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Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
Suresh Pattali:
Suresh Pattali, a film and theatre activist, or as Paul Zacharia, the Editor of Economic Times and his former colleague rightly stated," a film buff and libertarian"; worked as a producer in Asianet when I met him.
Suresh assisted the renowned Indian filmmaker Muzaffar Ali in making classic movies like 'Gaman' and 'Umrao Jaan' and has worked with noted singer Kishore Kumar and Popular music director Salil Choudhury. He was too humble a human being to read one's character and get close within no time.
I met him first, in 2000, at his office in the Asianet Studio complex at Puliyarakonam in Trivandrum. He was very eager to listen to my album 'Simple Truth' and knew it was in the final stage of completion. He was too busy in the studio that I waited from 4 pm to about 6 pm as he occasionally makes an appearance and apologizes for making me wait and leaves after making sure that I am comfortable. Someone would want him when he joins me, and as I was not in any hurry, I asked him to take his time. When he hastily joined me at about 6 pm, I told him that I have a rough copy of 'Simple Truth' in my car. The moment he heard that he just walked out of the studio with his hand on my shoulder. He sat beside me in the car, we closed the doors, and I played the tape.
Before the music started, he asked, "What about a ride?". I nodded, and we drove out to the nearly desolate roads in the suburbs of Trivandrum. When the music started, I noticed that he is gazing at my face. With a smile, when I turned and looked at him, he asked," You did this ?". I said "Yes", and his astonished expression is the first and best compliment I ever received. I drove aimlessly while he keenly and mutely listened to all the 12 songs in the album. Later I dropped him at his house, which is just about a kilometre away from his workplace.
The very next day, I received a call from him inviting me to his house, and I visited him sometime in the afternoon. His interest in music and his memory amazed me as he started describing how he visualized one of the songs that he heard the previous day. It was late afternoon, and he was yet to have his lunch. I understood he's drunk, but he appeared perfect and very much in his senses. I told him that I would wait until he has his lunch. Within a few minutes, he returned with an egg omelette for me. I didn't refuse as I knew he prepared it just for me. It was too salty to consume, and when I was struggling with it, he joined me munching his omelette and said, "Too much salt, right? I don't have any more eggs left, else I would have made fresh ones". After spending some time discussing the script, I left following his assurance to contact me soon. The next day he called me for further talks, and we fixed a local club for the next meeting the same evening.
He ordered a few drinks and narrated his Mumbai cinema experiences. The modesty of the Popular singer Kishore Kumar, the friendliness of the great musician Salil Chowdhury, and the simplicity of the renowned actress Smita Patil. The humbleness of Kishore Kumar during recordings and the prowess of Salil Chowdhury to compose 'boatman' songs.
He respected and appreciated me for being a teetotaller, and never did he behave drunk with me. I reminded him that it's getting too late and offered to drop him at his house. On the way back, he asked, "Anuj, which is your most favourite song? ". I replied that it's a tough question as I have so many favourites." My favourite English song is, 'Still I'm Sad' by Boney M", he said. After a pause, he continued, "Do you know ' Chingari Koi Bhadke '?". I said, "Yes, I love that song." He asked, "Can you sing it ? "and I replied, " Sorry, I have never tried it". Again after a pause, he said, "Please hum it ". I hummed the tune in its original pitch, and he started singing along in a feeble voice. I drove listening to his rendition, which was indeed beautiful. He remained quiet after that, and I dropped him home at about midnight.
Within a few days, he invited me to judge a talent search programme conducted by Asianet for college students, named 'Talent Scan 2000'. I accepted the request and appeared for the programme at Victoria Jubilee Town Hall on the stipulated date and time. He introduced me to the crew, and my role was to judge Western Music. After the programme, he thanked me and promised to be in touch.
He called me after a few days and asked me whether we shall meet sometime in the evening. I agreed, and he said he would call later to fix the venue and time. He called again in the evening to tell me that he's having one of his old friends along with him and asked whether it's fine with me. I said it's all right, and I invited him to one of the most prestigious clubs in town, where I have a membership. I booked a table on the lawn and waited for him.
He had few drinks like earlier, but his friend started gulping like a thirsty cow, loudly declared that he's a Maoist, and proudly started to swank his profanity proficiency. While Suresh commanded him to behave, in an attempt to move his chair backwards, the dhoti-clad Maoist fell aback bare, along with his chair. The waiters on duty are used to such displays, but they appeared shocked as they never expected such guests with me. I asked Suresh whether we shall leave. I have never seen him angry, and he didn't lose his cool even when his friend irritated him. He said we would move, but his friend refused to come. I thought of seeking help from the waiters and security to carry him to the car.
Finally, he agreed to move when Suresh 'promised' to take him to some distinct wine bar.
I was a bit apprehensive whether he would attempt to jump out of the moving car as we proceeded towards the hotel where he stays. Once we reached the hotel, he refused to get off the car. Suresh somehow managed to pull him out, and on the street, he loudly started to demonstrate his imprecation skills. I saw Suresh with a grim face for the first time, but still, he didn't lose his cool. Swiftly, he hopped into the car and signalled me to accelerate fast. I did that, and his friend was staggering from behind, trying to chase us as we sped away. Suresh didn't utter a word after that. I dropped him home, and though he didn't apologize, I could see that apologetic look in his weary eyes when he bid me goodbye.
I phoned him early in the morning to check whether his friend is all right. He told me that his friend was nabbed by the police the previous night, and he has to get him released.
I asked him to relax and promised to call him in the evening.
I called him in the evening, and an unfamiliar voice picked up the call.
I asked, " Suresh, Is that you? ".
The stranger from the other end replied, " Suresh passed away. He vomited blood, and we took him to the hospital but couldn't save him".
"माझी जो नाव डुबोए
उसे कौन बचाये"
("If the boatman drowns the boat, who can save it ?")
Chingari Koi Bhadke: Chingari Koi Bhadke
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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________________________________________________
© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
After several months of political dissonance culminating in a week of unbelievably reckless rhetoric and unfathomable lawlessness I present you with a peaceful and contemplative bear. What I would do to be able to kneel with them on the beach, share a breath of ocean air, and revel in the restorative reconciliation that nature provides.
Россия, Ленинградская область.
Деревня Родионово.
В деревне Родионово расположены два священных храма. Третий по древности на Руси Георгиевский храм (1493 г.) и Храм сретения Господня, построенный в 1864 году.
Испытываешь сильный диссонанс глядя на старинную Георгиевскую церковь и на современный новодельный на вид храм. А виной всему – рыжий сайдинг, которым церковь была обшита в середине 2000-х годов. Благодаря такой «горе-реставрации» мы потеряли исторический облик храма, а вместе с этим и частицу нашей истории.
Russia, Leningrad region.
The village of Rodionovo.
There are two sacred temples in the village of Rodionovo. The third oldest church in Russia is St. George's Church (1493) and the Church of the Presentation of the Lord, built in 1864.
You experience a strong dissonance looking at the old St. George's Church and the modern, newly-made-looking temple. And the reason for everything is the ginger siding with which the church was sheathed in the mid–2000s. Thanks to such a "mou restoration", we have lost the historical appearance of the temple, and with it a piece of our history.
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
P. K. Reghukumar Varma (Raghu master):
Reghu Master is one of those great artists who didn't get the recognition he deserved. Many people in Kerala who hum and sing his songs have probably not heard of him. A gentle soul, always with a smile on his face, he didn't care or crave publicity.
In my teens, we had a Ganamela troupe (a music band that renders Popular Indian language film songs) named 'The Symphony'. The practice, or rather rehearsals, is conducted at the Band's office near my residence. It's a room in a lodge that provides accommodation for bachelors.
Reghu Kumar, or Reghu Master as we call him, used to visit the place during rehearsals. Fair-skinned, his cheerful, beaming face always looked blushed.
Though I was just a youngster then, he never showed any supremacy or reservations to me. During the rehearsals, he cared to listen, even if I express doubt about any arrangement in a song. Once while practising an old classic Malayalam song, I pointed out that I always feel there's something wrong with the original recording. The other artists, all of them relatively senior to me, felt uneasy that some of them initially just sported a mortified smile. Reghu Master suddenly turned solemn that he asked to repeatedly play that specific part (beginning of the song). After playing it numerous times, he asked all the artists, "What do you think? ". While most of them became doubtful and confused, few agreed there's something wrong. Then he turned to me and asked, "What do you think is wrong?". I said that I have always felt that the song begins with the pitch dragging. With a stern look, he said, "You are right. Wonder why nobody noticed it earlier". After that incident, to my embarrassment, most of those artists depended on my confirmation to tune their musical instruments.
Probably to provide me confidence, I remember he once told me that he started his musical journey in his childhood, and in his early twenties, he was part of the chorus that sang the Tamil song'Ondrey Kulamendru Paaduvom ' sung by K.J. Yesudas. Though it's not his composition and there are so many hit songs ('Koottil Ninnum ', 'Chembarathi Poove Chollu ', Pon Veene etc.) composed by him, I remember this song when I remember him.
Raghu Master died prematurely on 20 February 2014.
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
-------------------------------------------------------
________________________________________________
© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
(Next to ?uestlove, is there a cooler drummer in the world than Dave King?)
More archives - June 2011
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
Arthur Retton Gopal:
Garbed in an untucked aquamarine full sleeve shirt buttoned at the cuff and brown pants with a patchwork on the knee done with a strip of check-designed cloth, he could be lingering aimlessly along the streets of Trivandrum, like a vagabond. He very much resembled the infamous dictator Idi Amin of Uganda. A slow walker, he moved as if he's labouring to carry along his potbelly.
In earlier days, Trivandrum Corporation used bullock carts to clear litter on the streets. It's known as a curious spectacle to the people of those days that the bullock stops on their own whenever they see garbage. Like those bullock, Arthur Retton Gopal used to stop right in front of those 'Adults Only' movie posters at the roadside and appear lost staring at them, while passersby giggled and laughed at him. He's never in a hurry, and I am sure he was rambling aimlessly.
Not many know that he's a great pianist. The great musician K.J. Yesudas who identified his talent, brought him to Trivandrum from Chennai to work as a tutor in his Tharanganisari School of Music. I have heard that he lost his balance after his dear wife ditched him and fled with her lover, following which he turned to intoxicants and womanizing. Some say she gave him the elbow, fed up with his bad habits. Anyway, I have never found him drunk, though he 'appears' inebriated. He lost his job in Tharanganisari School, accused of 'misbehaviour' with his female students, and though exceptionally talented, he lived alone in poverty.
At that time, one day, I got a call from Trivandrum Doordarshan (T.V. service broadcaster run by the Government of India) asking me whether I am ready to do a Western music program for them. I agreed, and as I met the producer, I suggested some variety to the show by introducing my Nigerian friend Chima and my dance tutor Mr John. Chima Nokenne is a Football player and musician who can play the guitar and croon, while Mr John, known more as 'Baldie uncle', is familiar with old songs. Chima selected the song ' Ready Steady Go', released as a single by a Nigerian Band named The Semicolons, which incidentally has the lead played by his guitar tutor. Baldie uncle selected the 1940 song 'Besame Mucho', the 1945 song 'The Falling Leaves', and the Jerry Vale version of 'Always In My Heart'.
Chima provided me with an SP record of his song to prepare the sheet music for the orchestra.
Then came the unsought obstacle. Though I am familiar with the songs and Baldie uncle can sing his songs, we didn't have a copy of all the three songs he selected. When it dawned on me, and as I almost decided to forgo the plan to include those old three songs, I suddenly remembered Arthur.
Eureka! I am sure he knows all those old melodies by heart. I set out to find him. My search started from the streets, where I usually see him ogling at movie posters. The person always sighted on the roads suddenly appeared to have vanished. Subsequently, I came to know that he's then working as a piano tutor in the Indo-French cultural centre of the French Embassy. I succeeded in meeting him and informed him of the help that I need from him. I told him that I would be back within a couple of days, and he assured me that he would be at his workplace in the daytime and join me whenever I find it convenient. He kept asking me whether I could find a young female crooner to complete some work he's assigned to do for Kerala Tourism. I was very well aware of his 'notoriety' that even being just a teenager; I didn't believe his assignment story.
The next task was to find a piano that works well in an ideal place. I remembered a sweet Anglo-Indian girl who had a crush on me and recalled that she had once invited me home to see her old grand piano. Contacted her, sought her dad's permission and fixed a date for the recording.
All set, I approached the Indo-French cultural centre office and sought permission to meet Mr Arthur. To my dismay, they informed me that he left the job the very next day I met him.
Crestfallen, I caught an autorickshaw and proceeded towards the house where I planned the recording. Since they were waiting for me, I have to tell them of the dropped plan. Dazed in confusion and disappointment, I didn't see the road that we drove through. Abruptly I notice that the rickshaw has reached the place where I usually see Mr Arthur. There he is! Ogling at a large, lewd poster of some third-rate movie from close quarters!. I screamed "Stop!" that the startled driver nearly lost control of the vehicle. The vehicle screeched to a halt, and clinging to it; I pulled Arthur inside. Before he could understand what's happening, we reached the house, just a few meters from where I found him.
Baldie uncle was eagerly waiting for us at the house, along with the family.
Arthur got seated right in front of the piano, and I had the recorder set to record the music. His fingers brushed the keys, and he scoffed that many keys are out of tune. To and fro, his fingers wafted over the keys like a butterfly as we watched in awe. I made the singer Baldie uncle sit right beside him.
We started with 'Always In My Heart ', and to my embarrassment, Baldie uncle kept singing without checking the tempo. Before I could stop the recording and request a restart, I saw Arthur's right hand in a flash fall on Baldie uncle's thigh, and along with a spank yell, "Stop, you idiot!". Red-faced, Baldie uncle felt badly insulted as it happened right in front of many people. As they started arguing, I donned the role of a referee in the boxing ring.
Arthur stated that he would leave if Baldie uncle opens his mouth to sing again and Baldie uncle, to save his face, declared, "I won't sing if he plays the piano". What a relief! I did the recording without vocals, thanked the family, and left the house with Arthur. I took him to a vegetarian hotel where he had a set of Parotta, Vada, and tea. I asked where I should leave him. From his body language, I knew that he didn't have an answer. Yet, he mentioned a rookery, where I dropped him before dropping Rs.50 (about a dollar those days) into the pocket of his favourite or probably his only aquamarine shirt.
A few days later, I heard that the second time too, he lost his tutor job accused of misbehaving with female students. People avoided him, and he lived secluded, the rest of his life.
Many years later, or rather a few years back, his death was reported in mainstream media with the prominence it deserved.
Always In My Heart : Always In My Heart
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
-------------------------------------------------------
________________________________________________
© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
Credo che la malinconia sia un problema musicale, una dissonanza, un ritmo alterato.
Mentre fuori tutto accade con un vertiginoso ritmo da cascata, dentro c'è una lentezza esausta
Alejandra Pizarnik, poetessa Argentina ( Buenos Aires 1936- 1972 )
From the window of the running train
Sunset out of focus
I believe melancholy is a musical problem, a dissonance, an altered rhythm.
.... Inside there is an exhausted slowness...
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
Did you ever see a laddie go this way and that? :
The child gradually grew disconcerted with his experiences at the 'nursery'. He was annoyed and often shocked by the world that unwrapped and what that he deciphered in the fourth year of his life.
Other than Sister Atlee, there's a teacher and a nursemaid in the nursery. Sister Atlee makes an occasional visit, and though she appears aloof and austere, the child liked her because he recognized that she is loving and harmless. So is Maggie, the nursemaid, who is probably a teenage orphan living in the convent. She wears floral frocks and has bobbed hair. Maggie serves the kids with the milk and cookies brought from their homes and cleaned the rooms. The teachers in the school have to be unmarried, and if they marry, they have to leave their job. In that case, the teacher in the nursery is a young lady.
The children are assigned 'homework', and every morning they are supposed to place the homework book, one on top of the other, on the teacher's table. Most kids didn't know the purpose of the ritual. As a routine, they often place the book on the table, even if they have not done their 'homework'. The teacher goes through each book, and the kids have to go and get their book when she calls their name. She called "Anuj", and the kid gleefully approached her. He was startled that unexpectedly she threw the book at his face and yelled, "Why you didn't do your homework?". The book came flying with its pages spread and hit him right at his face. It didn't scare him, but he walked back with a heavy heart as the brown paper covering of the book got unwrapped, and he remembered how attentively his dad encased it late at night. While he sat appalled and downhearted, he could hear her calling the names of other kids in the class. He soon saw her throw the book at the face of another boy and saw the poor child pee right where he stood.
The kid was puzzled why he is continually getting instilled with sad and obnoxious negative notions. He wondered what's funny if "Jack fell down and broke his head, and if Jill came tumbling after", and what's joyful about Humpty Dumpty's great fall. He felt sad for Little Red Riding Hood's poor grandma, who the wolf ate. He wondered why he's taught that Golliwog doesn't bathe or brush his teeth and is ugly; and portrayed as black, with big eyes, thick lips and curly hair.
The kid didn't understand why Vikraman while playing in the sandbox, hit the back of his right hand with the pail when he approached him with a smile. It hurt him badly, and he withdrew, perplexed by the unexplained motivation for such behaviour.
The kid didn't understand why and how could Deepti, who accosted him crying for help, romp away tittering with the same child who hurt her while the teacher was terrorizing her saviour for helping her. Sobbing, she approached him as her best friend and neighbour Pravin threw out her umbrella through the window. He consoled her and assured her that he would get it for her and instantly dashed back with the umbrella, flashing a victorious smile. As he gladly handed it over to her, the fuming teacher who appeared from nowhere asked, "You two went out?". Pointing at him, Deepti replied, "No, I didn't. It's him", and joyously left, giggling along with Pravin, holding his hand. While fiercely reprimanded by the teacher for venturing out, he could see her blissfully playing in the sandbox with her best friend.
The kid didn't understand why the cutely chubby Daffene was cruelly jeered at by most kids when she accidentally lost her bowel control and defecated in the class. While he sat beside her to console her, bewildered, he watched the dramatically cheerful commotion with the kids running around helter-skelter, covering their noses, bawling "Chakka thoori"(Jackfruit defecated). Chakka is Jackfruit, and plump people often get taunted with that term. Though poor Daffene put up a brave face, he knew she would burst out crying any moment.
He realized that traits are just inherent, and it has nothing to do with upbringing. He didn't believe that the parents of those kids taught them to behave that way. He felt that his world of ladybirds, butterflies, bugs and beetles is a far better place. He never felt hurt by an ant bite or a bee sting, but though he's known at his home and the whole neighbourhood as 'the child who never cries', all the incidents left scars in his heart.
Anyway, with all the bitter experiences, he slowly developed a dislike for the place. Finally, he told his mom that he no longer wish to go to that place. She informed dad, and they both came to his bed at night. Lifting the mosquito net, they both sat on the bed, and mindful of a child's apprehensions and worries, they asked," Is there anything that troubles you in the class?". The kid couldn't provide an immediate explanation, so he just repeated that he doesn't like the place. Desperate to solve the issue, they dissected and particularized the question. "Is someone troubling or misbehaving with you? ". The answer, "Yes", led to the questions, "Who?, How?". The kid couldn't find any immediate answer, so he lied, " The teacher called me a pig". "WHAT?! How dare she?!". Dad sprung up, fuming. He assured him he'll take care of the issue and asked the child not to worry before they tucked the net inside the mattress and left. The child remained sleepless for a while as the teacher never called him any such names, and he lied to his parents. His innocent intention was the simple expectation that his parents would stop sending him to such a nasty place.
The following day he was taken to the nursery, and Sister Atlee was ready to teach a new song. The girls held either side of the bottom edge of their half skirts and swayed their hips left and right to sing:
"Did you ever see a lassie, a lassie, a lassie? ,
Did you ever see a lassie Go this way and that?
Go this way and that way, go this way and that way,
Did you ever see a lassie Go this way and that? "
The boys held either side of the bottom edge of their shorts and, swaying the same way sang,
"Did you ever see a laddie, a laddie, a laddie? ,
Did you ever see a laddie Go this way and that?
Go this way and that way, go this way and that way,
Did you ever see a laddie Go this way and that? "
Abruptly, the swaying laddie felt a lightning bolt through his heart when he saw his dad at the door with a group of nuns and the teacher. After talking to him, the teacher came running towards the kids with an alarmed face. He wished he could go this way or that way as the teacher took him to his dad. On the verge of tears, she asked, "Anuj, did I call you a pig?". The kid replied, " Er, ahem, well ...No". "My child won't lie. Maybe someone else", said his dad. "Then, who? Is it Maggie?" asked the teacher. The kid looked around, and he didn't find Maggie anywhere nearby. His head bent downwards, he nodded and thought the issue is solved, and the matter would be closed. Oh no! There comes Maggie! Another face on the verge of tears, the same question and a lengthy " Yo, um, uh, er, ahem, well..No" as the answer. Thankfully, his dad thought of leaving it there, and he left after advising the teacher to be more careful with kids.
Though the kid regretted having lied, he was glad that the teacher became more amicable and mature than the kids after that incident.
Along with 'education' and experiences, though all kids slowly get acclimatized and move along with the flow, some kids merely grow up, some kids learn and remain immature, some kids mature but never learn, and the story goes on.
Did You Ever See a Laddie? : Did You Ever See a Laddie?
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
-------------------------------------------------------
________________________________________________
© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
There's a hole in your soul like an animal
With no conscience, repentance, oh no
Close your eyes, pay the price for your paradise
The Hague is a city of a mixture of new and old. Not only modern buildings but also excellent architecture from different centuries creates unique cityscapes of this place...
One from the streets of old Hague lives by its own life... of course with bikers but one of them brought some dissonance in this well balanced color combinations, the old man in red... actually it was not a dissonance but special color accent which inserted here unusual intrigue and (by my opinion) made the picture...
Of course I red displeasure in his look but it’s a destiny of any street photographer to be hated by the objects of his shooting... I just thought what could happen in a same situation in New York, what kind of words I would hear and compared with North European people who really can hold emotions...
So... nothing happened and my adventure continued...
Much better viewed large on black View On Black
Explore #407, 08/05/2011
In-your-face fighting architectural styles on the streets of L.A.!
Note: This shot was not photo-shopped in any way. Colors were adjusted as well as light levels and that is it. The very close proximity of the two buildings with the light pole in between is exactly as it appeared through my viewfinder. Granted, it is a weird shot, but that is precisely what drew me to it.
Minolta XD-11 with Rokkor-X 24mm f/2.8 on Portra.
Los Angeles, SoCal
2009
Ray and Maria Stata Center
Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) - Cambridge
Architect : Franck Gehry
This pic serves two purposes - first, it's my entry for the Dyxum.com photo contest for "Dissonance" and secondly, it's a tribute to Alanis Morrisette.
my eyes change color. they're either both green, both blue, or one is green and one is blue. tonight, they are the latter.
so my question to you is this: if eyes are windows to the soul, what does this say about me?
*Explored: Reached #178
Depths of Dissonance plunges us into a molten psychic underworld where the boundaries between form and feeling dissolve. A haunting visage subtly emerges from the red tide, as though pain itself is clawing its way to the surface. The work pulses with psychological tension—its flowing scarlet veils suggesting both seduction and violence. Scott’s nuanced handling of contrast and hidden form turns this piece into a meditation on inner conflict and buried fury, inviting the viewer to witness a confrontation with the self.
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
The little Eden sans vicious fruits:
With each passing year, the child loved his school more and more. At one edge of the big gate, there's a Cork Tree that welcomes you with the delightful fragrance of its flowers in bloom, while the fallen white tubular flowers lay a carpet for you to step in. The vast assembly ground bordered with Mahogony, English Oak and Soap Berry trees, the assembly hall with arched door and wooden panel flooring, and the grand tiled edifices and chapel in British architecture provides a lovely and lively ambience to the place. On special occasions, the kids assemble in the Assembly Hall, which has a grand piano planted on one side of the stage platform. Sister Audry plays the piano as the kids sing along loud.
Aged five, the child got promoted to 1st standard, and he loved the class and the ambience. Miss Annie, the class teacher, is a lean young lady who always keeps her chin up and hardly smiles. Though she is calm and gentle, the child thought that she is sad or upset with something.
The child has a beautiful garden at home, with lots of roses and dahlias. One day, before he started to leave home for school, he remembered his teacher when he saw the giant dahlias in bloom. He thought it would make her happy, and so, with his mother's permission and help, he took a big dahlia flower in the garden as he set off to school. Of course, he cared to keep it safe from damage, and on the way to school, he envisioned her excitement when he hands over the iridescent, deep purple and violet dahlia to her.
His mind was with the dahlia as the school assembly started with the prayer, "Father, we thank thee for the night, and for the pleasant morning light", followed by the pledge and finally the national anthem. His mind was with the dahlia when he marched with his classmates into the classroom after the assembly. He kept the flower ready as the teacher entered the room. The students greeted the teacher, and before things got settled, he moved forward and handed the flower to her with a sheepish smile. She received the flower, kept a stiff upper lip, said, "Thank you, " and walked out of the class with it. He expected she would return wearing it on her hair, but she returned without the flower. The child sat lost in thoughts while she was busy teaching some lesson from the Radiant Reader. At the first break, he ran out to check whether she has kept the flower on her table in the staff room. No, it's not there. Dejected, he returned to the class and abruptly, he saw the dahlia placed in front of the giant statue of Mother Mary in the corridor. The child felt disappointed as he believed that his teacher didn't like his gift, and just like the teacher, he kept his chin up the rest of the day.
His father was quite determined to make him a scholar and so was keen to arrange tuition classes for the kid after school hours. He met the class teacher, and she humbly refused the request. So he took the child to Marrey teacher, a graceful, old Anglo-Indian lady who resides close to the school. Marrey teacher's old tiled house is in a compound with lots of plants and trees. The furniture is of colonial style, and along with some framed photographs, a velvet Japanese painted wall hanging banner and an antique pendulum clock decorated the walls. There is a chime hanging few feet inside the front door, and the child loved its continuous soft chime.
Marrey teacher wears sober-coloured frocks and has bobbed salt and pepper hair. She welcomed the kid with a token smile and asked him to sit on a tall bench with a desk in front. She sat beside, on a cane chair with cushions. With her head bent, peeking through from above her thick-framed spectacles, like an interview, she asked, "What's your name, child?". The kid proudly and somewhat loudly told his name. It was followed by the unexpected immediate question, "What's your father?". Confused, he wondered whether she thought his father is an ape or something. Right then, she got distracted by something, and lucky for her, she hurried inside without listening to his reply. She would have died laughing if she heard the child feebly yet rather boldly mumble, "He's a man".
The child, who never sleeps in the daytime, tried his best to be awake at Marrey teacher's house. She makes him write while she frequently goes to the kitchen for cooking. Occasionally she would come to check the developments, chewing a piece of meat, like chewing gum. Once she leaves, he would be struggling to keep himself awake with the sound of the breeze on the leaves of the big oak tree that stands covering the tiled house and the lullaby of the melodious chime accompanied by the tapping sound of the acorns falling on the roof. Though he felt sleepy, he loved the place. Marrey teacher was too gentle and caring like a grandma.
When the child got promoted to the second standard, his class teacher, Miss Catherine Periera, agreed to tutor him at her home. The first day, back home from school, he was taken to her house at dusk. The kid got a bit disconcerted with the thought of being left at a new place, especially at a time of the day that he loved to be at home. The house is hardly half a kilometre from home, but the child felt it's very far. On the way, there are few flour mills, and he could hear 'Tharakaroopini' blaring on the radio from somewhere. The song made him sad, and so he loathed the smell of fresh flour and the sound of those flour mill motors. However, once he reached the teacher's home, he liked the place, as he found it lively and pleasant.
Boy students have to leave the school after the fourth standard, so they consider themselves 'senior' when they reach fourth. Within four years at the school, other than what he's taught, the child also learned that, for survival, it's necessary to react rather than to take things lying down. Though he is the most well-behaved boy in the class, he didn't let others outsmart or bully him.
His old nursery mate Deepti is the class leader. She has changed a lot, though not for the better. He didn't like her serious attitude that she pretends to be superior and do not even smile. When the teacher leaves the class, she instructs the class leader to note down the names of those students who talk. The class leader notes down the names of boys only, except her old friend Pravin. She would note down other's names, even if they sneeze. Once the teacher is back, she metes out the most 'severe disciplinary action' that one could imagine. Anyhow, the kid just loved the punishment. He's often punished and made to sit along with the girls.
Though the usual punishment is to make one stand near the wall, the teacher probably pardoned him as she might have rightly reckoned that he might have talked, provoked by his bench mates.
The very instant he gets punished, he would rush to sit with Karthika and Deepika. Deepika covers her mouth with one hand and giggles even if he moves, and though he wondered what she found so funny, he enjoyed playing the jester and loved to see her giggle. Karthika is soft-spoken, poised and elegant. The eight-year-old boy felt that he knew her for ages. Something made him sense she is inseparable and loved everything about her. The sweet smell of her hair, the fresh smell of her starched and ironed uniform, the twinkle in her eyes and the dimples on her rosy cheeks when she smiles, everything attracted him. He didn't know what's his feeling for her, but he loved her without knowing what it is.
He gifted her many of those 'precious' things from his valuable collection of vivid tiny glass crystal stones, blazingly coloured gilt paper strips, colourful feathers including a peacock feather, and flowers from the garden at his home. One day he gifted her a small bunch of colour paper strips, and he gleefully watched her delicately keep it safe inside her foreign-made, beautiful pencil box, with a gleam in her eyes. Soon it was lunch break, and when he hurried back to the class after lunch, he saw her at her seat with her head bent down.
He asked, "Karthika, what's wrong?" and from the quiver of her torso, he realised that she's sobbing. He held her hand and asked again, and the sobbing escalated. He gently lifted her chin to see tears rolling down her blushed cheeks. With one hand covering her eyes, gasping for breath, she pointed at Ramesh and said, " He grabbed and stole the papers you gifted me". Downhearted seeing her cry, he promised her that he would get her more of those colour papers the next day. Even though her sobbing slowly subsided, her tears broke the child's heart. In the evening before leaving the class, he promised her again, and on the way back home and at home, his heart was feeling heavy remembering her crying face. At home, late at night, he was busy preparing new paper bundles for her, as his mom kept reminding him that it's bedtime. He didn't stop even though he's sleepy and weary and continued his work with a bleeding finger which got cut when the blade slipped. He kept the bundles safe in his bag and dozed off, with the day's incidents replaying in his mind.
The next day morning, he was longing to go to school and gift the papers to Karthika. He saw her in the assembly and felt happy when she smiled at him. As Deepti didn't get an opportunity to monitor the class, unfortunately, he didn't get the chance to sit with Karthika. Yet, at the first break itself, he hurriedly approached her with a smile and handed over the paper bundles.
Her beaming smile and gleaming eyes warmed his heart, and when he happily returned to his seat, he could see Ramesh watch her tidily arrange the bundles in her pencil box. When she lifted her head, she, too, saw the villain watching her. The child's heart sank as she looked at him, tensed and helpless. While the teachers were busy with lessons, his mind was busy devising plans to thwart Ramesh from snatching away the papers. He finally planned to attack the villain with 'paper bullets' if he attempts any misadventure. Paper bullets are V-shaped thickly folded paper bits used as projectiles, fired using a stretched rubber band, like slingshots or catapults. At the lunch break, he skipped his lunch to keep watch and was busy making paper bullets. He stopped once when he felt convinced that he has enough ammunition. After the lunch break, right when the bell rang, the children rushed back to their seats, and he could see Ramesh rush towards Karthika. The vigilant hero took out his weapon and started showering the 'villain' with those projectiles. The 'villain', taken by surprise, turned away from Karthika, who was on the verge of tears. That very moment the teacher entered the class with her eyes on the kid who is busy with his weapon. Followed the loud command "Anuj stand up". The kid was happy that his plan worked successfully, and he didn't feel any guilt or regret.
She asked, "Why did you do that?" and approached him. She opened his pencil box and found many more of his ammunition in it. She repeated, "Tell me, why did you do that?". The child boldly replied, "He hurt my wife yesterday. He was about to do it today too, and I wanted to stop him.". With a hard to read visage, the teacher hurried out of the class. The class was unusually silent, and as the kid stood confused, the teacher returned with all the teachers in the staff room. Addressing them aloud, she said, "You know, I have a husband and wife in my class", and burst out laughing. She walked closer to him and rather loudly said, "Hello husband, please introduce your wife to the other teachers". The baffled kid pointed out Karthika, and as there was loud laugher all around, he was apprehensive whether it would make her cry. Her innocent, smiling face soothed his mind as it conveyed that she is sure he would never do anything to hurt her. "Any more husbands and wives in the class?" the teacher asked, followed by another bout of hysterical laughter before the crowd dispersed. She asked him to be seated and warned Ramesh not to repeat such odious deeds.
After a few more months its exams and after that he has to leave the school forever.
After the vacation, when the exam results were declared, he was taken to the school, and his eyes desperately kept searching her everywhere around. She came running towards him from the porch of the chapel and just stood beside him with a smile, thrilled and gasping. Holding hands, without uttering a word, they strolled around the ground watching the shadows of trees dance on the floor. Holding hands, they listened to a Koel's desperate call answered by its mate from somewhere far. Holding hands, they stood, watching the mahogany seeds spiralling down towards them from above. Soon he got summoned to return home. He reluctantly eased the grip from her moist, tender hand and walked back, looking back again and again as she stood watching him leave. The child felt like he is getting separated from his mother forever. It seemed like he lost his soul. With a weak smile to conceal his true feelings, he helplessly moved away as she kept watching him walk out of the gate and vanish. He could hear "Ishtapraneshwari" playing on the radio from some shop at the roadside on the way back with a heavy heart. Back home, the child lauded at home and the neighbourhood as 'the kid who never cries', ran to the bathroom and silently cried his heart out.
He loved the song, but the child's heart sank whenever he hears it from then on.
"Hey Koel bird, in your midst, is it the male or the female who has the insatiable thirst for love?
The never satiable thirst for love".
Ishtapraneshwari: Ishtapraneshwari
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
The animal appeared close on a dark path and we paused to look at each other. I had a second to bring the camera up before the forest ghost was gone. The lens was set wide open to let in lots of light, and the ISO ready at 2500 to make best use of it. But there was no time to compose, or assess the background, so this is it, heavily and heavy-handedly processed in lightroom.
I'm not really sure why the eyes are glowing green - it was 10 in the morning, sun was behind the animal, and I wasn't using a flash or other artificial lighting. Adds an air of mystery, I guess.
And mystery is appropriate, for I typically only catch glimpses of this beautiful elusive animal, and the brief sightings always induce cognitive dissonance. They look black, and long-tailed, and long-legged but not too long-legged - like a fox/cat hybrid that makes no sense. But this one stayed long enough for me to soak in its appearance, and acquire a photo.
Knowing they are around adds a wilderness air to the Prince Edward Point National Wildlife Area, but in fact Fishers have over the past few decades adapted to live in fairly close proximity to human settlement. Their stealthy ways usually keep them out of the spot light, attention arising only occasionally when moral panic and accompanying news articles erupt over this predator's ability to make pet cats that should have been indoors disappear.
from
DISSONANCE portfolio:
"Dissonance: a tension or clash resulting from the combination of two disharmonious or unsuitable elements."
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My artwork may not be reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without my written permission.
My photographs do not belong to the public domain.
© All rights reserved
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My artwork may not be reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without my written permission.
My photographs do not belong to the public domain.
© All rights reserved
Actually this this is the $3 million dollars sculpture "Seven Magic Mountains', by Swiss artist Ugo Rondinone. Located on Las Vegas Boulevard, but about 15-20 miles south of the strip. For me it begs a performance of Stonehenge, the legendary song my the equally legendary, and punctual band Spinal Tap.
I don’t know if I told you guys here on Flickr, but I just started school this January, so I’m now a 42 year old in school... This is my midterm assignment in Photoshop. We were tasked with colorizing a black and white photo. So what did I do? I just revealed the boring, window-colored world I’m often met with, where only the desired, but unattainable, pristine blue is visible through the window of glass, easily shattered. And the skylights juxtaposed proving that dark in one view, is not necessarily dark in another’s.
I had been pondering a new photo series when suddenly it struck me that one of the locations I had in mind for the project, would be perfect for this midterm assignment. So I packed my backpack and drove to the location I had in mind.
Well there I realized how perfect my Ricoh GR was for this task. When shooting in black and white mode, it automatically produces one black and white JPG, and one color version in RAW. I used the raw file as my color palette, save some freehand adjustments, and an imported color palette for the copper roof.
When I got back home and sat down to analyze the image I instantly felt the need to flip the sky and make it the same color as the window facing west. Then I took one of the sky colors and placed it in the same window. Same with the skylights. There I chose to juxtapose the color of the skylight in the shade to a rebellious lighter shade of the original sky, and the skylight in the sunlight, a darker shade of the original sky. All to underline the dissonance felt within, and that on a very personal level. How such a seemingly perfect sky can be so unattainable, and so malplaced…
The walls had its own intricate work. Every block of wall, and every tone shift was done separately. As we all know, the light here in New Mexico, and in Santa Fe especially, reflects off every surface differently. So I chose to do them separately in order to make them more living. On the patchier work, see tan example in he front bottom column, where I chose to smudge the edges of the shifts so that they blended together better. All shadows were also amplified with color.
The only thing not colored is the rough. I attempted to give it a lighter shade of the window colored sky, but it made the total image feel flatter. I added the few colored elements in there to have the gray zone pop, and draw you in further. Leaving the rough uncolored was a much better solution, and I like the additional abstract sense it takes on.
Well - I hope you enjoy my subtlety abstract work here. It was a really fun assignment, and I’ve actually enjoyed every second of it.
"My formats are square, but the grids are never absolutely square; they are rectangles, a bit off the square, making a sort of contradiction, a dissonance, though I don't set out to do it that way. When I cover the square surface with rectangles, it lightens the weight of the square, destroys its power." (Agnes Martin)
While living in New York between 1957 and 1967, Agnes Martin began to experiment with symmetrical compositions comprising circles, lines and squares, in which she was influenced by artists such as Ad Reinhardt and Ellsworth Kelly. In her minimal and meticulous grid paintings, dense with gestural markings and unmistakable tracings of the artist's hand, Marin uses the smallest possible amount of pure pigment to make the palest, yet purist colour. Her luminous fields of soft and pale washes of colour are covered by her hand-drawn horizontal and vertical pencil lines. In their purity and meditative quality, the canvases suggest a spiritualism that reflects Martin's interest in nature and Eastern religions.
"Geometry has nothing to do with it. It's all about finding perfection and perfection can't be found in something so rigid as geometry. You have to go elsewhere for that, in between the lines."
There are some that live
then there are some that live, nothing at all
they feel so little
and sense nothing
give so little, and take it all
they crush the selfless
in their selfish surge of dissonance
striking a fake chord in every way
what can their nothingness be called?
forgive me please, for this creed
as I'm yet hurting from such an act
quelling and dispelling
all I'd hitherto held so true
till today,
the sun showed the way
in the death of what we had previously seen
a million capabilities of life may extend
a hand, or two...
of nature's friendship, born so true...
by anglia24
19h35: 04/08/2007
© 2007anglia24
This is a freshwater lake seperated from the sea by a manmade dyke (my pictures of The Gann show the view behind me)
I've named it 'Dissonance' because I can't understand the blindness of the planners to the contradictions in the landscape. This is a national park renound for its lanscape/seascape beauty. It has many restrictions but here we see would could be (if photoshopped) a beuatiful scene if it were not for the powerlines crossing in so many directions. This is common across the county - so many scenes bnlighted by the cheap(er) solution to local needs.
Every day you wake,
Evermore aware
Than you ever were before.
The smallest sound
Is ringing in your ears,
Like a grand piano
Slowly falling down a million stairs.
But the sounds it makes
Are the growing pains of repair
And it goes on and on.
It goes on and on.
'til the day you wake up
Miles away from here,
Where all of a sudden
Dissonance disappears...
And like a wrecking ball in reverse,
Every wrong will be made right.
What was adamant, even permanent,
Will have a change of heart and mind.
In your disbelief, you'll clear your eyes
As if you're seeing light
For the very first time.
It goes on and on.
It goes on and on.
"goes on and on"
sleeping at last
Rowan Breen (adaia.viper)
Before I start my ramble, I wanted to give credit to Susan Jane Golding for the inspiration and title on this photo:
www.flickr.com/photos/sjgolding/49668941763/in/dateposted/
This photo is from Venice at the hotel we stayed at that was way too decadent for what we are used to. Also, their croissants were better than anything we had in Paris (sorry, Paris!).
This is a first world problem when so many are ill and dying but I was really looking forward to going back to Italy at the end of June-flying into Paris, going to Zurich for a couple of days and making my way through several Italian cities before hitting Rome.
My partner, Cinchel, had been avidly checking for tickets to see The Last Supper painting in Milan which I had no interest in seeing as I believe that iconography of the white Jesus has helped play into oppression and genocide for centuries. Also, sorry white Jesus, I'm just not that into you. I'm much more into modern art, anyway.
But, the first sign that this was getting a lot more serious is when The Last Supper viewing for tickets closed for all of March and slowly every day we are coming to terms with the reality of this worldwide pandemic. And again, this is a very first world problem but I think it's natural to feel sad when you love to travel and made the investment like that.
I did tell you that this was a ramble, though. So, anyway, In Susan Jane Golding's photo, it showed a time that I could relate to about 72 hours before the shutdown. In my own city of Chicago, I was out one day earlier than this. I couldn't quite understand the cognitive dissonance between the panic buying and the going out and partying. On Thursday, March 12th, my partner Cinchel and I took a long bike ride (about 8 miles each way) after work for our "date night" to Hopleaf, a Belgian beer bar with great frites on the North side of the city. I was thinking that this was going to be the last time we would be there for awhile because things were happening so fast and uncertainly and, as soon as I found out on Saturday that asymptomatic people were spreading the virus, I stayed home from then on. But, I found that Hopleaf was packed to the gills and I did enjoy my wine and frites quite a bit. I really worry about these small independent businesses failing now that everything is shut down.
I also like to sing when I bike because it stops me from grinding my teeth and it's also supposed to be good for your Vagus Nerve. Anyway, so I was singing Radiohead's OK Computer, which I haven't listened to in a really long time. This is a ramble about food a bit but it's also a ramble about quantum mechanics and alternate timelines. I happen to believe that reality splits into different timelines and I've felt it very distinctly happening. The first time it was happening, I was about 19 and OK Computer had just been released. I was at a gas station in Rochester, NY and "No Surprises" came on and I realized for the first time that reality was separating and I felt it very deeply. There's been a few times that has happened to me since then, most notably around the 2016 election (I am stuck in the wrong timeline and am very jealous of my other selves I can tell you).
So, as I was saying, I felt like maybe if I just sang OK Computer songs loud enough while bicycling that I could move into the best possible reality, Sadly, I don't think that happened although maybe the worse reality is that we're all dead by now.
So, what was your last supper when you could still go out and enjoy being in public, a little oblivious to Coronavirus and what was coming for all of us?
P.S. Poor Paris, I also hate to tell you Berlin had the best crepes....