Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

It's a quarter past eight and Lettice is still happy asleep in her bed, buried beneath a thick and soft counterpane of embroidered oriental satin brocade, whilst the rest of Mayfair is slowly awakening in the houses and flats around her. Her peaceful slumbers are rudely interrupted by a peremptory knock on her boudoir door.

 

“Morning Miss.” Edith, Lettice’s maid, says brightly as she pops her head around the white painted panelled door as she opens it.

 

Lettice grunts – a most unladylike reaction – as she starts to wake up, disorientated, wondering for just a moment where she is before realising that she is in her own bed in Cavendish Mews. Sitting up in bed she winces as Edith draws the curtains back along their railing, flooding the room with a light, which whilst anaemic, is still painful to her eyes as the adjust.

 

“It looks like it’s going to be a showery and overcast day today, Miss.” Edith says with seriousness as she looks out of the window onto the street below. “None too good for that charity event you are going to today.”

 

“Charity event?” Lettice queries, rubbing the sleep from her sore eyes and exhaling through her nose. “What,” She yawns, not bothering to stifle it and stretches her arms. “What charity event, Edith?”

 

“That theatrical one you are going to with Mr. Bruton in Regent’s Park, Miss.” Edith replies, walking across the floor of her mistress’ bedroom, snatching discarded lingerie and stockings from the floor as she goes as she opens the door to the adjoining bathroom.

 

“Oh that!” Lettice answers. “The Theatrical Garden Party isn’t until next week, Edith.”

 

“Oh, I thought it was today, Miss.” The maid lifts the upholstered lid on a wicker laundry basket just inside the bathroom door and deposits Lettice’s lacy undergarments and stockings into it. “I must have my weeks confused.” She emerges and goes to one of Lettice’s polished wardrobes where she withdraws a pale pink bed jacket trimmed in marabou feathers from its wooden hanger.

 

“No, the Actors’ Orphanage Garden Party* is definitely next week, Edith,” Lettice says aloud to assure herself as much as her maid as she allows Edith to drape the bed jacket around her shoulders. She sighs and looks out at the grey day that peeps through the window. “Thank goodness. We’d hate for it to be a wash-out. Last year drew such crowds.”

 

Edith goes back to the open bedroom door and disappears momentarily into the hallway before returning with Lettice’s breakfast tray.

 

Punching and fluffing her pillows behind her to her satisfaction, Lettice nestles into her nest as she sits up properly in bed and allows her maid to place the tray across her lap. She looks down approvingly at the slice of golden toast in the middle of the pretty floral plate, the egg in the matching egg cup and the pot of tea with steam rising from the spout. She goes to lift the lid of the silver preserve pot.

 

“Marmalade, Miss.” Edith elucidates.

 

“Very good, Edith.”

 

“You… err… finished the last of the Glynes plum and raspberry conserve yesterday, Miss.”

 

“Did I?” Lettice remarks, withdrawing her napkin from underneath the plate and draping it across her front. “Oh well, all good things must come to an end, mustn’t they, Edith?”

 

“I couldn’t say, Miss.” Edith replies, her mouth forming into a slim line on her face as she keeps quiet about what she considers to be an extravagant amount of jam that Lettice applies to her toast every morning. In her opinion her mistress may as well forgo the toast altogether and eat the jam directly from the pot with a spoon. “The marmalade is shop bought, Miss.”

 

“Is it? Oh well, never mind.” Lettice answers as she takes up a spoon and begins to dollop the rich gelatinous golden orange marmalade onto her slice of toast. “I’ll fetch some more conserve from Mater and Pater next time I’m back in Wiltshire.” She takes the knife and spreads the thick layer across the toast before cutting the slice in half with crunching strokes. “Any post yet, Edith?”

 

“Some tradesmen’s correspondence and a larger envelope without a return address on it, Miss.”

 

“That will be a begging letter,” Lettice points the knife at her maid, slicing the air with it. “Put them on my desk will you. I’ll see to them when I get up.”

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith bobs a curtsey and goes to withdraw, yet just as she is about to close the bedroom door she glances at something on the console table outside. “Oh, and there is this, Miss, which I should think you’ll want to see.”

 

Lettice looks down the length of the room to where Edith holds up a copy of Country Life** in the doorway. She gasps. “Oh hoorah! Bring it here this instant, Edith!” She holds out her arms, twiddling her fingers anxiously.

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith bobs a curtsey and brings the crisp magazine to her mistress’ bedside.

 

“What page is it on, Edith?” Lettice asks, grasping the folded pages from her maid and opening it before her, over the top of her breakfast tray.

 

“I couldn’t say, Miss.” Edith replies, her intonation reflecting the mild outrage she feels at being asked such a question. “As if I would go through your personal mail, Miss.” Even though she has done just as Lettice has suggested and found and skimmed the article on Lettice’s redecoration of ‘Chi an Treth’, there is no need for her to know.

 

“Oh of course you haven’t, Edith. I’m sorry” Lettice apologises, lowering the magazine and looking up at her maid with remorse in her blue eyes. “Forgive me?”

 

“Of course, Miss.”

 

“I’m so grateful to have a maid who doesn’t pry.”

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith answers with a smug smile. “Will that be all, Miss.”

 

“Yes, yes, Edith!” Lettice answers with a dismissive flip of her right hand as she lets go of half the copy of Country Life which drapes across her breakfast, narrowly avoiding being smeared with marmalade. “I should be finished in about a half hour and then you can clean up.”

 

“Very good, Miss.”

 

Once Edith has retreated and closed the door behind her, Lettice foists the breakfast tray from her lap onto the empty left half of the bed, the crockery and cutlery protesting noisily at being thrust so forcefully from her. Drawing her knees up, she rests the latest edition of Country Life on her thighs and turns to the contents page, scanning the list of articles and editorials. “Aha!” she gasps triumphantly upon finding it.

 

Flipping through the pages past other houses of note quicky, the paper rustles beneath her fingers until she reaches the editorial she wants. Taking a deep breath she begins to read quietly aloud to herself, “Country homes and gardens old and new. ‘Chi an Treth’, Cornwall, the seat of Mr. R. Channon.” She skims the first section of the editorial which explains how Dickie and Margot were gifted their country house, but pauses at the first two photographs beneath it. She smiles with satisfaction at the first one which shows the top of the demi-lune table that she painted by hand and then worried wasn’t going to meet Margot’s approval. The image beside it shows the stylish mirror topped Art Deco console table she installed beneath the portrait of the beautiful and tragic Miss Rosevear, flanked by two statues she acquired from Mr. Chilvers at the Portland Gallery. “A perfect balance of old and new.” she reads aloud from the caption below the photograph before allowing herself to release the pent-up breath she has been holding in her chest. Those few words consisting of twenty-six characters is enough to tell her that anything else she reads in Henry Tipping’s*** article will be sure to be favourable about her interior designs for the Channon’s Regency country house.

 

Looking across the gutter between the left-hand page and the right she reads, “in the capable hands of Miss Lettice Chetwynd, who has applied her tasteful Modern Classical Revival style.”

 

Lettice’s eyes stray to the large photograph of Dickie and Margot’s redecorated drawing room. She chuckles to herself, the action causing the corners of her mouth to curl up in a smile as she remembers her conversation with Margot in the week following the Country Life photo shoot at ‘Chi an Treth’. Margot complained bitterly about having to tidy the place up for Mr. Tipping and his crew, even though it was her housekeeper, Mrs. Trevethan, who really did the tidying up. Margot moaned about having to hide her novels like skeletons in the closet, and how Mr. Tipping tinkered around the rooms, moving small things like clocks and photos, whilst removing others for what he called photographic effect. Margot said that when it came to shifting Dickie’s pile of newspapers from the pouffe by the fireplace, his friendship with Mr. Tipping nearly came to an end. Gifted with a sense of drama, Lettice knew that Margot was over exaggerating this point, but she could imagine that having a photography crew traipsing through your newly decorated rooms would be somewhat of an inconvenience and more than a little irritating. Margot did however concede that the Country Life crew brought a magnificent array of flowers which they filled every conceivable space with when photographing, and then left behind for her pleasure upon their decampment.

 

“Miss Chetwynd’s treatment of the drawing room exemplifies a comfortable mixture of old and new furnishings to create a welcoming and contemporary room that is sympathetic to the original features.” Lettice reads. Dropping the pages onto her thighs, she smiles with unbridled delight at the complimentary way with which Mr. Tipping describes her interiors.

 

“Wait until Mater reads this,” she thinks smugly, remembering her request of the Country Life office to supply an advanced copy of the magazine to her parent’s home as well as her own once it was published. “Now she will have to take my interior decorating business seriously.”

 

As if on cue, the black and silver Bakelite telephone by her bedside begins to trill noisily. She looks at it, her eyes alive with excitement. Usually, it is Edith’s job to answer the telephone, one of her most hated duties in her position as Lettice’s maid. Lettice is amused by her hatred of ‘that infernal contraption’. However, today after reading what she has in the Country Life article about ‘Chi an Treth’ she feels magnanimous and picks up the receiver on the third shrill ring.

 

“Mayfair 432,” she answers with a happy lilt in her voice. A distant deep male voice speaks down the line. “Pappa! What an unexpected pleasure at this time of the morning. I would have thought you’d be out on estate business with Leslie at this time.” She smiles to herself and bites the inside of her lower lip in excitement and anticipation. “I do hope nothing is wrong, Pappa.” she adds cheekily. She listens. “Oh really? Did she? Whatever was the matter for Mamma to call you to her boudoir like that?” She listens again, her eyes crinkling at the corners in sheer delight as she listens, luxuriating in her moment of triumph. “Oh that!” She laughs feigning nonchalance as she curls the spiral cord of the telephone receiver around her left index finger. “You know Pappa, with all the excitement of preparing for Elizabeth’s**** up and coming wedding to the Duke of York and decorating Charles and Minnie Palmerston’s dining room, you know I had quite forgotten all about it.” She listens again. “Yes, yes, I had. I mean, it was so long ago when I decorated Dickie and Margot’s. You and Mamma did approve of me doing it considering that Dickie is the Marquess of Taunton’s son, didn’t you?” she asks teasingly. Her father’s voice, disembodied somewhere between London and Wiltshire booms bombastically down the line. “Well yes I can, Pappa. I’ll have to check my diary, but I think I could arrange to come down to Glynes at short notice,” She pauses. “Only that suits you, of course.” She listens again. “Yes, yes very well. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve booked a ticket which train I’ll be on.” There is more male burbling along the line. “Alright. Goodbye Pappa. I’ll see you soon.” She hangs up the phone.

 

There is a quiet knock at the bedroom door.

 

“Is everything alright, Miss?” Edith opens it and pops her head around.

 

“So much for a maid who doesn’t pry.” Lettice says with arched eyebrows, making Edith blush at the remark. “Yes, everything is fine, but,” She throws the comforter back and swivels herself around on the mattress, revealing her white lace brassier beneath her open bed jacket and her silk crepe de chine step ins as she stretches her legs out of the bed. “There has been a change of plans. I shall have to forego breakfast this morning. I need you to pack me an overnight valise, Edith. I’m off to Glynes for an evening stay. I just need to ring the Victoria Station booking office and arrange a ticket.”

 

“To Glynes, Miss!” Edith gasps. “Whatever for?”

 

Holding up the copy of Country Life, Lettice says, still with arched eyebrows, and a knowing, but not unfriendly smile. “I think you know only too well, Edith.”

 

*The Actors' Orphanage was started in 1896 and established as the Actors' Orphanage Fund in 1912. The fund continues but the orphanage closed in 1958. The charity was started in 1896 by "Kittie" Carson and Mrs Clement Scott. The first building was in Croydon. It was established as the Actors' Orphanage Fund in 1912. In 1915 the Orphanage moved to Langley Hall at Langley (was in Buckinghamshire - now in Berkshire). The orphanage was both a home and a school to approximately sixty children. At ages fifteen to seventeen pupils sat the School Leaving Certificate of Cambridge University and if ten subjects were taken, to Matriculation. Over the years many from the theatrical profession gave time and money to the running of the Orphanage. They also threw large garden parties in Regents Park with rides and entertainment from famous people in the theatrical profession to help raise funds. These events were highly patronised, drawing the biggest crowds between 1920 and 1925. Past presidents of the Orphanage included Sir Gerald du Maurier, Noël Coward, Laurence Olivier and Richard Attenborough.

 

**Country Life is a British weekly perfect-bound glossy magazine that is a quintessential English magazine founded in 1897, providing readers with a weekly dose of architecture, gardens and interiors. It was based in London at 110 Southwark Street until March 2016, when it became based in Farnborough, Hampshire. The frontispiece of each issue usually features a portrait photograph of a young woman of society, or, on occasion, a man of society.

 

***Henry Tipping (1855 – 1933) was a French-born British writer on country houses and gardens, garden designer in his own right, and Architectural Editor of the British periodical Country Life for seventeen years between 1907 and 1910 and 1916 and 1933. After his appointment to that position in 1907, he became recognised as one of the leading authorities on the history, architecture, furnishings and gardens of country houses in Britain. In 1927, he became a member of the first committee of the Gardens of England and Wales Scheme, later known as the National Gardens Scheme.

 

****Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, as she was known at the beginning of 1923 when this story is set, went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to". He proposed again in 1922 after Elizabeth was part of his sister, Mary the Princess Royal’s, wedding party, but she refused him again. On Saturday, January 13th, 1923, Prince Albert went for a walk with Elizabeth at the Bowes-Lyon home at St Paul’s, Walden Bury and proposed for a third and final time. This time she said yes. The wedding took place on April 26, 1923 at Westminster Abbey.

 

This editorial from the pages of country life complete with photographs may look real to you, but if you look carefully at the elegantly appointed drawing room with its modish Art Deco furnishings you will find that they are made up with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in the photographs in this article include:

 

On the coffee table sits a rounded bowl made from hand spun glass, which has been made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The ornamental glass bon-bon dish and other glass vases are also made from hand spun glass and were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures, as are all the roses in the photographs.

 

The Statue of the nude Art Nouveau woman on the right-hand pedestal to the right at the back is based on a real statue and is made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. It has been hand painted by me.

 

The glass topped demilune table in the background is a hand made miniature artisan piece, which sadly is unsigned. On its surface, made of real glass are decanters of whiskey and port and a cranberry glass soda syphon made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. The silver Regency tea caddy is made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland.

 

The wedding photo in the silver frame on the mantlepiece and the photos in frames on the demilune table behind the armchair are real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frame comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers.

 

The Georgian style demilune table behind and to the right of the armchair is an artisan miniature from Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Painted white and then aged, it has been hand painted with a Georgian style design on its surface.

 

The copy of Country Life on the pouffe was made by me.

 

The eau-de-nil suite consisting of armchairs, sofa and pouffe are all made of excellent quality fabric, and are very well made, as is the coffee table with its small drawer beneath the tabletop. All these pieces were made as a set by high-end miniatures manufacturer Jiayi Miniatures.

 

The Regency gilt swan pedestals and round tables are made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

The fireplace is made of plaster, and comes from Kathleen Knight’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The stylised Art Deco fire screen is made using thinly laser cut wood, made by Pat’s Miniatures in England.

 

The paintings around the ‘Chi an Treth’ drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by V.H. Miniatures and Marie Makes Miniatures in the United Kingdom and geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series. The Geometrically patterned Art Deco carpet on the floor comes from a miniatures specialist store on E-Bay.

Excerpt from rbg.ca:

 

Morphecore Prototype by Daito Manabe

 

b. 1976, Japan

 

Lives and works in Tokyo, Japan

 

Daito Manabe’s work presents an endlessly dancing digital figure, continuously morphing into new shapes, moving beyond any logic of physics or laws of the universe. Extracted from MRI scans of the artist’s brain, raw brainwave data is translated into digital movement that manipulates and choreographs Manabe’s 3D-scanned human body, alongside visual noises and glitches generated by distracting thoughts in the brain. The work thus presents a new potential relation between the brain and the body, emphasizing the ability of the mind to move into the infinite, while the body is still bound to physical limitations of motion, gravity, volume, shape, and form.

 

Daito Manabe is an artist, programmer, and DJ. His works branch into a variety of fields and take a new approach to everyday materials and phenomena. His practice is informed by careful observation and a quest to discover and elucidate the essential potentialities inherent to the human body, data, programming, computers, and other phenomena, thus probing the interrelations and boundaries delineating the analog and the digital, the real and the virtual.

This is another look at the raven I photographed January 1 (2021) and posted a few weeks ago. It and its mate are still patrolling the parking area at Yellowstone's Tower Junction where nearly everybody stops to use the restrooms or to dump their recycling. They are thriving on the combination of (illegal and ill-advised) food handouts from people and garbage picked from the bins. This was taken a week ago and the two of them were there again yesterday.

 

When I saw (but didn't manage to photograph) the two rapscallions together I realized this one, with its yellow leg band, was the larger, and therefore likely the male of the pair. The other one, whose colored leg band is blue, I'm guessing is the female.

 

Both of them have been fitted with GPS recorders-transmitters and sport antennas sticking out of their back backs. In this photo you can only see a feather that got stuck on the antenna marking its location. They seem oblivious to their high tech equipment, used by the team led by John Marzluff and Mattias Loretto to document regional movements of these high-powered, intelligent birds and to better elucidate their roles in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.

Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.

 

Today we are in the Salon, situated on the first floor of Wickham Place with views across the square. The grand room has much of its Eighteenth Century elegance in spite of the passing years and the changes to fashionable décor. The salon still retains its white marble Georgian fireplace and hand printed wallpaper featuring birds and flowers. The Marie Antoinette suite with its floral brocade is also original. The instigator of the original décor, Georgiana Lambert - a Georgian relative of Lord Southgate - hangs in a portrait above the fireplace. It, and her two favourite Meissen figurines of the Lady with the Canary and the Gentleman with the Butterfly have been moved from their original home in the Green Drawing Room into the Salon by the current Lady Southgate. There are perhaps a few more signs of the current lady of the house’s taste with two Limoges vases on the mantlepiece, a Queen Anne china cabinet filled with her porcelain collection and an Impressionist painting above the Hepplewhite bonheur du jour (ladies writing desk).

 

It is at her bonheur du jour that we find Lady Southgate this morning, busily going over the household accounts as provided to her by the housekeeper, Mrs. Blackheath. As she looks over an outstanding account from Duncalfe and Company Corsetiers Mrs Bradley, the Southgate’s cook, knocks at the salon door.

 

“Yes?” Lady Southgate calls out wearily.

 

“Good morning Milady,” Mrs. Bradly says cheerily, stepping across the threshold and into the room.

 

“Oh Mrs. Bradley, do come in.” Lady Southgate replies, looking up at her cook with a beaming smile. She sees a tray laden with tea things in her arms. “Goodness! Is it eleven o’clock already?”

 

“It is Milady, and I’ve brought us tea to have whilst we discuss the menus for the week.”

 

The older woman unpacks the tray onto a walnut side table on which stands a beautiful vase of purple foxgloves. The gilded Art Nouveau pattern of flowers on the Royal Doulton tea set glints in the sunlight pouring in through the full length windows.

 

“Shall I be mother* then, Milady?”

 

“If you would Mrs. Bradly.” Lady Southgate sighs. She gratefully takes the proffered cup from her cook and continues. “You and the tea are a welcome distraction from the household accounts.”

 

“Trouble, Milady?” Mrs. Bradley draws up a salon chair and takes a seat alongside her mistress as she picks up her own cup.

 

“No, but it does all mount up.” She looks at the neatly stacked bills across the marquetry inlaid surface of her bonheur de jour. “The Dowager may not like my American pedigree, but,” she picks up the Duncalfe and Company Corsetiers account and flaps it towards her cook. “She is happy enough to spend my American money. So too is Cecily.” She looks at a bill from Blameuser’s Florists in Mayfair. “I don’t know why she insists on ordering flowers from a florist when we have the greenhouses at Avendale Park that can provide any amount of flowers for the house. Not that she arranges flowers anyway.” She sighs with exasperation.

 

“No Milady,” Mrs. Bradly responds awkwardly, looking down at her notepad and pencil in her lap to avoid the embarrassment of looking at her mistress.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry Mrs. Bradley.” Lady Southgate apologises. “I forget myself. You don’t want to hear my woes. You’ve come to talk about the menus.” She sits back in her chair. “But whilst I’m on the subject of money, I must tell you.”

 

“Yes Milady?” A frown clouds Mrs. Bradley’s usually cheerful face.

 

“Mrs. Blackheath has been in my ear again about grate polish.”

 

The cook’s face starts to redden. “I need that polish so Agnes can clean the range.” She starts to get angry. “Does she expect me took for you in a dirty oven? The cheek of her! Why I’ll…”

 

“Please Mrs. Bradley,” Lady Southgate says with waving hands as she tries to calm her cook down. “I’ve already told her that you may have as much grate polish as you need, or anything else for that matter.” She shakes her head. “She’s obviously attempting to curry favour with me by saving us money. Goodness knows what she intends. Anyway,” She smiles at her servant. “I just wanted to warn you that Mrs. Blackheath is on an economy drive, so she may baulk at your requests.”

 

“Yes Milady.”

 

“And if she does,” She raises her teacup daintily to her mouth and takes a sip of tea. “Just send her to me and I’ll soon sort any concerns out.”

 

“Yes Milady!” Mrs. Bradley breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“Now, what do you have for me today?”

 

Mrs. Bradley puts down her tea and takes up her notepad and pencil. “Well, I thought that since the Dowager and Miss Cecily were out today that you might accept a luncheon tray in the morning room, Milady.”

 

“Yes, yes,” she flaps her hand again. “A selection of cold cuts?”

 

“And some pea and ham soup, Milady.”

 

“Fine. Fine.”

 

“For dinner this evening I thought we might start with Potage Saint-Germain, followed by Lobster Thermidor.”

 

“With duchess potatoes?”

 

“Yes Milady. Then I was thinking beef tournedos de poulet à la clémentine, asparagus and Hollandaise, followed by lamb with mint sauce, then cheeses and finally peaches in chartreuse jelly.”

 

“That all sounds splendid, Mrs. Bradley.” Lady Southgate says with satisfaction. “Oh, by the way, we shan’t be in Thursday night now.” She adds as an afterthought. “We’re dining at the Melville’s.”

“Yes Milady. Are the Dowager and Miss Cecily still going to be in?”

 

“Oh who knows what Lydia has in mind, Mrs. Bradley.” she mutters distractedly. “She probably will unless she receives a better invitation. Oh, and thinking of invitations, Lord Southgate and I received an invitation to a King’s Levée on Empire Day, so we shall be dining at the palace.”

 

“Thank you for letting me know, Milady.”

 

Lady Southgate turns back to her writing desk now that the business of the day’s menus has been dealt with. Then she stops, as if mid thought and turns back to her cook, who is now picking herself up from her seat and preparing to take her own cup downstairs to the kitchen, leaving the remaining tea things with her mistress so that she may help herself to more refreshment when she wishes.

 

“Mrs. Bradley?”

 

“Yes Milady?”

 

“What does Nanny usually order served for the children’s nursery tea?”

 

“Oh,” Mrs. Bradley thinks, casting her eyes to the ornately plastered ceiling above. “Just the usual Milady.” The blank look she receives indicates that she needs to elucidate further. “Finger sandwiches, biscuits, blancmange and jelly. If you don’t mind me asking Milady, why do you want to know?”

 

Ignoring the question, Lady Southgate continues, “What about cake? Does Nanny ever order cake for the children?”

 

“Dundee Cake occasionally, but not usually, unless it’s a birthday like Miss Sarah’s last week.”

 

Lady Southgate smiles winsomely as she remembers the lovely tea party that she covertly had with her children unbeknownst to her husband who would have been furious at the indulgence. “Yes, that was a splendid birthday tea you made for Sarah! That pink cake,” She gasps. “Oh, and those cupcakes!”

 

“Yes, the children like them, Milady. I made them some especially at Easter time. After feeling so poorly, they were delighted. The…”

 

“Do you know,” Lady Southgate interrupts the cook’s musings. “I’ve just had the most wonderful notion. I think I shall take tea with the children again on Empire Day. Do you think you could come up with a nice Empire Day afternoon tea, Mrs. Bradley?”

 

“Well, I’m sure I could, Milady.”

 

“Splendid!” Lady Southgate claps her hands in delight. “Something with a suitably patriotic flavour. Empire themed cupcakes and the like.”

 

“Yes Milady,” Mrs. Bradley agrees before adding with caution. “Mind you I don’t think Nanny might be too happy, coming so soon after Miss Sarah’s birthday. She does like to keep treats to a minimum, just for discipline’s sake of course.”

 

“Oh what poppycock!” Lady Southgate cries in return. “Am I not mistress of my own house?”

 

“Well, of course you are, Milady,” the older woman hurriedly backtracks her perceived misstep.

 

“Well then, I want to take tea with the children on Empire Day, and I will take tea with them on Empire Day. Patriotic cakes if you please Mrs. Bradley.”

 

“Yes Milady.”

 

“That will be all, thank you, Mrs. Bradley.” Lady Southgate turns back to her desk and takes up the Duncalfe and Company Corsetiers account in her right hand whilst waving her left hand dismissively at Mrs. Bradley.

 

The cook bobs a curtsey, returns the salon chair to its original place and then retreats with her teacup.

 

This upper-class domestic scene with its beautiful furnishings may not be quite what you think it to be, for is actually made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures, some of which come from my own childhood

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The Eighteenth Century Hepplewhite bonheur du jour, which is hand decorated with leaves and gilding, was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq. As shown in this photo, it has a fold down top and every drawer opens and closes easily: even the one in the apex of the desk. The Hepplewhite chair is also made by Bespaq.

 

On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles, stamps, a blotter, a roller and a bell, all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame. The stamp is made of brass. There is also a silver pen with a pearl in its end and a letter opener also made of silver made by the Little Green Workshop. The bills and correspondence on the desktop were made meticulously by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. These include a Duncalfe and Company Corsetiers account and a bill from Blameuser Brothers Florists, as well as a tallied household account. The gilt Art Nouveau teacup, featuring a copy of a Royal Doulton pattern, comes from the larger tea set seen on the side table in the left-hand foreground of the photo. The Tea set has been hand decorated by beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The foxgloves in the foreground are very realistic looking. Made of polymer clay they are moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements. They are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany. They have been put into a 1950s Limoges hand painted vase which matches two others that stand on the fireplace mantle in the background. Each piece is stamped with a small green Limoges mark to the bottom. These Limoges treasures I found in an overcrowded cabinet at the Mill Markets in Geelong.

 

The salon chair is part of a Marie Antoinette suite made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Creal. Mrs. Bradley’s luncheon and dinner menu notes sitting on the seat of the salon chair was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The pencil on the pad is a 1:12 miniature as well and is only one millimetre wide and two centimetres long.

 

The walnut Queen Anne china cabinet has a mirrored back and glass shelves. It is one of the first pieces of miniature furniture I was ever given when I was seven years old. It is filled with an array of china pieces I have acquired from various places over many years.

 

Two miniature diecast lead Meissen figurines: the Lady with the Canary and the Gentleman with the Butterfly, can be seen in the background on the fireplace mantle. They are cast from pewter by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. They were hand-painted and gilded by me.

 

The impressionist painting hanging on the wall above the bonheur de jour was made by Amber’s Miniatures in America.

 

The wallpaper is a 1:12 size version of an Eighteenth Century birds and flowers pattern and the carpet on the floor is hand woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.

Knowledge instrument

Consciousness situation

Existence elucidation

 

morning in the balcony with a new book on a wooden table

I have always wanted to get a deeper understanding of Sufism, so hopefully this book will quench my inner thirst for the next few weeks. ( I like to read slow these days )

 

*BOOK DESCRIPTION*

 

A welcome addition to the literature on Islam, this small volume offers sayings, religious quotes, poems, aphorisms, and prayers from many Sufi masters. Reading through the many entries, one gets a feeling for the beauty and deep wisdom of the Sufis, the mystics of Islam. The book includes the necessary discussions of the major Sufi teachers, history, culture, and beliefs to aid the reader in understanding the vitalness of the sayings and meditations but is not meant as a fully encompassing investigation of Sufism. Instead, it is a wonderful appetizer that tantalizes the reader to seek other works that further celebrate and elucidate the relatively obscure world of Sufism.

  

Callaway Gardens

 

Is This Dandelion Or Tragopogon....

 

The dandelion is a perennial, herbaceous plant with long, lance-shaped leaves. They're so deeply toothed, they gave the plant its name in Old French: Dent-de-lion means lion's tooth in Old French..

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Starting in the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV show Wünsch dir was ("Make a wish"), in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

  

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated 30 November 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of 15 December 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

  

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

All gathered today to discuss what we will have to do to discover and learn the kingdom of Flambois.

 

This is only the beginning of all these mysteries and we will have to elucidate all this over the days. There will be many unknown obstacles, but we will face them to keep moving forward together.

 

__Time Space Info__

 

➢ Come join us: Fantasy Faire 2023 - Flambois

 

Fantasy Faire 2023 from April 20 to May 7, 2023

Perdana Leadership Foundation was set up in 2003 with the aim of preserving, developing and disseminating materials by and on Malaysia's past Prime Ministers. Believing that past leadership can yield valuable insights for future development, the Foundation's objective is to increase awareness and appreciation of Malaysia's intellectual heritage.

 

Objectives of Perdana Leadership Foundation are:

 

- To research, document, disseminate and publicise the intellectual legacies of Malaysia's past prime ministers.

 

- To elucidate and illuminate the contribution of Malaysia's past Prime Ministers in the social, economic and political development of the nation.

 

- To create awareness of the development process of the nation and serve as a platform for future development.

 

- To be a resource centre of policies, strategies and initiatives that were adopted under Malaysia's various Prime Ministers which may be used and adapted as models for the development of other nations.

 

The Foundation's broader obejctive is to promote global understanding by providing a channel for scholars and thinkers to undertake research and idea-sharing for lasting, peaceful resolutions. The Foundation operates a physical and digital library, the Perdana Library which provides direct access to a wealth of information on Malaysia's past Prime Ministers. The Library collects, organises, preserves and disseminates materials by and about Malaysia's national leaders and events connected to them, and outlines the policies, strategies and initiatives they adopted. In line with the Foundation's objective of disseminating information on Malaysian leadership, these materials are digitised and are made available to the public through the Internet.

 

Source: www.perdana.org.my/

Turn of a Friendly Card

************************************************************

Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.

 

Act 1

I begin my tale in the present…

 

That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….

 

It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges

 

As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.

 

But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:

*******************

I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.

I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.

 

I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.

He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.

 

It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.

The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.

 

I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.

 

I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.

 

As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.

 

Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing

I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..

 

I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.

Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.

 

So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.

But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.

 

I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.

 

I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.

 

The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.

 

And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..

 

With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.

 

When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”

 

So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.

 

Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.

 

Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.

*****

So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?

 

I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.

 

Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.

 

I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.

On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.

The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!

I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.

 

Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..

 

They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid

And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!

One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.

But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.

This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.

 

They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.

 

With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .

 

After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.

 

It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.

 

And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.

 

After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.

 

So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.

****************************************************************************

Act 2

 

So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.

 

As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.

 

The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.

 

I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.

 

I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.

 

That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.

 

It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.

 

I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.

 

I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.

 

It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself

 

I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.

 

The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.

 

But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.

 

I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.

It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.

 

But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason

 

I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.

  

I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!

 

I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.

 

I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.

 

About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously

 

The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.

 

Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.

 

Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.

 

We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.

I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.

 

The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.

  

She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.

 

But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.

 

With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !

 

What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.

 

Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!

 

I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.

 

So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!

 

The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.

 

Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?

 

And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...

 

I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……

 

Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.

 

The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.

 

As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…

 

No honor amongst thieves…

What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,

What will you have it be?........

To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)

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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.

Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .

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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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Hundertwasser House Vienna

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-author. This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse

Hundertwasser and architecture

 

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public .’ advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house"[1]

 

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man.

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

 

( This one was taken by my hubby. )

Giotto di Bondone (born 1267 or 1276 - died 1337)

Scenes from the Life of Joachim [1304-06]

No-2 Joachim among the Shepherds, detail

Fresco, 200 x 185 cm

Cappella Scrovegni (Arena Chapel), Padua

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Sad and introverted, Joachim arrives among the shepherds. Using the contrast between the lively sheep, the dog that greets him, and the knowing glances of the shepherds, Giotto elucidates his state of mind in the voluminous, closed form of the saint.

 

www.wga.hu/support/viewer_m/z.html

The magic mirror is a mirror belonging to the universe of the marvelous. He is in turn gifted with speech, capable of revealing invisible truths or the deepest wishes through the image.The Mirror of Erised is a mystical mirror discovered by Harry in an abandoned classroom in Philosopher's Stone. On it is inscribed "erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi". When mirrored and correctly spaced, this reads "I show not your face but your heart's desire." As "erised" reversed is "desire," it is the "Mirror of Desire." Harry, upon encountering the Mirror, can see his parents, as well as what appears to be a crowd of relatives; Ron sees himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain holding the House Cup, thus revealing his wish to escape from the shadow of his highly successful older brothers, as well as his more popular friend, Harry. Dumbledore cautions Harry that the Mirror gives neither knowledge nor truth, merely showing the viewer's deepest desire, and that men have wasted their lives away before it, entranced by what they see. Dumbledore, one of the few other characters to face the Mirror in the novel, claims to see himself holding a pair of socks he always wanted, telling Harry that "one can never have enough socks," and lamenting that he did not receive any for Christmas, since people will insist on giving him books. However, Harry suspects that this is not true, and it is suggested in Deathly Hallows that what he really sees is his entire family alive, well and happy together again, much like Harry.The Mirror of Erised was the final protection given to the Philosopher's Stone in the first book. Dumbledore hid the Mirror and hid the Stone inside it, knowing that only a person who wanted to find but not use the Stone would be able to obtain it. Anyone else would see him or herself making an Elixir of Life or turning things to gold, rather than actually finding the Stone, and would be unable to obtain it. What happens to it afterwards is unknown. In Order of the Phoenix, Sirius gives Harry a mirror he originally used to communicate with James while they were in separate detentions. That mirror is a part of a set of Two-way Mirrors that are activated by holding one of them and saying the name of the other possessor, causing his or her face to appear on the caller's mirror and vice versa. Harry receives this mirror from Sirius in a package after spending his Christmas holiday at Grimmauld Place. Harry, at first, chooses not to open the package, although he does discover the mirror after Sirius's death, by which point it is no longer functional. It makes its second appearance in Deathly Hallows when Mundungus Fletcher loots Grimmauld Place and sells Sirius's mirror to Aberforth Dumbledore, who uses it to watch out for Harry in Deathly Hallows. When Harry desperately cries for help to a shard of the magical mirror (which broke in the bottom of his trunk), a brilliant blue eye belonging to Aberforth (which Harry mistakes for Albus's eye), appears and he sends Dobby, who arrives to help Harry escape from Malfoy Manor to Shell Cottage. The Chinese magic mirror is an ancient art that can be traced back to the Chinese Han dynasty (206 BC – 24 AD).[1] The mirrors were made out of solid bronze. The front is a shiny polished surface and could be used as a mirror, while the back has a design cast in the bronze. When bright sunlight or other bright light reflects onto the mirror, the mirror seems to become transparent. If that light is reflected from the mirror towards a wall, the pattern on the back of the mirror is then projected onto the wall. In about 800 AD, during the Tang dynasty (618–907), a book entitled Record of Ancient Mirrors described the method of crafting solid bronze mirrors with decorations, written characters, or patterns on the reverse side that could cast these in a reflection on a nearby surface as light struck the front, polished side of the mirror; due to this seemingly transparent effect, they were called "light-penetration mirrors" by the Chinese.This Tang era book was lost over the centuries, but magic mirrors were described in the Dream Pool Essays by Shen Kuo (1031–1095), who owned three of them as a family heirloom. Perplexed as to how solid metal could be transparent, Shen guessed that some sort of quenching technique was used to produce tiny wrinkles on the face of the mirror too small to be observed by the eye. Although his explanation of different cooling rates was incorrect, he was right to suggest the surface contained minute variations which the naked eye could not detect; these mirrors also had no transparent quality at all, as discovered by William Bragg in 1932 (after an entire century of them confounding Western scientists). Robert Temple describes their construction: "The basic mirror shape, with the design on the back, was cast flat, and the convexity of the surface produced afterwards by elaborate scraping and scratching. The surface was then polished to become shiny. The stresses set up by these processes caused the thinner parts of the surface to bulge outwards and become more convex than the thicker portions. Finally, a mercury amalgam was laid over the surface; this created further stresses and preferential buckling. The result was that imperfections of the mirror surface matched the patterns on the back, although they were too minute to be seen by the eye. But when the mirror reflected bright sunlight against a wall, with the resultant magnification of the whole image, the effect was to reproduce the patterns as if they were passing through the solid bronze by way of light beams."

Michael Berry has written a paper describing the optics and giving some photos. In Shrek, an animated animation film brocading traditional fairy tales, the magic mirror is both gifted with speech and able by the image to reveal distant truths.

Lord Farquaad, in search of a princess to marry, a necessary condition for him to become king, interrogates the magic mirror brought to him by his men. They pull it out of a thick bag, suggesting that it has been removed. The mirror is supposed to help Lord Farquaad in his approach, but his inability to lie from the beginning is taken for impertinence and his frankness is quickly swayed by the threat of a guard, who breaks a small mirror in front of him in a gesture of intimidation. The magical mirror then responds "carefully" to save his life. He speaks with a man's voice and his expression is personified by the image of a white mask that appears in his reflection. The image of the mask disappears in a second time, remains the voice that is transformed into voiceover of the program Tournez manège. Then appear in the reflection the three princesses candidate for marriage, qualified as "Catherinettes": Cinderella, Snow White and Fiona. When Lord Farquaad, indecisive and influenced by his henchmen, finally set his sights on Fiona, the magic mirror tries to warn him against an event that occurs at nightfall, but Lord Farquaad, in his impatience, does not give him time.The title of this chapter is a quote from Cassirer. In The Myth of State, he describes theories of myth that followed Schelling's: [The old spell was never completely broken. Every scholar still found in myth those objects with which he was most familiar. At bottom the different schools saw in the magic mirror of myth only their own faces. The linguist found in it a world of words and names-the philosopher found a "primitive ophy"--the psychiatrist a highly complicated and interesting neurotic phenomenon. This may indeed be true. But there is a correlative truth-at least concerning the theories of myth we're examining here. The reflec- tion and the reflected are much more intimately related than Cas- sirer admits. If the subject of myth is a mirror reflecting our intel- lectual concerns, our intellectual mirror myth as well. The present chapter has two goals. The first is piecing together the investigative results of Cassirer, Barthes, Eliade, into a coherent pattern of explanation and description. The second goal is more ambitious. We will examine this explanatory fabric for what it can theoretical endeavors. I will articulate the ways in which the theo- ries of myth themselves exhibit the same characteristics as those authors ascribe Though changed, its function remains the same: myth can be discovered at work in our most sophisticated theoretical constructions about myth. Our theo- retical accounts of myth serve the same tales around an open fire. through 5, we examined four theories of rather straightforward way. I offered synopses of the intellectual positions of the thinkers, outlined their views of myth, and pointed out areas of agreement and disagreement among them. The analysis undertake in this chapter is more like making a quilt. will take bits and pieces of the four accounts of myth, rearrange them into a harmonious pattern, and create something new without destroying the texture, the color, or the fabric of the old. The four authors we've been studying seem to have little in common beyond the selection of myth as an important topic for Cassirer is a critical idealist, investigating the mythical for what it exhibits of the movement of consciousness out of its embeddedness in organic, biologically determined exis- tence and toward an ideal freedom, the fulfillment of the telos of Spirit as it creates symbolic form. Barthes is a neo-Marxist struc- turalist semiologist inveighing against the furtive cover-up of con- tingent, historical processes; a cover-up performed by mythical sig- nification, especially as bourgeois mythmaking attempts to stop up free, revolutionary speech. Eliade offers an account of a sacred ontology, an existential position of being human made possible and available through reciting mythical narratives and participating ritual acts. Sacred ontology allows for the erasure of the terrors history and for full freedom for human being in participating in the creation of the cosmos as a meaningful, ordered, Hillman, a or archetypal psychologist, follows the path of soul-making through mythical forms to the soul's destination of freedom from analys and misogyny, movement toward a divine" psychology. the great differences in perspective we find these theories, why have I chosen to compare them in my own work on myth? First, I am doing a "second-order" analysis, not begun at the beginning, so to speak, examining myriad examples of myth and offering an original interpretation of them. That groundwork has already been done by many other competent researchers, includ ing Cassirer, Barthes, Eliade, and Hillman, I have taken for granted that thinkers of such intellectual sophistication, despite their inerad. 166 THE MAGIC MIRROR articulate and constitute the distinction between human being and the world for human being. We can also begin to elucidate more fully the means by which myth-and theories of myth-perform this task. We can identify these by piecing together our explanatory fabric in a different wa Rather than explicating the internal organization of a theory (for example, moving step-by-step through Eliade's account of the hiero- phany) and clarifying this through comparison we can look for more subtle points of congruence across the four theories. We can find these congruences, and they exhibit a definite theoretical pattern. I will offer a schematic rendering of this pattern here, it will be examined in detail in what follows. "Myth" is a functional construct with no definite able content. The function that myth serves is to unite and separate two opposed ontological regions. Myth is irreducible to one or the other and at the same time is intimately related to each and to both. This is the paradoxical nature of the mythical, it is a kind of gateway, hinge, turnstile, or threshold. This undecidable quality of myth in service of distinguishing opposing ontological regions means to maintain its status as myth it must con- tinue in its function as the boundary between incommensurables The ontological regions delineated through the paradoxical func tiot of myth are that which belongs to human being proper and that which is other. Myth also plays an important role in deter mining the ontological priority of the region that belongs to human being (however construed). The otherness of what belongs to the secondary region determined by the mythical makes it particularly intransigent for theoretical endeavor. However, certain features of what is mythically designated as other can be transformed and recu- perated for the truly human region through a reduction of what is other to that of the same, myth works as a kind of permeable boundary This pattern of explanation is evident in each of the theories we've examined. But the same constellation of traits can be found in way that each author uses the concept of myth. We will see how concept of myth works as it alternately hides and betrays (some- times) covert metaphysical, ontological, and valuational assump tions in the theories. The concept of myth serves as a gateway or threshold, the paradoxical site or the perfect alibi, demarcating anti thetical ontological realms, one of which is honored and valorized the other taboo. The concept of myth, like myth itself, serves to mark the limit of the truly human, however construed.The Magic Mirror is owned by the Evil Queen and has been depicted in different versions as either a hand mirror or a mirror on the wall. Every morning, the Evil Queen asked the Magic Mirror the question "Magic mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?". The mirror always replies: "My Queen, you are the fairest in the land." The Queen is always pleased with that, because the magic mirror never lies. But, when Snow White reaches the age of seven, she becomes as beautiful as the day and even more beautiful than the Queen and when the Queen asks her mirror, it responds: "My Queen, you are the fairest here so true. But Snow White is a thousand times more beautiful than you." This resulted in the Evil Queen enlisting a huntsman to kill Snow White and bring her Snow White's lungs and liver.

 

After eating the lungs and liver of a boar that the Huntsman passed off as Snow White's lungs and liver, the Evil Queen asked the Magic Mirror the question "Magic Mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?" The mirror replies: "My Queen, you are the fairest here so true. But Snow White beyond the mountains at the seven Dwarfs is a thousand times more beautiful than you." This caused the Evil Queen to disguise herself as different women to kill Snow White.

 

After the latest attempt with a poison apple which was undone by the Prince and Snow White marrying him, the Evil Queen asked the Magic Mirror who the fairest in the land was, the Magic Mirror quoted "You, my Queen, are fair so true. But the young Queen is a thousand times fairer than you." The Evil Queen learned too late at the wedding that the young queen in question was Snow White which eventually leads to the Queen's death which varied per version.

 

Real-life influences

 

The “Talking Mirror” at the Spessart Museum in Lohr am Main

German pharmacist and fairy-tale parodist Karlheinz Bartels suggests, in a tongue-in-cheek manner, that the German folk tale "Snow White" is influenced by Maria Sophia Margaretha Catherina von und zu Erthal, who was born in Lohr am Main in 1725.[1] After the death of Maria Sophia's birth mother in 1738, her father Philipp Christoph von und zu Erthal remarried.[2] Claudia Elisabeth von Reichenstein, the stepmother, was domineering and greatly favored the children from her first marriage.[3] The Queen's iconic mirror, referred to as “The Talking Mirror,” can still be viewed today at Spessart Museum in the Lohr Castle, where Maria Sophia was born. The mirror was likely a gift from Philipp Christoph to Claudia Elisabeth. It was a product of the Lohr Mirror Manufacture (Kurmainzische Spiegelmanufaktur). The mirror “talked” predominantly in aphorisms. The upper right corner of “The Talking Mirror” contains a clear reference to self-love (Amour Propre). Moreover, mirrors from Lohr were so elaborately worked that they were accorded the reputation of “always speaking the truth”. They became a favorite gift at European crown and aristocratic courts.

Modern adaptations

This list is incomplete; you can help by expanding it. Disney Disney's Snow White franchise

The Evil Queen with her Mirror at Mickey's Boo-to-You Halloween Parade 2010. The Magic Mirror appeared in Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs voiced by Moroni Olsen. The Magic Mirror contained an imprisoned spirit who is referred to as the Slave in the Magic Mirror. In his first appearance in the film, the Evil Queen would consult with the Magic Mirror to ask who the fairest of one all was. The Magic Mirror always told the Evil Queen that she was the fairest one of all. When asked who the fairest of all is, the spirit replies that, while the Queen is beautiful, a fairer being exists. When the Queen angrily asks for the girl's name, the spirit describes her, making it obvious to the Queen that Snow White is the one being referred to. The Queen then orders her Huntsman to kill Snow White and bring her back her heart. When the Evil Queen asks the Magic Mirror who the fairest of them all was later that evening, the Magic Mirror told her that Snow White was the fairest of them all. Though the Queen at first believes the spirit to be incorrect and showed it the heart in question, she is told that she holds the heart of a pig and that Snow White still lives in the Cottage of the Seven Dwarfs.

 

The Magic Mirror appeared in Disney's House of Mouse, voiced by Tony Jay and seen in the lobby of the club. It would always answer questions given to him by the guests or give advice to the staff members. The Magic Mirror also appeared in Fantasmic! voiced again by Tony Jay.

 

The Magic Mirror appears in Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep voiced by Corey Burton. The Magic Mirror first appears in Terra's storyline. As per the movie, it told the Queen that Snow White was now much fairer than the vain ruler. However, it added on that her heart was a pure light than shone bright. It was then promised by the Evil Queen usage by Terra to find Master Xehanort if he brought her Snow White's heart. However, he did not do so and told the Evil Queen he never intended to. Terra then proceeds to tell her that unlike Snow White, she has much darkness in her heart. The Evil Queen, insulted and outraged, commanded the mirror to destroy Terra. The Magic Mirror refused saying it can only answer questions. The Evil Queen's increasing rage then caused the mirror to have a potion slammed on its face sucking Terra in and fighting him. However, he is defeated and releases Terra. The Evil Queen reluctantly has the Magic Mirror tell Terra where he can find Master Xehanort. The Magic Mirror quotes "Beyond both light and dark he dwells, where war was waged upon the fells." Upon learning this information, Terra takes his leave from the Evil Queen and the Magic Mirror where the Magic Mirror's cryptic response would direct Terra to the Keyblade Graveyard. The Magic Mirror later appears in Aqua's storyline. When Aqua looks for a cure for Snow White in the castle, the still-possessed Magic Mirror drags her into the mirror for a fight, but she also manages to defeat him and is released. The Magic Mirror then disappears stating to Aqua "The Queen is gone, my service done. Adieu, oh victorious one."

 

In the Disney Channel original movie Descendants, the Evil Queen has retained the Mirror after her exile to the Isle of the Lost, reduced to a small hand-mirror that is passed on to her daughter Evie. Although it is still controlled by rhymes spoken by the user and doesn't have an inhabitant in it.

 

A different version of the Magic Mirror appeared in The 7D voiced by Whoopi Goldberg. This version is a female that serves Queen Delightful of Jollyland.

 

Once Upon a Time

In Once Upon a Time, the Magic Mirror started out as a Genie (played by Giancarlo Esposito) where he and his lamp were discovered by King Leopold. King Leopold feels no need to wish for anything and uses the first and second wishes to free the Genie from the lamp and to give the third wish to the Genie. The Genie expresses the desire to find true love, so King Leopold takes the Genie to his castle as he believes the Genie can find true love there. He falls in love with the King's wife Queen Regina and gives her a hand mirror. The King reads in the Queen's diary that she has fallen in love with the man who gave her the hand mirror and asks the Genie to locate him. The Queen is then locked in her room to prevent her from leaving the King. To free her, her father has the Genie bring her a locked box, which turns out to be filled with poisonous vipers from Agrabah so the Queen can kill herself. Instead, the Genie uses the vipers to kill King Leopold and allow the Queen to be with him. She tells him that since the vipers were from his country, the guards will find out that he was the murderer and flee. Realizing the Queen never loved him, he uses his wish to be always with her and to never leave her sight. This traps him in the hand mirror. As a spirit in the Magic Mirror, he is able to move between and see through all other mirrors in the Enchanted Forest. He is used by Regina to spy on and locate others.

 

In Storybrooke, he is Sidney Glass, a reporter for Storybrooke's local newspaper The Daily Mirror. On Regina's request, he researches Emma Swan's past to help Regina expel her from Storybrooke. After Graham's death, Regina attempts to appoint him sheriff, but the wording of the town charter calls for an election. He loses the position to Emma Swan. Regina has him removed from the newspaper staff, and Sidney goes to Emma, claiming that he wants to expose Regina as the corrupt person she is. However, the exposé reveals Regina's attempts to improve the community. Despite this, Sidney tells Emma that he will help her take down Regina, but it is revealed that he is secretly in league with Regina, who is using Emma's trust in Sidney to gain leverage over Emma. Emma later learns that he planted a bug in a vase glass after it is used to tip off Regina upon discovering a key piece of evidence that would have cleared Mary Margaret Blanchard of Kathryn Nolan's murder. Emma confronts Sidney and realizes that he is in love with Regina. Still, Emma presses him to help defeat Regina. However, after Kathryn is found alive, Sidney falsely confesses to kidnapping Kathryn and framing Mary Margaret so that he could "find" Kathryn and become famous. Later, a cell labeled "S. Glass" is seen in the hospital basement's psychiatric ward. The name "S. Glass" is visible on a door in the first season finale, suggesting that Regina had locked him in the Storybrooke Hospital's psychiatric ward after he confessed to the kidnapping. In "A Tale of Two Sisters," Regina frees Sidney Glass from the psychiatric ward to be her Mirror again in order to enlist him into helping get rid of the people that are in the middle of her happiness. Regina temporarily places Sidney in the mirror to find the exact moment in which Maid Marian was apprehended by Regina's men. Regina later consults with Sidney on how to change fate. Regina tells Sidney that the villains in the book don't get a happy ending and wants him to find the writer of the book so that she can make some changes like allowing the villains to get their happy endings. In "Breaking Glass," Regina has Sidney Glass look for the Snow Queen's hideout in order to force her into thawing Maid Marian from her freezing spell. When Emma arrives to know where Sidney Glass is, Regina states that she's too busy to tell her where Sidney Glass is. Sidney later reports to Regina about where the Snow Queen is hiding out after his failed attempt to get a leverage on Regina. Using a compact to remain in contact to Sidney Glass, Regina heads in the directions of the Snow Queen's hideout. Regina later admits that Sidney was in the mirror. Upon strong winds reaching Emma and Regina, Sidney states the Snow Queen had swayed him to her side as Elsa's ice bridge breaks. After Emma and Regina defeat a large Viking made of ice, the Snow Queen takes the compact that Sidney is and retreats. At her hideout, the Snow Queen frees Sidney from the mirror as she wanted the mirror that he was trapped in to go with her mirror that she is putting together. The Snow Queen states that she wants the mirror that Sidney Glass is in since it is filled with dark magic. Before declaring Sidney free, the Snow Queen advises Sidney to get a warm coat since it is "going to get cooler around here."

 

Other

The 10th Kingdom

In the TV miniseries The 10th Kingdom, a magic mirror is a key element of the plot, as protagonists Tony and Virginia Lewis travel from New York into the fairy-tale realm via a traveling mirror, which they subsequently lose and must spend the rest of the series searching for, while their enemy, the evil Queen and protégé of Snow White's deceased stepmother, spies on them with other magic mirrors. The travelling mirror that brought them to this world is destroyed in an accident, but an old mirror referred to as Gustav- which can only communicate and respond to queries made in rhyme- reveals that there were two other travelling mirrors made, with one sunk at the bottom of the ocean and the other in the possession of the Queen. With the Queen's defeat, Virginia returns to New York through the Queen's travelling mirror, although Tony decides to remain in the fairy-tale realm to enjoy his new status as a hero.

 

Faerie Tale Theatre

The mirror in Faerie Tale Theatre was played by Vincent Price, whose face appeared as if mounted on the top of the mirror (in reality, Price stuck his face through a hole). This mirror, as did all of the Queen's (Vanessa Redgrave) other mirrors, turned black as she found out that Snow White was alive.

 

Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics

The Magic Mirror appears in the "Snow White" episode of Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics. It is kept in a cabinet in the Evil Queen's chambers. Like the story, the Magic Mirror told the Evil Queen that she was the fairest of them all until the day when Snow White came of age. In this version when the Magic Mirror told the Evil Queen that the Seven Dwarfs freed Snow White from the deadly laces and that she can't be killed when she is in their protection, the Evil Queen breaks the Magic Mirror vowing to prove it wrong.

 

Happily Ever After

The Magic Mirror appeared as the Looking Glass in Happily Ever After voiced by Dom DeLuise. When Lord Maliss asks him where his sister the Evil Queen is and threatens it for information, the Looking Glass tells him that she has died trying to kill Snow White. After Snow White evaded Lord Maliss' dragon form, Lord Maliss consults the Looking Glass again as the Looking Glass tells him that Snow White and the Dwarfelles are heading to Rainbow Falls. When Snow White ventures to Lord Maliss' castle, the Looking Glass tells him that it will be tough for Snow White to find his castle. When the Dwarfelles enter Lord Maliss' castle and wonder where Lord Maliss has taken Snow White, the Looking Glass states that "beneath the Queen lies a secret door." After searching the area, they find a panel to the hidden door underneath the Evil Queen's bust.

 

The Hunters

In the 2013 SyFy film The Hunters, it is revealed that the Magic Mirror was inspired by a fabled mirror that is said to grant the wish of whoever looks into it; supposedly, the mirror triggered the Dark Ages. The mirror was sought by an ancient army known as the Krugen before the hunters- a group of scientist knights dedicated to protecting fairy-tale artefacts- acquired the mirror, breaking off four shards from the mirror and hiding them and the mirror away when destroying it completely proved impossible. The film focuses on a family of hunters, the Flynns, with the parents being experienced hunters seeking the shards to keep them away from the Krugen and their sons being forced to take up the hunt when their parents go missing. The mirror is eventually reassembled by the film's antagonist, but he is tricked into making a wish that caused the mirror to destroy him, with the protagonists subsequently wishing for the mirror to destroy itself.

 

The Huntsman film series

In Snow White and the Huntsman, the Magic Mirror appears as a golden gong-like mirror that oozes out a hooded robed being (voiced by Christopher Obi) whenever Queen Ravenna called upon it for information, although apparently, the being is only visible to Ravenna, as her henchmen observe her talking to thin air. The Magic Mirror first appeared where he told Queen Ravenna that Snow White was coming to the age where she will be more fairer than Queen Ravenna. The Mirror is last seen when Snow White defeats Ravenna, ending the Evil Queen's rule.

 

In prequel/sequel, The Huntsman: Winter's War, the Magic Mirror (voiced by Fred Tatasciore) is revealed to hold darker forms of magic. He is seen in flashbacks of Queen Ravenna's tyrannical reign, where it tells Ravenna that her sister Freya will give birth to a child who will exceed Ravenna's beauty as the fairest of them all. The Mirror also predicts that if the child was to be harmed, Freya will unleash powers, prompting Ravenna to orchestrate the murder of her own niece, both to preserve her own beauty and, in her own twisted way, help her sister. Freya, in horror at her discovery, releases icy powers that kill her lover and turns her hair white. Years later, after Ravenna's death, the Magic Mirror has gone missing while travelling to a Sanctuary where Snow White believes its evil can be contained. It is revealed to be in the hands of a troll in a forest, but Freya, seeking the mirror for herself, orders Sara- the Huntsman's presumed-dead wife- to retrieve it. Although Sara obeys this order, she tricks Freya by sparing Eric's life. Freya's subsequent attempt to use the Mirror herself reveals that Ravenna had hidden a part of herself in the mirror, restoring her to a form of life apparently formed of the Mirror's gold while still appearing human. In the final confrontation, Freya learns the truth about her sister's role in the death of her daughter (Ravenna was now the mirror spirit and was thus bound to answer Freya's questions truthfully), prompting her to aid Eric in destroying the Mirror at the cost of her own life. However, the final scene shows a golden raven flying away, suggesting that a part of the mirror - and thus Ravenna - may have survived.

 

Mirror Mirror

In the film Mirror Mirror, elements of the Magic Mirror are featured as a large mirror that serves as a portal to the Mirror House where Queen Clementianna consults with the Mirror Queen (played by Lisa Roberts Gillian). To access the portal to the Mirror House, Queen Clementianna would quote "Mirror Mirror on the Wall." The Mirror Queen would always advise Queen Clementianna not to use dark magic for her own gain. After the aged Queen Clementianna takes the slice of an apple she was to give to Snow White from her, the Mirror Queen declared that it was Snow White's story all along as the Mirror House and the Mirror Portal shattered.

 

Princesses

In Jim C. Hines' Princesses series – chronicling the adventures of Snow White with Princess Danielle Whiteshore (Cinderella) and former Princess Talia Malak-el-Dahshat (Sleeping Beauty) after their tales concluded with Snow and Talia being banished from their kingdoms and taken in by Danielle's mother-in-law – Snow White is a sorceress who uses her mother's mirror as a key focus of her spells, relying on various smaller mirrors to maintain a link to it when away from the palace; her power is commonly focused by using various rhymes as spells, although she can create other spells without speaking. The fourth novel, The Snow Queen's Revenge, reveals that the magic mirror was created by Snow White's mother imprisoning a demon and binding it to her service. The plot suggests that the mirror's role in the original story was motivated by the demon attempting to create a set of circumstances that would allow it to escape, inspiring Snow's mother to attack her daughter so that Snow would inherit the mirror and some day make a mistake that would let the demon out. In the novel The Snow Queen's Revenge, the mirror shatters after Snow tries to perform a particularly complex spell, allowing the demon within it to possess Snow while shards of the mirror corrupt others, forcing Danielle and Talia to return to Snow's kingdom in the hopes of rediscovering the secrets used by Snow White's mother to bind the demon in the first place so that they can try and exorcise it from Snow. After this plan proves impossible due to the demon's interference, the demon attempts to recreate a larger ice-mirror to summon further demons into this world, using the part-fairy blood of Danielle's son Jakub – Danielle having some fairy blood in her from her mother's side of the family – but a reflection of Snow's untainted self helps protect her friends long enough for them to destroy the demon, at the cost of Snow's life.

 

Sesame Street

The Magic Mirror appeared in Episode 685 of Sesame Street with the Magic Mirror's face being the face of Jerry Nelson. In the "Sesame Street News Flash" segment, Kermit the Frog interviews the Magic Mirror on which question the evil witch will ask him and tells Kermit that it is the same question where the Snow White answer "drives her up the wall." The witch who is the fairest in the land, has two beautiful eyes, is green, wearing a hat, wielding a microphone, and is in the same room as the Magic Mirror. The Magic Mirror states that Kermit the Frog is the fairest. The witch then notices Kermit the Frog hiding behind the curtain and states that he is good-looking.

 

Snow White: A Tale of Terror

In Snow White: A Tale of Terror, this version has the mirror a property of Lady Claudia (Sigourney Weaver). It is a wooden closet with a statue as the door and hands acting as locks. It is regarded as a family heritage artifact by her. Snow White's nanny, tries to see what's inside while cleaning it and immediately suffers a heart attack. The mirror displays a beautiful and younger version of the Queen who advices her what to do. The mirror also contains her life force and she ages rapidly when Snow White stabs the mirror and then engulfs in flame of the burning room.

 

Shrek

The Magic Mirror appears in the Shrek franchise voiced by Chris Miller. It is depicted as a mirror with a live spirit communicating through it, and with magical displaying abilities. In Shrek, the Magic Mirror is first brought to Lord Farquaad who asks it if Duloc is not the most perfect kingdom, exactly the same way the Evil Queen used to ask it if she was not the fairest of all. The Magic Mirror then presents Lord Farquaad with three princesses that he can marry (from which he chooses Fiona). This is done in a parody of Blind Date. It is later seen to be with Shrek's posse who in Shrek 2 use it as a television set such as announcing that the show will be back after commercials.In Shrek Forever After, Rumpelstiltskin has it and uses it on television broadcasting purposes.

Simon the Sorcerer

Near the end of the video game Simon the Sorcerer, the player can use the Magic Mirror in Sordid's tower as an surveillance monitor, using any reflecting surface like a camera.

Sisters Grimm

In the Sisters Grimm series by Michael Buckley, the Magic Mirror appears as a minor protagonist in the first six books, but is revealed to be the main antagonist in book seven and remains evil until near the end of book nine.

Snow White: The Fairest of Them All

Here, the wicked queen Elspeth possesses a hall of magic mirrors, and a hand mirror that displays several attributes not seen before. The Queen may command the hand mirror to terminate enemies (as she did to the Huntsman), use it as a means of transport or step through it to change appearances, even turning others into animals.

 

The Suite Life

A parody version of the Magic Mirror appears as a recurring character throughout The Suite Life of Zack & Cody voiced by Brian Peck. It is a high tech mirror that often compliments London Tipton's attire.

 

A direct representation of the Magic Mirror in The Suite Life on Deck episode "Once Upon A Suite Life" voiced by Michael Airington. It is seen when all the characters are dreaming of themselves in the classic fairytales such as Snow White, Jack and the Beanstalk and Hansel and Gretel.

 

The Wolf Among Us

Appearing as a magical object in the Business Office, the Magic Mirror is a minor protagonist in The Wolf Among Us. Usually demanding its request be given to it in rhyme form, the Magic Mirror is capable of showing a brief vision of its requested subject. The Magic Mirror's shattering and the search for its missing shard play key aspects following the end of the second episode.

 

Sinister Squad

Although the magic mirror does not appear directly in the Asylum film Sinister Squad, it is referenced as a key part of the film's backstory; when Rumpelstiltskin destroyed the mirror to prevent the forces of Death claiming it, it transferred several fairy-tale characters into our world, with Rumpelstiltskin relying on fragments of the mirror to sustain his own magical manipulation abilities until the final confrontation with Death.

 

Magic Mirror inspired technology

In 2017 Amazon announced Echo Look, a “style assistant” camera that helps catalog your outfits and rates your look based on “machine learning algorithms with advice from fashion specialists.

  

The Magic Mirror: Myth's Abiding Power

Par Elizabeth M. Baeten

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magical_objects_in_Harry_Potter

 

Getting down low can be useful. Squirrel Girl cbk intoduced me to the word bryophyte, so here's a short evolutionary primer on bryophytes from Wikipedia:

 

Bryophytes are the oldest of all lineages of land plants and are believed to be a vital link in the migration of plants from aquatic environments onto land. DNA sequencing of Bryophytes has elucidated the fact that they are a polyphyletic group and the three main clades (mosses, hornworts and liverworts) are believed to have evolved from green algae on three different occasions. A number of physical features link Bryophytes to both land plants and aquatic plants. Two distinct adaptations have helped to make the move from water to land possible and forged the way for plants to colonize the Earth's terrestrial environments. A waxy cuticle covering the soft tissue of the plant provides protection and prevents desiccation of the plant's tissues; and the development of gametangia provided further protection specifically for gametes. They also have embryonic development which is a significant adaptation seen in land plants and not green algae. Connections to their aquatic ancestry are also evident through their dependence on water for reproduction and survival. A thin layer of water is required on the surface of the plant to enable the movement of sperm between gametophytes and the fertilization of an egg.

 

- en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bryophyte

Here is another dirty astrophoto. Objects were low in the south, and the frame got noisy while elucidating the tail and others.

 

Greenish coma of the comet looks comparable to Fornax Dwarf. Integrated Flux Nebulae are in the field. North is up, and east is to the left.

 

Here is a closer photo of the comet.

www.flickr.com/photos/hiroc/30920413127

 

Earth distance: 0.222 AU

Sun distance: 1.142 AU

 

equipment: Sigma 105mm F1.4 DG HSM Art and Canon EOS 6D-sp4, modified by Seo-san on Takahashi EM-200FG-Temma2Z BL, autoguided at the center of the condensation of the coma with William Optics Star 71mm f/4.9 Blue Edition, Stalightxpress Lodestar X2, and PHD2 Guiding

 

exposure: 15 times x 600 seconds, 4 x 240 sec, and 6 x 60 seconds at ISO 1,600 and f/3.2

 

The first exposure started at 12:23:02 November 10, 2018UTC.

 

site: 1,250m above sea level at lat. 36 14 35 North and long. 138 36 22 East in near Uchiyama Farm Saku Nagano 長野県佐久市内山牧場付近.

 

SQM-L reached 21.11 at the night. Ambient temperature was around 4 degrees Celsius or 39 degrees Fahrenheit. Air humidity was high.

To day, our grand daughter Nandhini completes her first year as per Hindu Calender. As per our custom her hair was tonsured and ears borred and adorned with diamond stud.

 

It's truly an ordeal for this little lady. But, a ceremony and a ritual we always do to all children upon completion of the first year. The effect of ordeal is well expressed in her face.

 

Nandhini is the younger sister of Nandhithaa and second daughter of our daughter Vidhya. This little beauty went through these pleasant ordeals sitting pretty on my lap.

 

(Shall upload more picture later to elucidate our flickr friends)

 

(As an antiseptic and coolant, paste of Sandal wood and Turmeric are applied on the shaven head and the marks on fore head are , The Holy Ash and Vermiilion applied as symbols of Hinduism) Tradition and Family customs are valued and very much kept alive.

 

THIS SHOT WAS CLICKED WITH THE CAMERA IN RIGHT HAND WHEN THE BABY WAS HELD IN MYLEFT ARMS ) This function took place at a famous hindu temple at Vadapalani, Chennai.

 

YOU MAY WISH TO VIEW THE VIDEO CLIPPINGS SHOT JUST PRIOR TO THIS

 

CEREMONY. PLEASE VIEW THE NEXT IMAGE.

   

Two superb poets and marvelous human beings slipped away from this world yesterday, the famous Irish poet, Seamus Heany, and the San Francisco poet and dear friend of mine, Susan Sibbet.

After a while of being with that news yesterday I found myself imagining Susan and Seamus together somewhere spinning poems about when they were earth-bound. I even wrote that to a few friends by email on the net.

 

This morning early, while the dew was still elucidating their embroidery, I saw these two huge webs hanging over my garden pond like this, together. (This is not 2 images together). I stood with tears on my face reading what was in front of me as if they were poems. "And what do they say?" My imagination asked me. "They say what poets have always known, " I answered, "They say that death is not the end. They say we are all always connected. They say that imagination is more powerful than knowledge (Einstein said that too). Its the work that poets do - Imagining & Telling. They say this morning, while another war is being brewed in this world, that poets have always lived and died begging, with all the phenomenal power of lightning and blood in their pens, for peace on earth. Peace comes to us each morning, strand by strand, connecting us, like light in our web.

 

(also posted for Our Daily Challenge topic - Starts with I )

 

(my 318th image to make it to Explore)

 

Pierre Jean Louis Germain Soulages (French: [sulaʒ]; Occitan: Pèire Solatges; 24 December 1919 – 25 October 2022) was a French painter, printmaker, and sculptor. In 2014, President François Hollande of France described him as "the world's greatest living artist."[1] His works are held by leading museums of the world, and there is a museum dedicated to his art in his hometown of Rodez. Soulages produced 104 stained-glass windows for the Romanesque architecture of the Abbey Church of Sainte-Foy in Conques from 1987 to 1994. He received international awards, and the Louvre in Paris held a retrospective of his works on the occasion of his centenary. Soulages said, "My instrument is not black but the light reflected from the black."[18] Naming his own practice Outrenoir (Beyond Black), the paintings he produces are known for their endless black depth, created by playing with the light reflected off of the texture of the paint. Knowing that he needed a new term to define the way that he worked, Soulages invented 'Outrenoir' to define his practice. Not having a translation into English, the closest meaning is 'beyond black'; in a 2014 interview he explained the definition of the term, "Outrenoir doesn't exist in English; the closest is "beyond black." In French, you say "outre-Manche," "beyond the Channel," to mean England or "outre-Rhin," "beyond the Rhine," to mean Germany. In other words, "beyond black" is a different country from black."[19]

The infatuation Soulages had with black began long before his investigations with 'Outrenoir' at the age of 60.[20] Initially inspired by his interest in the prehistoric [19] and his want of retreating to something more pure, primal and deliberately stripped of any other connotations, he says of his fascination with the colour, "during thousands of years, men went underground, in the absolute black of grottoes, to paint with black."[20] "I made these because I found that the light reflected by the black surface elicits certain emotions in me. These aren't monochromes. The fact that light can come from the colour which is supposedly the absence of light is already quite moving, and it is interesting to see how this happens."[19]

Applying the paint in thick layers, Soulages' painting technique includes using objects such as spoons, tiny rakes and bits of rubber to work away at the painting, often making scraping, digging or etching movements depending on whether he wants to evoke a smooth or rough surface. The texture that is then produced either absorbs or rejects light, breaking up the surface of the painting by disrupting the uniformity of the black.[21][22] He often used bold cuts in vertical and horizontal lines, the crevasses and forms created by using angles and contours. In his recent work from 2013 to 2014, Soulages began to explicitly vary the pigment used in the paint, mixing matte and glossy types of black as well as hardened densities of black pigment.[23] Preferring to suspend the paintings like walls, he uses wires to hang them in the middle of the room, "I always liked paintings to be walls rather than windows. When we see a painting on a wall, it's a window, so I often put my paintings in the middle of the space to make a wall. A window looks outside, but a painting should do the opposite—it should look inside of us".[19]

Instead of having titles, Soulages paintings are uniformly named as "Peinture" (transl.: Painting), followed by size and date of production.[7] 17 December 1966 from 1966, in the collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art demonstrates the artist's boldly brushed black on white canvases.[24] His works had to be hung without frames in exhibitions. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre_Soulages. an insistent dichotomy. Nothing happens in Soulages' painting, while it does in Marfaing's. I want to tell you: Just look! I would go so far as to dare to say that here, Soulages doesn't push himself. We can't say anything about that. On the other hand, once again, in Marfaing's painting, it's a different tune. We feel that something is happening (or in the plural). In 1985, but this is a hypothesis (I do not have all of Soulages' work at my disposal), Soulages began to dig into the painting, that is to say to sculpt it, which, very soon, would give rise to real furrows of paint, increasingly thick, deep, earthy; in which, oh miracle of the unexpected!, the light would come to vibrate with an infinity of values and tones, transmuting the initial black material into something else, which, until then, had never been seen or envisaged; and there the true Soulages "begins", that is to say, his genius - and I am speaking here of the genius of invention; for that is also what genius is. art-icle.fr/andre-marfaing-etait-il-meilleur-peintre-que-.... The Strange Mystery of the Dripping Soulages

Paint that becomes liquid again... This is the bizarre, still unexplained phenomenon affecting several Pierre Soulages paintings dating from the late 1950s. A team of CNRS researchers has investigated. You can share an article by clicking on the share icons in the top right corner.

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Pierre Soulages' paintings flow. They melt. This phenomenon affects the canvases of the very late 1950s, inspired by American painting, the most beautiful, gestural, and subtly colored, and not the black and repetitive monochromes of the last forty years, mostly painted in acrylic. In reality, this sudden fantasy of the medium, unprecedented in the history of art, also affects paintings by other artists painted during the same period. Those of the Americans Willem de Kooning and Joan Mitchell, the Dutchman Karel Appel, the Canadian Jean Paul Riopelle, or the Frenchmen Georges Mathieu and André Marfaing. All have in common the fact that they lived in Paris at the same time, purchased from the same color dealers, and saw their works exhibited as soon as they were finished. In order to elucidate this mystery, a scientific team from the CNRS has therefore examined the works of Pierre Soulages, preserved at the Musée des Abattoirs in Toulouse. www.telerama.fr/sortir/l-etrange-mystere-des-soulages-qui...

Bodowyr Burial Chamber is a Neolithic burial chamber made of a few large stacked stones (also known as a dolmen or a passage grave) in a farmer's field on the north Wales island of Anglesey. It is located at Bodowyr Farm, 1.25 mi (2.0 km) east of Llangaffo, off the B4419 road.

 

Bodowyr Burial Chamber is the central burial chamber of a passage grave of a type more frequently found in Ireland. The chamber has three upright stones about a metre high supporting a robust, wedge-shaped capstone. A large stone lying flat nearby on the western side may have been part of the structure, perhaps another upright, or a blocking stone, and another low stone beside the entrance to the east which was perhaps a kerb or sill.

 

Originally a mound of earth or rubble would have covered or partially covered the dolmen, and there would have been a passage from the entrance on the southeast to the side of the mound. The mound has since been completely dispersed. The location is on level, low-lying ground and it is not apparent why this particular site should have been chosen. The fact that Snowdon and the Glyderau are visible in the distance, with the Llanberis Pass between them, may be significant, and there may be some solar or lunar alignment as seen from the entrance that has not yet been elucidated.

Turn of a Friendly Card

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Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.

 

Act 1

I begin my tale in the present…

 

That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….

 

It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges

 

As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.

 

But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:

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I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.

I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.

 

I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.

He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.

 

It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.

The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.

 

I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.

 

I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.

 

As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.

 

Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing

I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..

 

I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.

Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.

 

So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.

But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.

 

I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.

 

I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.

 

The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.

 

And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..

 

With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.

 

When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”

 

So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.

 

Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.

 

Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.

*****

So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?

 

I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.

 

Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.

 

I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.

On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.

The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!

I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.

 

Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..

 

They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid

And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!

One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.

But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.

This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.

 

They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.

 

With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .

 

After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.

 

It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.

 

And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.

 

After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.

 

So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.

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Act 2

 

So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.

 

As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.

 

The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.

 

I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.

 

I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.

 

That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.

 

It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.

 

I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.

 

I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.

 

It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself

 

I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.

 

The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.

 

But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.

 

I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.

It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.

 

But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason

 

I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.

  

I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!

 

I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.

 

I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.

 

About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously

 

The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.

 

Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.

 

Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.

 

We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.

I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.

 

The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.

  

She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.

 

But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.

 

With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !

 

What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.

 

Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!

 

I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.

 

So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!

 

The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.

 

Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?

 

And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...

 

I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……

 

Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.

 

The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.

 

As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…

 

No honor amongst thieves…

What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,

What will you have it be?........

To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)

*************************************************************************************

Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.

Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .

*************************************************************************************

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

 

I eventually found out what this mysterious place is, and that it is actually a 'scheduled monument' of historic importance. It's amazing how in less than 100 years an industrial site has been transformed by nature to become such a mysterious place. It's been hard enough to find any information on this, so it has made me wonder how difficult it is for archaeologists to establish the correct history of sites that might be thousands of years old.

 

See historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1450800

 

The standing and buried remains of a chemical plant of 1908 producing soda ash (sodium bicarbonate) by the Solvay method, and of 1915 for the experimental manufacture and then production of calcium nitrate as an ingredient of munitions explosives.

 

Reasons for Designation:

The former soda ash and calcium nitrate works at Plumley is scheduled for the following principal reasons:

 

Rarity: the site is a rare example of a surviving ammonia-soda works (a key element of the alkali industry, one of the most important chemical industries in England with many technological developments made here), in particular as a competitor to the pre-eminent Brunner Mond company;

 

Diversity: also including remains relating to calcium nitrate manufacture on an experimental and production basis, making a very significant national contribution to the manufacture of explosives for the First World War;

 

Survival: the remains of both works survive well and are readable as earthworks and upstanding structures, with some buried remains;

 

Potential: the surviving remains have strong potential to yield further information to specialist analysis and investigation, enhancing our understanding of both works.

 

History:

The alkali industry is defined as the harvesting or mining of sources of potassium and sodium, and the processing of these materials to produce carbonates or hydroxides of the metals (known as potash or soda, for potassium and sodium respectively). Alkali was mainly required for the production of soap and glass. The combustion of wood or bracken in a potash kiln (also known as an elling hearth) originally supplied the need for alkali. In the C17 the production of alkali from seaweed was introduced into this country, burning the dried seaweed in a kelp pit, commonly situated just above the shoreline. From 1795 the LeBlanc process was introduced on Tyneside from France, producing soda (in this case, sodium carbonate) from salt (sodium chloride); thereafter, making soda using salt was firmly the basis of bulk alkali production. In the C19 salt was largely provided by salt workings in Cheshire, although later in the century Teesside salt supplied the alkali industry in north-east England. The alkali industry soon became one of the most important chemical industries in this country and many technological developments were made here.

 

The ammonia-soda alkali industry was based on a process first discovered in 1810, and first made commercially successful by a Belgian - Ernest Solvay - in 1865. It was introduced to this country by John Brunner and Ludwig Mond (Brunner Mond) in 1872, with production starting at their Winnington (Cheshire) works in 1873. It was based in the Northwich area of Cheshire, with only three works established elsewhere. The Solvay process carbonated brine (which first had been saturated with ammonia), to give sodium bicarbonate and ammonium chloride, from which the ammonia was recovered, leaving calcium chloride and water. The key feature of Solvay-type ammonia-soda plants were the distinctive carbonation towers, between 70 and 90 feet tall.

 

AMMONIA-SODA PLANT Prior to 1926 (and the formation of the conglomerate ICI by the merger of Brunner Mond with three other companies), five other ammonia-soda works were built in addition to Winnington, Plumley being one of these. Most were short-lived, being either bought out by Brunner Mond, or closed down due to competition with them. The works at Plumley (also known as Plumbley) were established by the Ammonia Soda Company Ltd (Ascol) which was formed in 1908 by Ivan Levinstein, Arthur Chamberlain and others for that purpose. (It appears to be coincidence, given the later use of the site for manufacturing ingredients for explosives, that Chamberlain was the chairman of the Birmingham ammunition manufacturers G Kynoch & Co, as there is no known application for soda in the manufacture of ammunition propellant). In 1912 the firm became a public company. Brunner Mond bought out the land around this works, sank two brine shafts on the other side of the railway and pumped brine from there for their Lostock works, and also daily sampled the stream below the works in the hope of finding evidence of pollution. Possibly due to these activities, Ascol struggled and profits were disappointing.

 

CALCIUM NITRATE PLANT The production of nitric acid (used in producing TNT) required ammonium nitrate, which was also used directly as an admixture for finished TNT to create Amatol, a cheaper alternative. The outbreak of the First World War and demand for high explosives therefore dramatically increased the requirement for ammonium nitrate. The conversion of sodium nitrate (mainly from Chile) into ammonium nitrate became a primary aim. In 1910 Dr FA Freeth (chief chemist at Brunner Mond) had devised a method which combined sodium nitrate and ammonium sulphate to give ammonium nitrate plus sodium sulphate. This was difficult in unpredictable English temperatures, and although a plant at Swindon produced over 24,000 tons in 1918, the Americans produced much more by this method, which was freely granted to them.

 

An alternative was to use sodium nitrate and calcium chloride to create calcium nitrate. This could then be treated with ammonia (in which Britain was rich) and carbonic acid to give ammonium nitrate. The Solvay process created calcium chloride as a by-product, and an experimental plant to produce calcium nitrate was established in 1915 at Plumley, which had come under the control of the Ministry of Munitions. This was quickly followed, beginning in 1916, by large-scale production, which was also established at the Salt Union’s Victoria Works near Northwich (Cheshire). These plants supplied Brunner Mond’s ammonium nitrate production, mainly at Lostock-Gralam, near Plumley. Overall, Plumley produced slightly less calcium nitrate than Victoria, but was only overtaken in 1918.

 

The importance of the supply of explosives has led the First World War to be dubbed ‘a chemist’s war’. The skill of a nation’s scientists was now as important as the valour of its soldiers in determining the outcome of the war. The size and sophistication of its chemical industry and research facilities were as critical as the size of its armies. After the First World War, Lord Moulton (Director-General of Explosives Supply in the Ministry of Munitions) wrote to Brunner Mond’s chairman, 'We have been indebted to your Company for the manufacture of the bulk of the largest component of the high explosives used by this country in the war.' (Dick 1973, 35). In total 216,120 tons of ammonium nitrate were made during the war (almost 90 per cent of it by Brunner Mond). The calcium nitrate process was used to create just under 60 per cent of the national ammonium nitrate output. The Plumley works manufactured 43 per cent of the calcium nitrate used, and thus directly provided vital ingredients for 25 per cent of all the ammonium nitrate used by this country to manufacture high explosives for the war. The manufacture of calcium nitrate at the Victoria works was only possible due to the successful initial demonstration and then scaling-up of the process at Plumley.

 

LATER HISTORY The calcium nitrate plant was demolished immediately after the war, in 1919, but there was no attempt to level the site. Plumley continued in ammonia-soda production but Ascol was voluntarily liquidated in 1919 and Brunner Mond bought the site outright. Production continued until 1926, when much of the Solvay plant was probably demolished, again with no attempt to level the site. The railway sidings were removed between 1938 and the mid-1950s. From the mid-C20 the large warehouse which is the only standing building on the site was used by Associated Octel for storing sodium salts. This involved the demolition of the bagging plant in the southern extension. This use continued until the 1980s, since when the site has been disused.

 

Although annotated by the Ordnance Survey as a nature reserve, the site was never designated and the Cheshire Wildlife Trust never took over its management as was intended early in the C21. The eastern part of the industrial landholdings was used in the 1960s for dumping earth excavated in the construction of the M6. However, this is not thought to have affected the scheduled area, where the large pond that is still extant accords closely with that shown on the 1918 drainage plan and marked ‘effluent from ASC’. The soil tipping is thought to have been restricted to the easternmost part of the site which has since become agricultural land.

 

HISTORY OF INVESTIGATIONS The site was identified as a former soda plant in the Monuments Protection Programme Step 1 report for the chemical industry, as part of the alkali industry. The Plumley site’s role as a test-bed for a new process by which the raw ingredients for high explosives could be obtained, and then as a major producer of those materials, has been underplayed in accounts given by the chemists responsible for munitions supply. Consequently it is not fully elucidated in the principal text on the archaeology of gunpowder and explosives manufacture (Dangerous Energy, Cocroft 2000), although this did note that the site had been used for the production of calcium nitrate to supply high explosives manufacture. The growing diversity of linkages with commercial chemical-industrial activity is characteristic of this period and leaves few monumental remains that can be isolated as specifically relevant to explosives production.

 

An initial archaeological survey completed in December 2001 and a detailed survey of the calcium nitrate plant carried out in 2002 established the detailed character of the site. The remains of both plants accorded to a high degree with the buildings shown on historical mapping, including a plan drawn by AW Tangye and dated 1910-1914, and a drainage plan and sketch plan, both of 1918. These plans allow the layout of surviving earthworks and building remains to be clearly understood and the detailed character of the plant, if not the full detailed processes, to be appreciated.

 

The ammonia-soda works stood on the western part of the site, although brine was pumped from a shaft in the south-east corner. The main building housed saturators and finishing machines. A boiler house attached to the west provided the heat for the processes. Attached to the north was a range annotated on the Tangye plan as ‘distiller tower shed’, which was in turn abutted on its north side by a ‘blowing and vacuum engine house’. To the east of these, running north-south and attached to the main building at the south, were the four Solvay towers where the ammoniated brine was carbonated. Railway sidings to the east and west separated the main building complex from a repair shed to the west and a crystallisation plant to the north-east. These sidings also led to the beds to the north-east where residual waste was dumped. An office and dressing rooms/canteen were sited to the north and north-east of the main plant. A long, shallow reservoir approximately 40x5m is also associated with the Ascol plant although its exact purpose is unknown. An effluent pond was sited to the north of the brine shaft, probably draining the waste beds.

 

The calcium nitrate plant is largely sited to the south-east of the Ascol works. It principally comprised five or six linear buildings running north-south, annotated on the 1918 sketch plan. The westernmost housed boilers, mixers and salt pans. Here brine from boreholes, which had been pumped via six-inch pipes, was passed through a succession of salt pans. Settling and evaporation purified and concentrated the brine until it was rich in sodium nitrate. From here it passed eastwards to another salt-pans building, where it was treated with calcium chloride (presumably recovered from the waste of the ammonia-soda plant) to give a solution of calcium nitrate and sodium chloride. The brine, now rich in calcium nitrate, was pumped back westwards for further refinement. Here it might also have been preheated before being pumped into the crystalliser building, which also had workshops and a laboratory to its south. Heavier waste material was discharged during these processes into cross-ditches and thence into two large north-south ditches.

 

The large warehouse was built for storage of the calcium chloride that was required in large quantities for these reactions, and of the finished calcium nitrate. The external buttresses were added soon after construction due to the inadequate strength of the thin walls, and quickly followed by a southwards extension with a bagging plant. The railway sidings allowed for efficient delivery and movement around the plant of raw and waste materials, and despatching of finished products to other works via the main line.

 

Details

PRINCIPAL ELEMENTS: an ammonia-soda plant of the Solvay type, and First World War experimental and production plant for making calcium nitrate, surviving above and below ground as steel floor joists, concrete building beds, some upstanding concrete structures, banks and ditches of evaporation beds, and drainage structures, comprising most elements of both plants.

 

DESCRIPTION: now (2018) largely unmanaged woodland, the site is located approximately 1km east of Plumley village and 500m south of the A556, from which it is served by a road named Ascol Drive, named after the company which founded the factory. It is approximately 500 x 500m, thus occupying approximately 25ha. A railway line runs along the south side of the site, which originally had sidings running from this line. The majority of buildings and infrastructure are in the western part of the site.

 

The ammonia-soda works mostly comprises the tight group of buildings clustered around a main building approximately 75 x 52m, aligned roughly north-south. The northern edge of this group is approximately 80m to the south-east of the site entrance at the end of Ascol Drive. In addition the crystal plant, office and dressing rooms/canteen are approximately 40m to the north and north-east of the main plant while the repair shed and reservoir (approximately 40 x 5m) are approximately 80-100m to the south-west. Extensive remains of most of these structures survive in the woodland, primarily as concrete beds (some with holding-down bolts and arched passageways running through them), metal I beams or low brick structures, with some stone footings; many stand approximately 1m high, but some of the concrete structures are up to 4m high. The brine shaft stands approximately 300m to the east, topped by an L-shaped building footing approximately 11 x 7m and 1m high, with smaller buildings nearby. The lime waste forms a large kidney-shaped mound approximately 150 x 100m and 8-9m high immediately to the east of the crystal plant.

 

The calcium nitrate plant is largely sited to the east and south-east of the Ascol works, in an area approximately 150 x 100m, aligned roughly north-south. The layout of the five or six linear buildings annotated on the 1918 sketch plan can be recognised in the pattern of earth and concrete platforms, ditches and banks, and large concrete blocks up to 4.5m high with internal chambers and passageways. To the west the line of the former railway siding now forms a linear depression approximately 100m in length, with the large warehouse to its west at the southern end. The warehouse stands to its full height of approximately 15m.

 

EXTENT OF SCHEDULING: this is focused on the known surviving remains of the ammonia-soda and calcium nitrate plants including their railway sidings, ancillary buildings, waste tips and effluent ponds. The scheduled area is drawn to the local authority boundary in the south-west corner and follows the property boundary for most of the western and northern boundary. To the east the boundary follows the eastern edge of the path around the waste beds and the woodland boundary to the east of the effluent ponds, taking in an area of managed woodland at the south-east corner on the site of a former railway siding spur. The southern boundary follows the northern boundary of the railway line.

 

Stars are bright as I begin the drive up to Roan Highlands. The sky is dark yet clear, though the trek up Round Bald in the early morning is often cloudy, regardless of the surrounding area... I’m happy to see clouds skimming the bald as I start my hike at Carver’s Gap. At 5840 feet above sea level at the peak of Round Bald, those clouds are more of the nature of fog as I stride the trail, but they will be the palette for sunrise in the coming hour... or so I think.

 

My plan is to set up to shoot the distant cascading mountains through holes in colorful clouds... but by the time I reach the top, the clouds suddenly give way to a big blue sky. Just like that, the surroundings go from promising break of day to definite bust of day, and the bald is left nekkid and exposed to the coming morning. For those of you who do not know, “nekkid” is southern American terminology that needs some explanation... and I can think of no better elucidation than that of southern humorist Lewis Grizzard. He explains that the word “naked” means you don’t have any clothes on. “Nekkid” means you don’t have any clothes on and you’re up to something... sounds plausible to me.

 

If Round Bald is up to something here in all its nekkid glory, it’s just being up to its beautiful self, wonderful sunrise or not. Mostly just the long wavelengths of sunlight pop through when the sun's at the horizon like this... I decided to shoot low with a close focus on a bevy of bluets up front amongst the rocks and the sun rising through distant clouds in the background... it’s a bit different than my normal fare, but “different” can be good. And, if you look closely, there are blueberries and wild strawberries evident here, too. I'm going to have to come back. Now posted, it’s left to public scrutiny. I’m not afraid though.

 

I am afraid, however, of what recent storms throughout the U.S. have wrought recently. Powerful storms packing tornadoes have inflicted death, injury, and heavy property damage even here in North Carolina. The power of nature can be beautiful in our pictures, but it can also devastate entire communities, leaving folks absolutely overwhelmed and exposed in the face of such disaster. But you can help... please give what you can to Samaritan’s Purse www.samaritanspurse.org/ as they launch efforts to turn such trials into something beautiful.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jordan_Rift_Valley

 

The Jordan Rift Valley (Arabic: الغور‎ Al-Ghor or Al-Ghawr; Hebrew: בקעת הירדן‎ Bik'at HaYarden) is an elongated depression located in modern-day Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian territories. This geographic region includes the Jordan River, Jordan Valley, Hula Valley, Lake Tiberias and the Dead Sea, the lowest land elevation on Earth. The valley continues to the Red Sea, incorporating Arabah and the shorelines of the Gulf of Aqaba.

 

Origins and physical features

 

The Jordan Rift Valley was formed many millions of years ago in the Miocene epoch (23.8 - 5.3 Myr ago) when the Arabian tectonic plate moved northward and then eastward away from Africa. One million years later, the land between the Mediterranean and the Jordan Rift Valley rose so that the sea water stopped flooding the area.

The lowest point in the Jordan Rift Valley is at the shores of the Dead Sea, which is also the lowest point (on land) on the surface of the earth at 400 meters below sea level. Rising sharply to almost 1,000 meters in the west, and similarly in the east, the rift is a significant topographic feature over which few narrow paved roads and difficult mountain tracks lead.[1] The valley north of the Dead Sea has long been a site of agriculture because of water available from the Jordan River and numerous springs located on the valley's flanks.

  

The Dead Sea Transform

 

The plate boundary which extends through the valley is variously called the Dead Sea Transform or Dead Sea Rift. The boundary separates the Arabian plate from the African plate, connecting the divergent plate boundary in the Red Sea (the Red Sea Rift) to the East Anatolian Fault in Turkey.[2]

The interpretation of the tectonic regime that led to the development of the Dead Sea Transform is highly contested. Some consider it as a transform fault that accommodates a 105 km northwards displacement of the Arabian plate,[3] and trace its structural evolution to the early Miocene. Others presume that the Rift is an incipient oceanic spreading center, the northern extension of the Red Sea Rift,[4] and the displacement along it is oblique, with approximately 10–15 km of extension in addition to the more substantial left lateral (sinistral) strike-slip. The evolution of the rift, according to this latter model, started in the late Miocene with the linear series of basins that propagated gradually along their axes to form the present rift valley.[5] The elucidation of the nature of the Dead Sea Transform/Rift is a matter of ongoing study and discussion.

  

Population

The Jordanian population of the valley is over 85,000 people,[6] most of whom are farmers, and 80% of the farms in the Jordanian part of the valley are family farms no larger than 30 dunams (3 ha, 7.4 ac).[7]

Some 47,000 Palestinians live in the part of the valley that lies in the West Bank in about twenty permanent communities, most of them reside in the city of Jericho. Thousands of Bedouins also live in temporary communities.[8]

About 11,000 Israelis live in 17 kibbutzim that form part of the Emek HaYarden Regional Council in Israel,[9] while an additional 7,500 live in twenty-six Israeli settlements and five Nahal encampments that have been established in the part of the Jordan Valley that lies in the West Bank.[8][10]

Prior to the 1967 Six-Day War, the valley's Jordanian side was home to about 60,000 people largely engaged in agriculture and pastoralism.[6] By 1971, the population had declined to 5,000 as a result of the war and the 1970-71 conflict between the Palestinian guerrillas and the Jordanian armed forces.[6] Investments by the Jordanian government in the region allowed the population to rebound to over 85,000 by 1979.[6]

Since the end of the 1967 war, every Israeli government has considered the western Jordan Valley to be the eastern border of Israel with Jordan.[8] The 1994 peace treaty between Israel and Jordan defines the international border between the countries on the Jordan river in the center of the Jordan valley.

  

Agriculture

The Jordan River rises from several sources, mainly the Anti-Lebanon Mountains in Syria. It flows down into the Sea of Galilee, 212 meters below sea level, and then drains into the Dead Sea.[11] South of the Dead Sea, the Jordan Valley turns into the hot, dry Arabah valley.[11]

The Jordan Valley is several degrees warmer than adjacent areas, and its year-round agricultural climate, fertile soils and water supply made it a site for agriculture dating to about 10,000 years ago. By about 3000 BCE, produce from the valley was being exported to neighboring regions.[11] The area's fertile lands were chronicled in the Hebrew Bible, where it was the site of several miracles for the people of Israel, such as the Jordan River stopping its flow to allow the Jewish people, led by the Ark of the Covenant, to pass over. The Jordan River is revered by Christians as the place where John the Baptist baptized Jesus Christ.[11]

In the last few decades, modern methods of farming have vastly expanded the agricultural output of the area.[11] The construction of the East Ghor Canal by Jordan in 1950s (now known as the King Abdullah Canal), which runs down the east bank of the Jordan Valley for 69 kilometers, has brought new areas under irrigation.[11] The introduction of portable greenhouses has brought about a sevenfold increase in productivity, allowing Jordan to export large amounts of fruit and vegetables year-round.

  

Andy Warhol Kimiko: Ken C. Arnold Art Collection Andy Warhol

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopediaJump to:navigation, search

For the song by David Bowie, see Andy Warhol (song)

Andy Warhol

 

Warhol in 1977

Birth name Andrew Warhola

Born August 6, 1928(1928-08-06)

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, U.S.

Died February 22, 1987 (aged 58)

New York City, U.S.

Nationality American

Field Painting, Cinema

Training Carnegie Mellon University

Movement Pop art

Works Chelsea Girls (1966 film)

Exploding Plastic Inevitable (1966 event)

Campbell's Soup Cans (1962 painting)

 

Andrew Warhola (August 6, 1928 – February 22, 1987), known as Andy Warhol, was an American painter, printmaker, and filmmaker who was a leading figure in the visual art movement known as pop art. After a successful career as a commercial illustrator, Warhol became famous worldwide for his work as a painter, avant-garde filmmaker, record producer, author, and public figure known for his membership in wildly diverse social circles that included bohemian street people, distinguished intellectuals, Hollywood celebrities and wealthy patrons.

 

Warhol has been the subject of numerous retrospective exhibitions, books, and feature and documentary films. He coined the widely used expression "15 minutes of fame." In his hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, The Andy Warhol Museum exists in memory of his life and artwork.

 

The highest price ever paid for a Warhol painting is $100 million for a 1963 canvas titled Eight Elvises. The private transaction was reported in a 2009 article in The Economist, which described Warhol as the "bellwether of the art market." $100 million is a benchmark price that only Jackson Pollock, Pablo Picasso, Gustav Klimt and Willem de Kooning have achieved.[1]

 

Contents [hide]

1 Childhood

2 Early career

3 1960s

4 Attempted assassination

5 1970s

6 1980s

7 Sexuality

8 Religious beliefs

9 Death

10 Works

10.1 Paintings

10.2 Films

10.3 Factory in New York

10.4 Filmography

10.5 Music

10.6 Books and print

10.7 Other media

10.8 Producer and product

11 Dedicated museums

12 Movies about Warhol

12.1 Dramatic portrayals

12.2 Documentaries

13 See also

14 References

15 Further reading

16 External links

 

Childhood

 

Warhol's childhood home at 3252 Dawson Street in the South Oakland neighborhood of Pittsburgh, PennsylvaniaAndy Warhol was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.[2] He was the fourth child of Ondrej Warhola (died 1942)[3] and Julia (nee Zavacka, 1892-1972),[4] whose first child was born in their homeland and died before their migration to the U.S. His parents were working-class immigrants from Mikó (now called Miková), in northeastern Slovakia, then part of Austro-Hungarian Empire. Warhol's father immigrated to the US in 1914, and his mother joined him in 1921, after the death of Andy Warhol's grandparents. Warhol's father worked in a coal mine. The family lived at 55 Beelen Street and later at 3252 Dawson Street in the Oakland neighborhood of Pittsburgh.[5] The family was Byzantine Catholic and attended St. John Chrysostom Byzantine Catholic Church. Andy Warhol had two older brothers, Ján and Pavol, who were born in today's Slovakia. Pavol's son, James Warhola, became a successful children's book illustrator.

 

In third grade, Warhol had chorea, the nervous system disease that causes involuntary movements of the extremities, which is believed to be a complication of scarlet fever and causes skin pigmentation blotchiness.[6] He became a hypochondriac, developing a fear of hospitals and doctors. Often bed-ridden as a child, he became an outcast among his school-mates and bonded strongly with his mother.[7] At times when he was confined to bed, he drew, listened to the radio and collected pictures of movie stars around his bed. Warhol later described this period as very important in the development of his personality, skill-set and preferences. When Warhol was 13, his father died in an accident.[8]

 

Early career

Warhol showed early artistic talent and studied commercial art at the School of Fine Arts at Carnegie Institute of Technology in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (now Carnegie Mellon University).[9] In 1949, he moved to New York City and began a successful career in magazine illustration and advertising. During the 1950s, he gained fame for his whimsical ink drawings of shoe advertisements. These were done in a loose, blotted-ink style, and figured in some of his earliest showings at the Bodley Gallery in New York. With the concurrent rapid expansion of the record industry and the introduction of the vinyl record, Hi-Fi, and stereophonic recordings, RCA Records hired Warhol, along with another freelance artist, Sid Maurer, to design album covers and promotional materials.[10]

  

Campbell's Soup I (1968)1960s

His first one-man art-gallery exhibition as a fine artist[11][12] was on July 9, 1962, in the Ferus Gallery of Los Angeles. The exhibition marked the West Coast debut of pop art.[13] Andy Warhol's first New York solo Pop exhibit was hosted at Eleanor Ward's Stable Gallery November 6–24, 1962. The exhibit included the works Marilyn Diptych, 100 Soup Cans, 100 Coke Bottles and 100 Dollar Bills. At the Stable Gallery exhibit, the artist met for the first time John Giorno who would star in Warhol's first film, Sleep, in 1963.[citation needed]

 

It was during the 1960s that Warhol began to make paintings of iconic American products such as Campbell's Soup Cans and Coca-Cola bottles, as well as paintings of celebrities such as Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Troy Donahue, Muhammad Ali and Elizabeth Taylor. He founded "The Factory", his studio during these years, and gathered around himself a wide range of artists, writers, musicians, and underground celebrities. He began producing prints using the silkscreen method. His work became popular and controversial.

 

Among the imagery tackled by Warhol were dollar bills, celebrities and brand name products. He also used as imagery for his paintings newspaper headlines or photographs of mushroom clouds, electric chairs, and police dogs attacking civil rights protesters. Warhol also used Coca Cola bottles as subject matter for paintings. He had this to say about Coca Cola:

 

What's great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca Cola, and you know that the President drinks Coca Cola, Liz Taylor drinks Coca Cola, and just think, you can drink Coca Cola, too. A coke is a coke and no amount of money can get you a better coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the cokes are the same and all the cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it.[14]

New York's Museum of Modern Art hosted a Symposium on pop art in December 1962 during which artists like Warhol were attacked for "capitulating" to consumerism. Critics were scandalized by Warhol's open embrace of market culture. This symposium set the tone for Warhol's reception. Throughout the decade it became more and more clear that there had been a profound change in the culture of the art world, and that Warhol was at the center of that shift.[citation needed]

  

Campbell's Tomato Juice Box (1964)A pivotal event was the 1964 exhibit The American Supermarket, a show held in Paul Bianchini's Upper East Side gallery. The show was presented as a typical U.S. small supermarket environment, except that everything in it – from the produce, canned goods, meat, posters on the wall, etc. – was created by six prominent pop artists of the time, among them the controversial (and like-minded) Billy Apple, Mary Inman, and Robert Watts. Warhol's painting of a can of Campbell's soup cost $1,500 while each autographed can sold for $6. The exhibit was one of the first mass events that directly confronted the general public with both pop art and the perennial question of what art is (or of what is art and what is not).[citation needed]

 

As an advertisement illustrator in the 1950s, Warhol used assistants to increase his productivity. Collaboration would remain a defining (and controversial) aspect of his working methods throughout his career; in the 1960s, however, this was particularly true. One of the most important collaborators during this period was Gerard Malanga. Malanga assisted the artist with producing silkscreens, films, sculpture, and other works at "The Factory", Warhol's aluminum foil-and-silver-paint-lined studio on 47th Street (later moved to Broadway). Other members of Warhol's Factory crowd included Freddie Herko, Ondine, Ronald Tavel, Mary Woronov, Billy Name, and Brigid Berlin (from whom he apparently got the idea to tape-record his phone conversations).[15]

 

During the '60s, Warhol also groomed a retinue of bohemian eccentrics upon whom he bestowed the designation "Superstars", including Edie Sedgwick, Viva, Ultra Violet, and Candy Darling. These people all participated in the Factory films, and some – like Berlin – remained friends with Warhol until his death. Important figures in the New York underground art/cinema world, such as writer John Giorno and film-maker Jack Smith, also appear in Warhol films of the 1960s, revealing Warhol's connections to a diverse range of artistic scenes during this time.

 

Attempted assassination

On June 3, 1968, Valerie Solanas shot Warhol and art critic and curator Mario Amaya at Warhol's studio.[16] Before the shooting, Solanas had been a marginal figure in the Factory scene. She founded a "group" called S.C.U.M. (Society for Cutting Up Men) and authored the S.C.U.M. Manifesto, a separatist feminist attack on patriarchy. Over the years, Solanas' manifesto has found a following.[17] Solanas appears in the 1968 Warhol film I, A Man. Earlier on the day of the attack, Solanas had been turned away from the Factory after asking for the return of a script she had given to Warhol. The script, apparently, had been misplaced.[18]

 

Amaya received only minor injuries and was released from the hospital later the same day. Warhol however, was seriously wounded by the attack and barely survived (surgeons opened his chest and massaged his heart to help stimulate its movement again). He suffered physical effects for the rest of his life. The shooting had a profound effect on Warhol's life and art.[19][20]

 

Solanas was arrested the day after the assault. By way of explanation, she said that Warhol "had too much control over my life." She was eventually sentenced to three years under the control of the Department of Corrections. After the shooting, the Factory scene became much more tightly controlled, and for many this event brought the "Factory 60s" to an end.[20] The shooting was mostly overshadowed in the media due to the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy two days later.

 

Warhol had this to say about the attack: "Before I was shot, I always thought that I was more half-there than all-there – I always suspected that I was watching TV instead of living life. People sometimes say that the way things happen in movies is unreal, but actually it's the way things happen in life that's unreal. The movies make emotions look so strong and real, whereas when things really do happen to you, it's like watching television – you don't feel anything. Right when I was being shot and ever since, I knew that I was watching television. The channels switch, but it's all television." [21]

 

1970s

 

Andy Warhol and Jimmy Carter in 1977Compared to the success and scandal of Warhol's work in the 1960s, the 1970s proved a much quieter decade, as Warhol became more entrepreneurial. According to Bob Colacello, Warhol devoted much of his time to rounding up new, rich patrons for portrait commissions– including Shah of Iran Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, his wife Empress Farah Pahlavi, his sister Princess Ashraf Pahlavi, Mick Jagger, Liza Minnelli, John Lennon, Diana Ross, Brigitte Bardot, and Michael Jackson.[22][citation needed] Warhol's famous portrait of Chinese Communist leader Mao Zedong was created in 1973. He also founded, with Gerard Malanga, Interview magazine, and published The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (1975). An idea expressed in the book: "Making money is art, and working is art and good business is the best art."[cite this quote]

 

Warhol used to socialize at various nightspots in New York City, including Max's Kansas City; and, later in the '70s, Studio 54.[23] He was generally regarded as quiet, shy, and a meticulous observer. Art critic Robert Hughes called him "the white mole of Union Square."[24]

 

1980s

Warhol had a re-emergence of critical and financial success in the 1980s, partially due to his affiliation and friendships with a number of prolific younger artists, who were dominating the "bull market" of '80s New York art: Jean-Michel Basquiat, Julian Schnabel, David Salle and other so-called Neo-Expressionists, as well as members of the Transavantgarde movement in Europe, including Francesco Clemente and Enzo Cucchi.

 

By this period, Warhol was being criticized for becoming merely a "business artist".[25] In 1979, unfavorable reviews met his exhibits of portraits of 1970s personalities and celebrities, calling them superficial, facile and commercial, with no depth or indication of the significance of the subjects. This criticism was echoed for his 1980 exhibit of ten portraits at the Jewish Museum in New York, entitled Jewish Geniuses, which Warhol – who exhibited no interest in Judaism or matters of interest to Jews – had described in his diary as "They're going to sell."[25] In hindsight, however, some critics have come to view Warhol's superficiality and commerciality as "the most brilliant mirror of our times," contending that "Warhol had captured something irresistible about the zeitgeist of American culture in the 1970s."[25]

 

Warhol also had an appreciation for intense Hollywood glamour. He once said: "I love Los Angeles. I love Hollywood. They're so beautiful. Everything's plastic, but I love plastic. I want to be plastic."[26]

 

Sexuality

Warhol never married or had children.[27] Many people think of him as asexual and merely a "voyeur"; however, it is now well-established that he was homosexual (see biographers such as Victor Bockris, Bob Colacello,[28] and art historian Richard Meyer[29]). The question of his sexuality aside, Warhol stated in a 1980 interview that he was still a virgin.[30] The question of how Warhol's sexuality influenced his work and shaped his relationship to the art world is a major subject of scholarship on the artist, and is an issue that Warhol himself addressed in interviews, in conversation with his contemporaries, and in his publications (e.g. Popism: The Warhol Sixties).

 

Throughout his career, Warhol produced erotic photography and drawings of male nudes. Many of his most famous works (portraits of Liza Minnelli, Judy Garland, and Elizabeth Taylor, and films like Blow Job, My Hustler, and Lonesome Cowboys) draw from gay underground culture and/or openly explore the complexity of sexuality and desire. Many of his films premiered in gay porn theaters. That said, some stories about Warhol's development as an artist revolved around the obstacle his sexuality initially presented as he tried to launch his career. The first works that he submitted to a gallery in the pursuit of a career as an artist were homoerotic drawings of male nudes. They were rejected for being too openly gay.[31] In Popism, furthermore, the artist recalls a conversation with the film maker Emile de Antonio about the difficulty Warhol had being accepted socially by the then more famous (but closeted) gay artists Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg. De Antonio explained that Warhol was "too swish and that upsets them." In response to this, Warhol writes, "There was nothing I could say to that. It was all too true. So I decided I just wasn't going to care, because those were all the things that I didn't want to change anyway, that I didn't think I 'should' want to change... Other people could change their attitudes but not me".[32][33] In exploring Warhol's biography, many turn to this period – the late 1950s and early 1960s – as a key moment in the development of his persona. Some have suggested that his frequent refusal to comment on his work, to speak about himself (confining himself in interviews to responses like "Um, No" and "Um, Yes", and often allowing others to speak for him) – and even the evolution of his Pop style – can be traced to the years when Warhol was first dismissed by the inner circles of the New York art world.[34]

 

Religious beliefs

 

Images of Jesus from The Last Supper cycle (1986). Warhol made almost 100 variations on the theme, which the Guggenheim felt "indicates an almost obsessive investment in the subject matter."[35]Warhol was a practicing Byzantine Catholic. He regularly volunteered at homeless shelters in New York, particularly during the busier times of the year, and described himself as a religious person.[36] Several of Warhol's later works depicted religious subjects, including two series, Details of Renaissance Paintings (1984) and The Last Supper (1986). In addition, a body of religious-themed works was found posthumously in his estate.[36]

 

During his life, Warhol regularly attended Mass, and the priest at Warhol's church, Saint Vincent's, said that the artist went there almost daily,[36] although he never took communion or made confession and sat or knelt in the pews at the back.".[30] The priest thought he was afraid of being recognized; Warhol said he was self-conscious about being seen in a Roman Catholic church crossing himself "in the Orthodox way" (right to left instead of the reverse).[30]

 

His art is noticeably influenced by the eastern Christian iconographic tradition which was so evident in his places of worship.[36]

 

Warhol's brother has described the artist as "really religious, but he didn't want people to know about that because [it was] private." Despite the private nature of his faith, in Warhol's eulogy John Richardson depicted it as devout: "To my certain knowledge, he was responsible for at least one conversion. He took considerable pride in financing his nephew's studies for the priesthood".[36]

 

Death

Warhol died in New York City at 6:32 a.m. on February 22, 1987. According to news reports, he had been making good recovery from a routine gallbladder surgery at New York Hospital before dying in his sleep from a sudden post-operative cardiac arrhythmia.[37] Prior to his diagnosis and operation, Warhol delayed having his recurring gallbladder problems checked, as he was afraid to enter hospitals and see doctors. His family sued the hospital for inadequate care, saying that the arrhythmia was caused by improper care and water intoxication.[38]

  

Warhol's grave at St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic CemeteryWarhol's body was taken back to Pittsburgh by his brothers for burial. The wake was at Thomas P. Kunsak Funeral Home and was an open-coffin ceremony. The coffin was a solid bronze casket with gold plated rails and white upholstery. Warhol was dressed in a black cashmere suit, a paisley tie, a platinum wig, and sunglasses. He was posed holding a small prayer book and a red rose. The funeral liturgy was held at the Holy Ghost Byzantine Catholic Church on Pittsburgh's North Side. The eulogy was given by Monsignor Peter Tay. Yoko Ono also made an appearance. The coffin was covered with white roses and asparagus ferns. After the liturgy, the coffin was driven to St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Cemetery in Bethel Park, a south suburb of Pittsburgh. At the grave, the priest said a brief prayer and sprinkled holy water on the casket. Before the coffin was lowered, Paige Powell dropped a copy of Interview magazine, an Interview t-shirt, and a bottle of the Estee Lauder perfume "Beautiful" into the grave. Warhol was buried next to his mother and father. Weeks later a memorial service was held in Manhattan for Warhol on April 1, 1987, at St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York.

 

Warhol's will dictated that his entire estate – with the exception of a few modest legacies to family members – would go to create a foundation dedicated to the "advancement of the visual arts". Warhol had so many possessions that it took Sotheby's nine days to auction his estate after his death; the auction grossed more than US$20 million. His total estate was worth considerably more, due in no small part to shrewd investments over the years.[citation needed]

 

In 1987, in accordance with Warhol's will, the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts was founded. The Foundation not only serves as the official Estate of Andy Warhol, but also has a mission "to foster innovative artistic expression and the creative process" and is "focused primarily on supporting work of a challenging and often experimental nature."[39]

 

The Artists Rights Society is the U.S. copyright representative for the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts for all Warhol works with the exception of Warhol film stills.[40] The U.S. copyright representative for Warhol film stills is the Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh.[41] Additionally, the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts has agreements in place for its image archive. All digital images of Warhol are exclusively managed by Corbis, while all transparency images of Warhol are managed by Art Resource.[42]

 

The Andy Warhol Foundation released its 20th Anniversary Annual Report as a three-volume set in 2007: Vol. I, 1987–2007; Vol. II, Grants & Exhibitions; and Vol. III, Legacy Program.[43] The Foundation remains one of the largest grant-giving organizations for the visual arts in the U.S.[44]

 

Works

Paintings

This section needs references that appear in reliable third-party publications. Primary sources or sources affiliated with the subject are generally not sufficient for a Wikipedia article. Please add more appropriate citations from reliable sources. (February 2009)

 

By the beginning of the 1960s, Warhol was a very successful commercial illustrator. His detailed and elegant drawings for I. Miller shoes were particularly popular. These illustrations consisted mainly of "blotted ink" drawings (or monoprints), a technique which he applied in much of his early art. Although many artists of this period worked in commercial art, most did so discreetly. Warhol was so successful, however, that his profile as an illustrator seemed to undermine his efforts to be taken seriously as an artist.

 

Pop Art was an experimental form that several artists were independently adopting; some of these pioneers, such as Roy Lichtenstein, would later become synonymous with the movement. Warhol, who would become famous as the "Pope of Pop", turned to this new style, where popular subjects could be part of the artist's palette. His early paintings show images taken from cartoons and advertisements, hand-painted with paint drips. Those drips emulated the style of successful abstract expressionists (such as Willem de Kooning). Warhol's first Pop Art paintings were displayed in April 1961, serving as the backdrop for New York Department Store Bronwit Teller's window display. This was the same stage his Pop Art contemporaries Jasper Johns, James Rosenquist and Robert Rauschenberg had also once graced.[45] Eventually, Warhol pared his image vocabulary down to the icon itself – to brand names, celebrities, dollar signs – and removed all traces of the artist's "hand" in the production of his paintings.

 

To him, part of defining a niche was defining his subject matter. Cartoons were already being used by Lichtenstein, typography by Jasper Johns, and so on; Warhol wanted a distinguishing subject. His friends suggested he should paint the things he loved the most. It was the gallerist Muriel Latow who came up with the ideas for both the soup cans and Warhol's dollar paintings. On 23 November 1961 Warhol wrote Latow a check for $50 which, according to the 2009 Warhol biography, Pop, The Genius of Warhol, was payment for coming up with the idea of the soup cans as subject matter.[46] For his first major exhibition Warhol painted his famous cans of Campbell's Soup, which he claimed to have had for lunch for most of his life. The work sold for $10,000 at an auction on November 17, 1971, at Sotheby's New York – a minimal amount for the artist whose paintings sell for over $6 million more recently.[47]

 

He loved celebrities, so he painted them as well. From these beginnings he developed his later style and subjects. Instead of working on a signature subject matter, as he started out to do, he worked more and more on a signature style, slowly eliminating the hand-made from the artistic process. Warhol frequently used silk-screening; his later drawings were traced from slide projections. At the height of his fame as a painter, Warhol had several assistants who produced his silk-screen multiples, following his directions to make different versions and variations.[48]

 

In 1979, Warhol was commissioned by BMW to paint a Group 4 race version of the then elite supercar BMW M1 for the fourth installment in the BMW Art Car Project. Unlike the three artists before him, Warhol declined the use of a small scale practice model, instead opting to immediately paint directly onto the full scale automobile. It was indicated that Warhol spent only a total of 23 minutes to paint the entire car.[49]

 

Warhol produced both comic and serious works; his subject could be a soup can or an electric chair. Warhol used the same techniques– silkscreens, reproduced serially, and often painted with bright colors – whether he painted celebrities, everyday objects, or images of suicide, car crashes, and disasters, as in the 1962–63 Death and Disaster series. The Death and Disaster paintings (such as Red Car Crash, Purple Jumping Man, and Orange Disaster) transform personal tragedies into public spectacles, and signal the use of images of disaster in the then evolving mass media.

 

The unifying element in Warhol's work is his deadpan Keatonesque style – artistically and personally affectless. This was mirrored by Warhol's own demeanor, as he often played "dumb" to the media, and refused to explain his work. The artist was famous for having said that all you need to know about him and his works is already there, "Just look at the surface of my paintings and films and me, and there I am. There's nothing behind it." [50]

 

His Rorschach inkblots are intended as pop comments on art and what art could be. His cow wallpaper (literally, wallpaper with a cow motif) and his oxidation paintings (canvases prepared with copper paint that was then oxidized with urine) are also noteworthy in this context. Equally noteworthy is the way these works – and their means of production – mirrored the atmosphere at Andy's New York "Factory". Biographer Bob Colacello provides some details on Andy's "piss paintings":

 

Victor... was Andy's ghost pisser on the Oxidations. He would come to the Factory to urinate on canvases that had already been primed with copper-based paint by Andy or Ronnie Cutrone, a second ghost pisser much appreciated by Andy, who said that the vitamin B that Ronnie took made a prettier color when the acid in the urine turned the copper green. Did Andy ever use his own urine? My diary shows that when he first began the series, in December 1977, he did, and there were many others: boys who'd come to lunch and drink too much wine, and find it funny or even flattering to be asked to help Andy 'paint.' Andy always had a little extra bounce in his walk as he led them to his studio...[51]

Warhol's first portrait of Basquiat (1982) is a black photosilkscreen over an oxidized copper "piss painting".

 

After many years of silkscreen, oxidation, photography, etc., Warhol returned to painting with a brush in hand in a series of over 50 large collaborative works done with Jean-Michel Basquiat between 1984 and 1986.[52][53] Despite negative criticism when these were first shown, Warhol called some of them "masterpieces," and they were influential for his later work.[54]

 

The influence of the large collaborations with Basquiat can be seen in Warhol's The Last Supper cycle, his last and possibly his largest series, seen by some as "arguably his greatest,"[55] but by others as “wishy-washy, religiose” and “spiritless."[56] It is also the largest series of religious-themed works by any U.S. artist.[55]

 

At the time of his death, Warhol was working on Cars, a series of paintings for Mercedes-Benz. [57]

 

Films

Warhol worked across a wide range of media – painting, photography, drawing, and sculpture. In addition, he was a highly prolific filmmaker. Between 1963 and 1968, he made more than 60 films [58], plus some 500 short black-and-white "screen test" portraits of Factory visitors.[59] One of his most famous films, Sleep, monitors poet John Giorno sleeping for six hours. The 35-minute film Blow Job is one continuous shot of the face of DeVeren Bookwalter supposedly receiving oral sex from filmmaker Willard Maas, although the camera never tilts down to see this. Another, Empire (1964), consists of eight hours of footage of the Empire State Building in New York City at dusk. The film Eat consists of a man eating a mushroom for 45 minutes. Warhol attended the 1962 premiere of the static composition by LaMonte Young called Trio for Strings and subsequently created his famous series of static films including Kiss, Eat, and Sleep (for which Young initially was commissioned to provide music). Uwe Husslein cites filmmaker Jonas Mekas, who accompanied Warhol to the Trio premiere, and who claims Warhol's static films were directly inspired by the performance.[60]

 

Batman Dracula is a 1964 film that was produced and directed by Warhol, without the permission of DC Comics. It was screened only at his art exhibits. A fan of the Batman series, Warhol's movie was an "homage" to the series, and is considered the first appearance of a blatantly campy Batman. The film was until recently thought to have been lost, until scenes from the picture were shown at some length in the 2006 documentary Jack Smith and the Destruction of Atlantis.

 

Warhol's 1965 film Vinyl is an adaptation of Anthony Burgess' popular dystopian novel A Clockwork Orange. Others record improvised encounters between Factory regulars such as Brigid Berlin, Viva, Edie Sedgwick, Candy Darling, Holly Woodlawn, Ondine, Nico, and Jackie Curtis. Legendary underground artist Jack Smith appears in the film Camp.

 

His most popular and critically successful film was Chelsea Girls (1966). The film was highly innovative in that it consisted of two 16 mm-films being projected simultaneously, with two different stories being shown in tandem. From the projection booth, the sound would be raised for one film to elucidate that "story" while it was lowered for the other. The multiplication of images evoked Warhol's seminal silk-screen works of the early 1960s.

 

Other important films include Bike Boy, My Hustler, and Lonesome Cowboys, a raunchy pseudo-western. These and other titles document gay underground and camp culture, and continue to feature prominently in scholarship about sexuality and art.[61][62] Blue Movie – a film in which Warhol superstar Viva makes love and fools around in bed with a man for 33 minutes of the film's playing-time – was Warhol's last film as director. The film was at the time scandalous for its frank approach to a sexual encounter. For many years Viva refused to allow it to be screened. It was publicly screened in New York in 2005 for the first time in over thirty years.

 

After his June 3, 1968, shooting, a reclusive Warhol relinquished his personal involvement in filmmaking. His acolyte and assistant director, Paul Morrissey, took over the film-making chores for the Factory collective, steering Warhol-branded cinema towards more mainstream, narrative-based, B-movie exploitation fare with Flesh, Trash, and Heat. All of these films, including the later Andy Warhol's Dracula and Andy Warhol's Frankenstein, were far more mainstream than anything Warhol as a director had attempted. These latter "Warhol" films starred Joe Dallesandro – more of a Morrissey star than a true Warhol superstar.

 

In the early '70s, most of the films directed by Warhol were pulled out of circulation by Warhol and the people around him who ran his business. After Warhol's death, the films were slowly restored by the Whitney Museum and are occasionally projected at museums and film festivals. Few of the Warhol-directed films are available on video or DVD.

 

Factory in New York

Factory: 1342 Lexington Avenue (the first Factory)

The Factory: 231 East 47th street 1963-1967 (the building no longer exists)

Factory: 33 Union Square 1967-1973 (Decker Building)

Factory: 860 Broadway (near 33 Union Square) 1973-1984 (the building has now been completely remodeled and was for a time (2000–2001) the headquarters of the dot-com consultancy Scient)

Factory: 22 East 33rd Street 1984-1987 (the building no longer exists)

Home: 1342 Lexington Avenue

Home: 57 East 66th street (Warhol's last home)

Last personal studio: 158 Madison Avenue

Filmography

Main article: Andy Warhol filmography

Music

In the mid 1960s, Warhol adopted the band the Velvet Underground, making them a crucial element of the Exploding Plastic Inevitable multimedia performance art show. Warhol, with Paul Morrissey, acted as the band's manager, introducing them to Nico (who would perform with the band at Warhol's request). In 1966 he "produced" their first album The Velvet Underground & Nico, as well as providing its album art. His actual participation in the album's production amounted to simply paying for the studio time. After the band's first album, Warhol and band leader Lou Reed started to disagree more about the direction the band should take, and their artistic friendship ended.[citation needed]

 

Warhol designed many album covers for various artists starting with the photographic cover of John Wallowitch's debut album, This Is John Wallowitch!!! (1964). He designed the cover art for the Rolling Stones albums Sticky Fingers (1971) and Love You Live (1977), and the John Cale albums The Academy In Peril (1972) and Honi Soit in 1981. In 1975, Warhol was commissioned to do several portraits of Mick Jagger, and in 1982 he designed the album cover for the Diana Ross album Silk Electric.[citation needed] One of his last works was a portrait of Aretha Franklin for the cover of her 1986 gold album Aretha, which was done in the style of the Reigning Queens series he had completed the year before.[63]

 

Warhol was also friendly with many recording artists, including Deborah Harry, Grace Jones, Diana Ross and John Lennon (with whom he posed for an infamous photograph[64]) - he designed the cover to Lennon's 1986 posthumously released Menlove Ave. Warhol also appeared as a bartender in The Cars' music video for their single "Hello Again", and Curiosity Killed The Cat's video for their "Misfit" single (both videos, and others, were produced by Warhol's video production company).[citation needed] Warhol featured in Grace Jones' music video for "I'm Not Perfect (But I'm Perfect for You)".

 

Warhol strongly influenced the New Wave/punk rock band Devo, as well as David Bowie. Bowie recorded a song called "Andy Warhol" for his 1971 album Hunky Dory. Lou Reed wrote the song "Andy's Chest", about Valerie Solanas, the woman who shot Warhol, in 1968. He recorded it with the Velvet Underground, but this version wasn't officially released until the VU album appeared in 1985. He recorded a new version for his 1972 solo album Transformer, produced by Bowie and Mick Ronson.[citation needed]

  

Cover of copy no. 18 of 25 Cats Name [sic] Sam and One Blue Pussy by Andy Warhol given in 1954 to Edgar de Evia and Robert Denning when the author was a guest in their home in the Rhinelander Mansion.[citation needed]Books and print

Beginning in the early 1950s, Warhol produced several unbound portfolios of his work.

 

The first of several bound self-published books by Warhol was 25 Cats Name Sam and One Blue Pussy, printed in 1954 by Seymour Berlin on Arches brand watermarked paper using his blotted line technique for the lithographs. The original edition was limited to 190 numbered, hand colored copies, using Dr. Martin's ink washes. Most of these were given by Warhol as gifts to clients and friends. Copy #4, inscribed "Jerry" on the front cover and given to Geraldine Stutz, was used for a facsimile printing in 1987[65] and the original was auctioned in May 2006 for US $35,000 by Doyle New York.[66]

 

Other self-published books by Warhol include:

 

A Gold Book

Wild Raspberries

Holy Cats

After gaining fame, Warhol "wrote" several books that were commercially published:

 

a, A Novel (1968, ISBN 0-8021-3553-6) is a literal transcription– containing spelling errors and phonetically written background noise and mumbling– of audio recordings of Ondine and several of Andy Warhol's friends hanging out at the Factory, talking, going out.[citation needed]

The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B & Back Again) (1975, ISBN 0-15-671720-4)– according to Pat Hackett's introduction to The Andy Warhol Diaries, Pat Hackett did the transcriptions and text for the book based on daily phone conversations, sometimes (when Warhol was traveling) using audio cassettes that Andy Warhol gave her. Said cassettes contained conversations with Brigid Berlin (also known as Brigid Polk) and former Interview magazine editor Bob Colacello.[citation needed]

Popism: The Warhol Sixties (1980, ISBN 0-15-672960-1), authored by Warhol and Pat Hackett is a retrospective view of the sixties and the role of Pop Art.

The Andy Warhol Diaries (1989, ISBN 0-446-39138-7), edited by Pat Hackett, is a diary dictated by Warhol to Hackett in daily phone conversations. Warhol started the diary to keep track of his expenses after being audited, although it soon evolved to include his personal and cultural observations.[67]

Warhol created the fashion magazine Interview that is still published today. The loopy title script on the cover is thought to be either his own handwriting or that of his mother, Julia Warhola, who would often do text work for his early commercial pieces.[68]

 

Other media

As stated, although Andy Warhol is most known for his paintings and films, he has authored works in many different media.

 

Drawing: Warhol started his career as a commercial illustrator, producing drawings in "blotted-ink" style for advertisements and magazine articles. Best known of these early works are his drawings of shoes. Some of his personal drawings were self-published in small booklets, such as Yum, Yum, Yum (about food), Ho, Ho, Ho (about Christmas) and (of course) Shoes, Shoes, Shoes. His most artistically acclaimed book of drawings is probably A Gold Book, compiled of sensitive drawings of young men. A Gold Book is so named because of the gold leaf that decorates its pages.[69]

Sculpture: Warhol's most famous sculpture is probably his Brillo Boxes, silkscreened ink on wood replicas of Brillo soap pad boxes (designed by James Harvey), part of a series of "grocery carton" sculptures that also included Heinz ketchup and Campbell's tomato juice cases.[70] Other famous works include the Silver Clouds– helium filled, silver mylar, pillow-shaped balloons. A Silver Cloud was included in the traveling exhibition Air Art (1968–69) curated by Willoughby Sharp. Clouds was also adapted by Warhol for avant-garde choreographer Merce Cunningham's dance piece RainForest (1968).[71]

Audio: At one point Warhol carried a portable recorder with him wherever he went, taping everything everybody said and did. He referred to this device as his "wife". Some of these tapes were the basis for his literary work. Another audio-work of Warhol's was his "Invisible Sculpture", a presentation in which burglar alarms would go off when entering the room. Warhol's cooperation with the musicians of The Velvet Underground was driven by an expressed desire to become a music producer.[citation needed]

Time Capsules: In 1973, Warhol began saving ephemera from his daily life– correspondence, newspapers, souvenirs, childhood objects, even used plane tickets and food– which was sealed in plain cardboard boxes dubbed Time Capsules. By the time of his death, the collection grew to include 600, individually dated "capsules". The boxes are now housed at the Andy Warhol Museum.[72]

Television: Andy Warhol dreamed of a television show that he wanted to call The Nothing Special, a special about his favorite subject: Nothing. Later in his career he did create two cable television shows, Andy Warhol's TV in 1982 and Andy Warhol's Fifteen Minutes (based on his famous "fifteen minutes of fame" quotation) for MTV in 1986. Besides his own shows he regularly made guest appearances on other programs, including The Love Boat wherein a Midwestern wife (Marion Ross) fears Andy Warhol will reveal to her husband (Tom Bosley, who starred alongside Ross in sitcom Happy Days) her secret past as a Warhol superstar named Marina del Rey. Warhol also produced a TV commercial for Schrafft's Restaurants in New York City, for an ice cream dessert appropriately titled the "Underground Sundae".[73]

Fashion: Warhol is quoted for having said: "I'd rather buy a dress and put it up on the wall, than put a painting, wouldn't you?"[cite this quote] One of his most well-known Superstars, Edie Sedgwick, aspired to be a fashion designer, and his good friend Halston was a famous one. Warhol's work in fashion includes silkscreened dresses, a short sub-career as a catwalk-model and books on fashion as well as paintings with fashion (shoes) as a subject.[citation needed]

Performance Art: Warhol and his friends staged theatrical multimedia happenings at parties and public venues, combining music, film, slide projections and even Gerard Malanga in an S&M outfit cracking a whip. The Exploding Plastic Inevitable in 1966 was the culmination of this area of his work.[74]

Theater: Andy Warhol's PORK opened on May 5, 1971 at LaMama theater in New York for a two week run and was brought to the Roundhouse in London for a longer run in August, 1971. Pork was based on tape-recorded conversations between Brigin Berlin and Andy during which Brigid would play for Andy tapes she had made of phone conversations between herself and her mother, socialite Honey Berlin. The play featured Jayne County as "Vulva" and Cherry Vanilla as "Amanda Pork".[citation needed] In 1974, Andy Warhol also produced the stage musical Man On The Moon, which was written by John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas.

Photography: To produce his silkscreens, Warhol made photographs or had them made by his friends and assistants. These pictures were mostly taken with a specific model of Polaroid camera that Polaroid kept in production especially for Warhol. This photographic approach to painting and his snapshot method of taking pictures has had a great effect on artistic photography. Warhol was an accomplished photographer, and took an enormous amount of photographs of Factory visitors, friends.[citation needed]

Computer: Warhol used Amiga computers to generate digital art, which he helped design and build with Amiga, Inc. He also displayed the difference between slow fill and fast fill on live TV with Debbie Harry as a model.[75] (video)

Producer and product

Warhol had assistance in producing his paintings. This is also true of his film-making and commercial enterprises.[citation needed]

 

He founded the gossip magazine Interview, a stage for celebrities he "endorsed" and a business staffed by his friends. He collaborated with others on all of his books (some of which were written with Pat Hackett.) He adopted the young painter Jean-Michel Basquiat, and the band The Velvet Underground, presenting them to the public as his latest interest, and collaborating with them. One might even say that he produced people (as in the Warholian "Superstar" and the Warholian portrait). He endorsed products, appeared in commercials, and made frequent celebrity guest appearances on television shows and in films (he appeared in everything from Love Boat to Saturday Night Live and the Richard Pryor movie, Dynamite Chicken).[citation needed]

 

In this respect Warhol was a fan of "Art Business" and "Business Art"– he, in fact, wrote about his interest in thinking about art as business in The Philosophy of Andy Warhol from A to B and Back Again.[citation needed]

 

Dedicated museums

Two museums are dedicated to Andy Warhol. The Andy Warhol Museum, one of the Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh, is located at 117 Sandusky Street in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It is the largest American art museum dedicated to a single artist, holding more than 12,000 works by the artist.[citation needed]

 

The other museum is the Andy Warhol Museum of Modern Art, established in 1991 by Andy's brother John Warhola, the Slovak Ministry of Culture, and the Warhol Foundation in New York. It is located in the small town of Medzilaborce, Slovakia. Andy's parents and his two brothers were born 15 kilometres away in the village of Miková. The museum houses several originals donated mainly by the Andy Warhol Foundation in New York and also personal items donated by Warhol's relatives.[citation needed]

 

Movies about Warhol

Dramatic portrayals

 

Warhol (right) with director Ulli Lommel on the set of 1979's Cocaine Cowboys, in which Warhol appeared as himselfIn 1979, Warhol appeared as himself in the film Cocaine Cowboys.[76]

 

After his passing, Warhol was portrayed by Crispin Glover in Oliver Stone's film The Doors (1991), by David Bowie in Basquiat, a film by Julian Schnabel, and by Jared Harris in the film I Shot Andy Warhol directed by Mary Harron (1996). Warhol appears as a character in Michael Daugherty's 1997 opera Jackie O. Actor Mark Bringleson makes a brief cameo as Warhol in Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997). Many films by avant-garde cineast Jonas Mekas have caught the moments of Andy's life. Sean Gregory Sullivan depicted Warhol in the 1998 film 54. Guy Pearce portrayed Warhol in the 2007 film, Factory Girl, about Edie Sedgwick's life.[77] Actor Greg Travis portrays Warhol in a brief scene from the 2009 film Watchmen.

 

Gus Van Sant was planning a version of Warhol's life with River Phoenix in the lead role just before Phoenix's death in 1993.[78]

 

Documentaries

The 2001 documentary, Absolut Warhola was produced by Polish director Stanislaw Mucha, featuring Warhol's parents' family and hometown in Slovakia.[79]

Andy Warhol: A Documentary Film is a reverential four-hour 2006 movie by Ric Burns.[80]

Andy Warhol: Double Denied is a 52 minute movie by lan Yentob about the difficulties in authenticating Warhol's work.[81]

Kimiko and John Powers (1916-99) began collecting Japanese art in 1960. Their collection started with the purchase of a unique pair of six-panel landscape screens by Kusumi Morikage and a hanging scroll titled Courtesan Blowing Soap Bubbles by Shiba Kokan. These pieces formed the basis of a grand collection of Japanese art from the fourth to mid-nineteenth centuries. The original emphasis for the collection was haboku (broken ink) paintings. Later, the focus shifted to Buddhist art, especially Zen painting, and literati painting of the eighteenth century. More than three hundred objects in the collection have been documented and published in Traditions of Japanese Art (1970) and Extraordinary Persons (portfolio of screen paintings, 1988; three volume set, 1999). In its Summer 2000 issue, ArtNews ranked Kimiko Powers among the top 200 collectors in the world. Kimiko was born in Tokyo, where she attended university. In 1963 she came to the United States and married John Powers. John's intense passion for art and life helped them make many friends in the modern art world. Together they built up an impressive collection of 1960s contemporary art featuring artists like Andy Warhol and Willem de Kooning. Kimiko now resides in Colorado and Japan and carries on John’s legacy and love of all art. A favorite quote of John’s was: “Nothing in the world is yours to keep / You may have but not hold / In the end you receive only that which you have given”

 

Myriad dreams of a timeless landscape, where we could always hold hope that the future would never come to sweep us away from the cornucopia of our rhapsodical existence. A sanctuary from the absence of light, elucidation upon all meaning. Stepping through from the ephemeral reality to be enveloped in wonder..... Mirare

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

 

a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jordan_Rift_Valley" rel="nofollow">en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jordan_Rift_Valley

 

The Jordan Rift Valley (Arabic: الغور‎ Al-Ghor or Al-Ghawr; Hebrew: בקעת הירדן‎ Bik'at HaYarden) is an elongated depression located in modern-day Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian territories. This geographic region includes the Jordan River, Jordan Valley, Hula Valley, Lake Tiberias and the Dead Sea, the lowest land elevation on Earth. The valley continues to the Red Sea, incorporating Arabah and the shorelines of the Gulf of Aqaba.

 

Origins and physical features

 

The Jordan Rift Valley was formed many millions of years ago in the Miocene epoch (23.8 - 5.3 Myr ago) when the Arabian tectonic plate moved northward and then eastward away from Africa. One million years later, the land between the Mediterranean and the Jordan Rift Valley rose so that the sea water stopped flooding the area.

The lowest point in the Jordan Rift Valley is at the shores of the Dead Sea, which is also the lowest point (on land) on the surface of the earth at 400 meters below sea level. Rising sharply to almost 1,000 meters in the west, and similarly in the east, the rift is a significant topographic feature over which few narrow paved roads and difficult mountain tracks lead.[1] The valley north of the Dead Sea has long been a site of agriculture because of water available from the Jordan River and numerous springs located on the valley's flanks.

  

The Dead Sea Transform

 

The plate boundary which extends through the valley is variously called the Dead Sea Transform or Dead Sea Rift. The boundary separates the Arabian plate from the African plate, connecting the divergent plate boundary in the Red Sea (the Red Sea Rift) to the East Anatolian Fault in Turkey.[2]

The interpretation of the tectonic regime that led to the development of the Dead Sea Transform is highly contested. Some consider it as a transform fault that accommodates a 105 km northwards displacement of the Arabian plate,[3] and trace its structural evolution to the early Miocene. Others presume that the Rift is an incipient oceanic spreading center, the northern extension of the Red Sea Rift,[4] and the displacement along it is oblique, with approximately 10–15 km of extension in addition to the more substantial left lateral (sinistral) strike-slip. The evolution of the rift, according to this latter model, started in the late Miocene with the linear series of basins that propagated gradually along their axes to form the present rift valley.[5] The elucidation of the nature of the Dead Sea Transform/Rift is a matter of ongoing study and discussion.

  

Population

The Jordanian population of the valley is over 85,000 people,[6] most of whom are farmers, and 80% of the farms in the Jordanian part of the valley are family farms no larger than 30 dunams (3 ha, 7.4 ac).[7]

Some 47,000 Palestinians live in the part of the valley that lies in the West Bank in about twenty permanent communities, most of them reside in the city of Jericho. Thousands of Bedouins also live in temporary communities.[8]

About 11,000 Israelis live in 17 kibbutzim that form part of the Emek HaYarden Regional Council in Israel,[9] while an additional 7,500 live in twenty-six Israeli settlements and five Nahal encampments that have been established in the part of the Jordan Valley that lies in the West Bank.[8][10]

Prior to the 1967 Six-Day War, the valley's Jordanian side was home to about 60,000 people largely engaged in agriculture and pastoralism.[6] By 1971, the population had declined to 5,000 as a result of the war and the 1970-71 conflict between the Palestinian guerrillas and the Jordanian armed forces.[6] Investments by the Jordanian government in the region allowed the population to rebound to over 85,000 by 1979.[6]

Since the end of the 1967 war, every Israeli government has considered the western Jordan Valley to be the eastern border of Israel with Jordan.[8] The 1994 peace treaty between Israel and Jordan defines the international border between the countries on the Jordan river in the center of the Jordan valley.

  

Agriculture

The Jordan River rises from several sources, mainly the Anti-Lebanon Mountains in Syria. It flows down into the Sea of Galilee, 212 meters below sea level, and then drains into the Dead Sea.[11] South of the Dead Sea, the Jordan Valley turns into the hot, dry Arabah valley.[11]

The Jordan Valley is several degrees warmer than adjacent areas, and its year-round agricultural climate, fertile soils and water supply made it a site for agriculture dating to about 10,000 years ago. By about 3000 BCE, produce from the valley was being exported to neighboring regions.[11] The area's fertile lands were chronicled in the Hebrew Bible, where it was the site of several miracles for the people of Israel, such as the Jordan River stopping its flow to allow the Jewish people, led by the Ark of the Covenant, to pass over. The Jordan River is revered by Christians as the place where John the Baptist baptized Jesus Christ.[11]

In the last few decades, modern methods of farming have vastly expanded the agricultural output of the area.[11] The construction of the East Ghor Canal by Jordan in 1950s (now known as the King Abdullah Canal), which runs down the east bank of the Jordan Valley for 69 kilometers, has brought new areas under irrigation.[11] The introduction of portable greenhouses has brought about a sevenfold increase in productivity, allowing Jordan to export large amounts of fruit and vegetables year-round.

  

Turn of a Friendly Card

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Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.

 

Act 1

I begin my tale in the present…

 

That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….

 

It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges

 

As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.

 

But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:

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I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.

I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.

 

I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.

He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.

 

It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.

The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.

 

I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.

 

I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.

 

As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.

 

Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing

I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..

 

I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.

Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.

 

So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.

But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.

 

I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.

 

I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.

 

The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.

 

And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..

 

With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.

 

When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”

 

So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.

 

Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.

 

Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.

*****

So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?

 

I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.

 

Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.

 

I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.

On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.

The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!

I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.

 

Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..

 

They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid

And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!

One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.

But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.

This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.

 

They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.

 

With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .

 

After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.

 

It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.

 

And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.

 

After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.

 

So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.

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Act 2

 

So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.

 

As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.

 

The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.

 

I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.

 

I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.

 

That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.

 

It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.

 

I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.

 

I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.

 

It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself

 

I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.

 

The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.

 

But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.

 

I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.

It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.

 

But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason

 

I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.

  

I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!

 

I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.

 

I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.

 

About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously

 

The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.

 

Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.

 

Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.

 

We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.

I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.

 

The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.

  

She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.

 

But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.

 

With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !

 

What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.

 

Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!

 

I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.

 

So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!

 

The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.

 

Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?

 

And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...

 

I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……

 

Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.

 

The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.

 

As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…

 

No honor amongst thieves…

What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,

What will you have it be?........

To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)

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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.

Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .

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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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DISCLAIMER

All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

 

The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.

 

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www.hundertwasser-haus.info/en/

 

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

 

Perdana Leadership Foundation was set up in 2003 with the aim of preserving, developing and disseminating materials by and on Malaysia's past Prime Ministers. Believing that past leadership can yield valuable insights for future development, the Foundation's objective is to increase awareness and appreciation of Malaysia's intellectual heritage.

 

Objectives of Perdana Leadership Foundation are:

- To research, document, disseminate and publicise the intellectual legacies of Malaysia's past prime ministers.

 

- To elucidate and illuminate the contribution of Malaysia's past Prime Ministers in the social, economic and political development of the nation.

- To create awareness of the development process of the nation and serve as a platform for future development.

- To be a resource centre of policies, strategies and initiatives that were adopted under Malaysia's various Prime Ministers which may be used and adapted as models for the development of other nations.

 

The Foundation's broader obejctive is to promote global understanding by providing a channel for scholars and thinkers to undertake research and idea-sharing for lasting, peaceful resolutions. The Foundation operates a physical and digital library, the Perdana Library which provides direct access to a wealth of information on Malaysia's past Prime Ministers. The Library collects, organises, preserves and disseminates materials by and about Malaysia's national leaders and events connected to them, and outlines the policies, strategies and initiatives they adopted. In line with the Foundation's objective of disseminating information on Malaysian leadership, these materials are digitised and are made available to the public through the Internet.

 

Source: www.perdana.org.my

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jordan_Rift_Valley

 

The Jordan Rift Valley (Arabic: الغور‎ Al-Ghor or Al-Ghawr; Hebrew: בקעת הירדן‎ Bik'at HaYarden) is an elongated depression located in modern-day Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian territories. This geographic region includes the Jordan River, Jordan Valley, Hula Valley, Lake Tiberias and the Dead Sea, the lowest land elevation on Earth. The valley continues to the Red Sea, incorporating Arabah and the shorelines of the Gulf of Aqaba.

 

Origins and physical features

 

The Jordan Rift Valley was formed many millions of years ago in the Miocene epoch (23.8 - 5.3 Myr ago) when the Arabian tectonic plate moved northward and then eastward away from Africa. One million years later, the land between the Mediterranean and the Jordan Rift Valley rose so that the sea water stopped flooding the area.

The lowest point in the Jordan Rift Valley is at the shores of the Dead Sea, which is also the lowest point (on land) on the surface of the earth at 400 meters below sea level. Rising sharply to almost 1,000 meters in the west, and similarly in the east, the rift is a significant topographic feature over which few narrow paved roads and difficult mountain tracks lead.[1] The valley north of the Dead Sea has long been a site of agriculture because of water available from the Jordan River and numerous springs located on the valley's flanks.

  

The Dead Sea Transform

 

The plate boundary which extends through the valley is variously called the Dead Sea Transform or Dead Sea Rift. The boundary separates the Arabian plate from the African plate, connecting the divergent plate boundary in the Red Sea (the Red Sea Rift) to the East Anatolian Fault in Turkey.[2]

The interpretation of the tectonic regime that led to the development of the Dead Sea Transform is highly contested. Some consider it as a transform fault that accommodates a 105 km northwards displacement of the Arabian plate,[3] and trace its structural evolution to the early Miocene. Others presume that the Rift is an incipient oceanic spreading center, the northern extension of the Red Sea Rift,[4] and the displacement along it is oblique, with approximately 10–15 km of extension in addition to the more substantial left lateral (sinistral) strike-slip. The evolution of the rift, according to this latter model, started in the late Miocene with the linear series of basins that propagated gradually along their axes to form the present rift valley.[5] The elucidation of the nature of the Dead Sea Transform/Rift is a matter of ongoing study and discussion.

  

Population

The Jordanian population of the valley is over 85,000 people,[6] most of whom are farmers, and 80% of the farms in the Jordanian part of the valley are family farms no larger than 30 dunams (3 ha, 7.4 ac).[7]

Some 47,000 Palestinians live in the part of the valley that lies in the West Bank in about twenty permanent communities, most of them reside in the city of Jericho. Thousands of Bedouins also live in temporary communities.[8]

About 11,000 Israelis live in 17 kibbutzim that form part of the Emek HaYarden Regional Council in Israel,[9] while an additional 7,500 live in twenty-six Israeli settlements and five Nahal encampments that have been established in the part of the Jordan Valley that lies in the West Bank.[8][10]

Prior to the 1967 Six-Day War, the valley's Jordanian side was home to about 60,000 people largely engaged in agriculture and pastoralism.[6] By 1971, the population had declined to 5,000 as a result of the war and the 1970-71 conflict between the Palestinian guerrillas and the Jordanian armed forces.[6] Investments by the Jordanian government in the region allowed the population to rebound to over 85,000 by 1979.[6]

Since the end of the 1967 war, every Israeli government has considered the western Jordan Valley to be the eastern border of Israel with Jordan.[8] The 1994 peace treaty between Israel and Jordan defines the international border between the countries on the Jordan river in the center of the Jordan valley.

  

Agriculture

The Jordan River rises from several sources, mainly the Anti-Lebanon Mountains in Syria. It flows down into the Sea of Galilee, 212 meters below sea level, and then drains into the Dead Sea.[11] South of the Dead Sea, the Jordan Valley turns into the hot, dry Arabah valley.[11]

The Jordan Valley is several degrees warmer than adjacent areas, and its year-round agricultural climate, fertile soils and water supply made it a site for agriculture dating to about 10,000 years ago. By about 3000 BCE, produce from the valley was being exported to neighboring regions.[11] The area's fertile lands were chronicled in the Hebrew Bible, where it was the site of several miracles for the people of Israel, such as the Jordan River stopping its flow to allow the Jewish people, led by the Ark of the Covenant, to pass over. The Jordan River is revered by Christians as the place where John the Baptist baptized Jesus Christ.[11]

In the last few decades, modern methods of farming have vastly expanded the agricultural output of the area.[11] The construction of the East Ghor Canal by Jordan in 1950s (now known as the King Abdullah Canal), which runs down the east bank of the Jordan Valley for 69 kilometers, has brought new areas under irrigation.[11] The introduction of portable greenhouses has brought about a sevenfold increase in productivity, allowing Jordan to export large amounts of fruit and vegetables year-round.

  

Sea Of Delirium.

 

Nespravodlivosť rozdelenie generujúce predpoklady špekulácie týkajúce sa vyhladzovania mimoriadnych rokov omyl vedúci degenerácia objednávky,

Profecías imperecederas importantes fortalezas valiosas minuciosidad vistas tiempo de inundación revistas anexas maneras liberadoras confidenciales,

Communiquer des informations sur la douane élucidation réponses terminer amusant parcourir les difficultés inébranlables données erronées déclarations détails brûlant,

Ψευδείς θλιβερές ιστορίες εκπληκτικές εκρηκτικές οργή σχηματικά βάθη βαρβαρικοί εχθροί δαίμονες άρρωστοι θάλασσοι σκοτεινές μάχες πάλης,

perspektīvas doom vājās iespējas asiņainas vecumā destruktīva lepnums fanātiķis apspiesta mēles bezkompromisa īpašības smagā airi gremdēšana apziņa,

予測可能な行動は鮮やかな動きに拍車をかける教授詩人漂流するゴキブリは神経の回りを洗い流す神経のビジョンを巡り深く消え去る.

Steve.D.Hammond.

www.hundertwasser-haus.info/en/

 

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

 

   

Dr. Eva Nogales is a structural biologist whose pioneering work in cryo-electron microscopy has revealed the intricate architecture of cellular machinery. Her research has provided groundbreaking insights into how macromolecules function, shaping our understanding of processes such as gene expression, cell division, and disease mechanisms.

 

I photographed Nogales on August 23, 2023, at Stanley Hall, where we made portraits in her office and laboratory. The setting was fitting for a scientist whose work bridges fundamental biology with cutting-edge imaging technology. Surrounded by molecular models and high-resolution electron micrographs, we discussed the evolution of structural biology and the technological advances that have allowed researchers to visualize biological processes at unprecedented detail.

 

Nogales is best known for her contributions to elucidating the structure of microtubules, the cytoskeletal components essential for cell division and intracellular transport. Her work has had profound implications for cancer research, as microtubules are key targets for chemotherapeutic drugs. By combining biophysics, computational analysis, and molecular biology, she has expanded the limits of what can be seen and understood at the molecular level.

 

Beyond her research, Nogales is a leader in the scientific community, advocating for diversity in STEM and mentoring the next generation of researchers. Her ability to communicate complex science with clarity and enthusiasm makes her a compelling presence, both in the lab and in broader discussions about the future of molecular biology.

 

With each new discovery, Nogales continues to push the boundaries of structural biology, demonstrating how visualizing life at the smallest scales can unlock answers to some of biology’s biggest questions.

La Primera Muralla

 

El pasado remoto de la ciudad ha ido retrotrayéndose a medida que se ha podido ir investigando, principalmente gracias a la arqueología, y ya sabemos que en este lugar hubo poblamiento en épocas prehistóricas. Sin embargo, comenzó a tener un mayor auge en época romana. No hubo de ser una gran ciudad pero si hay indicios de que, en aquella época y a partir del S.I antes de Cristo, la mitad oriental del actual recinto amurallado estuvo poblada.

 

¿Pero este núcleo contó con muralla defensiva? La aparición de algunos restos de muros en la Puerta de San Vicente y del Alcázar y la propia lógica de que se tratase de defender el enclave, hacen pensar en que sí. Por el contrario, es difícil considerar que la cerca que existió se eliminó a asimiló de tal forma que apenas se entrevea hoy en día. En este apartado se intenta dar luz sobre este oscuro período de la historia de la capital abulense.

 

Acerca del origen de la muralla de Ávila. Según la tradición, en la Edad Media fueron dos maestres de geometría, uno romano y uno francés, los que dirigieron la construcción de la muralla medieval que duró nueve años. Esta leyenda resulta poco verosímil. Hay que considerar que hubo una primera muralla más antigua y que se trata de un edificio “vivo”, con numerosas ampliaciones, reconstrucciones y reparaciones.

 

Es difícil elucubrar acerca de la primera muralla abulense, partiendo de que existió una anterior a la medieval. Sin embargo, si existen indicios de una cerca antigua, normalmente considerada como de datación romana. Con anterioridad, el actual emplazamiento de Ávila hubo de estar poblado: se han localizado muestras cerámicas en puntos dispersos de la actual ciudad como en el entorno de la Calle Cruz Vieja (al lado de la Catedral) o del Monasterio de Santo Tomás que indican, respectivamente, un poblamiento prehistórico durante el Calcolítico (III milenio a.C.) o la Edad del Bronce Final (1250-800 a.C.). Y es que el Valle de Amblés, en el que se localiza la ciudad, estuvo plagado de asentamientos de diferentes cronologías (desde el Paleolítico a la Edad de Hierro) y un altozano como el que sirve de asiento a la ciudad, no pudo pasar desapercibido.

  

The First Wall

 

The remote past of the city has been going back as it has been able to investigate, mainly thanks to archeology, and we already know that in this place there was settlement in prehistoric times. However, it began to have a greater boom in Roman times. It did not have to be a great city but there are indications that, at that time and from the 1st century BC, the eastern half of the current walled enclosure was populated.

 

But did this core have a defensive wall? The appearance of some remnants of walls in the Puerta de San Vicente and the Alcazar and the logic that was to defend the enclave, suggest that it is. On the contrary, it is difficult to consider that the fence that existed was removed to assimilated in such a way that it is barely seen today. This section attempts to shed light on this dark period in the history of the capital of Abuca.

 

About the origin of the wall of Ávila. According to tradition, in the Middle Ages it was two masters of geometry, one Roman and one French, who directed the construction of the medieval wall that lasted nine years. This legend is unlikely. It should be considered that there was a first older wall and that it is a "living" building, with numerous extensions, reconstructions and repairs.

 

It is difficult to elucidate about the first wall of the city, based on the fact that there was one before the medieval one. However, if there are indications of an ancient fence, normally considered as of Roman dating. Previously, the current site of Ávila had to be populated: ceramic samples have been located in scattered points of the current city as in the surroundings of the Old Cross Street (next to the Cathedral) or the Monastery of Santo Tomás that indicate, respectively, a prehistoric settlement during the Chalcolithic (III millennium BC) or the Final Bronze Age (1250-800 BC). And it is that the Amblés Valley, in which the city is located, was plagued with settlements of different chronologies (from the Paleolithic to the Iron Age) and a hill like the one that serves as a seat to the city, could not go unnoticed .

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

 

The eagles at the dam today were buffeted by high winds, leaving them less than anxious to dive for fish. After all, no eagle wants to take a swim in cold flowing water if it can be avoided. So I thought I'd post a photo from last weekend, when the conditions were a bit better and these beautiful birds did their best to put on a show.

There is no doubt that photography is all about light and how it interacts with a subject in a delicate dance to produce something esthetically engaging. Light, color, and gesture, have been touted as the three quintessential elements of a good photo by great photographers like Jay Maisel. These three components coalesce into a digital soup from which the boundaries of one may well supersede the limits of another. As photographers we value light, but should never underestimate the power of shadow. Yes, shadow can obscure, but it can also provide definition, strengthen emotion, and elucidate power in an image. The shadow of this eagle's talon is the supplemental spice that makes this image ever so slightly more delicious. It is the shadow that knows the true power, helping to define this magnificent raptor by means of the photographer's lens. #iLoveNature #iLoveWildlife #WildlifePhotography in #Maryland #Conowingo #BaldEagles #DrDADBooks #OneNation #WildlifeConservation

Turn of a Friendly Card

************************************************************

Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.

 

Act 1

I begin my tale in the present…

 

That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….

 

It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges

 

As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.

 

But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:

*******************

I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.

I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.

 

I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.

He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.

 

It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.

The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.

 

I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.

 

I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.

 

As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.

 

Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing

I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..

 

I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.

Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.

 

So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.

But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.

 

I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.

 

I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.

 

The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.

 

And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..

 

With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.

 

When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”

 

So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.

 

Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.

 

Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.

*****

So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?

 

I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.

 

Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.

 

I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.

On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.

The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!

I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.

 

Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..

 

They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid

And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!

One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.

But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.

This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.

 

They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.

 

With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .

 

After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.

 

It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.

 

And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.

 

After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.

 

So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.

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Act 2

 

So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.

 

As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.

 

The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.

 

I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.

 

I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.

 

That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.

 

It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.

 

I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.

 

I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.

 

It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself

 

I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.

 

The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.

 

But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.

 

I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.

It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.

 

But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason

 

I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.

  

I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!

 

I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.

 

I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.

 

About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously

 

The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.

 

Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.

 

Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.

 

We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.

I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.

 

The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.

  

She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.

 

But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.

 

With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !

 

What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.

 

Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!

 

I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.

 

So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!

 

The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.

 

Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?

 

And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...

 

I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……

 

Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.

 

The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.

 

As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…

 

No honor amongst thieves…

What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,

What will you have it be?........

To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)

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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.

Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .

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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

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This is another look at the raven I photographed January 1 (2022) and posted a few weeks ago. It and its mate are still patrolling the parking area at Yellowstone's Tower Junction where nearly everybody stops to use the restrooms or to dump their recycling. They are thriving on the combination of (illegal and ill-advised) food handouts from people and garbage picked from the bins. This was taken a week ago and the two of them were there again yesterday.

 

When I saw (but didn't manage to photograph) the two rapscallions together I realized this one, with its yellow leg band, was the larger, and therefore likely the male of the pair. The other one, whose colored leg band is blue, I'm guessing is the female.

 

The "film" on its eye is just the reflection of the glare off the snow. The object under the film is the large recycling bin it had just checked out for food.

 

Both of them have been fitted with GPS recorders-transmitters and sport antennas sticking out of their backs. They seem oblivious to their high tech equipment, with is used by the team led by John Marzluff and Mattias Loretto to document regional movements of these high-powered, intelligent birds and to better elucidate their roles in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.

When I first arrived the tide was so far out exposing the black mud flats of Deception Bay, however in a very short time it came racing in as it does anywhere in this Bay, just in time for the sky to cast its light and illumniate everything below.

 

For best detail view on Black Press "L"

www.hundertwasser-haus.info/en/

 

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

 

This bird appears to have some kind of anomalous growth on its forehead. I haven't found information suggesting this has anything to do with physiological changes during mating, so I wonder if any of you out there in the ether can elucidate.

آزاد دائرۃ المعارف، ویکیپیڈیا سے

 

’’ جنت‘‘ لفظی معنی ہر اس باغ کے ہیں جس کے درخت زمین کو چھپا لیں۔ کل بستان ذی شجر یستر باشجارہ الارض (راغب اصفہانی) ’’ الجنۃ‘‘ سے اصطلاح شرعی میں مراد وہ عظیم الشان باغ ہے جو بے شمار نعمتیں لیے ہوئے عالم آخرت میں نیک کاروں کے لیے مخصوص ہے اور آج نظروں سے مستور ہے، اس کا نام جنت یا تو اس لیے پڑا کہ وہ دنیا کے باغوں سے مشابہ ہے۔ گومشابہت بہت دور کی سہی۔ اور یا اس لیے کہ اس کی نعمتیں ابھی مستور ہیں۔ سمیت الجنۃ اما تشبیھا بالجنۃ فی الارض وان کان بینھما بون واما السترہ نعمھا عنا (راغب)[1] وہ باغ جس کے متعلق انبیا کی تعلیمات پرایمان لا کر نیک اور اچھے کام کرنے والوں کو خوشخبری دی گئی ہے۔ یہ ایسا حسین اور خوبصورت باغ ہے جس کی مثال کوئي نہیں یہ مقام مرنے کے بعد قیامت کے دن ان لوگوں کو ملے گا جنہوں نے دنیا میں ایمان لا کر نیک اور اچھے کام کیے ہیں۔ قرآن مجید نے جنت کی یہ تعریف کی ہے کہ اس میں نہریں بہتی ہوں گی۔ عالیشان عمارتیں ہوں گی،۔ خدمت کے لیے حور و غلمان ملیں گے۔ انسان کی تمام جائز خواہشیں پوری ہوں گی۔ اور لوگ امن اور چین سے ابدی زندگی بسر کریں گے۔

 

جنت کی نہروں میں زیادہ مشہور کوثر و سلسبیل ہیں۔ کہا جاتا ہے کہ ان میں جو پانی بہے گا وہ شہد اور دودھ ایسا ہوگا۔ اس کو شراب طہور ’’پینے کی پاکیزہ شے‘‘ کہا گیا ہے۔ قرآن میں نہروں کی تعداد کا کوئی ذکر نہیں۔ کوثر کے متعلق بعض علما کا خیال ہے کہ وہ نہر نہیں، حوض ہے۔ قیامت کے دن نیک لوگ رسول اللہ صلی اللہ علیہ و آلہ وسلم کے ہاتھوں کوثر کا پانی پئیں گے۔ اسی لیے حضور کو ساقی کوثر بھی کہتے ہیں۔ قرآن پاک میں ایک سورۃ کوثر بھی ہے۔ جنت کی اعلی ترین نعمت خدا کا دیدار بھی ہوگا۔ یہی وہ مقام ہے جہاں سے آدم و حوا کو آزمائش کے لیے نکالا گیا تھا۔

 

بہشت کے آٹھ درجے

1. دارلخلد، یہ عام لوگوں کے واسطے ہے،

2. دارالسلام، جو فقیروں اور صابروں کا مقام ہے،

3. دارالمقام، جو مالدار شکر گزاروں کا مقام ہے،

4. عدن، یہ عابدوں، زاہدوں، غازیوں، سخیوں اور اماموں کے واسطے ہے،

5. دار القرار، اس میں حافظ و عالم رہیں گے،

6. جنت النعیم، یہ شہدوں اور مؤذنوں کے لیے ہے،

7. جنت الماویٰ، جو شہدائے اکبر محسنین اور اولیاءکرام کا مقام ہے،

8. جنت الفردوس، جو نبیوں اور رسولوں اور علما عاملین کی جگہ ہے

 

التأويل من المصطلحات المختلف عليها في علوم الدين والقرآن عند المسلمين فمنهم من قال:يطلق في القرآن والسنة ويراد به التفسير، كما يراد به الحقيقة التي يؤول إليها الأمر أو الخبر.[1] تأويل الكلام هو الرجوع به إلى مراد المتكلم، وهو على قسمين: الأول: بيان مراد المتكلم، وهذا هو التفسير. الثاني: الموجود الذي يؤول إليه الكلام، أي ظهور المتكلم به إلى الواقع المحسوس.[2] وهناك من قال بأن التفسير غير التأويل مثل قول (الثعلبي):التفسير بيان وضع اللفظ إما حقيقة أو مجازاً، والتأويل تفسير باطن اللفظ

 

التأويل في اللغة هو الارجاع. أوّلَ الشئ أي أرجعه، وآل إليه الشئ أي رجع إليه [4]. إذن فكلمة (آل) (إيالاً) و(أيلولةً) و(مآلاً) تعني رجع وصار و(آل) عنه تعني ارتد. و(آل) على القوم تعني ولي عليهم فهم رعاياه ويرجعون اليه وهو مسئول عنهم. و(أوّل) الشئ إليه أرجعه، و(أوّل) الكلام يعني فسره... فكأن التأويل هو إرجاع للكلمة المرادة إلى أصل أبعد من المعنى الحرفي لها. أي أن التأويل إرجاع أبعد من إرجاع المفردة العادية، أو، قل، هو إرجاع ثنائي، أولا يتم إرجاع الكلمة إلى الذهن لمعرفة معناها، ثم يتم إرجاع المعنى إلى ما وراء المعنى المصطلح عليه للتوصل إلى (معنى المعنى)[5].

 

ولعله لا توجد كلمة في العربية أثارت جدلا بين الباحثين مثل كلمة تأويل. فهي الكلمة التي امتازت بفتح الأفق واكتشاف المثير والجديد، كما أنها هي نفسها التي أظهرت الطوائف الإسلامية باختلافها الموضوعي وغير الموضوعي الذي وصل حد الاقتتال، كما هي بذاتها التي أخرجت المدارس النقدية والفكرية والفنية المتميزة ودارت حولها أفكارها ومفاهيمها، وهي (هي) التي تثير جدلا واسعا الآن بين مفكري العصر الحديث، وهي (هي) التي عن طريقها يبلغ الأديب والفقيه ذروة غاياته.

 

ولمعرفة التأويل أكثر لا بد من التطرق لعدد من المصطلحات اللغوية التي تتبع لكلمة تأويل مثل (الدلالة) و(التفسير) و(اللغة).

يقول الإمام أبو جعفر محمد بن جرير الطبري في مقدمة تفسيره جامع البيان في تأويل آي القرآن:

تأويلقد قلنا فيما مضى من كتابنا هذا في وجوه تأويل القرآن، وأن تأويل جميع القرآن على أوجه ثلاثة:

أحدها لا سبيل إلى الوصول إليه، وهو الذي استأثر الله بعلمه، وحجب علمه عن جميع خلقه، وهو أوقات ما كان من آجال الأمور الحادثة، التي أخبر الله في كتابه أنها كائنة، مثل: وقت قيام الساعة، ووقت نزول عيسى ابن مريم، ووقت طلوع الشمس من مغربها، والنفخ في الصور، وما أشبه ذلك.

 

والوجه الثاني: ما خص الله بعلم تأويله نبيه صلى الله عليه وسلم دون سائر أمته، وهو ما فيه مما بعباده إلى علم تأويله الحاجة، فلا سبيل لهم إلى علم ذلك إلا ببيان الرسول صلى الله عليه وسلم لهم تأويله.

 

والثالث منها: ما كان علمه عند أهل اللسان الذي نزل به القرآن، وذلك علم تأويل عربيته وإعرابه، لا يوصل إلى علم ذلك إلا من قبلهم.

 

فإذ كان ذلك كذلك، فأحق المفسرين بإصابة الحق - في تأويل القرآن الذي إلى علم تأويله للعباد السبيل - أوضحهم حجة فيما تأول وفسر، مما كان تأويله إلى رسول الله صلى الله عليه وسلم دون سائر أمته من أخبار رسول الله صلى الله عليه وسلم الثابتة عنه: إما من جهة النقل المستفيض، فيما وجد فيه من ذلك عنه النقل المستفيض، وإما من جهة نقل العدول الأثبات، فيما لم يكن فيه عنه النقل المستفيض، أو من جهة الدلالة المنصوبة على صحته; وأصحهم برهانا - فيما ترجم وبين من ذلك - مما كان مدركا علمه من جهة اللسان: إما بالشواهد من أشعارهم السائرة، وإما من منطقهم ولغاتهم المستفيضة المعروفة، كائنا من كان ذلك المتأول والمفسر، بعد أن لا يكون خارجا تأويله وتفسيره ما تأول وفسر من ذلك، عن أقوال السلف من الصحابة والأئمة، والخلف من التابعين وعلماء الأمة

وتفسير الطبري من أكبر كتب التفسير، يقع في ثلاثين جزءاً، وهو مطبوع عدة طبعات. وهو تفسير شامل فسّر فيه الطبري القرآن الكريم آية آية، وكلمة كلمة. وهو يقسِّم السورة إلى مجموعات، تضم كل مجموعة آية أو أكثر، ويبدأ تفسير كل مجموعة بقوله: (القول في تأويل قوله تعالى...)، ثم يُبَيِّن المعنى في إيجاز بأسلوبه وعبارته، ثم يقول: (وبمثل الذي قلنا في تأويل الآية قال جماعة من أهل التأويل)، ويعقب ذلك مباشرة بقوله: (ذِكْر مَنْ قال ذلك) فيذكر الروايات المنقولة في الآية أو الكلمة التي يفسرها عن النبي Mohamed peace be upon him.svg أو مفسري الصحابة والتابعين وتابعيهم. وإذا كان هناك اختلاف في تفسير شيء من القرآن بين أهل التفسير فإنه يقول: (وقد اختلف أهل التأويل في تأويل قوله... فقال بعضهم... وقال آخرون)

 

إن التأويل (حركة) متصاعدة لا تتوقف فإذا توقفت تحتم وجود تجاوز زمكاني للنص لهذا فإن النص لا يعيش الا في ظل التأويل.. ومن هنا ظهرت في العصر الحديث حركات إسلامية (فردية)عديدة تبنت مفهوما جديدا للنص القرآني كما ظهر مفكرون أصحاب وجهات نظر مغايرة لمألوف التراث الإسلامي ولعل تاريخ هذه الحركة الفكرية الجديدة قد استهلت بالإمام محمد عبده الذي قاد هجمة شرسة على مؤسسة الدين الرسمية في البلاد (الأزهر) ومما قاله عن الأزهر (مكثت عشرة أعوام أنظف رأسي عن قاذوراته ولم أستطع).. ولعل هذه القطيعة العجيبة بين شيخ أزهري وبجدته[9] كان سببها الرئيس هي تأويلاته الحداثوية التي لاقت اعتراضا شرسا من اصحاب العمامات. يقاسم الشيخ محمد عبده ريادته الدكتور طه حسين الذي أحدث ثورة في عالم الفكر الديني ومن أشهر مظاهر ثورته كتابه (في الشعر الجاهلي) الذي رفض فيه ما نحل للشعراء الجاهليين من أشعار من قبل المفسرين وكتاب السيرة. وهناك أيضا محمد عمارة الذي تأثر بأفكار المعتزلة وحقق لهم الكثير من الكتب المهمة ومن أهم كتبه (التراث في ضوء العقل). وهناك الكاتب (علي حرب) الذي تناول أزمة الحداثة والفكر الإسلامي، وهناك أيضا الكاتبة فاطمة المرنيسي. وهناك أيضا الدكتور نصر حامد أبو زيد الذي كاد أن يكلفه تأويله حياته الزوجية ففر وزوجته إلى المهجر..

 

ولكن يمكننا أن نقول بأن أشهر دعاة التأويل في العصر الحديث وأهمهم هو الأستاذ محمود محمد طه وتأتي أهمية طه من أنه الوحيد من كل دعاة التجديد والتنوير الذي أصبغ على أفكاره صفة التنظيمية فانشأ جماعة الاخوان الجمهوريين التي انتشرت في السودان منذ منتصف القرن الماضي. كما أن طه قد امتاز بتأويله المترابط للنص الديني وربطه لذلك التأويل بالحياة العامة فهو رجل دين ينظر للحياة الحديثة من داخل الدين. ويتحدث عن رؤيته الحديثة في شأن الدولة وسياستها واقتصادها وحكمها من منظور تأويلي تجديدي لاقى استحسان العديدين في الاوساط التنويرية ولكنه أيضا قوبل باستهجان وغضب الكثيرين في الدوائر الدينية الرسمية مثل الأزهر ورابطة العالم الإسلامي

 

ar.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D8%AA%D8%A3%D9%88%D9%8A%D9%84

 

The term jannāt ʿadni ("Gardens of Eden" or "Gardens of Perpetual Residence" is used in the Qur'an for the destination of the righteous. There are several mentions of "the Garden" in the Qur'an (2:35, 7:19, 20:117), while the Garden of Eden, without the word ʿadn, is commonly the fourth layer of the Islamic heaven and not necessarily thought as the dwelling place of Adam. The Quran refers frequently over various Surah about the first abode of Adam and his wife, including surat Sad, which features 18 verses on the subject (38:71–88), surat al-Baqara, surat al-A'raf, and surat al-Hijr although sometimes without mentioning the location. The narrative mainly surrounds the resulting expulsion of Adam and Eve after they were tempted by Shaitan. Despite the Biblical account, the Quran mentions only one tree in Eden, the tree of immortality, which God specifically claimed it was forbidden to Adam and Eve. Some exegesis added an account, about Satan, disguised as a serpent to enter the Garden, repeatedly told Adam to eat from the tree, and eventually both Adam and Eve did so, resulting in disobeying God. These stories are also featured in the hadith collections, including al-Tabari.

  

An artists representation of "Muhammed's Paradise". A Persian miniature from The History of Mohammed, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.

The Paradise is described as surrounded by eight principal gates, each level generally being divided into a hundred degrees guarded by angels (in some traditions Ridwan). The highest level is known as firdaws (sometimes called Eden) or Illiyin. Entrants will be greeted by angels with salutations of peace or As-Salamu Alaykum. Furthermore, paradise is considered to be "as vast as the heavens and the earth".

 

In the Quran, "the Garden" is described with material delights, such as beautiful maidens, precious stones, delicious foods, and constantly flowing water—the latter especially appealing to the desert dwelling Arabs, who spend most of their life in arid lands. The Islamic texts describes life for its immortal inhabitants as: one that is happy—without hurt, sorrow, fear or shame—where every wish is fulfilled. Traditions relate that inhabitants will be of the same age (33 years), and of the same standing. Their life is one of bliss including wearing sumptuous robes, bracelets and perfumes as they partake in exquisite banquets served in priceless vessels by immortal youths (Houri), as they recline on couches inlaid with gold or precious stones.

 

According to Muslim belief, everything one longs for in this world will be there in Paradise.

 

They will eat delicious food and drink, and every bowl will have a new taste. They will take eructation which will digest the food and there will be perfumed sweating for the digestion of water. Inhabitants will rejoice in the company of their parents, spouses, and children (provided they were admitted to paradise)—conversing and recalling the past.

 

The food in Jannah never rotting and so delicious it will make any person on earth live without feeling hunger forever. The dwellings for inhabitants will be pleasant, with lofty gardens, shady valleys, fountains scented with camphor or ginger; rivers of water, milk, honey and Sharab-un-Tahoora (pure drink); delicious fruits of all seasons without thorns;

 

One day in paradise is considered equal to a thousand years on earth. Palaces are made from bricks of gold, silver, pearls, among other things. Traditions also note the presence of horses and camels of "dazzling whiteness", along with other creatures. Large trees whose shades are ever deepening, mountains made of musk, between which rivers flow in valleys of pearl and ruby.

 

The names of four rivers are Saihan (Syr Darya), Jaihan (Amu Darya), Furat (Euphrates) and Nil (Nile). Salsabil is the name of a spring that is the source of the rivers of Rahma (mercy) and Al-Kawthar (abundance). Sidrat al-Muntaha is a Lote tree that marks the end of the seventh heaven, the boundary where no creation can pass.[citation needed]

 

In spite of the goodly dwellings given to the inhabitants of paradise, the approval of God and nearness to him is considered greater. According to the Quran, God will bring the elect near to his throne (‘arsh), a day on which "some faces shall be shining in contemplating their Lord." The vision of God is regarded as the greatest of all rewards, surpassing all other joys. The true beauty of paradise is also understood as the joy of beholding God, the creator.

 

Besides the material notion of the paradise, those descriptions are also interpreted as allegories, explaining the state of joy people will get. For some theologicans, seeing God is not a question of sight, but of awareness of Gods presence. The Persian theologian Al-Ghazali said:

 

This life belongs to the world of earth and the world of visibility; the hereafter belongs to the world of transcendental and the world of beings. By this life I understand your state before death, by hereafter I understand your state after death ... However, it is impossible to explain the world of beings in this life by any other means than allegories.

 

Inhabitants of Jannah

According to the Quran, the basic criterion for salvation in the afterlife is the belief in the oneness of God (tawḥīd), Angels of God, revealed books of God, all messengers of God, as well as repentance to God, and doing good deeds. Though one must do good deeds and believe in God, salvation can only be attained through God's judgment.

 

Regarding salvation from hell, according to hadith literature, Muhammad said, “Surely a time will come over hell when its gates shall be blown by wind, there shall be none in it, and this shall be after they have remained therein for many years.” Still in the Hadith literature, Muhammad is reported to have said, "Allah will bring out people from the Fire and admit them into Paradise."Otherwise some hadiths indicate, that the majority of mankind will not access heaven.[21] According to Sunni Islam, a Muslim, even if condemned to hell, will eventually enter Heaven.

 

As in life there are many trials which one must face. This is also a condition individuals must encounter in order to enter Jannah.

 

Or do ye think that ye shall enter the Garden (of bliss) without such (trials) as came to those who passed away before you? They encountered suffering and adversity, and were so shaken in spirit that even the Messenger and those of faith who were with him cried: "When (will come) the help of Allah?" Ah! Verily, the help of Allah is (always) near!

 

— Qur'an, sura 2 (al-Baqarah), ayah 214

Did ye think that ye would enter Heaven without Allah testing those of you who fought hard (In His Cause) and remained steadfast?

 

— Qur'an, sura 3 (Al-i-Imran), ayah 142

Non-Muslims in Jannah

There are different opinions among scholars in regard whether Non-Muslims could enter Jannah. Some Muslims and Islamic scholars argued Surah 2:62 indicates Jannah is not exclusively for Muslims.

 

Indeed, those who believed and those who were Jews or Christians or Sabeans—those who believed in Allah and the Last Day and did righteousness—will have their reward with their Lord, and no fear will there be concerning them, nor will they grieve.2:62

 

On the other hand, other scholars hold this verse is abrogated by Surah 3:85 and just applied until the arrival of Muhammad. For example, before Jesus was born, Jewish will enter Jannah alike Christians, who lived before Muhammad enter Jannah, but every religious group needs to accept the newest prophet.

 

And whoever desires other than Islam as religion—never will it be accepted from him, and he, in the Hereafter, will be among the losers.3:85

 

Scholars like Ibn Arabi did not hold the first to be abrogated by the latter, since "Islam" in this context, does not apply to Islam as a religious tradition, but to "submission".Ghazali distinguished between the "saved" and "those who will attain success". Therefore, righteous Non-Muslims will neither enter hell nor Jannah, but will stay in Araf.

 

Further those, who regard Jannah as exclusively for Muslims argue, that Islam is the "completed" and "perfected" religion and it is necessary to believe in the whole teaching of God, the prophets and the angels that just can be done by a Muslim.

 

According to the Islamic theologican Süleyman Ateş, argues Muslims had made a mistake Jewish and Christians made before by claiming paradise being exclusive for Muslims. Further he states, that those who believes in God without associating any partners with Him, believes in the hereafter without any doubt and do good and useful deeds can enter paradise, conditions several religions offer. He also refers to the Quran 5:66 that there are good and bad people among any religion, and even not all Muslims may enter paradise.

 

Finally, most scholars agree that Non-Muslims who did not hear the message of Islam and Non-Muslims who died in childhood are eligible for Jannah as well:

 

… And We never punish until We have sent a Messenger (to give warning).17:15

 

Number of people who will enter Jannah

Several precise numbers are mentioned in the hadith literature regarding the extremely high standards required to qualify for Jannah. Initially, a select elite group of 70,000 people from the followers of Muhammad will enter Jannah without any accountability of their sins.

 

After the above group, only 1 out of 100 people from the rest of humanity (Muslim and Non-Muslim) would qualify for Jannah. It is understood that despite this small percentage, the actual number of people who would make it to Jannah would be higher, as Allah would forgive the sins of many people, allowing them to enter Jannah as well.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jannah

 

Esoteric interpretation of the Quran, taʾwīl (تأويل), is the allegorical interpretation of the Quran or the quest for its hidden, inner meanings. It was a synonym of conventional interpretation in its earliest use, but it came to mean a process of discerning its most fundamental understandings. Esoteric interpretations do not usually contradict the conventional (in this context called exoteric) interpretations; instead, they discuss the inner levels of meaning of the Quran.The words Ta'wil and Tafsir have been translated to mean explanation, elucidation, interpretation, and commentary; but from the end of the 8th century onwards, 'ta'wil' was commonly regarded as the esoteric or mystical interpretation of the Quran, while the conventional exegesis of the Quran was called "tafsir". The term batin refers to the inner or esoteric meaning of a sacred text, and zahir to the apparent or exoteric meaning.[3] Esoteric interpretations are found in Shia and Sunni interpretations of the Quran. A hadith which states that the Quran has an inner meaning, and that this inner meaning conceals a yet deeper inner meaning, and so on (up to seven successive levels of deeper meaning), has sometimes been used in support of this view.Scholars agree that some passages of the Quran leave certain ideas implied rather than stated and that, from the outset, the Quran cautions that some verses are literal in meaning, while others, named "mutashabihat", are metaphorical in meaning:"It is God who has sent down to you the book: In it are verses clear (muhkamat), they are the foundation of the book, others are unspecific (mutashabihat)."[6] (Quran 3:7)

Esoteric exegesis attempts to unveil the inner meaning of the Quran by moving beyond the apparent point of the verses and relating Quranic verses to the inner and the metaphysical dimensions of consciousness and existence. The exoteric aspect is the literal word, the law, and the material text of the Quran, and the esoteric aspect is the hidden meaning. Esoteric interpretations are more suggestive than declarative and are 'allusions' rather than 'explanations' and indicate possibilities as much as they demonstrate the insights of each writer. However the Qur'an says this about doing so (Sahih Int. Translation): "As for those in whose hearts is deviation [from truth], they will follow that of it which is unspecific, seeking discord and seeking an interpretation [suitable to them]. And no one knows its [true] interpretation except Allah. But those firm in knowledge say, "We believe in it. All [of it] is from our Lord." And no one will be reminded except those of understanding." (from verse 3:7) Only a few examples are given here. In 7:172, the Quran states:"And when Your Lord summoned the descendants of Adam, and made them testify about themselves. "Am I not your Lord?" They said, "Yes, we testify." Thus you cannot say on the Day of Resurrection we were unaware of this." According to the above verse, before the Creation, God called the future humanity out of the loins of the not-yet-created Adam and addressed them with the words: "Am I not your Lord?", and they answered: "Yes, we witness it". In Islam, this "primordial covenant" is the metahistorical foundation between God and humankind. The Quran first mentions an 'inner meaning' (ta'wil) in 18:65–82 in the story of Moses and Khidr, a mystical figure of the ancient Middle East who reluctantly accepts Moses as his traveling student. When Khidr performs strange acts, Moses questions him about them. Khidr gives him the 'inner explanation' (ta'wil) of his actions. Along the way, the esoteric being damages a boat belonging to poor people. Moses is so disturbed that he keeps protesting despite his agreement to keep silent. At the end of the journey, Khidr tells Moses the reasons for his inexplicable actions: "As for the ship, it belonged to poor people working at sea, so I intended to cause defect in it as there was after them a king who seized every ship by force."In 56:79, the Quran describes itself: "This is an honorable Quran, in a book hidden, which none can touch except the purified." In the exoteric sense, the Quran requires Muslims to perform ritual cleansing of their hands before touching it. Esoteric interpreters were of the opinion that the Quran implies that individuals with spiritual purity are able to grasp its meaning. Attar of Nishapur, a 12th-century mystical poet, gives a mystical interpretation of the Quranic story of the descent of Adam and Eve from Paradise to Earth. According to Attar, "the man whose mind and vision are ensnared by heaven's grace must forfeit that same grace, for only then can he direct his face To his true Lord." Occasionally, a verse may be interpreted in a sense very different from its conventional meaning. For example, Hamadani, in his book Tamheedat ('Preludes'), interprets 104:6–7 ("It is a fierce fire created by God, to penetrate into the hearts."), which conventionally refers to the punishment in hell, to be the passion of divine love. Hamadani interprets 14:48 ("On the Day when the earth is changed into another earth, and the heavens, and they will emerge before God"), which conventionally describes the Day of Judgment as a description of the moment of spiritual awakening or enlightenment. Sufis believe that Quran's initial letters (Muqatta'at) conceal mysteries that can not be fully expressed in words and should be understood as mystic experiences. In Sufi commentaries of the Quran, Sufism concepts are commonly related such as the hierarchical levels of realities in human experience (human, supra-sensible, and divine levels), the various states of consciousness such as passing away in God (fana) and subsisting through God (baqa), and the ideas concerning the six subtleties (lataif-e-sitta). A hadith attributed to Muhammad is essential in understanding the inward aspects of the Quran, and it is fundamental to Quranic exegesis:"The Quran possesses an external appearance and a hidden depth, an exoteric meaning and an esoteric meaning. This esoteric meaning in turn conceals an esoteric meaning so it goes on for seven esoteric meanings (seven depths of hidden depth)."There is a statement made by the Imam, Jafar Sadiq (d. 765 CE): "The book of God comprises four things: the statement set down, the allusions, the hidden meanings relating to the supra-sensible world, and the exalted spiritual doctrines. The literal statement is for the ordinary believers. The allusions are the concern of the elite. The hidden meanings pertain to the friends of God. The exalted spiritual doctrines are the province of the prophets."

 

Esoteric interpretations

The most important author of esoteric interpretation prior to the 11th century was Sulami (d. 1021 CE); without his work, most of the very early Sufi commentaries would not have been preserved. Sulami's major commentary was a book named haqaiq al-tafsir ("Truths of Exegesis"), a compilation of commentaries of earlier Sufis.

 

Sahl Tustari (d. 896) was among the most important mystics in the early formative period of Islamic mysticism. His commentary (tafsir al-Quran al-azim) was compiled later by his disciples and preserved, as a commentary on the Quran. Tustari's commentary does not comprise interpretations of every single verse, but there are comments on a selection of verses.

 

A spiritual commentary of the Quran is attributed to Jafar al-Sadiq (Tafsir Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq), but its authenticity remains suspect. It conveys a spurious textual tradition and has little reliable material, but the items cited on Jafar Sadiq's authority in Sulami's book appear to be based on identifiable chains of transmitters.

 

From the 11th century, several other works appear such as commentaries by Qushayri (d. 1074), Daylami (d. 1193), Shirazi (d. 1209), and Suhrawardi (d. 1234). These works include material from Sulami's books as well as the author's own contributions. Many works are written in Persian, such as the works of Maybudi (d. 1135) kashaf al-asrar ("the unveiling of the secrets").

 

Rumi (d. 1273) wrote a vast amount of mystical poetry in his book Mathnawi. Rumi makes heavy use of the Quran in his poetry, a feature that is sometimes omitted in translations of his work. Rumi's manner of incorporating Quranic verses into his poetry is notable in that he does not use them as prooftexts but intertwines Quranic verses with his poetry.

 

Simnani (d. 1336) wrote two influential works of esoteric exegesis on the Quran. He reconciled notions of God's manifestation through and in the physical world with the sentiments of Sunni Islam. Simnani was a prolific author, 154 titles are ascribed to him, of which at least 79 exist today.

 

Comprehensive Sufi commentaries appear in the 18th century such as the work of Ismail Hakki Bursevi (d. 1725). His work ruh al-Bayan ("The Spirit of Elucidation") is a voluminous exegesis. Written in Arabic, it combines the author's own ideas with those of his predecessors (notably, Ibn Arabi and Ghazali).

 

Shia Islam is a branch of Islam in which one finds some of the most esoteric interpretations on the nature of the Quran. Shia interpretations of the Quran concern mainly issues of authority where the concept of Imamat is paramount. In Twelver Shia Islam, there are mainly two theological schools: the Akhbari and the Ususli. The former school interprets the Quran mainly through reliance upon traditions (hadith) ascribed to the Imams. The latter school gives more power to independent reasoning and judgment (ijtihad). Ismaili interpretation shares common ground with Sufism. The method is called kashf, an "unveiling" to the heart of the interpreter, and it is dependent upon the master, the grace of God, and the spiritual capacity of the interpreter.

 

Validity of esoteric interpretations

There is almost no dispute among Muslims that the Quran has concealed meanings. However, not every esoteric interpretation of the Quran is necessarily valid. Some interpreters are known to have overplayed the allegorical aspects of the Quran by claiming privileged understanding of its contents and distorting its meaning.The authority of the person who extracts such meanings is also a matter of debate. Mainstream theologians were willing to accept the interpretations if certain conditions were met.

 

One of the most important criteria is that the interpretation should not conflict with the literal meaning of the Quran. Suyuti (d. 1505CE) believed that exegesis should be rigorous to avoid misunderstanding. Taftazani (d. 1390) believed that pure gnosis and perfection of faith can be achieved when the subtle allusions of the Quran are harmonized with the literal sense.

 

Kristin Zahra Sands, in the beginning of her introduction, asks questions:

 

How can one begin to say what God "meant" by His revelation?

How does one balance the desire to understand the meaning of the Quran with the realistic fear of reducing it to the merely human and individualistic?

How, most basically, is one best to approach the Quran to discover its richness and transforming possibilities?

According to Sands, Quranic interpretation is an endless task and is different for each individual. Also, the language and the type of discourse that are chosen in interpretation varies in each commentator.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Esoteric_interpretation_of_the_Quran

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

 

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

 

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today however, we are far from Cavendish Mews. We are not even in England as we follow Lettice, her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford Hughes, and her widowed future sister-in-law, Clementine (known preferably now by the more cosmopolitan Clemance) Pontefract on their adventures on their visit to Paris.

 

Old enough to be Lettice’s father, wealthy Sir John was until recently still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.

 

The trio have travelled to Paris so that Lettice may attend the ‘Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes’* which is highlighting and showcasing the new modern style of architecture and interior design known as Art Deco of which Lettice is an exponent. Now that Lettice has finished her commission for a feature wall at the Essex country retreat of the world famous British concert pianist Sylvia Fordyce, Lettice is moving on to her next project: a series of principal rooms in the Queen Anne’s Gate** home for Dolly Hatchett, the wife of Labour MP for Towers Hamlets*** Charles Hatchett, for whom she has done work before. Mrs. Hatchett wants a series of stylish formal rooms in which to entertain her husband’s and her own influential friends in style and elegance, and has given Lettice carte-blanche to decorate as she sees fit to provide the perfect interior for her. Lettice hopes to beat the vanguard of modernity and be a leader in the promotion of the sleek and uncluttered lines of the new Style Moderne**** which has arisen as a dynamic new movement at the exhibition.

 

We find ourselves in the Hotel du Collectionneur, a stylised Art Deco pavilion with a large central rounded bay designed by architect Pierre Patout***** within the grounds of Exposition des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes. For the first time at an international exposition, pieces of furniture are being displayed not as individual items but in rooms, similar to those in a home, where all the decor is coordinated. The works of the French furniture maker Émile-Jacques Ruhlmann****** are displayed around Lettice, Clemance and Sir John in rooms complete with paintings and fireplaces in the same modern style as the building itself. Joining hundreds of other Parisians and foreign visitors to the exhibition, the trio enter the pavilion where the appreciative voices of visitors in dozens of languages burble together in one vociferous cacophony beneath the ceilings of the Hotel du Collectionneur’s lofty ornamented plaster ceilings.

 

“Oh!” Lettice gasps as she steps into the room. “Clemance! John! Isn’t it glorious?”

 

She stops and takes stock as she admires her surrounds. Set up like a drawing room, the display interior is stripped back of excess ornamentation and furniture, allowing what choice pieces have been selected to grace the room to shine in their right, from the geometrically patterned lounge suite with its sleek, rounded shapes to the brightly hand painted ornaments placed artfully and sparingly on surfaces, to the amazing geometric wallpaper which requires no paintings to hang upon its surface for it is its own feature.

 

Sir John looks about him with a bored look, unimpressed by the geometric designs and sharp edges that he sees as he stifles a yawn, and remains silent.

 

“Quite glorious, Lettice my dear!” Clemance agrees with Lettice purringly as she admires the décor around her with an appreciative eye, her gaze alighting upon an elegant tea set, hand painted with bright interconnecting circles, set out on a low black japanned table between the sofa and an armchair.

 

“But?” Lettice turns and looks at the older woman who has a flicker of doubt in the eyes, asking her future sister-in-law to complete her thought.

 

“Well,” Clemance goes on. “I mean, I love it, Lettice my dear. It’s so… so sleek and stylish and frightfully modern.”

 

“But?” Lettice persists.

 

“Well, however much I like it, and I do my dear, I just don’t think I could bear to have a room so starkly furnished as this, and I should never want to give up all my pretty little bibelots*******.” She raises her gloved hand to her throat and worries the two strands of creamy pearls hanging there. “Could you really see the matrons of Mayfair or Holland Park, like me, sacrificing all their chintz and ornaments for this more streamlined look?”

 

Lettice considers what Clemance has said as she eyes the room’s details with a critical eye. In her mind, the room is just perfect, with its stripped back décor which reflects her own uncluttered and modern style at Cavendish Mews.

 

“As I said, I do like it, Lettice,” Clemance reiterates. “However, it would be too radical a change for me.”

 

“I do believe that under the correct stewardship, with the right patrons, that the Art Deco movement could take root in Great Britain, Clemance. Perhaps not quite in this form,” She looks around her again. “But perhaps in a slightly more subtle, and British way.”

 

Sir John snorts derisively at Lettice’s remark.

 

“Then I am afraid that I’m not your exponent, Lettice my dear.” Clemance apologises.

 

“I never expected you to be, Clemance.” Lettice replies, ignoring her fiancée’s snort. “You’ll forgive me for saying this, but you are not the audience I am trying to engage. It is the younger set, the likes of my friends Dickie and Margot Channon, or Minnie Palmerston.”

 

“Or perhaps more to the point, Dolly Hatchett, dare I hesitate to add?” Clemance asks.

 

“Exactly!” Lettice concurs. “They are the people who crave change, modernity and a new world. They are the ones who have yet to become attached to the styles created in the past and want to forge their own new look.”

 

“I must seem terribly irrelevant, Lettice my dear.” Clemance says with an apologetic lilt in her voice.

 

“Oh, not at all, Clemance!” Lettice assures her, linking her arm though her future sister-in-law’s and squeezing her hand comfortingly. “You were once at the vanguard of fashion, Clemance. How could you fail not to, living here in Paris, where new trends begin? However, for styles to evolve, it must be left in the hands of the next generation.”

 

“Yes, I read in the newspapers about the seismic changes afoot in our society at the hands of you Bright Young Things********. The days of influence for the likes of The Souls*********, The Coterie********** and people like me ceased with the first whistle of the Great War, just like the Cave of the Golden Calf***********. Now it is de rigueur for young people like you to dance until all hours at nightclubs and drink cocktails on the terrace at four. Only a lucky few like dear Sylvia have managed to transition successfully from the old to the new and remain in fashion.”

 

“Goodness knows what the Prince of Wales will do when he becomes our new King.” Sir John opines. “Probably fling every tradition out, along with the Georgian furniture, and fill Buck House with those ghastly, vulgar Americans he is so fond of, and debutantes will be presented to him over cocktails.”

 

“Perhaps the Establishment need a bit of a shake up.” Lettice addresses Sir John, but her remark receives a withering look. Turning her attentions back to Clemance, she goes on, “You’re not a washed up old rag, you know Clemance?”

 

“Oh, I feel like it some days, Lettice my dear.” Clemance admits. “I’m only glad that dear sweet little Josette,” She refers to her pet canary. “Doesn’t care whether I am in vogue or not.”

 

“Well, it was very good of you to accompany me to the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes, and to introduce me to some of your coterie of old Parisian friends whilst we are visiting the capital.” Lettice silently discounts Madeline Flanton, the glamorous silent film star actress employed at Cinégraphic************ who is also an old flame of Sir John’s, and a woman that judging by his subtle, yet not subtle enough for Lettice not to notice, overtures indicate, still has Sir John in her thrall in spite of the fact that she is much older than his usual conquests. “And of course, John too.” Lettice turns her attention back to her fiancée, who has been trailing the two women through the different pavilions, following in their chatty wake in relative silence for the most part, except when posed a question by either one of them.

 

Sir John stands out as English amongst the other European gentleman milling around the pavilion’s room, dressed in his smart and well-cut Jermyn Street************* tweed suit. There is a formality and stiffness to him as he leans on his silver topped walking cane. His handsome, older face with its pale patrician skin and maze of lines and wrinkles cannot help but betray his boredom as his eyes flit in a desultory manner over the furnishings, ornaments and papered walls around him. Unaware that he is being observed, he tries to stifle a yawn, muffling it behind his glove clad hand.

 

“Oh my dear Nettie,” Clemance remarks, using the nickname she coined that is only used by Sir John’s closest family, friends and confidants. “Is as much of a pretender as me.” She chuckles. “I know you met him at the Portland Gallery one night, but don’t let that fool you, Lettice my dear. He was only escorting Priscilla Carter out of a sense of duty, because her husband was otherwise engaged that evening.”

 

“Yes, so he intimated that night.”

 

“My brother, my dear Lettice, despite his pretences, is as much of an old fashioned traditionalist as me.”

 

“Don’t think I don’t know when I’m being spoken about, Clemmie,” Sir John says with a mirthful lilt as he suddenly frees himself of his statuesque stillness and turns his whole body towards Lettice and his sister with linked arms, and strides across the geometrically patterned Art Deco carpet woven in greens, Eau de Nil************** and blues. He smiles a weak smile as he reaches their side, and adds, “Or hear it, for that matter.” He gives Clemance a mock doleful gaze, his blue eyes glinting with the light cast by the Art Deco lamps suspended overhead.

 

“Sorry, Nettie darling!” Clemance apologises, blanching as she does.

 

Cocking a well-manicured eyebrow, Sir John remarks, “Discretion was never your strongest suit, dear Clemmie.”

 

“I was merely remarking that, like me, you are a traditionalist, Nettie, and in spite of your appearance there, you would not go in for the styles of Mr. Chilvers and the Portland Gallery, any more than you would be an exponent of the décor shown here.”

 

“I did buy Lettice the daub from the Portland Gallery by that fingerpainter that she liked so much as an engagement gift, dear Clemmie.” Sir John points out, turning to his fiancée for her agreement. “Oh! What’s his name again? Paolo something-or-other?”

 

“Picasso.” Lettice elucidates with a gentle smile directed at him. “Pablo Picasso.”

 

“I arrest my case!” Clemance says, waving her free right hand expansively at her brother. “He’s a traditionalist, through and through, in spite of his pretences decrying outherwise.”

 

“I never denied that I was, Clemmie. I have no time for all this modernity,” He gesticulates around him rather stiffly. “When the furnishings of the Georgian era still serve us just as well today as they did several centuries ago. I cannot see people in a century looking back with fondness upon this new modern style. There is no flair to it, no real craftsmanship.”

 

“Oh John!” Lettice gasps. “How can you say that when you are surrounded by such superb craftsmanship made by Monsieur Ruhlmann?”

 

“I just don’t believe it, Lettice my dear. And to counter your remark, Clemmie darling, I did agree that Lettice could hang the modernist daubs she favours around our Belgravia townhouse once we’re married, so long as she left my library, dressing room and study alone.”

 

“He did, Clemance.” Lettice agrees.

 

“My, my!” Clemance exclaims. “You are full of surprises today, Nettie darling! Such a concession, Lettice my dear! My brother must love you very deeply indeed, to agree to that.”

 

Although she doesn’t mean it to do so, Clemance’s words sting Lettice as they reach her ears. Lettice and Sir John have had numerous discussions in private about what their married life will look like. Sir John has made no illusions to a grand passion or deep romance with Lettice. His proposal of marriage is just that: a proposal, a business proposition, allowing him the opportunity to take an understanding wife and thus ensure the continuation of the venerated Nettleford-Hughes name with an heir, whilst carrying on with his usual string of expendable younger lovers as is his wont. Lettice in return gets to be the chatelaine of all the Nettleford-Hughes’ family properties throughout England, and perhaps more importantly is allowed freedoms unthinkable of most married women in her position: freedom to be independent, freedom to continue to run her interior design business and carry on its successes with the unwavering support of her husband. However, the longer their engagement goes on, the more Lettice yearns for what she had with her former intended, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke and Duchess of Walmsford. Theirs had been a happy and easy relationship, full of love and affection, until Selwyn’s mother, Lady Zinnia interfered and broke their understanding, as per her own scheming. There is none of that free and easy, natural love between Lettice and Sir John. He has admitted to being fond of her, but he has repeatedly said that she cannot ask, nor expect love like that from him. It is a preserve for his Gaiety Girls*************** and actresses, like Paula Young, who currently occupies his sumptuous bed.

 

“Of course I do, Clemmie!” Sir John winds his arm around Lettice and his long, elegant fingers, clad in grey morning gloves, squeeze Lettice’s upper right arm territorially.

 

Lettice cannot help but go stiff at his touch, not that he seems to notice as he smiles smugly at his sister, the confidence at being a wealthy male aristocrat oozing from his every pore as he stands at her side. The hollowness of the statement rings in Lettice’s ears, and she finds that keeping up the charade of the happy young bride-to-be is growing ever more difficult with each passing day.

 

“And have I not faithfully trailed you all morning, through pavilion after pavilion as you two prattle away nineteen to the dozen****************, oohing and aahing over this glass vase, or that?”

 

“True,” Clemance agrees. “We cannot fault him for his attendance, even if it is a little distracted, can we Lettice my dear?”

 

“Indeed no.” Lettice replies a little hollowly, looking up at her fiancée.

 

“Then might I call upon your kindness, dear ladies, and be given your permission to withdraw, and leave you two unchaperoned, whilst I visit some old friends of mine here in Paris who invited me for luncheon? I suspect that neither of you will come to any harm here.”

 

“He’s bored with our company, evidently.” Clemance says with a cheeky wink at Lettice.

 

“No, I really have been invited to luncheon, Clemmie. Remember I told you about my previous engagement, Lettice my dear?” He looks meaningfully at his diminutive fiancée who suddenly seems frail and vulnerable. “We discussed this even before we left for Paris. You can join me later in the early evening for cocktails.”

 

“Yes, yes of course, John.” Lettice replies with false joviality, not giving away her own reality of inner turmoil. “I remember.”

 

How could Lettice forget the conversation she and Sir John had at the Savoy***************** when she first mentioned that she wanted to visit the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes in Paris. His counter proposal involved him attending the exhibition in the mornings, before slipping away and meeting up with Madeline Flanton in the afternoon. Determined not to lose face over this suggestion, Lettice suggested that perhaps she could meet Mademoiselle Flanton as well. Rather than balk at the idea, as she had in her heart-of-hearts hoped he might, Sir John warmed quickly to Lettice’s idea, suggesting that if they both went to Mademoiselle Flanton’s apartment for cocktails, the Parisian media wouldn’t question Sir John visiting her, and any whiff of scandal would thus be avoided. He suggested that after a few polite social cocktails with Mademoiselle Flanton, she and Sir John could escort Lettice out via the back entrance to her apartment into a waiting taxi to return her to the hotel that she, Sir John and Clemance have arranged to stay at, leaving Sir John to spend the rest of the night with Mademoiselle Flanton.

 

“Oh, let’s put Nettie out of his misery, shall we Lettice my dear?” Clemance laughs good naturedly, unaware of the truth behind her brother’s Parisian assignation. “Go then! Go join your racing friends at the Jockey Club de Paris******************, and discuss the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe******************* over whisky and cigars. Lettice and I would hardly want to join you even if we could, when we have all the distractions of the exposition to amuse us. You don’t mind, do you Lettice?”

 

Lettice stands silent for a moment, her pale blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she glances at her fiancée, who returns her look with a steely one of his own, full of serious, unspoken meaning.

 

“Lettice?” Clemance persists.

 

“No!” Lettice replies, shaking her head like she is trying to rid herself of an irritating insect buzzing about her head. She blinks back the tears quickly. “No, of course I don’t mind. As you say, John darling. I did know about this arrangement, and I should be ungrateful for your company this morning if I expected you to stay here with Clemance and I, rather than see your friends at the agreed time.”

 

“Thank you, Lettice my dear.” Sir John purrs, his broad smile oily with pleasure. “I knew I could rely upon your word. But I will see you this evening, as we agreed?”

 

“As we agreed.” Lettice acknowledges with a nod.

 

“Excellent!” Sir John beams, clasping the top of his walking stick just a bit more tightly. “I shall collect you from the hotel at five o’clock then, and we’ll go for cocktails?”

 

Lettice nods and smiles brightly, hoping that Clemance won’t notice the falseness in it.

 

“Oh, I do wish I could join you.” Clemance sighs heavily. “But I have plans to see Monsieur and Madame Dupin tonight.”

 

“Oh, that’s a pity Clemmie darling.” Sir John says, perhaps a little too brightly, but luckily his sister is so focussed upon her own plans that she doesn’t notice his gayety.

 

“Who are you two meeting for cocktails this evening?” Clemance continues.

 

“Oh, just Madeline Flanton and a few of her fellow actor friends from Cinégraphic.” Sir John replies nonchalantly.

 

“Again?” Clemance opines. “But you only saw her at the picnic we had in the Tuileries******************** the other day.”

 

“I know, but you remember how Madeline and I have always gotten along. We were chatting so much the other day, and we still didn’t fit in all that we wanted to say to one another. Besides, she was rather taken with Lettice.” He pulls Lettice a little more closely to him. “And would like to get to know her better.”

 

“Well, you must have made quite the impression on Mademoiselle Flanton, Lettice my dear!” Clemance enthuses. “With so many hangers-on wanting to ingratiate themselves to her, she is very select as to whom she befriends. Lucky you! There are few better placed in Paris to show you a wonderful evening, my dear. Mademoiselle Flanton knows all the very best and most glittering night spots and she can always secure one of the best tables at the popular restaurants with her famous moving picture presence.”

 

“Oh, it’s just an intimate evening, tonight.” Sir John assures his sister. “As I said, just her and a few of her fellow acting friends from the moving picture studio.”

 

“That’s how her evenings always begin.” Clemance laughs. “And well you know it!” She turns her attentions to Lettice. “I should wear something a little more smart and select than you would usually wear to cocktails, Lettice my dear.” she goes on sagely. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you ended up Buffet de la Gare de Lyon********************* or Romano’s**********************.”

 

“Thank you, Clemance.” Lettice replies a little awkwardly. “I’ll do that. I just hope that I have something to match Mademoiselle Flanton’s style.”

 

“You will Lettice my dear. You have such excellent taste. The Dupins and I are dining at Le Select*********************** in the sixth arrondissment tonight, and they have made the arrangements. It would be impolite of me if I were to withdraw now.”

 

“Montparnasse, Clemance.” Lettice remarks, anxious to switch the subject to where her future sister-in-law is dining. “How thrilling! All those artists, writers, and intellectuals, all gathered under the one roof.”

 

“Well, the Dupins are both intellectuals themselves, so however much I may be a little jealous of you enjoying the company of Mademoiselle Flanton and her coterie, I know that I will have a splendid evening of my own in their company.”

 

“Well ladies, if you’ll kindly excuse me,” Sir John interrupts Clemance politely. “The gentlemen of Jockey Club await.”

 

“Do try and keep out of trouble, Nettie darling.” Clemance warns him. “Please don’t turn up tight************************ when you pick Lettice up from the hotel and go on to Mademoiselle Flanton.”

 

“Always my fussing sister,” Sir John chuckles lightly as he leans across and places a firm kiss on Clemance’s right cheek. “I promise I won’t be led astray by any men.”

 

Lettice scoffs quietly, thinking of the fact that Sir John’s assurances to his unaware sister are true, since the whole idea of friends at the Jockey Club de Paris was concocted by Clemance from her own assumptions about him. Sir John simply played along, not contradicting her, and leaving off his real assignation. The truth of Sir John being led astray by a woman, namely Madeline Flanton before picking Lettice up for cocktails at five was highly more likely. In fact, if she were a betting woman, Lettice would say it was a certainty.

 

“Until later, Lettice my dear.” Sir John growls softly as he takes up her fiancée’s left hand in his and draws it to his lips and kisses it.

 

Lettice quickly withdraws her hand from Sir John’s touch, feeling a repugnance for him that she hasn’t felt since she saw him at her mother’s Hunt Ball back in 1922. Not only is he lying to his sister, but he is making Lettice an accomplice to his lie, and the idea of him bedding a woman like Madeline Flanton with her peroxided hair, heavily rouged lips and kohl************************ rimmed eyes makes her feel nauseous.

 

“Don’t be late, will you John?” she manages to say weakly.

 

“Have I ever been late to an engagement with you, Lettice my dear?” he queries in return.

 

Lettice shakes her head shallowly.

 

As the two women watch the diminishing sight of Sir John’s tweed covered back disappear into the milling crowd around them, Clemance remarks with a chuckle, “Well, Nettie seemed in rather a hurry to leave. Still, I don’t suppose I blame him. The Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes wouldn’t exactly be his first choice of haunts in Paris. Never mind, Lettice my dear,” She squeezes Lettice’s arm comfortingly and smiles happily at her. “We’ll have a better time without him trailing us like an unwilling dog on a walk.”

 

*International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts was a specialized exhibition held in Paris, from April the 29th (the day after it was inaugurated in a private ceremony by the President of France) to October the 25th, 1925. It was designed by the French government to highlight the new modern style of architecture, interior decoration, furniture, glass, jewellery and other decorative arts in Europe and throughout the world. Many ideas of the international avant-garde in the fields of architecture and applied arts were presented for the first time at the exposition. The event took place between the esplanade of Les Invalides and the entrances of the Grand Palais and Petit Palais, and on both banks of the Seine. There were fifteen thousand exhibitors from twenty different countries, and it was visited by sixteen million people during its seven-month run. The modern style presented at the exposition later became known as “Art Deco”, after the exposition's name.

 

**Queen Anne’s Gate is a street in Westminster, London. Many of the buildings are Grade I listed, known for their Queen Anne architecture. Simon Bradley and Nikolaus Pevsner described the Gate’s early Eighteenth Century houses as “the best of their kind in London.” The street’s proximity to the Palace of Westminster made it a popular residential area for politicians.

 

***The London constituency of Tower Hamlets includes such areas and historic towns as (roughly from west to east) Spitalfields, Whitechapel, Bethnal Green, Wapping, Shadwell, Mile End, Stepney, Limehouse, Old Ford, Bow, Bromley, Poplar, and the Isle of Dogs (with Millwall, the West India Docks, and Cubitt Town), making it a majority working class constituency in 1925 when this story is set. Tower Hamlets included some of the worst slums and societal issues of inequality and poverty in England at that time.

 

****"Style Moderne," often used interchangeably with "Streamline Moderne" or "Art Moderne," is a design style that emerged in the 1930s, characterized by aerodynamic forms, horizontal lines, and smooth, rounded surfaces, often inspired by transportation and industrial design. It represents a streamlined, less ornate version of Art Deco, emphasizing functionality and sleekness. It was first shown at the Paris International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts of 1925.

 

*****Pierre Patout was a French architect and interior designer, who was one of the major figures of the Art Deco movement, as well as a pioneer of Streamline Moderne design. His works included the design of the main entrance and the Pavilion d'un Collecteur at the International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts in Paris in 1925, and the interiors of the ocean liner Normandie and other French transatlantic liners in the 1930s.

 

******Émile-Jacques Ruhlmann was a French furniture designer and interior decorator, who was one of the most important figures in the Art Deco movement. His furniture featured sleek designs, expensive and exotic materials and extremely fine craftsmanship, and became a symbol of the luxury and modernity of Art Deco. It also produced a reaction from other designers and architects, such as Le Corbusier, who called for simpler, functional furniture.

 

*******A bibelot is a small decorative ornament or trinket.

 

********The Bright Young Things, or Bright Young People, was a nickname given by the tabloid press to a group of Bohemian young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London.

 

*********The Souls was a small loosely-knit but distinctive elite social and intellectual group in the United Kingdom from 1885 to the turn of the century. Many of the most distinguished British politicians and intellectuals of the time were members. The original group of Souls reached its zenith in the early 1890s and had faded out as a coherent clique by 1900.

 

**********The Coterie, often considered to be the second generation of The Souls, was a celebrated group of intellectuals, a mix of aristocrats, politicians and art-lovers, most of whom were killed in the First World War. There were children of The Souls among them, notably Lady Diana Manners, daughter of Violet Manners, Duchess of Rutland, Duff Cooper and Raymond Asquith, eldest son of Prime Minister H. H. Asquith, who was killed on the Somme.

 

***********The Cave of the Golden Calf was a night club in London. In existence for only two years immediately before the First World War, it epitomised decadence, and still inspires cultural events. Its name is a reference to the Golden Calf of the Biblical story, a symbol of impermissible worship. It opened in an underground location in the basements from 3 to 9 Heddon Street, near Regent Street, in 1912 and became a haunt for the wealthy and aristocratic classes, as well as bohemian artists in search of a European-style cabaret. Its creator Frida Strindberg set it up as an avant-garde and artistic venture. It introduced London to new concepts of nightlife and provided a solid model for future nightclubs.

 

************Cinégraphic was a French film production company founded by director Marcel L'Herbier in the 1920s. It was established following a disagreement between L'Herbier and the Gaumont Company, a major film distributor, over the film "Don Juan et Faust". Cinégraphic was involved in the production of several films, including "Don Juan et Faust" itself. Cinégraphic focused on more experimental and artistic films.

 

*************Jermyn Street is a one-way street in the St James's area of the City of Westminster in London. It is to the south of, parallel, and adjacent to Piccadilly. Jermyn Street is known as a street for high end gentlemen's clothing retailers and bespoke tailors in the West End.

 

**************Eau de Nil is a pale, greenish-blue color, often described as a light or pastel shade. It is a cool color with a tranquil quality, sometimes described as having a bluish cast with tan or yellowish undertones. The name, meaning "water of the Nile", reflects its origin in the shimmering, pale blue-green color of the River Nile. It was a particularly popular colour in the 1920s and 30s, and the name came about because of the Egyptomania that struck the world after Howard carter uncovered Tutankhamun’s tomb un the Valley of the Kings in 1922.

 

***************Gaiety Girls were the chorus girls in Edwardian musical comedies, beginning in the 1890s at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in the shows produced by George Edwardes.

 

****************We are all familiar with the phrase “ten to the dozen’” which means someone who talks fast. However, the original expression is actually “nineteen to the dozen”. Why nineteen, you ask? Many sources say we simply don’t know, but there are other sources that claim it goes back to the Cornish tin and copper mines, which regularly flooded. With advancements in steam technology, the hand pumps they used to pump out this water were replaced by beam engines that could pump 19,000 gallons of water out for every twelve bushels of coal burned (much more efficient than the hand pumps!)

 

*****************The Savoy Hotel is a luxury hotel located in the Strand in the City of Westminster in central London. Built by the impresario Richard D'Oyly Carte with profits from his Gilbert and Sullivan opera productions, it opened on 6 August 1889. It was the first in the Savoy group of hotels and restaurants owned by Carte's family for over a century. The Savoy was the first hotel in Britain to introduce electric lights throughout the building, electric lifts, bathrooms in most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. Carte hired César Ritz as manager and Auguste Escoffier as chef de cuisine; they established an unprecedented standard of quality in hotel service, entertainment and elegant dining, attracting royalty and other rich and powerful guests and diners. The hotel became Carte's most successful venture. Its bands, Savoy Orpheans and the Savoy Havana Band, became famous. Winston Churchill often took his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. The hotel is now managed by Fairmont Hotels and Resorts. It has been called "London's most famous hotel". It has two hundred and sixty seven guest rooms and panoramic views of the River Thames across Savoy Place and the Thames Embankment. The hotel is a Grade II listed building.

 

******************The Jockey Club de Paris is located at 2 rue Rabelais. It was (and still is) one of the most prestigious private clubs in Paris, known for its aristocratic and elite membership. The Jockey Club was originally organized as the "Society for the Encouragement of the Improvement of Horse Breeding in France", to provide a single authority for horse racing in the nation, beginning at Chantilly in 1834. It swiftly became the centre for the most sportifs or "sportsmen" gentlemen of le Tout-Paris. At the same time, when aristocrats and men of the haute bourgeoisie still formed the governing class, its Anglo-Gallic membership could not fail to give it some political colour: Napoleon III, who had passed some early exile in England, asserted that he had learned to govern an empire through "his intercourse with the calm, self-possessed men of the English turf". Between 1833 and 1860, the Jockey Club transformed the Champ de Mars into a racecourse, which has since been transferred to Longchamp. One front of the Café de la Paix is in rue Scribe, which ends at the façade of the Opéra Garnier. On the wall is a memorial plaque on the Hotel Scribe, at number 1, which records the former premises of the Jockey Club, which occupied luxurious quarters on the first floor from 1863 to 1913. On the ground floor beneath the Jockey Club was the fashionable Grand Café. There, on the 28th of December 1895, a stylish crowd in the Salon Indien attended the public début of the Lumière brothers' invention, the cinematograph.

 

*******************The Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe is a Group one flat horse race in France open to thoroughbreds aged three years or older. It is run at Longchamp Racecourse in Paris over a distance of 2,400 metres (one mile four furlongs). The race is scheduled to take place each year, usually on the first Sunday in October. Popularly referred to as the "Arc", it is the world's most prestigious all-aged horse race. Its roll of honour features many highly acclaimed horses, and its winners are often subsequently regarded as champions. It is currently the world's seventh-richest turf race and tenth-richest horse race on any surface. The Société d'Encouragement, a former governing body of French racing, had initially restricted its races to thoroughbreds born and bred in France. In 1863, it launched the Grand Prix de Paris, an event designed to bring together the best three-year-olds from any country. Thirty years later, it introduced the Prix du Conseil Municipal, an international race for the leading horses of different age groups. It was run over 2,400 metres in October, with weights determined by a horse's previous performances. The creation of a third such race was proposed at a committee meeting on 24 January 1920. The new event would complement the Grand Prix de Paris and serve as a showcase for French thoroughbred breeding. It would have similar characteristics to the Prix du Conseil Municipal, but each horse would compete on equal terms, unpenalised for previous victories. Coming in the wake of the First World War, it was decided that the race would be named after the Arc de Triomphe, a famous monument which had been the scene of a victory parade by the Allies in 1919. The chosen title had been previously assigned to a minor event at Longchamp. Another suggested title was the "Prix de la Victoire".

 

********************The Tuileries Garden is a public garden between the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde in the first arrondissement of Paris. Created by Catherine de' Medici as the garden of the Tuileries Palace in 1564, it was opened to the public in 1667 and became a public park after the French Revolution. Since the Nineteenth Century, it has been a place for Parisians to celebrate, meet, stroll and relax.

 

*********************Buffet de la Gare de Lyon – now known as Le Train Bleu ("The Blue Train") is a restaurant located in the hall of the Gare de Lyon railway station in Paris. The restaurant was originally created for the Exposition Universelle of 1900. Each ornate dining room is themed to represent cities and regions of France and they are decorated with forty-one paintings by some of the most popular artists of that time. Initially called "Buffet de la Gare de Lyon", it was renamed "Le Train Bleu" in 1963, after the famous train of the same name. The restaurant's food menu[1] is based on traditional French cuisine.

 

**********************Romano’s was a famous Parisian Restaurant in the Hotel de la Grand Bretagne that flourished in the Jazz Age of the 1920s. The Hotel de la Grand Bretagne at 14 Rue Caumartin might have been ever so slightly off the beaten track but the Rue Caumartin did become a major and thriving area in the 1920s. Romano’s was always listed in the French press as one of Les Grands Restaurants along with such salubrious places as Cafe de Paris, Le Boeuf Sur Le Toit and Ciro’s. Romano’s thrived during the 1920s with a classical concert under the baton of Leon Zighera at dinner, dancing to a jazz band from after dinner to midnight and the attractions of an American bar – that in 1925 was briefly called The Cecil. However, by 1930 listings of Romano’s cease to appear in the French press as its days as a destination restaurant came to an end. In 1938 the hotel and restaurant was bought by the Parisian luxury food company La Doulce. It intended to provide lunches, afternoon tea, dinner and dancing, but it is not clear if this in fact happened.

 

***********************Le Select is a historic Parisian cafe located in the Montparnasse district, known for its vibrant artistic and literary scene in the 1920s and beyond. It opened in 1923 and quickly became a popular gathering spot for artists, writers, and intellectuals. The cafe has maintained its classic Parisian ambiance and continues to be a beloved destination for both locals and tourists.

 

***********************To get tight is an old fashioned term used to describe getting drunk.

 

************************Kohl is a cosmetic product, specifically an eyeliner, traditionally made from crushed stibnite (antimony sulfide). Modern formulations often include galena (lead sulfide) or other pigments like charcoal. Kohl is known for its ability to darken the edges of the eyelids, creating a striking, eye-enhancing effect. Kohl has a long history, with ancient Egyptians using it to define their eyes and protect them from the sun and dust, however there was a resurgence in its use in the 1920s and 1930s. In the 1920s, kohl eyeliner was a popular makeup trend, particularly among women embracing the "flapper" aesthetic. It was used to create a dramatic, "smoky eye" look by smudging it onto the lash line and even the inner and outer corners of the eyes. This contrasted with the more demure, natural looks favoured in the pre-war era.

 

This beautifully appointed salon, decorated in the height of Art Deco modernity may appear real to you, but it is in fact made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The sofa and chair are beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The stylised Art Deco soft furnishings with their striking geometric patterns have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples.

 

The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace, and the hearth is in reality an antique green glazed tile from my collection of tiles. The electric Art Deco three bar heater would have been the height of luxury and modernity in 1925. Painted fashionable Eau-de-Nil, it comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

In the middle of the mantle is an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken. The Art Deco picture frame in blue Bakelite on the left of the clock comes from Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniatures store in the United Kingdom. It features a real photo, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.

 

The vase on the mantle and the Clarice Cliff style dancers to the left of the photograph are hand painted miniature artisan pieces, designed in the Art Deco style of the paintress’ designs. They were obtained from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop. Made of polymer clay that are moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements, the very realistic looking red and white tulips are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany.

 

The tea set in the foreground bears a pattern by the contemporary to Clarice Cliff, Susy Cooper, who was famous for her interconnecting and overlapping circles design. These were painted by hand by the English miniature ceramic artist, Rachael Munday, whose work is always of high quality and highly sought after my miniature collectors around the world.

 

The Geometrically patterned Art Deco carpet on the floor comes from a miniatures specialist store on E-Bay.

 

The stylised Art Deco wallpaper I printed myself from an original 1920s design.

La Casa Hundertwasser (en alemán: Hundertwasserhaus) sita en Kegelgasse 34-38 en el Landstraße (distrito nº 3 de Viena), es un complejo residencial municipal, construido entre 1983 y 1985.

El alcalde de Viena Leopold Gratz ofreció el proyecto a Friedensreich Hundertwasser para construir estas viviendas sociales en 1977.

Estructurado por Hundertwasser y planificado por el Arquitecto Joseph Krawina, combina pisos y fachadas ondulantes, aberturas irregulares, gran colorido y vegetación (250 árboles y arbustos). No se adapta a las normas y clichés convencionales de la arquitectura. Es un viaje por la tierra de la arquitectura creativa. Otros ejemplos de arquitectura no convencional son visibles en las obras de Antoni Gaudí, el Palais Idéal de Ferdinand Cheval, las Torres Watts y la anónima arquitectura de las Schrebergärten (huertas comunitarias alemanas), entre otras.

En el edificio se encuentran 52 viviendas, 4 locales de negocio, 16 terrazas privadas, un jardín de invierno, 3 azoteas comunitarias y 2 áreas de juegos infantiles.

La Hundertawasserhaus es hoy una visita obligada en Viena. Se pueden encontrar edificios análogos, labor de Hundertwasser junto con los arquitectos Peter Pelikan y Heinz M. Springmann en Bad Soden, Darmstadt (la Waldspirale), Fráncfort del Meno, Magdeburgo, Osaka, Plochingen, Wittenberg y las termas de Bad Blumau.

Por desgracia, poco después de la inauguración, la conversión a la utilidad práctica ha sido incompleta. Las tejas de la azotea comenzaron a reblandecerse, el uso de plantas ha generado gastos adicionales debido a sus raíces (especialmente después de que el maestro variara la posición durante la construcción), o los cristales de la fachada deben limpiarse mediante andamios y elevadores.

La arquitectura juguetona de Hundertwasser debe verse como una Fata Morgana (espejismo).

 

“Un pintor sueña con casas y una buena arquitectura, en la cual el hombre sea libre y se haga realidad este sueño”

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

 

es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

  

The Hundertwasserhaus is an apartment house in Vienna, Austria, built after the idea and concept of Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser with architect Joseph Krawina as a co-creator.

This expressionist landmark of Vienna is located in the Landstraße district on the corner of Kegelgasse and Löwengasse. The Hundertwasser House is one of Vienna's most visited buildings and has become part of Austria's cultural heritage.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser started out as a painter. Since the early 1950s, however, he increasingly became focused on architecture, writing and reading in public, advocating natural forms of decay. In 1972, he had his first architectural models made for the TV-show ‘Wünsch dir was', in order to demonstrate his ideas on forested roofs, "tree tenants" and the "window right" of every tenant to embellish the facade around his windows. In these models Hundertwasser also developed new architectural shapes, such as the "eye-slit" house and the "high-rise meadow house".

In lectures at academies and before architectural associations, Hundertwasser elucidated his concerns regarding an architecture in harmony with nature and man. Bruno Kreisky, the federal chancellor at the time, suggested in a letter dated November 30, 1977 to Leopold Gratz, the mayor of Vienna, that Hundertwasser be given the opportunity to realize his ideas in the field of architecture by allowing him to build a housing project, whereupon Leopold Gratz, in a letter of December 15, 1977, invited Hundertwasser to create an apartment building according to his own ideas.

 

To this end, architect Josef Krawina was invited to join the artist and to help him to put his ideas into practice.

In August and September 1979, architect Krawina presented to Hundertwasser his preliminary drawings and a Styrofoam model. Hundertwasser was shocked and rejected them as representing exactly the leveling, straight-lined modular grid against which he had consistently fought. As his model of the “Terrace House” for Eurovision showed, he had already conceptualized a quite different type of house.

In the end the house was built between 1983 and 1985 according to the ideas and concepts of Hundertwasser with architect Univ.-Prof. Joseph Krawina as a co-author and architect Peter Pelikan as a planner. It features undulating floors, a roof covered with earth and grass, and large trees growing from inside the rooms, with limbs extending from windows. Hundertwasser took no payment for the design of the house, declaring that it was worth it, to prevent something ugly from going up in its place.

Within the house there are 53 apartments, four offices, 16 private terraces and three communal terraces, and a total of 250 trees and bushes.

In 2001, twenty years after architect Krawina's exit from the project, the firm H.B. Medienvertriebsgesellschaft mbH under its business manager Harald Böhm encouraged architect Krawina to legally substantiate his claim as co-creator of the “Hundertwasser House.” On March 11, 2010, after eight years of litigation, Austria's Oberster Gerichtshof [Supreme Court of Justice] ruled Josef Krawina along with Friedensreich Hundertwasser, to be co-creators of the house with the effect that it is now forbidden for the Hundertwasser Non-Profit Foundation to disseminate any illustration or replica of the house without acknowledging Krawina as co-creator.

According to the ruling, Hundertwasser was the sole spiritual creator (German: Geistiger Schöpfer) of the building, however, Krawina must be recognized as a co-creator of equal standing and be paid an equal share in royalty receipts.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus