inn and Bream's Buildings.
Apart from losing its stained glass, the church survived the London Blitz largely intact, though bombs did damage the open-work lantern tower.[6] The building was largely restored in 1950. An appeal to raise money to install a new ring of bells in the tower, replacing those removed in 1969, was successfully completed in 2012 with the dedication and hanging of 10 new bells.[7]
The church was designated a Grade I listed building on 4 January 1950.
On the façade is a chiming clock, with figures of giants, perhaps representing Gog and Magog, who strike the bells with their clubs. It was installed on the previous church in 1671, perhaps commissioned to celebrate its escape from destruction by the Great Fire of 1666. It was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Thomas Hughes' Tom Brown's Schooldays, Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, David Lyddal's The Prompter (1810)[9] and a poem by William Cowper. In 1828, when the medieval church was demolished, the clock was removed by art collector Francis Seymour-Conway, 3rd Marquess of Hertford to his mansion in Regent's Park; during World War I, a new charity for blinded soldiers was lent the house, and took the name St Dunstan's from the clock.[10] It was returned by Lord Rothermere in 1935 to mark the Silver Jubilee of King George V.
Above the entrance to the old parochial school is a statue of Queen Elizabeth I, taken from the old Ludgate, which was demolished in 1760. This statue, dating from 1586, is contemporaneous with its subject and thought to be the oldest outdoor statue in London. In the porch below are three statues of ancient Britons also from the gate, probably meant to represent King Lud and his two sons.
Adjacent to Queen Elizabeth is a bust of Lord Northcliffe, the newspaper proprietor, co-founder of the Daily Mail and the Daily Mirror. Next to Lord Northcliffe is a memorial tablet to James Louis Garvin, another pioneering British journalist.
St Dunstan-in-the-West is the only church in England to share its building with the Romanian Orthodox community. The chapel to the left of the main altar is closed off by an iconostasis, formerly from Antim Monastery in Bucharest, dedicated in 1966.
A return to St Dunstan, but on another dull and overcast day, many shots did not come out, so a third visit is required, this time with self timer and a tripod. However, it is still glorious.
-------------------------------------------------------------
St.Dunstan-in-the-West has a long and illustrious history. Visitors are often struck by how St. Dunstan’s differs in appearance and style to other Anglican churches. The church looks traditionally Neo-Gothic on the outside, yet is octagonal inside.
Saint Dunstan
Dunstan was one of the foremost saints of Anglo-Saxon England: he was also one of the most venerated before the cult of St Thomas Becket took hold of the popular imagination. He was born in 909 A.D. and was taught by Irish monks at Glastonbury Abbey, Somerset, where he developed a reputation as a formidable scholar. He also learnt metalworking, and was later adopted as the patron saint of Goldsmiths. Dunstan became a companion to King Aethelstan’s stepbrothers, Edmund and Eadred, although he was banished after the king died in 939. He then lived at Glastonbury as a hermit, before being appointed Abbot there in 945. He was appointed as the Bishop of Worcester and then the Bishop of London, before being elected Archbishop of Canterbury in 960. Dunstan sought peace with the Danes and promoted monastic living, as well as establishing the library at Canterbury Cathedral, where he was buried in 988. St Dunstan’s feast day is the 19th May and is still celebrated at this church: in 2013 our Patronal Festival will be held on Saturday 18 May.
The Original Church
The original St Dunstan-in-the-West stood on the same site as today, spilling in the past onto what is now the tarmac of Fleet Street. It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was between 988 and 1070 AD. It is not impossible that St Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well, decreed that a church was needed here. The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The quick thinking of the Dean of Westminster saved the church: he roused forty scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who extinguished the flames with buckets of water.
The Church is Rebuilt
The wear and tear of time took its toll, however, and St Dunstan’s was rebuilt in 1831. The architect, John Shaw, died in 1832, leaving his son, who bore the same name, to complete the task. The tower was badly damaged by German bombers in 1944, and was rebuilt in 1950 through the generosity of newspaper magnate Viscount Camrose. In 1952, St Dunstan-in-the-West became a Guild Church, dedicating its ministry to the daytime working population around Fleet Street.
The Church Today
The Clock and Giants
St Dunstan-in-the-West was a well-known landmark in previous centuries because of its magnificent clock. This dates from 1671, and was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Tom Brown’s Schooldays, the Vicar of Wakefield and a poem by William Cowper (1782):
When labour and when dullness, club in hand,
Like the two figures at St. Dunstan’s stand,
Beating alternately in measured time
The clockwork tintinnabulum of rhyme,
Exact and regular the sounds will be,
But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me.
The courtyard also contains statues of King Lud, the mythical sovereign, and his sons and Queen Elizabeth I, all of which originally stood in Ludgate. The statue of Queen Elizabeth I dates from 1586 and is the only one known to have been carved during her reign. (Please note: we regret that, due to building works, the statue of Queen Elizabeth I is not on view until the autumn of 2013.)
Inside the Church
Much of the internal fabric pre-dates the rebuilding of the church in the 1830s. The high altar and reredos are Flemish woodwork dating from the seventeenth century. There are also a large number of monuments from the original
church. Some of the earliest are two bronze figures thought to date from 1530.
The Organ
The original church has an organ dating from 1674-75 made by Renatus Harris. However, none of the original parts are likely to have remained as over the years it has had to be entirely rebuilt. Much of the present organ dates from 1834, when a Joseph Robson organ was bought at the same time as the Church was being rebuilt. Many distinguished organists have played here, including John Reading, the composer of Adeste Fideles, who died in 1764. Handel was even invited to play here, although whether the great composer ever accepted the invitation remains unknown.
The Romanian Orthodox Church
As well as being an Anglican church, the building of St Dunstan’s is home to the Romanian Orthodox Church in London. The beautiful iconostasis (altar screen) was brought here from a monastery in Bucharest in 1966.
St Dunstan-in-the-West is home to the Anglican and Eastern Churches Association, and is a centre of prayer for Christian Unity. It is therefore appropriate that the side chapels contain altars dedicated to various traditions, including the Lutheran Church in Berlin (EKD). There is also an altar of the Oriental Churches (Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopian, Syrian, Syro-Indian) and a shrine of the Lutheran and Reformed Churches. St Dunstan’s continues in its special role of promoting good relations with Churches outside the Anglican Communion, including through its role as the Diocese of London’s Church for Europe.
Other Famous Connections
The poet John Donne held the benefice here from 1624-31, while he was Dean of St Paul’s. William Tyndale, who pioneered the translation of the Bible into English, was a lecturer here. The famous diarist Samuel Pepys worshipped here a number of times. Lord Baltimore, who founded the State of Maryland in the USA, was buried here in 1632, as was his son. The church has been associated with the Worshipful Company of Cordwainers (old English for shoemakers) since the fifteenth century. Once a year the company holds a service here to commemorate the benefactors John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children used to be given a penny for each time they ran around the church!
The Hoare Bank
The church has long had an association with C. Hoare and Co., whose bank has been situated opposite the church since 1690. The Hoare family donated the four stained glass windows behind the high altar and the carved canopies of the altar-piece. The windows show Archbishop Lanfrance; St Dunstan beside a roaring furnace into which he has thrust his pincers ready to pull a devil’s nose; St. Anselm and Archbishop Langton with King John at the signing of the Magna Carta. Members of the Hoare family, as well as being generous benefactors, have maintained a tradition of service as churchwardens over the centuries. Two have been Lord Mayors of London and a family vault still lies in the church crypt.
The staple of Victorian penny shockers, the story of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, stalks the no-man’s land between urban myth and historical fact. According to some sources, Todd, a barber, tooth-puller and surgeon, did actually exist, and in 1785 set up shop at 186 Fleet Street. It is claimed that he murdered over 100 of his clients, before selling their flesh on to Margery Lovett, who owned a pie shop in nearby Bell Yard!
www.stdunstaninthewest.org/history
First founded between AD 988 and 1070, there is a possibility that a church on this site was one of the Lundenwic strand settlement churches, like St Martin in the Fields, the first St Mary le Strand, St Clement Danes and St Brides. These churches may pre-date any within the walls of the city . It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was possibly erected by Saint Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well. It was first mentioned in written records in 1185.[2] King Henry III gained possession of it and its endowments from Westminster Abbey by 1237 and then granted these and the advowson to the "House of Converts" i.e. of the converted Jews, which led to its neglect of its parochial responsibilities. This institution was eventually transformed into the Court of the Master of the Rolls.
The medieval church underwent many alterations before its demolition in the early 19th century. Small shops were built against its walls, St Dunstan's Churchyard becoming a centre for bookselling and publishing.[3] Later repairs were carried out in an Italianate style: rusticated stonework was used, and some of the Gothic windows were replaced with round headed ones, resulting in what George Godwin called "a most heterogeneous appearance".[3] In 1701 the church's old vaulted roof was replaced with a flat ceiling, ornamented with recessed panels.[3]
The Worshipful Company of Cordwainers has been associated with the church since the 15th century. The company holds an annual service of commemoration to honour two of its benefactors, John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children were traditionally given a penny for each time they ran around the church.
William Tyndale, the celebrated translator of the Bible, was a lecturer at the church and sermons were given by the poet John Donne. Samuel Pepys mentions the church in his diary.[4] The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The Dean of Westminster roused 40 scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who formed a fire brigade which extinguished the flames with buckets of water to only three doors away.
In the early 19th century the medieval church of St Dunstan was removed to allow the widening of Fleet Street and a new church was built on its burial ground. An Act of Parliament was obtained authorising the demolition of the church in July 1829 and trustees were appointed to carry it into effect. In December 1829 and September 1830 there were auctions of some of the materials of the old church. The first stone of the new building, to the design of John Shaw, Sr. (1776–1832), was laid in July 1831 and construction proceeded rapidly. In August 1832 the last part of the old church, which had been left as a screen between Fleet Street and the new work, was removed.[3]
Shaw dealt with the restricted site by designing a church with an octagonal central space. Seven of the eight sides open into arched recesses, the northern one containing the altar. The eighth side opens into a short corridor, leading beneath the organ to the lowest stage of the tower, which serves as an entrance porch. Above the recesses Shaw designed a clerestory, and above that a groined ceiling. The tower is square in plan, with an octagonal lantern, resembling those of St Botolph, Boston, and St Helen's York. George Godwin Jr suggested that the form of the lantern might have been immediately inspired by that of St George's church in Ramsgate ( where Shaw was architect to the docks), built in 1825 to the designs of H.E. Kendall.[3] John Shaw Sr. died in 1833, before the church was completed, leaving it in the hands of his son John Shaw Jr (1803–1870).
The communion rail is a survivor of the old church, having been carved by Grinling Gibbons during the period when John Donne served as vicar (1624–1631). Some of the monuments from the medieval building were reinstituted in the new church and a fragment of the old churchyard remains between Clifford's Inn and Bream's Buildings.
Apart from losing its stained glass, the church survived the London Blitz largely intact, though bombs did damage the open-work lantern tower.[6] The building was largely restored in 1950. An appeal to raise money to install a new ring of bells in the tower, replacing those removed in 1969, was successfully completed in 2012 with the dedication and hanging of 10 new bells.[7]
The church was designated a Grade I listed building on 4 January 1950.
On the façade is a chiming clock, with figures of giants, perhaps representing Gog and Magog, who strike the bells with their clubs. It was installed on the previous church in 1671, perhaps commissioned to celebrate its escape from destruction by the Great Fire of 1666. It was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Thomas Hughes' Tom Brown's Schooldays, Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, David Lyddal's The Prompter (1810)[9] and a poem by William Cowper. In 1828, when the medieval church was demolished, the clock was removed by art collector Francis Seymour-Conway, 3rd Marquess of Hertford to his mansion in Regent's Park; during World War I, a new charity for blinded soldiers was lent the house, and took the name St Dunstan's from the clock.[10] It was returned by Lord Rothermere in 1935 to mark the Silver Jubilee of King George V.
Above the entrance to the old parochial school is a statue of Queen Elizabeth I, taken from the old Ludgate, which was demolished in 1760. This statue, dating from 1586, is contemporaneous with its subject and thought to be the oldest outdoor statue in London. In the porch below are three statues of ancient Britons also from the gate, probably meant to represent King Lud and his two sons.
Adjacent to Queen Elizabeth is a bust of Lord Northcliffe, the newspaper proprietor, co-founder of the Daily Mail and the Daily Mirror. Next to Lord Northcliffe is a memorial tablet to James Louis Garvin, another pioneering British journalist.
St Dunstan-in-the-West is the only church in England to share its building with the Romanian Orthodox community. The chapel to the left of the main altar is closed off by an iconostasis, formerly from Antim Monastery in Bucharest, dedicated in 1966.
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I was originally enrolled into the GETTY IMAGES collection as a contributor on April 9th 2012, and when links with FLICKR were terminated in March 2014, I was retained and signed up via a second contract, both of which have proved to be successful with sales of my photographs all over the world now handled exclusively by them.
On November 12th 2015 GETTY IMAGES unveiled plans for a new stills upload platform called ESP (Enterprise Submission Platform), to replace the existing 'Moment portal', and on November 13th I was invited to Beta test the new system prior to it being rolled out to the general public in December. (ESP went live on Tuesday December 15th 2015).
With visits now in excess of 17.088 Million to my FLICKR site, used primarily these days as a platform to reach friends and family, prospective clients and fellow Flickerinos, I would like to say a huge and heartfelt 'THANK YOU' to FLICKR, GETTY IMAGES and everyone who drops by.
***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on August 11th 2016
CREATIVE RF gty.im/586342654 MOMENT OPEN COLLECTION**
This photograph became my 2,235th frame to be selected for sale in the Getty Images collection and I am very grateful to them for this wonderful opportunity.
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This photograph was taken in the Golden Hour around sunset at an altitude of Six hundred and forty three metres, at 20:20pm on Thursday 12th May 2016 off the Alaska Highway 1, and 2nd Avenue on the shoreline of the Yukon River in Whitehorse,the capital and largest city of Yukon territory and the largest city in Northern Canada.
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Nikon D800 24mm 1/160s f/10.0 iso100 RAW (14Bit) Hand held. Nikon back focus button enabled. AF-C Continuous point focus with 3-D tracking. Manual exposure. Matrix metering. Auto white balance. Nikon AF fine tune on (+9)
Nikkor AF-S 24-70mm f/2.8G ED IF. Jessops 77mm UV filter. Nikon MB-D12 battery grip. Two Nikon EN-EL15 batteries. Nikon DK-17M 1.2x Magnifying Eyepiece. Nikon DK-19 soft rubber eyecup. Digi-Chip 64GB Class 10 UHS-1 SDXC card. Lowepro Transporter camera strap. Lowepro Vertex 200 AW Photo/ 15.4" Notebook Backpack camera bag. Nikon GP-1 GPS unit.
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LATITUDE: N 60d 43m 37.33s
LONGITUDE: W 135d 3m 13.26s
ALTITUDE: 643.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE SIZE: 103.00MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) SIZE: 21.62MB
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PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D800 Firmware versions A 1.10 B 1.10 L 2.009 (Lens distortion control version 2)
HP 110-352na Desktop PC with AMD Quad-Core A6-5200 APU processor. AMD Radeon HD8400 graphics. 8 GB DDR3 Memory with 1TB SATA storage. 64-bit Windows 10. Verbatim USB 2.0 1TB desktop hard drive. WD My Passport Ultra 1tb USB3 Portable hard drive. Nikon ViewNX2 Version 2.10.3 64bit. Adobe photoshop Elements 8 Version 8.0 64bit.
Whenever we have tried to see inside St Dunstan's in the past, always on a Saturday, there has been a christening taking place, or some other service, which means I have only glimpsed inside before we had to leave as the stares were quite hard from people attending the service.
I left St Spelchure, intending to walk straight to St Magnus, as that was the one church I wanted to visit. I turned of Holborn, thinking I knew the directions, ending up on Fleet Street in the end after all, with the clock of St Dunstan's just a few hundred yards away.
With the rain falling ever harder, I walk past ambling tourists and find my way into the church.
Sadly, I underestimated the darkness inside, and not may shots came out, but we can always go back.
-------------------------------------------------------
"St Dunstan in the West, the church of, is situated on the north side of the west end of Fleet Street, where it has been long known as a grievous incumbrance to Hackney and stage coachmen, drivers of omnibuses, and country females. But as it is about to be taken down, to the infinite regret of the city pickpockets, any description of it is unnecessary. It, however, unfortunately for the public, narrowly escaped destruction by the great fire of 1666, the flames having been stopped within three houses of its walls. It has been several times repaired, but it will, ere long,...be removed. It is a church of very ancient foundation, in the gift of the abott and convent of Westminster, who in 1237 gave it to Henry III towards the maintenance of the foundation of the house called the Rolls, for the reception of converted Jews. It was afterwards conveyed to the abbot and convent of Alnwick, in Northumberland, in whom it continued till the dissolution of the religious houses by Henry VIII. Edward VI granted the advowson of this church under the name of a vicarage to Lord Dudley. Soon after this, the rectory and vicarage were granted to Sir Richard Sackville, and the impropriation has ever since remained in private hands.
familysearch.org/learn/wiki/en/St_Dunstan_in_the_West
The Guild Church of St Dunstan-in-the-West is in Fleet Street in the City of London, England. It is dedicated to a former Bishop of London and Archbishop of Canterbury. The church is of medieval origin, although the present building, with an octagonal nave, was constructed in the 1830s to the designs of John Shaw.
First founded between AD 988 and 1070, there is a possibility that a church on this site was one of the Lundenwic strand settlement churches, like St Martin in the Fields, the first St Mary le Strand, St Clement Danes and St Brides. These churches may pre-date any within the walls of the city . It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was possibly erected by Saint Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well. It was first mentioned in written records in 1185.[2] King Henry III gained possession of it and its endowments from Westminster Abbey by 1237 and then granted these and the advowson to the "House of Converts" i.e. of the converted Jews, which led to its neglect of its parochial responsibilities. This institution was eventually transformed into the Court of the Master of the Rolls.
The medieval church underwent many alterations before its demolition in the early 19th century. Small shops were built against its walls, St Dunstan's Churchyard becoming a centre for bookselling and publishing.[3] Later repairs were carried out in an Italianate style: rusticated stonework was used, and some of the Gothic windows were replaced with round headed ones, resulting in what George Godwin called "a most heterogeneous appearance".[3] In 1701 the church's old vaulted roof was replaced with a flat ceiling, ornamented with recessed panels.[3]
The Worshipful Company of Cordwainers has been associated with the church since the 15th century. The company holds an annual service of commemoration to honour two of its benefactors, John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children were traditionally given a penny for each time they ran around the church.
William Tyndale, the celebrated translator of the Bible, was a lecturer at the church and sermons were given by the poet John Donne. Samuel Pepys mentions the church in his diary.[4] The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The Dean of Westminster roused 40 scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who formed a fire brigade which extinguished the flames with buckets of water to only three doors away.
In the early 19th century the medieval church of St Dunstan was removed to allow the widening of Fleet Street and a new church was built on its burial ground. An Act of Parliament was obtained authorising the demolition of the church in July 1829 and trustees were appointed to carry it into effect. In December 1829 and September 1830 there were auctions of some of the materials of the old church. The first stone of the new building, to the design of John Shaw, Sr. (1776–1832), was laid in July 1831 and construction proceeded rapidly. In August 1832 the last part of the old church, which had been left as a screen between Fleet Street and the new work, was removed.[3]
Shaw dealt with the restricted site by designing a church with an octagonal central space. Seven of the eight sides open into arched recesses, the northern one containing the altar. The eighth side opens into a short corridor, leading beneath the organ to the lowest stage of the tower, which serves as an entrance porch. Above the recesses Shaw designed a clerestory, and above that a groined ceiling. The tower is square in plan, with an octagonal lantern, resembling those of St Botolph, Boston, and St Helen's York. George Godwin Jr suggested that the form of the lantern might have been immediately inspired by that of St George's church in Ramsgate ( where Shaw was architect to the docks), built in 1825 to the designs of H.E. Kendall.[3] John Shaw Sr. died in 1833, before the church was completed, leaving it in the hands of his son John Shaw Jr (1803–1870).
The communion rail is a survivor of the old church, having been carved by Grinling Gibbons during the period when John Donne served as vicar (1624–1631). Some of the monuments from the medieval building were reinstituted in the new church and a fragment of the old churchyard remains between Clifford's Inn and Bream's Buildings.
Apart from losing its stained glass, the church survived the London Blitz largely intact, though bombs did damage the open-work lantern tower.[6] The building was largely restored in 1950. An appeal to raise money to install a new ring of bells in the tower, replacing those removed in 1969, was successfully completed in 2012 with the dedication and hanging of 10 new bells.[7]
The church was designated a Grade I listed building on 4 January 1950.
On the façade is a chiming clock, with figures of giants, perhaps representing Gog and Magog, who strike the bells with their clubs. It was installed on the previous church in 1671, perhaps commissioned to celebrate its escape from destruction by the Great Fire of 1666. It was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Thomas Hughes' Tom Brown's Schooldays, Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, David Lyddal's The Prompter (1810)[9] and a poem by William Cowper. In 1828, when the medieval church was demolished, the clock was removed by art collector Francis Seymour-Conway, 3rd Marquess of Hertford to his mansion in Regent's Park; during World War I, a new charity for blinded soldiers was lent the house, and took the name St Dunstan's from the clock.[10] It was returned by Lord Rothermere in 1935 to mark the Silver Jubilee of King George V.
Above the entrance to the old parochial school is a statue of Queen Elizabeth I, taken from the old Ludgate, which was demolished in 1760. This statue, dating from 1586, is contemporaneous with its subject and thought to be the oldest outdoor statue in London. In the porch below are three statues of ancient Britons also from the gate, probably meant to represent King Lud and his two sons.
Adjacent to Queen Elizabeth is a bust of Lord Northcliffe, the newspaper proprietor, co-founder of the Daily Mail and the Daily Mirror. Next to Lord Northcliffe is a memorial tablet to James Louis Garvin, another pioneering British journalist.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Dunstan-in-the-West
St.Dunstan-in-the-West has a long and illustrious history. Visitors are often struck by how St. Dunstan’s differs in appearance and style to other Anglican churches. The church looks traditionally Neo-Gothic on the outside, yet is octagonal inside.
Saint Dunstan
Dunstan was one of the foremost saints of Anglo-Saxon England: he was also one of the most venerated before the cult of St Thomas Becket took hold of the popular imagination. He was born in 909 A.D. and was taught by Irish monks at Glastonbury Abbey, Somerset, where he developed a reputation as a formidable scholar. He also learnt metalworking, and was later adopted as the patron saint of Goldsmiths. Dunstan became a companion to King Aethelstan’s stepbrothers, Edmund and Eadred, although he was banished after the king died in 939. He then lived at Glastonbury as a hermit, before being appointed Abbot there in 945. He was appointed as the Bishop of Worcester and then the Bishop of London, before being elected Archbishop of Canterbury in 960. Dunstan sought peace with the Danes and promoted monastic living, as well as establishing the library at Canterbury Cathedral, where he was buried in 988. St Dunstan’s feast day is the 19th May and is still celebrated at this church: in 2013 our Patronal Festival will be held on Saturday 18 May.
The Original Church
The original St Dunstan-in-the-West stood on the same site as today, spilling in the past onto what is now the tarmac of Fleet Street. It is not known exactly when the original church was built, but it was between 988 and 1070 AD. It is not impossible that St Dunstan himself, or priests who knew him well, decreed that a church was needed here. The church narrowly escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. The quick thinking of the Dean of Westminster saved the church: he roused forty scholars from Westminster School in the middle of the night, who extinguished the flames with buckets of water.
The Church is Rebuilt
The wear and tear of time took its toll, however, and St Dunstan’s was rebuilt in 1831. The architect, John Shaw, died in 1832, leaving his son, who bore the same name, to complete the task. The tower was badly damaged by German bombers in 1944, and was rebuilt in 1950 through the generosity of newspaper magnate Viscount Camrose. In 1952, St Dunstan-in-the-West became a Guild Church, dedicating its ministry to the daytime working population around Fleet Street.
The Clock and Giants
St Dunstan-in-the-West was a well-known landmark in previous centuries because of its magnificent clock. This dates from 1671, and was the first public clock in London to have a minute hand. The figures of the two giants strike the hours and quarters, and turn their heads. There are numerous literary references to the clock, including in Tom Brown’s Schooldays, the Vicar of Wakefield and a poem by William Cowper (1782):
When labour and when dullness, club in hand,
Like the two figures at St. Dunstan’s stand,
Beating alternately in measured time
The clockwork tintinnabulum of rhyme,
Exact and regular the sounds will be,
But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me.
The courtyard also contains statues of King Lud, the mythical sovereign, and his sons and Queen Elizabeth I, all of which originally stood in Ludgate. The statue of Queen Elizabeth I dates from 1586 and is the only one known to have been carved during her reign. (Please note: we regret that, due to building works, the statue of Queen Elizabeth I is not on view until the autumn of 2013.)
Inside the Church
Much of the internal fabric pre-dates the rebuilding of the church in the 1830s. The high altar and reredos are Flemish woodwork dating from the seventeenth century. There are also a large number of monuments from the original
church. Some of the earliest are two bronze figures thought to date from 1530.
The Organ
The original church has an organ dating from 1674-75 made by Renatus Harris. However, none of the original parts are likely to have remained as over the years it has had to be entirely rebuilt. Much of the present organ dates from 1834, when a Joseph Robson organ was bought at the same time as the Church was being rebuilt. Many distinguished organists have played here, including John Reading, the composer of Adeste Fideles, who died in 1764. Handel was even invited to play here, although whether the great composer ever accepted the invitation remains unknown.
The Romanian Orthodox Church
As well as being an Anglican church, the building of St Dunstan’s is home to the Romanian Orthodox Church in London. The beautiful iconostasis (altar screen) was brought here from a monastery in Bucharest in 1966.
St Dunstan-in-the-West is home to the Anglican and Eastern Churches Association, and is a centre of prayer for Christian Unity. It is therefore appropriate that the side chapels contain altars dedicated to various traditions, including the Lutheran Church in Berlin (EKD). There is also an altar of the Oriental Churches (Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopian, Syrian, Syro-Indian) and a shrine of the Lutheran and Reformed Churches. St Dunstan’s continues in its special role of promoting good relations with Churches outside the Anglican Communion, including through its role as the Diocese of London’s Church for Europe.
Other Famous Connections
The poet John Donne held the benefice here from 1624-31, while he was Dean of St Paul’s. William Tyndale, who pioneered the translation of the Bible into English, was a lecturer here. The famous diarist Samuel Pepys worshipped here a number of times. Lord Baltimore, who founded the State of Maryland in the USA, was buried here in 1632, as was his son. The church has been associated with the Worshipful Company of Cordwainers (old English for shoemakers) since the fifteenth century. Once a year the company holds a service here to commemorate the benefactors John Fisher and Richard Minge, after which children used to be given a penny for each time they ran around the church!
The Hoare Bank
The church has long had an association with C. Hoare and Co., whose bank has been situated opposite the church since 1690. The Hoare family donated the four stained glass windows behind the high altar and the carved canopies of the altar-piece. The windows show Archbishop Lanfrance; St Dunstan beside a roaring furnace into which he has thrust his pincers ready to pull a devil’s nose; St. Anselm and Archbishop Langton with King John at the signing of the Magna Carta. Members of the Hoare family, as well as being generous benefactors, have maintained a tradition of service as churchwardens over the centuries. Two have been Lord Mayors of London and a family vault still lies in the church crypt.
The staple of Victorian penny shockers, the story of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, stalks the no-man’s land between urban myth and historical fact. According to some sources, Todd, a barber, tooth-puller and surgeon, did actually exist, and in 1785 set up shop at 186 Fleet Street. It is claimed that he murdered over 100 of his clients, before selling their flesh on to Margery Lovett, who owned a pie shop in nearby Bell Yard!
Three years ago, summer 2014, I started walking a derelict road nearly every Sunday afternoon. I'd already driven everywhere easily accessible in my home county, paved or not, trying to create a mental map of where each piece connected to the next. Out of the towns, into the backwoods, and down by the shore, I got used to turning around at signs reading: "No Exit", "Dead End", or "No Road Maintenance, Proceed At Own Risk". By the end of 2012, there were no nearby discoveries to be made behind the wheel.
It's not that I don't want to go further, because I'd love to learn every inch of Canada and beyond. But you're lucky to get two weeks vacation a year, so what about the other fifty? There isn't always time for an epic journey, and I don't like putting my sense of adventure on hold. I get more out of my evenings and weekends than most folks, any discovery is thrilling, no matter how near or far from home.
So I started hiking, walking, wherever I saw a sign of the asphalt ending, dirt turning to rock and fading into the forest. I thought I'd finish Annapolis County in a matter of months, an easy rundown of the various roads once busy, now abandoned. But the empty forest is teeming with ancient paths to nowhere, more than I ever believed. There's a little trick to it I've learned, how to find the paths with the most personality. I seek out somewhere with a label, a road sign, even if it's only on the map. I've got no interest in modern logging trails, those are usually dull and heartless, just wide open wanders to a dead-end in the clear-cut. No, you've got to find a street with a name, and follow it past the houses until the power poles peter out.
Now you're in the land of lost highways, bordered by rock walls from fields once cleared but long overgrown, scattered oaks and maples planted in perfect rows for homes where only a foundation remains. You're in the world of a width made in the horse-and-buggy days, ruts cut with wagon wheels, and followed in kind by trucks over rattling rocks. Nothing has changed, no new ditches or shoulders, minor repairs only, and often not even that.
Some can be taken with the roar of off-road vehicles, but I don't recommend it. You might be tempted away from silence, when there's so much you could be hearing. The rustle of leaves, the call of birds and small creatures, the many different tongues of wind. Many of the trails involve ducking under branches, vaulting fallen trunks, navigating sunken bogs, treading rickety or washed-away bridges. There are narrow ridges and breathless climbs, hard-won hills and foot-calloused distance, up and down the North and South Mountains of Annapolis County, and all of the valley beyond. By the end of the year, I should be able to claim that I've walked every one of them.
So what of this image? We're at the far southern reaches of Bloomington Road, said by the locals to have once been the old way to Lunenburg. Is that the truth? No history books give it a mention, but it shows all the signs of a road that meant something. Here at this crossing, five kilometers past the last houses, faded signs of habitation in the black backwoods. There's a concrete foundation just before the bridge, but no hint of what stood there. I should tell you, I've rarely been so stolen by the sleepy trees. The ruts are haunted by ghosts of broken wheels, flat tires, and tired horses – and in the course of my walk, I tripped over another waking dream. Just another step closer to living in my imagination.
Fire at sign shop, 1978.. This was the site of an old wooden house that was to have been an artists' colony.
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tokyo, japan
1973
the city at night
part of an archival project, featuring the photographs of nick dewolf
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Whilst Christopher Columbus was discovering Jamaica, an agreement dated 1st March 1494 was signed and sealed whereby the rents of certain properties which he had in the district of Colchester were assigned to Thomas Jopson (Jobson), one of the representatives of the town of Colchester in payment of arrears due for his expenses, namely 6.14s. Amongst the charges specified was the sum of 3d, then a respectable amount, payable annually for the George. There was a further 4d per year for the standard for carrying the sign of the George, no doubt an encroachment on the path or highway. Thomas Jopson lived in St. Runwald’s parish not far from the George.
The central portion of the building is part of a 15th century house which was built some time before 1494. There are still parts of the original George which Thomas Jopson owned in 1494. On the second floor of the hotel there is an original hinge post with remarkable embattled capital which is now incorporated into a wall and can be partially seen at the top of the stairs towards the 300 and 400 bedrooms. This was part of the middle truss of the hall of the original house. On that same staircase there is also a section of the wattle and daub wall dating from the 14th century.
The extensive cellars are also medieval, probably dating from 1450. Some of the niches in the brickwork in these cellars are later, about 1520. Preserved behind a glass wall can be seen several layers of soil which show the old roman street level. One layer, darker than the others, is purported to be ashes left by the fires which raged in the town when Queen Boadecia/Boudicca, ransacked it in AD60.
In room 503 a corbel can be seen, carved in the form of a bearded head; this was once to be found in the original kitchens. In the roof there is an early 16th century beam carved with foliage and figures, and this is no later than the reign of Henry VIII. Many other features have probably been concealed by modernisation and in 1984 a very well preserved section of a wall painting was discovered and put on display near room 201. It is thought to be early 15th century.
The George was remodelled and enlarged during the reign of Charles 1st, and most of the timbers date from this period. The plain old fashioned front hides behind its centuries old traditions of true English Hospitality.
A century or more before the stage coaches began to link up one end of the country with the other, great clumsily built wagons had appeared on the highways of England for the transport of merchandise and those travellers who, by reason of infirmities could not ride, or through poverty could not afford to hire saddle horses. These vehicles, drawn by at least eight horses, made their way along roads in easy stages, stopping each night at such inns as the George until they reached their journeys end. Before the Year 1740 there is record of a wagon plying between Ipswich and Colchester once weekly, the huge vehicle lumbering into the inns yard through the great archway in George Street on Mondays and leaving the following day. A few years later, in addition to this service, a tilted carriage from Ipswich, owned by Thomas shave, stopped at the George every Friday on its way up to London, where it was due on Saturday; passengers being promised “very good and easy places, warm and dry at reasonable rates.” The old archway has since been bricked up but the original frame is still very much in evidence.
During the 1700’s, the George was kept by an innkeeper by the name of Abraham Moor. An innkeeper was a man of position and influence in those days and was regarded as such by his fellow townsman. Abraham died in 1778 after a tenancy of more than thirty years and was succeeded by his wife, Sarah. Upon Sarah’s death three years after her husband, ‘that old good accustomed inn, known by the sign of the George’ was advertised to be let with immediate occupation and was taken by Mr George Smith. During his tenancy the inn was burgled with an assortment of plated tankards, tea pots, teaspoons, pepper boxes and salt taken. Mr Smith died a year later in 1785 and his widow eventually married Peter Bains. In 1823 following the death of Mr and Mrs Baines, the management of the George went to a member of an old local family, Abednig Bland a former town councillor, who was in turn succeeded by John Smith the last of the landlords of the old coaching days.
When the railway reached Colchester in May 1843 it sounded a death knell for the stage-coaches and Mr Smith was quick to seize the opportunity placed before him; was among the first to supply horse-drawn omnibuses to meet the trains. He also ran a similar vehicle to Brightlingsea and one to Braintree called the Pilot. As Walton-on-the-Naze became more fashionable as a seaside resort, this was also served by coaches from the George during the summer months.
During the reign of Queen Victoria, the hotel was considered to be one of the ten superior inns and hotels in Colchester and several coaches inned there, amongst them: The Telegraph, a name first adopted by fast coaches and derived from the system of semaphore signalling of the same name, travelled between London and the sea ports and arrived every day at 1.45am on its journey from London to Yarmouth. At noon the Shannon, the famous Halesworth-London coach whose name recalled ‘Brave Broke’s’ gallant capture of the Chesapeake frigate in Boston harbour in June 1813, drew up on its way to London.
A quaint character at the inn during the latter part of the 18th century was John-Lyon, the ostler,‘ a singularly honest and upright man’, known and respected by all travellers by his frugality and industry. He saved sufficiently to spend his last years in retirement and at his death, in August 1800, aged 64, he left various charitable bequests. He attended the Methodist meeting house dressed in ‘an old drab coat’, which he possessed for more than half a century, with large silver buttons of which he was very proud and a ‘full bottomed wig' which from long service had obtained a yellow hue.
Until 1862 Colchester’s livestock market was held in the high Street and the small bar adjacent to the George was called the Market Tavern. When the Market moved however it became known by the locals as the George Tavern. In 1872 it was owned by Parks, then in 1884by Parks & Glover, from 1894 by E.S Beard. Daniels purchased it in 1910 who sold it to Truman’s in 1959. In 1982 Queens Moat Hotels bought it and sold it on to Mr Michael Slagle in 1994. Truman’s were taken over by Grand Metropolitan who converted the ballroom into bedrooms and created a carvery in the cellar around 1979.
The George was refurbished in 1995 and is now one of the most attractive buildings in the high street. The old bar was taken out to enlarge the entrance area and was repositioned in the lounge. During the building work experts were able to study the medieval framed structure and were able to say that its ground floor showed evidence of shop fronts both facing the high street and George Street, with the owner, presumably living on the first floor. They further noted that the building was originally only two stories, the present day third storey having been added at a later date, together with its Georgian front. This would explain the large timbers showing through the wall on the main staircase landing. They were presumably part of the original ceiling. An interesting display of photographs and other artefacts can be seen near the staircase. During this refurbishment a snack bar that was all that remained of the original carvery and known as 16 down, closed.
In 1996 or thereabouts the hotel, although still owned by Mr Slagle came under the auspicious Best Western Group solely for marketing purposes. He sold the George in 2002 to the London and Edinburgh Inns Group.
In the late 1800’s the George was the headquarters of the cyclists touring group and the Colchester Football Club. Over the years many institutions and local societies have enjoyed the hotel’s welcoming hospitality, good food, fine wines and friendly atmosphere all combining to ensure that the George’s well earned reputation for excellence is still as deserved as it was all those centuries ago when weary travellers broke their journeys at ‘the sign of The George.’
Acknowledgments - Gerald O Rickword, Jess A Jephcott and local studies section, Colchester Library, Resource centre, Colchester Museum Referenced and Compiled by Janet Lelltiott 2004
tokyo, japan
1973
the city at night
part of an archival project, featuring the photographs of nick dewolf
© the Nick DeWolf Foundation
Image-use requests are welcome via flickrmail or nickdewolfphotoarchive [at] gmail [dot] com
let’s see so much has happened lately, that got me drifted away from blogging.. taking more photos.. working out more.. everything has been thrown off, side tracked. let me see if i can list them all here
• left my job at gally
After working there for almost four years, being spoiled in every aspect of how a guy’s job should be… but never the less, i am
not regretting in any way. but i will miss my gadgets… friendliest boss that i will ever have. getting to work.. late… well.. no.. “very late”. managed to get away with the strict dressing code. a large office to myself.. cheap parking… plenty of vacations.. i think i still have some left over comp hours that i never got the chance to use up. oh and sick leave other than the regular paid leave days.
• joined a private sector
i am still not sure if i made the right choice.. maybe it’s the fact that i have not yet ‘uprooted’ myself from gallaudet.. after all.. 4 years of habits are pretty hard to rub off… the strict dressing code ( you have to look GOOD, i mean.. with their word ” PROFESSIONAL” yet i have seen people with jeans on dress down days and girls with flip flops.. or what they call ” upscaled slippers ” my ass. let’s see if a guy can get away with this. but the good thing is, i felt more productive, i don’t often have people come and stop by, just being next to me and yank away their life stories while i’m trying to tackle this deadline. cross division standardization, resourcefulness, everything is in a perfect way. not the best, but it’s a huge different comparing to gallaudet. bigger team, my team would only have to worry about the web stuff while others do the ideas, design, QA, and post production etc. talking about giving a break to my brain on different tasks with multiple roles. that, is a relief i seek.
• new mac
been living off my old job’s loaner computer for ages.. never had to spend a penny for tech gear.. other than external HDD upgrades. that helped with my wallet in the past few years, but it came back hurt me in a big way… yuck.
• new hearing aids
yeah working at gallaudet was at ease, i dont have to worry about whereabouts of my hearing aids.. change battery weekly.. but looking at sign language sure did a toll on my eyes.. or it was the readings? but anyway, back to the point. the new job demands hefty use of hearing aids for voice based communication. gone is the hands flying communication and occasionally mumblings that i will never understand. yet.. working without being able to hear, and not being able to lip read like mr bob.. i was a sore looser. but have no fear, two brand new hearing aids are on the way, those are the bleeding edge, ninth generation, latest of latest updated super gadget hearing aids. gone is the air tube, in is the thin wire tube. gone is the cheap and free hearing aids from VR, in is the damage on my bank account. this i tell ya, is FTL!
• going out more
nothing to see here, and yes i do go out!
• completed a mini triathlon sprint
finished at the bottom of double digits.. out of … 400? i was so out of shape. even a 12 year old child beat me by few steps. i swear she head butted me while we were in the pool, although.. she was swimming with her pace and i was trying to survive.
• new bike
Trek 7.3 FX Disc!! yeah baby! it’s the year of being GREEN! muscle power ftw, sore ass ftl!
• new car
ok i guess zero carbon output from the bike can cancel out the massive carbon output from the new car makes this hot ride greener! but anyway, move on
• soon a new house
other than getting sick and tired of staying with my parents after moving out of DC not long ago. time to get my own pad. and i believe i will email you all for a house warming party in near future. so.. keep your eyes on ur email inbox.
• using metro to work
hard to believe eh? i still cant believe i am willing to spend a good 40 mins daily with strangers in an air locked tube going to work. i’m sure there are others find this hard to believe as well. people.. beware.. a free ride leecher is born! be very afraid!
• new right arm 3/4 jacket tattoo
yeah it’s hot and sexy! sans the pain. and a ding on the bank account.
This clip is copyright Steve Mann, and is actually an image from his wearable computer's Wearcam. Here, I believe his wife is watching where he is going through her own Eyecam (she's a cyborg too!) and is giving him directions.
As you can see, the Wearcam uses signal processing to take the advertisement in, turn it white, and then place text on top of it. This way, Steve Mann never has to look down at a device, only at signs in the real world. But instead of the data on those signs being owned by someone else, he owns all of the signs around him. I love this concept.
This highlights a very important difference between augmented reality and computer mediated reality - the ability for something to be taken away from reality vs. the ability to only add to reality.
I'm still trying to figure out the date of this video. If anyone knows, please let me know.
More at: wearcam.org/
Local tourists walk along a short corridor past an open balcony. Some pause at the balcony to have their photos taken by friends on the patio below or to look at signs showing the elevations of Leh Palace.
EPB_9490_cr
Manchester England a Rather small departure & arrival area lots of confused people milling about, waiting looking at signs, asking directions etc
Samyang 8mm Fish-Eye Canon 600D
Local tourists walk along a short corridor past an open balcony. Some pause at the balcony to have their photos taken by friends on the patio below or to look at signs showing the elevations of Leh Palace.
EPB_9483
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British Expertise and the International Contractors’ Association of Korea (ICAK) signing an MoU pledging to support the growing collaboration of UK consultants and Korean constructors on large-scale, third-country construction projects.
Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken tours Fragmentos Museum and delivers remarks at a signing ceremony to support the comprehensive implementation of the Ethnic Chapter of the 2016 Peace Accord, with Colombian Vice President Francia Márquez, in Bogota, Colombia, on October 3, 2022. [State Department photo by Ron Przysucha/ Public Domain]