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The hangings are like a missed light on Lucifer's forehead, it's probably a pending question for a gargoyle game.... What is the deep understanding of the creature suspended on Freiburg Cathedral in Breisgau? Much rain fell and the question remained suspended to the scepticism of official historians? while a Green Serpent read JW Goethe and fed on the heart of this stone suspended above our consciences limited by many proud clouds. The gargoyles are used to evacuate the flow of three-dimensional logic. The layer of paint forgotten by the architects of the Spirit limited by the green moss that invades their sectarian thoughts.
Just after the Flood, at the dawn of the current cycle, an era that the Egyptians called ZEP TEPI, "The First Times", a mysterious group of "gods", appeared to introduce the survivors to the rudiments of civilization. From Thoth and Osiris in Egypt to Quetzacoatal and Viracocha in the Americas, traditions around the world are bringing the origins of contemporary civilization into this sophisticated group. The creatures hanging on the top are suffering a flood, they have been vomiting since the dawn of time, but unfortunately we have lost their flood of messages. The East has nourished this Rhine land for centuries, today we are in ethnocentric explanations.....
Despite the misleading popularity of Von Danikan journalism, evidence from around the world, indicates these people were the hi-tech survivors of the previous civilisation. Like the nuclear survival bunkers and secret research facilities of our civilisation, there were those who arose from the underground "cities of the Gods", after the dust settled. They were the "prediluvian patriarchs", like Enoch and Methuselah, the "giants and heroes of old", mentioned in Genesis.
The enigmatic gods ancient Summer, Egypt and India, all hail from the fabulous times before the Flood. Since the declassification of the new ground-penetrating radar 2 years ago, the most staggering data has emerged of complex and labyrinthine underground systems in various parts of the world. At places like Guatemala in the South Americas, tunnels have been mapped under the Mayan pyramid complex at Tikal, which extend a full 800 kilometres to the opposite side of the country. Investigators remarked, it was possible to understand how half a million Mayan Indians escaped the decimation of their culture.
In similar fashion, the SIRA radar was deployed in Egypt as early as 1978, mapping an extraordinary subterranean complex beneath the Egyptian pyramids. Arrangements made with President Sadat of Egypt, resulted in three decades of top secret excavations to penetrate the system. At a recent meeting in Australia, one of the key scientists on the Giza project, Dr. Jim Hurtak, showed film footage of work in progress called, CHAMBERS OF THE DEEP, due to be released at the end of the century. The film reveals the discovery of a vast megalithic metropolis, 15,000 years old, reaching several levels below the Giza plateau.
While the rest of the Nu-Age speculates about a hidden chamber under the left paw of the Sphinx, the legendary "City Of The Gods", lays sprawled beneath. Complete with hydraulic underground waterways, the film shows massive chambers, the proportions of our largest cathedrals, with enormous statues, the size of the Valley of the Nile, carved in-situ. Researchers, risking their lives with lights and cameras, carefully negotiated rubber dinghies across subterranean rivers and kilometer-wide lakes, to penetrate sealed chambers beyond. Already, remarkable caches of records and artifacts have been found. It is the legacy of a civilisation and a technology way beyond our own. A technology capable of creating a vast underground city, of which the sphinx and pyramids are merely the surface markers. The project scientist, Dr. Hurtak, likens it to the impact of contact with an advanced extraterrestrial culture. He described it as the discovery of the Fourth Root culture, the so-called Atlantean civilisation, destroyed by the last earth tumble. It presents unequivocal evidence that all languages, cultures and religions trace back to a single common source, which Dr. Hurtak refers to as the "Parent Civilisation".
The technology unearthed is way beyond machine technology, as we know it. As Arthur C. Clark once joked, "any technology beyond our own would seem like magic to us." According to Dr. Hurtak, this was a culture who cracked the genetic code and possessed the keys of the physical spectrum, the "Higher Light Physics" of the ancients... everything old Gilgamesh went searching for in his famous trek to the lost "City of the Gods" to search the tunnels beneath "Mt. Mashu" in the desert lands.
Hurtak refers to a "language of light" and a great priest-scientist of the previous time cycle, named ENOCH, who is associated with the building of the Great Pyramid complex. Hurtak alludes to a grand spiritual science, a science which describes a genetic stairway to the stars. The priest-scientist ENOCH, is a prediluvian patriarch, one of the most famous and seminal characters of the previous time cycle. Father of Methuselah and great grandfather of Noah, Enoch is credited in the Bible as architect of the original Zion, the legendary "City of Yahweh", as well as inventor of the alphabet and calendar. Enoch is also history's first astronaut, who "is taken aloft by the Lord" and shown "the secrets of earth and heaven". He returns to earth with the "weights and measures" for all humankind.
Known to the Egyptians as THOTH, the "Lord of Magic and Time" and to theGreeks as HERMES, "messenger of the gods", he is even remembered in the Celtic tradition as the enigmatic wizard Merlin, who disappears up an apple tree to mythic Avalon, seeking the secret of immortality and vowing to return. As one who attained immortality, the secret of how we "might become as gods", Thoth/Enoch promises to return at the end of time "with the keys to the gates of the sacred land."
In the controversial Dead Sea Scrolls, revealing the lost Books Of Enoch removed from the Bible by early religious leaders, Enoch describes a wondrous civilisation in the past, who misused the keys of higher knowledge and were unable to save themselves from the last cataclysm. Both literally and figuratively they lost the "keys", they lost all higher knowledge.Yet, Enoch, along with many traditions, even the Mayan legend of Quetzacoatal, promises a return of this knowledge at "The end of time", the end of the present time cycle.
Biblical Revelations promise "all will be revealed" at the end of the present world. The extraordinary discoveries in Egypt and other parts of the world, describe not just an advanced technology but, evolutionary path beyond our present state. Careful scientific examination of the world's key pyramid sites, reveal them to be sophisticated harmonic structures, not only mirroring positions of the planets and stellar systems but, designed to mimic the chakras and harmonic cavities of the human body. Even each stone within the Great Pyramid is harmonically tuned to a specific frequency or musical tone. The sarcophagus in the centre of the Great Pyramid is tuned to the frequency of the human heart beat. Astonishing experiments, conducted by Dr. Hurtak and colleagues at the Great Pyramid and other sites in the South Americas, demonstrate the pyramids to be voice-activated "geophysical computers."
Intoning specific ancient sounds, the scientific team produced visible standing waves of light, above and within the pyramids and were even able to penetrate, hitherto, inaccessible chambers. Subsequent discoveries indicate the ancient priest-scientists employed some sort of harmonic sound technology within the temple structures. The lost Enochian knowledge reveals the mother tongue as a "language of Light". Known to the ancients as HIBURU, it is the primal seed language, introduced at the beginning of this time cycle.
Modern research confirms, the most ancient form Hebrew to be a natural language, the alphabetic forms emerging from the phosphene flare patterns of the brain. The same shapes, in fact, born of a spinning vortex. It is a true language of light, coursing through our very nervous system. Encoding the natural waveform geometries of the physical world, Hiburu is a harmonic language, mimicking the waveform properties of light.
The "keys" Enoch speaks of, turn out to be sound keys, keys to be vibratory matrix of reality itself, the mythic "Power of the World". The Enochian knowledge describes sonic equations, encoded within the ancient mantras and god names, capable of directly affect the nervous system and producing profound effect of healing and higher consciousness states. As the ancient texts declare, "If you would speak with the gods you must first learn the language of the gods."
DNA, the ancient cabalistic "Tree Of Life" portrayed in the Biblical Torah, is now coming to be viewed as a live vibrating structure, rather than a fixed tape recording. Many modern scientists, regard DNA as a shimmering, waveform configuration, able to be modified by light, radiation, magnetic fields or sonic pulses. The legacy of Thoth/Enoch suggests this "language of Light", the harmonic science of the ancients, could actually affect DNA. The evidence in Egypt, indicates this was the grand 6,000 year genetic experiment attempted by the Egyptians, the quest for immortality and the stars, a quest described by the great ones of old, a quest initiated by Gilgamesh so very long ago.
The Egyptians were not fixated on the afterlife, as thought by early Christian translators but, focussed on creating a higher type of human. Along with many ancient cultures, they believed DNA came from the stars and was destined to return.The knowledge of Thoth/Enoch implies humans are meant to evolve beyond our present terrestrial form, as the Bible tells us, "we may become greater than angels".The Egyptians record stories of the "Star Walkers", occasional individuals who, like Enoch, travelled "beyond the Great Eye of Orion" and returned, to walk like gods amongst men.
Despite the bleaching of semi-divine beings from modern consciousness, could it be possible, as the ancient texts insist, we are destined to "become as gods"? are the Mayan "Lords of Light" and the Egyptian/Tibetan "Shining Ones" really a higher form of human? According to many earth legends, such beings are supposed to return regularly, at the beginning and end of each time cycle, the 13,000 year half-point of our solar system's 26,000 year zodiacal orbit around galaxy centre. Because of conditions on our galactic orbit, these 13,000 year intervals or "worlds", seem to be separated by cataclysmic upheaval. According to the "calendar in stone" of the Great Pyramid, which describes the so-called "Phoenix Cycle" of our galactic orbit, the present time period ends (converted to our present calendar) in the year 2012 AD.
The Greek word PHOENIX, derived from the Egyptian word, PA-HANOK, actually means, "The House of Enoch". The Enochian knowledge suggests, these regular cataclysmic changes act as an evolutionary agent provocateur, to quicken the resident life forms to the next evolutionary phase, prior to exodus from the womb planet. Human evolution may proceed more rapidly than previously thought. The evidence now appearing, records civilisations before us, who mastered the physical continuum and progressed beyond this world. There were also those who failed.
We, too, have equal opportunity to make it or break it.The discoveries emerging from Egypt, describe the existence of a world wide pyramid temple system in prehistory, mounted like antennae on the key energy meridians, which were employed by ancient priest-scientists as a musical system to stabilize the tectonic plates of the planet... cataclysmic geology at it's finest.
>From the mother tongue word JEDAIAH, meaning "the way of the Word" or "the power of the Word", the ancient JEDAI priests used the language of Light to tune the planet like a giant harmonic bell. Much is being rediscovered in the last days of this time cycle. In the words of Dr. Jay Franz, of the Omega Foundation, "even if we don't dare to name it, there is a universal feeling of something impending on the world stage
Each young Maasai warrior jump as high as he can while the others stand in a circle and sing. The voices of the men get higher as the jumping increases. In the Masai language, this dancing competition is called the "adumu".
Masai dances are very structured and are performed for certain occasions.
There are dances for celebration when a lion is killed by the warriors, a dance for the blessing of cattle, and dances performed at wedding. Most of the Masai dances are pretty simple, and consist of a lot of bending, but with the feet staying still on the ground.
The Massai live only on the Tanzania-Kenya border, along the Great Rift Valley on semi-arid and arid lands.They have been deported from their best traditional grazing lands, that are now known as the Maasai Mara National Reserve, the Amboseli National Park, and other protected forests.
The Maasai comprise 5 clans. They have reputation of fierce warriors. But they are traditionally seminomadic, and live off their cattle almost exclusively. The Maasai believe that all cattle belong to them and they are known to be cattle raiders. Cattle raiding used to be a common inter tribal activity. The livestock is a sign of wealth and is traditionally used to pay dowry for the wedding. Women are worth 10 cows. They consistently come from another village. Parents are the ones who negociate for the marriage. In the Maasai community, women construct the huts, collect firewood, bring water, milk the herds of cattle and cook for the family. Young boys look after the beasts while the warriors protect the clan. Older men take care of the daily operations in the community. The Maasai live in families in a Manyatta (a form of enclosed homestead), surrounded by a fence made of thorny bushes to protect them and their livestock from intruders and predators. Each Manyatta has about 10 to 20 huts known as "Inkajijik". These huts are made of tree branches, mud, grass and cow dung. If a man has more than one woman, he must build another house to welcome his second wife (to avoid rivalry). So a man who has 3 wifes must own 3 houses and therefore be rich. In the Maasai culture, the colorful ornaments are dedicated to their beauty, which is one of the most important aspects. Visual arts consist mainly of body decoration and beaded ornaments. These decorations are displayed in their dances, which are a popular art form. Women wear beaded necklaces and bangles, and men a red checked shuka (Maasai blanket). The warriors carry a spear and a ball-ended club, and paint their body with ochre. Maasai's diet includes meat, cow blood 2 times a week, and a lot of milk. The cows are bled by opening a vein in the neck with a blunt arrow or knife. The blood is then drunk on it’s own or with milk. The Maasai speak a Nilotic language, called Maa.
They believe in one God, Ngai (meaning "One Creator God"), the creator and giver of all things. They also believe in witchcraft. In each tribal group, there is a prophet who is seen as helping to cope with the endemic sorcery, by the means of protective medicines and advices for the rituals. In addition to the prophets, they also have diviners who are supposed to have the power to diagnose illnesses and causes of misfortune, and can prescribe a range of herbal medicines and ritual cures. Despite the fact that some members have moved to cities, many have kept their customs. The most distinctive feature of Maasai society is the age system for men, divided in sets and spaced apart by about fifteen years. Excision, as well as circoncision, is an initiatory ceremony that mark the passage to adulthood. Although excisions are prohibited in Kenya, it is widespread throughout the country, especially in rural areas. Only 4 ethnic groups (Luo, Luhya, Teso and Turkana) out of 42 don't practise it. According to the ethnies and regions, excisions vary considerably and range from 4.1% in the western region to 98.8% in the North-Est. They are common within the Somali (97%), Kisii (96%) and Maasai (93%) while they are less frequent among the Kikuyu (34%) and Kamba (27%). The kenyan law is rarely enforced and it sometimes lead this practice to clandestinity instead of slowing it down. For the 3 months of recovery period after excision, Maasai girls wear jewellery and chalk make-up, to show they must not be seen by men. Circumcision happens at the age of 18 in the Maasai tribes. Maasai woman are not allowed to attend the ceremony. Boys who show their pain with tears during the operation, are considered as cowards and bear this shame all his life. On the contrary, the ones who don't cry during circumcision are authorized to hunt colorful birds with their bow and arrows. Then they make a headdress indicating their new warrior's status. After the operation, boys go in their mother's hut to drink cow's fresh blood to recover their forces. The promotion of warriors to elderhood involve two distinct ceremonies. The 4 days eunoto ceremony raise the warriors to the senior warrior status. For this occasion, warriors gather in the same village. They are led by a ritual leader (olotuno). Each one of them has a part of his head shaved by his mother, which often makes them cry. It symbolizes the end of their freedom and of the bond with their mother. At the end of the ritual, the warrior can select any girl to marry. The olghesher ceremony promote them to senior elderhood thanks to which they have the power to bless and curse, and become protective leaders of the next new age-set.
During one of the ceremonies, maasai girls accompany their lover to the ceremonial dance. Pearl neacklaces and headbands follow the rhythm. This is the sole moment when girls can choose freely 3 lovers among the warriors.Traditionally, as long as the father was alive, no son has final control over his cattle nor over his choice in marriage. At marriage, the bride is allocated a herd of cattle, from which all her sons will build up herds of their own. In any case, women are raised to accept her submission to her future husband.
© Eric Lafforgue
Created for the Week 397 - Pelican
Pelican with thanks to ~colorblindpicaso
Boy~auroradreams
You can help the billions of animals across the world who suffer everyday, if you care enough ,
Please Like me @ Facebook
Around the end of June, young people from around the world (well, ok, mainly from Spain and Italy, it appears) descend on Oxford and gather in certain spots including Bonn Square (not sure what's so special about this square, but it's always a safe bet to find them there) I gather they come here to improve their English. Now, as October begins, they fly back to their winter quarters ...
I love this scene
I once tried to imitate her in a school performance. I wasn't too bad, though my makeshift gloves turned out to be really difficult to take off.
It's my birthday today! And in case anyone wonders, I'm 18. Not.
You can guess where I took this photo, but I think it too hard :) So I will tell you. This was taken under the stairs in the Budapest Opera and based on the language signs, this is where the tourist gather for their tour of the opera
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For more info on this and other my photos, and my HDR tutorial, please visit my daily photo blog at blog.hdrshooter.net
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Happy Valentine's Day!
The Rose speaks of Love silently, In a language known only to the heart. ~ Source Unknown
ONE OF THE WAY TO TRAIN THE "THE AWARENESS MUSCLE
is the critical run
and other emergency art format
CRITICAL RUN / Debate Format
Critical Run is an Art Format created by Thierry Geoffroy/Colonel
debate while running .
Debate and Run together,Now,before it is too late.
www.emergencyroomscanvas todo .org/criticalrun.html
The Art Format Critical Run has been activated in 30 differents countries with 120 different burning debates
New York,Cairo,London,Istanbul,Athens,Hanoi,Paris,Munich,Amsterdam Siberia,Copenhagen,Johanesburg,Moskow,Napoli,Sydney,
Wroclaw,Bruxelles,Rotterdam,Barcelona,Venice,Virginia,Stockholm,Århus,Kassel,Lyon,Trondheim, Berlin ,Toronto,Hannover ...
CRITICAL RUN happened on invitation from institution like Moma/PS1, Moderna Muset Stockholm ,Witte de With Rotterdam,ZKM Karlsruhe,Liverpool Biennale;Sprengel Museum etc..or have just happened on the spot because
a debate was necessary here and now.
In 2020 the Energy Room was an installation of 40 Critical Run at Museum Villa Stuck /Munich
part of Colonel solo show : The Awareness Muscle Training Center
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Interesting publication for researches on running and art
www.emergencyrooms.org/formats.html
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------------about Venice Biennale history from wikipedia ---------
curators previous
* 1948 – Rodolfo Pallucchini
* 1966 – Gian Alberto Dell'Acqua
* 1968 – Maurizio Calvesi and Guido Ballo
* 1970 – Umbro Apollonio
* 1972 – Mario Penelope
* 1974 – Vittorio Gregotti
* 1978 – Luigi Scarpa
* 1980 – Luigi Carluccio
* 1982 – Sisto Dalla Palma
* 1984 – Maurizio Calvesi
* 1986 – Maurizio Calvesi
* 1988 – Giovanni Carandente
* 1990 – Giovanni Carandente
* 1993 – Achille Bonito Oliva
* 1995 – Jean Clair
* 1997 – Germano Celant
* 1999 – Harald Szeemann
* 2001 – Harald Szeemann
* 2003 – Francesco Bonami
* 2005 – María de Corral and Rosa Martinez
* 2007 – Robert Storr
* 2009 – Daniel Birnbaum
* 2011 – Bice Curiger
* 2013 – Massimiliano Gioni
* 2015 – Okwui Enwezor
* 2017 – Christine Macel[19]
* 2019 – Ralph Rugoff[20]
----------
#art #artist #artistic #artists #arte #artwork
Pavilion at the Venice Biennale #artcontemporain contemporary art Giardini arsenal
venice Veneziako VenecijaVenècia Venedig Venetië Veneetsia Venetsia Venise Venecia VenedigΒενετία( Venetía Hungarian Velence Feneyjar Venice Venezia Venēcija Venezja Venezia Wenecja Veneza VenețiaVenetsiya BenátkyBenetke Venecia Fenisוועניס Վենետիկ ভেনি স威尼斯 (wēinísī) 威尼斯 ვენეციისવે નિસवेनिसヴェネツィアವೆನಿಸ್베니스வெனிஸ்వెనిస్เวนิซوینس Venetsiya
art umjetnost umění kunst taide τέχνη művészetList ealaín arte māksla menasarti Kunst sztuka artă umenie umetnost konstcelfקונסטարվեստincəsənətশিল্প艺术(yìshù)藝術 (yìshù)ხელოვნებაकलाkos duabアートಕಲೆសិល្បៈ미술(misul)ສິນລະປະകലकलाအတတ်ပညာकलाකලාවகலைఆర్ట్ศิลปะ آرٹsan'atnghệ thuậtفن (fan)אומנותهنرsanat artist
other Biennale :(Biennials ) :
Venice Biennial , Documenta Havana Biennial,Istanbul Biennial ( Istanbuli),Biennale de Lyon ,Dak'Art Berlin Biennial,Mercosul Visual Arts Biennial ,Bienal do Mercosul Porto Alegre.,Berlin Biennial ,Echigo-Tsumari Triennial .Yokohama Triennial Aichi Triennale,manifesta ,Copenhagen Biennale,Aichi Triennale .Yokohama Triennial,Echigo-Tsumari Triennial.Sharjah Biennial ,Biennale of Sydney, Liverpool , São Paulo Biennial ; Athens Biennale , Bienal do Mercosul ,Göteborg International Biennial for Contemporary Art ,DOCUMENTA KASSEL ATHENS
* Dakar
kritik [edit] kritikaria kritičar crític kritiker criticus kriitik kriitikko critique crítico Kritiker κριτικός(kritikós) kritikus Gagnrýnandi léirmheastóir critico kritiķis kritikas kritiku krytyk crítico critic crítico krytyk beirniad קריטיקער
Basque Veneziako Venecija [edit] Catalan Venècia Venedig Venetië Veneetsia Venetsia Venise Venecia Venedig Βενετία(Venetía) Hungarian Velence Feneyjar Venice Venezia Latvian Venēcija Venezja Venezia Wenecja Portuguese Veneza Veneția Venetsiya Benátky Benetke Venecia Fenis וועניס Վենետիկ ভেনিস 威尼斯 (wēinísī) 威尼斯 Georgian ვენეციის વેનિસ वेनिस ヴェネツィア ವೆನಿಸ್ 베니스 வெனிஸ் వెనిస్ เวนิซ وینس Venetsiya
Thierry Geoffroy / Colonel
#thierrygeoffroy #geoffroycolonel #thierrygeoffroycololonel #lecolonel #biennalist
#artformat #formatart
#emergencyart #urgencyart #urgentart #artofthenow #nowart
emergency art emergency art urgency artist de garde vagt alarm emergency room necessityart artistrole exigencyart predicament prediction pressureart
#InstitutionalCritique
#venicebiennale #venicebiennale2017 #venicebiennale2015
#venicebiennale2019
#venice #biennale #venicebiennale #venezia #italy
#venezia #venice #veniceitaly #venicebiennale
#pastlife #memory #venicebiennale #venice #Venezia #italy #hotelveniceitalia #artexhibit #artshow #internationalart #contemporaryart #themundane #summerday
#biennalevenice
Institutional Critique
Identity Politics Post-War Consumerism, Engagement with Mass Media, Performance Art, The Body, Film/Video, Political, Collage, , Cultural Commentary, Self as Subject, Color Photography, Related to Fashion, Digital Culture, Photography, Human Figure, Technology
Racial and Ethnic Identity, Neo-Conceptualism, Diaristic
Contemporary Re-creations, Popular Culture, Appropriation, Contemporary Sculpture,
Culture, Collective History, Group of Portraits, Photographic Source
, Endurance Art, Film/Video,, Conceptual Art and Contemporary Conceptualism, Color Photography, Human Figure, Cultural Commentary
War and Military, Political Figures, Social Action, Racial and Ethnic Identity, Conflict
Personal Histories, Alter Egos and Avatars
Use of Common Materials, Found Objects, Related to Literature, Installation, Mixed-Media, Engagement with Mass Media, Collage,, Outdoor Art, Work on Paper, Text
Appropriation (art) Art intervention Classificatory disputes about art Conceptual art Environmental sculpture Found object Interactive art Modern art Neo-conceptual art Performance art Sound art Sound installation Street installations Video installation Conceptual art Art movements Postmodern art Contemporary art Art media Aesthetics Conceptualism
Post-conceptualism Anti-anti-art Body art Conceptual architecture Contemporary art Experiments in Art and Technology Found object Happening Fluxus Information art Installation art Intermedia Land art Modern art Neo-conceptual art Net art Postmodern art Generative Art Street installation Systems art Video art Visual arts ART/MEDIA conceptual artis
—-
CRITICAL RUN is an art format developed by Thierry Geoffroy / COLONEL, It follows the spirit of ULTRACONTEMPORARY and EMERGENCY ART as well as aims to train the AWARENESS MUSCLE.
Critical Run has been activated on invitation from institutions such as Moderna Muset Stockholm, Moma PS1 ,Witte de With Rotterdam, ZKM Karlsruhe, Liverpool Biennale, Manifesta Biennial ,Sprengel Museum,Venice Biennale but have also just happened on the spot because a debate was necessary here and now.
It has been activated in Beijing, Cairo, London, Istanbul, Athens, Kassel, Sao Paolo, Hanoi, Istanbul, Paris, Copenhagen, Moskow, Napoli, Sydney, Wroclaw, Bruxelles, Rotterdam, Siberia, Karlsruhe, Barcelona, Aalborg, Venice, Virginia, Stockholm, Aarhus, Rio de Janeiro, Budapest, Washington, Lyon, Caracas, Trondheim, Berlin, Toronto, Hannover, Haage, Newtown, Cartagena, Tallinn, Herning, Roskilde;Mannheim ;Munich etc...
The run debates are about emergency topics like Climate Change , Xenophobia , Wars , Hyppocrisie , Apathy ,etc ...
Participants have been very various from Sweddish art critics , German police , American climate activist , Chinese Gallerists , Brasilian students , etc ...
Critical Run is an art format , like Emergency Room or Biennalist and is part of Emergency Art ULTRACONTEMPORARY and AWARENESS MUSCLE .
www.emergencyrooms.org/criticalrun.html
www.emergencyrooms.org/formats.html
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In 2020 a large exhibition will show 40 of the Critical Run at the Museum Villa Stuck in Munich / part of the Awareness Muscle Training Center
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for activating the format or for inviting the installation
please contact 1@colonel.dk
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critical,run,art,format,debate ,artformat,formatart,moment,clarity,emergency,kunst,
Sport,effort,curator,artist,urgency,urgence,criticalrun,emergencies,ultracontemporary
,rundebate,sport,art,activism, critic,laufen,Thierry Geoffroy , Colonel,kunstformat
,now art,copenhagen,denmark
This photo and story are shared at www.nowpublic.com/tech-biz/love-language-22-365-read-desc...
I once read a book called The Five Love Languages. The book taught that there are five major ways that people express and receive love. Here are the five love languages in no particular order:
1. Physical Attraction
2. Acts of Service
3. Words of Affirmation
4. Giving Gifts
5. Quality Time
The way you show love, and the way you accept it may not be the same. For example, a husband may show his love to his wife by buying her a gift, but what really makes her feel loved is quality time. This means he can come home with diamonds and roses but if he doesn't take time to talk with her at the dinner table and watch a movie with her, she won't feel loved. On the other hand a woman may serve her husband by cooking or washing his clothes, but the thing that makes him feel loved the most is when she touches him in meaningful ways. That means he can come home to a nice meal and see is underwear folded on the sofa, but if she doesn't meet him at the door with a hug and a kiss, he won't feel loved.
So I've learned that it is important to speak your spouse's love language. Communitcate love in the way they receive it. If you love getting gifts but your partner loves quality time, then the way you feel about getting a new camera is the way they will feel when you take them away for the weekend. If you love sex, (which I do too) and they love being served, then the way you feel after a good... cough, you know, is how they will feel when you wash their car. Ok the two feelings don't exactly compare but you understand what I mean. Being loved the way you receive it brings a different level of satisfaction. So let your loved one know what speaks to you.
My wife knows that she can spend time with me, get me gifts, serve me, and even touch me physically, but nothing makes me feel loved like a few words of encouragement like, "Babe, you were wonderful tonight." wink.
Maybe that's why I love flickr so much. I read my comments and I get so many words of affirmation. I feel loved when people appreciate my photos and my art. I love being encouraged. It's the main way I share love. It's my Love Language.
Fully Fashioned Friday - just about! So here's something different - still life!
I love vintage stocking ads and the top one inspired me to get out some of my vintage collection.
Vladimir Semyonovich Vysotsky (Russian: Владимир Семёнович Высоцкий, IPA: [vlɐˈdʲimʲɪr sʲɪˈmʲɵnəvʲɪtɕ vɨˈsotskʲɪj]; 25 January 1938 – 25 July 1980), was a Soviet singer-songwriter, poet, and actor who had an immense and enduring effect on Soviet culture. He became widely known for his unique singing style and for his lyrics, which featured social and political commentary in often humorous street-jargon. He was also a prominent stage- and screen-actor. Though the official Soviet cultural establishment largely ignored his work, he was remarkably popular during his lifetime, and to this day exerts significant influence on many of Russia's musicians and actors.
Vysotsky was born in Moscow at the 3rd Meshchanskaya St. (61/2) maternity hospital. His father, Semyon Volfovich (Vladimirovich) (1915–1997), was a colonel in the Soviet army, originally from Kiev. Vladimir's mother, Nina Maksimovna, (née Seryogina, 1912–2003) was Russian, and worked as a German language translator.[3] Vysotsky's family lived in a Moscow communal flat in harsh conditions, and had serious financial difficulties. When Vladimir was 10 months old, Nina had to return to her office in the Transcript bureau of the Soviet Ministry of Geodesy and Cartography (engaged in making German maps available for the Soviet military) so as to help her husband earn their family's living.
Vladimir's theatrical inclinations became obvious at an early age, and were supported by his paternal grandmother Dora Bronshteyn, a theater fan. The boy used to recite poems, standing on a chair and "flinging hair backwards, like a real poet," often using in his public speeches expressions he could hardly have heard at home. Once, at the age of two, when he had tired of the family's guests' poetry requests, he, according to his mother, sat himself under the New-year tree with a frustrated air about him and sighed: "You silly tossers! Give a child some respite!" His sense of humor was extraordinary, but often baffling for people around him. A three-year-old could jeer his father in a bathroom with unexpected poetic improvisation ("Now look what's here before us / Our goat's to shave himself!") or appall unwanted guests with some street folk song, promptly steering them away. Vysotsky remembered those first three years of his life in the autobiographical Ballad of Childhood (Баллада о детстве, 1975), one of his best-known songs.
As World War II broke out, Semyon Vysotsky, a military reserve officer, joined the Soviet army and went to fight the Nazis. Nina and Vladimir were evacuated to the village of Vorontsovka, in Orenburg Oblast where the boy had to spend six days a week in a kindergarten and his mother worked for twelve hours a day in a chemical factory. In 1943, both returned to their Moscow apartment at 1st Meschanskaya St., 126. In September 1945, Vladimir joined the 1st class of the 273rd Moscow Rostokino region School.
In December 1946, Vysotsky's parents divorced. From 1947 to 1949, Vladimir lived with Semyon Vladimirovich (then an army Major) and his Armenian wife, Yevgenya Stepanovna Liholatova, whom the boy called "aunt Zhenya", at a military base in Eberswalde in the Soviet-occupied zone of Germany (later East Germany). "We decided that our son would stay with me. Vladimir came to stay with me in January 1947, and my second wife, Yevgenia, became Vladimir's second mother for many years to come. They had much in common and liked each other, which made me really happy," Semyon Vysotsky later remembered. Here living conditions, compared to those of Nina's communal Moscow flat, were infinitely better; the family occupied the whole floor of a two-storeyed house, and the boy had a room to himself for the first time in his life. In 1949 along with his stepmother Vladimir returned to Moscow. There he joined the 5th class of the Moscow 128th School and settled at Bolshoy Karetny [ru], 15 (where they had to themselves two rooms of a four-roomed flat), with "auntie Zhenya" (who was just 28 at the time), a woman of great kindness and warmth whom he later remembered as his second mother. In 1953 Vysotsky, now much interested in theater and cinema, joined the Drama courses led by Vladimir Bogomolov.[7] "No one in my family has had anything to do with arts, no actors or directors were there among them. But my mother admired theater and from the earliest age... each and every Saturday I've been taken up with her to watch one play or the other. And all of this, it probably stayed with me," he later reminisced. The same year he received his first ever guitar, a birthday present from Nina Maksimovna; a close friend, bard and a future well-known Soviet pop lyricist Igor Kokhanovsky taught him basic chords. In 1955 Vladimir re-settled into his mother's new home at 1st Meshchanskaya, 76. In June of the same year he graduated from school with five A's.
In 1955, Vladimir enrolled into the Moscow State University of Civil Engineering, but dropped out after just one semester to pursue an acting career. In June 1956 he joined Boris Vershilov's class at the Moscow Art Theatre Studio-Institute. It was there that he met the 3rd course student Iza Zhukova who four years later became his wife; soon the two lovers settled at the 1st Meschanskaya flat, in a common room, shielded off by a folding screen. It was also in the Studio that Vysotsky met Bulat Okudzhava for the first time, an already popular underground bard. He was even more impressed by his Russian literature teacher Andrey Sinyavsky who along with his wife often invited students to his home to stage improvised disputes and concerts. In 1958 Vysotsky's got his first Moscow Art Theatre role: that of Porfiry Petrovich in Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. In 1959 he was cast in his first cinema role, that of student Petya in Vasily Ordynsky's The Yearlings (Сверстницы). On 20 June 1960, Vysotsky graduated from the MAT theater institute and joined the Moscow Pushkin Drama Theatre (led by Boris Ravenskikh at the time) where he spent (with intervals) almost three troubled years. These were marred by numerous administrative sanctions, due to "lack of discipline" and occasional drunken sprees which were a reaction, mainly, to the lack of serious roles and his inability to realise his artistic potential. A short stint in 1962 at the Moscow Theater of Miniatures (administered at the time by Vladimir Polyakov) ended with him being fired, officially "for a total lack of sense of humour."
Vysotsky's second and third films, Dima Gorin's Career and 713 Requests Permission to Land, were interesting only for the fact that in both he had to be beaten up (in the first case by Aleksandr Demyanenko). "That was the way cinema greeted me," he later jokingly remarked. In 1961, Vysotsky wrote his first ever proper song, called "Tattoo" (Татуировка), which started a long and colourful cycle of artfully stylized criminal underworld romantic stories, full of undercurrents and witty social comments. In June 1963, while shooting Penalty Kick (directed by Veniamin Dorman and starring Mikhail Pugovkin), Vysotsky used the Gorky Film Studio to record an hour-long reel-to-reel cassette of his own songs; copies of it quickly spread and the author's name became known in Moscow and elsewhere (although many of these songs were often being referred to as either "traditional" or "anonymous"). Just several months later Riga-based chess grandmaster Mikhail Tal was heard praising the author of "Bolshoy Karetny" (Большой Каретный) and Anna Akhmatova (in a conversation with Joseph Brodsky) was quoting Vysotsky's number "I was the soul of a bad company..." taking it apparently for some brilliant piece of anonymous street folklore. In October 1964 Vysotsky recorded in chronological order 48 of his own songs, his first self-made Complete works of... compilation, which boosted his popularity as a new Moscow folk underground star.
In 1964, director Yuri Lyubimov invited Vysotsky to join the newly created Taganka Theatre. "'I've written some songs of my own. Won't you listen?' – he asked. I agreed to listen to just one of them, expecting our meeting to last for no more than five minutes. Instead I ended up listening to him for an entire 1.5 hours," Lyubimov remembered years later of this first audition. On 19 September 1964, Vysotsky debuted in Bertolt Brecht's The Good Person of Szechwan as the Second God (not to count two minor roles). A month later he came on stage as a dragoon captain (Bela's father) in Lermontov's A Hero of Our Time. It was in Taganka that Vysotsky started to sing on stage; the War theme becoming prominent in his musical repertoire. In 1965 Vysotsky appeared in the experimental Poet and Theater (Поэт и Театр, February) show, based on Andrey Voznesensky's work and then Ten Days that Shook the World (after John Reed's book, April) and was commissioned by Lyubimov to write songs exclusively for Taganka's new World War II play. The Fallen and the Living (Павшие и Живые), premiered in October 1965, featured Vysotsky's "Stars" (Звёзды), "The Soldiers of Heeresgruppe Mitte" (Солдаты группы "Центр") and "Penal Battalions" (Штрафные батальоны), the striking examples of a completely new kind of a war song, never heard in his country before. As veteran screenwriter Nikolay Erdman put it (in conversation with Lyubimov), "Professionally, I can well understand how Mayakovsky or Seryozha Yesenin were doing it. How Volodya Vysotsky does it is totally beyond me." With his songs – in effect, miniature theatrical dramatizations (usually with a protagonist and full of dialogues), Vysotsky instantly achieved such level of credibility that real life former prisoners, war veterans, boxers, footballers refused to believe that the author himself had never served his time in prisons and labor camps, or fought in the War, or been a boxing/football professional. After the second of the two concerts at the Leningrad Molecular Physics institute (that was his actual debut as a solo musical performer) Vysotsky left a note for his fans in a journal which ended with words: "Now that you've heard all these songs, please, don't you make a mistake of mixing me with my characters, I am not like them at all. With love, Vysotsky, 20 April 1965, XX c." Excuses of this kind he had to make throughout his performing career. At least one of Vysotsky's song themes – that of alcoholic abuse – was worryingly autobiographical, though. By the time his breakthrough came in 1967, he'd suffered several physical breakdowns and once was sent (by Taganka's boss) to a rehabilitation clinic, a visit he on several occasions repeated since.
Brecht's Life of Galileo (premiered on 17 May 1966), transformed by Lyubimov into a powerful allegory of Soviet intelligentsia's set of moral and intellectual dilemmas, brought Vysotsky his first leading theater role (along with some fitness lessons: he had to perform numerous acrobatic tricks on stage). Press reaction was mixed, some reviewers disliked the actor's overt emotionalism, but it was for the first time ever that Vysotsky's name appeared in Soviet papers. Film directors now were treating him with respect. Viktor Turov's war film I Come from the Childhood where Vysotsky got his first ever "serious" (neither comical, nor villainous) role in cinema, featured two of his songs: a spontaneous piece called "When It's Cold" (Холода) and a dark, Unknown soldier theme-inspired classic "Common Graves" (На братских могилах), sung behind the screen by the legendary Mark Bernes.
Stanislav Govorukhin and Boris Durov's The Vertical (1967), a mountain climbing drama, starring Vysotsky (as Volodya the radioman), brought him all-round recognition and fame. Four of the numbers used in the film (including "Song of a Friend [fi]" (Песня о друге), released in 1968 by the Soviet recording industry monopolist Melodiya disc to become an unofficial hit) were written literally on the spot, nearby Elbrus, inspired by professional climbers' tales and one curious hotel bar conversation with a German guest who 25 years ago happened to climb these very mountains in a capacity of an Edelweiss division fighter. Another 1967 film, Kira Muratova's Brief Encounters featured Vysotsky as the geologist Maxim (paste-bearded again) with a now trademark off-the-cuff musical piece, a melancholy improvisation called "Things to Do" (Дела). All the while Vysotsky continued working hard at Taganka, with another important role under his belt (that of Mayakovsky or, rather one of the latter character's five different versions) in the experimental piece called Listen! (Послушайте!), and now regularly gave semi-official concerts where audiences greeted him as a cult hero.
In the end of 1967 Vysotsky got another pivotal theater role, that of Khlopusha [ru] in Pugachov (a play based on a poem by Sergei Yesenin), often described as one of Taganka's finest. "He put into his performance all the things that he excelled at and, on the other hand, it was Pugachyov that made him discover his own potential," – Soviet critic Natalya Krymova wrote years later. Several weeks after the premiere, infuriated by the actor's increasing unreliability triggered by worsening drinking problems, Lyubimov fired him – only to let him back again several months later (and thus begin the humiliating sacked-then-pardoned routine which continued for years). In June 1968 a Vysotsky-slagging campaign was launched in the Soviet press. First Sovetskaya Rossiya commented on the "epidemic spread of immoral, smutty songs," allegedly promoting "criminal world values, alcoholism, vice and immorality" and condemned their author for "sowing seeds of evil." Then Komsomolskaya Pravda linked Vysotsky with black market dealers selling his tapes somewhere in Siberia. Composer Dmitry Kabalevsky speaking from the Union of Soviet Composers' Committee tribune criticised the Soviet radio for giving an ideologically dubious, "low-life product" like "Song of a Friend" (Песня о друге) an unwarranted airplay. Playwright Alexander Stein who in his Last Parade play used several of Vysotsky's songs, was chastised by a Ministry of Culture official for "providing a tribune for this anti-Soviet scum." The phraseology prompted commentators in the West to make parallels between Vysotsky and Mikhail Zoschenko, another Soviet author who'd been officially labeled "scum" some 20 years ago.
Two of Vysotsky's 1968 films, Gennady Poloka's Intervention (premiered in May 1987) where he was cast as Brodsky, a dodgy even if highly artistic character, and Yevgeny Karelov's Two Comrades Were Serving (a gun-toting White Army officer Brusentsov who in the course of the film shoots his friend, his horse, Oleg Yankovsky's good guy character and, finally himself) – were severely censored, first of them shelved for twenty years. At least four of Vysotsky's 1968 songs, "Save Our Souls" (Спасите наши души), "The Wolfhunt" (Охота на волков), "Gypsy Variations" (Моя цыганская) and "The Steam-bath in White" (Банька по-белому), were hailed later as masterpieces. It was at this point that 'proper' love songs started to appear in Vysotsky's repertoire, documenting the beginning of his passionate love affair with French actress Marina Vlady.
In 1969 Vysotsky starred in two films: The Master of Taiga where he played a villainous Siberian timber-floating brigadier, and more entertaining Dangerous Tour. The latter was criticized in the Soviet press for taking a farcical approach to the subject of the Bolshevik underground activities but for a wider Soviet audience this was an important opportunity to enjoy the charismatic actor's presence on big screen. In 1970, after visiting the dislodged Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev at his dacha and having a lengthy conversation with him, Vysotsky embarked on a massive and by Soviet standards dangerously commercial concert tour in Soviet Central Asia and then brought Marina Vlady to director Viktor Turov's place so as to investigate her Belarusian roots. The pair finally wed on 1 December 1970 (causing furore among the Moscow cultural and political elite) and spent a honeymoon in Georgia. This was the highly productive period for Vysotsky, resulting in numerous new songs, including the anthemic "I Hate" (Я не люблю), sentimental "Lyricale" (Лирическая) and dramatic war epics "He Didn't Return from the Battle" (Он не вернулся из боя) and "The Earth Song" (Песня о Земле) among many others.
In 1971 a drinking spree-related nervous breakdown brought Vysotsky to the Moscow Kashchenko clinic [ru]. By this time he has been suffering from alcoholism. Many of his songs from this period deal, either directly or metaphorically, with alcoholism and insanity. Partially recovered (due to the encouraging presence of Marina Vladi), Vysotsky embarked on a successful Ukrainian concert tour and wrote a cluster of new songs. On 29 November 1971 Taganka's Hamlet premiered, a groundbreaking Lyubimov's production with Vysotsky in the leading role, that of a lone intellectual rebel, rising to fight the cruel state machine.
Also in 1971 Vysotsky was invited to play the lead in The Sannikov Land, the screen adaptation of Vladimir Obruchev's science fiction,[47] which he wrote several songs for, but was suddenly dropped for the reason of his face "being too scandalously recognisable" as a state official put it. One of the songs written for the film, a doom-laden epic allegory "Capricious Horses" (Кони привередливые), became one of the singer's signature tunes. Two of Vysotsky's 1972 film roles were somewhat meditative: an anonymous American journalist in The Fourth One and the "righteous guy" von Koren in The Bad Good Man (based on Anton Chekov's Duel). The latter brought Vysotsky the Best Male Role prize at the V Taormina Film Fest. This philosophical slant rubbed off onto some of his new works of the time: "A Singer at the Microphone" (Певец у микрофона), "The Tightrope Walker" (Канатоходец), two new war songs ("We Spin the Earth", "Black Pea-Coats") and "The Grief" (Беда), a folkish girl's lament, later recorded by Marina Vladi and subsequently covered by several female performers. Popular proved to be his 1972 humorous songs: "Mishka Shifman" (Мишка Шифман), satirizing the leaving-for-Israel routine, "Victim of the Television" which ridiculed the concept of "political consciousness," and "The Honour of the Chess Crown" (Честь шахматной короны) about an ever-fearless "simple Soviet man" challenging the much feared American champion Bobby Fischer to a match.
In 1972 he stepped up in Soviet Estonian TV where he presented his songs and gave an interview. The name of the show was "Young Man from Taganka" (Noormees Tagankalt).
In April 1973 Vysotsky visited Poland and France. Predictable problems concerning the official permission were sorted after the French Communist Party leader Georges Marchais made a personal phone call to Leonid Brezhnev who, according to Marina Vlady's memoirs, rather sympathized with the stellar couple. Having found on return a potentially dangerous lawsuit brought against him (concerning some unsanctioned concerts in Siberia the year before), Vysotsky wrote a defiant letter to the Minister of Culture Pyotr Demichev. As a result, he was granted the status of a philharmonic artist, 11.5 roubles per concert now guaranteed. Still the 900 rubles fine had to be paid according to the court verdict, which was a substantial sum, considering his monthly salary at the theater was 110 rubles. That year Vysotsky wrote some thirty songs for "Alice in Wonderland," an audioplay where he himself has been given several minor roles. His best known songs of 1973 included "The Others' Track" (Чужая колея), "The Flight Interrupted" (Прерванный полёт) and "The Monument", all pondering on his achievements and legacy.
In 1974 Melodiya released the 7" EP, featuring four of Vysotsky's war songs ("He Never Returned From the Battle", "The New Times Song", "Common Graves", and "The Earth Song") which represented a tiny portion of his creative work, owned by millions on tape. In September of that year Vysotsky received his first state award, the Honorary Diploma of the Uzbek SSR following a tour with fellow actors from the Taganka Theatre in Uzbekistan. A year later he was granted the USSR Union of Cinematographers' membership. This meant he was not an "anti-Soviet scum" now, rather an unlikely link between the official Soviet cinema elite and the "progressive-thinking artists of the West." More films followed, among them The Only Road (a Soviet-Yugoslav joint venture, premiered on 10 January 1975 in Belgrade) and a science fiction movie The Flight of Mr. McKinley (1975). Out of nine ballads that he wrote for the latter only two have made it into the soundtrack. This was the height of his popularity, when, as described in Vlady's book about her husband, walking down the street on a summer night, one could hear Vysotsky's recognizable voice coming literally from every open window. Among the songs written at the time, were humorous "The Instruction before the Trip Abroad", lyrical "Of the Dead Pilot" and philosophical "The Strange House". In 1975 Vysotsky made his third trip to France where he rather riskily visited his former tutor (and now a celebrated dissident emigre) Andrey Sinyavsky. Artist Mikhail Shemyakin, his new Paris friend (or a "bottle-sharer", in Vladi's terms), recorded Vysotsky in his home studio. After a brief stay in England Vysotsky crossed the ocean and made his first Mexican concerts in April. Back in Moscow, there were changes at Taganka: Lyubimov went to Milan's La Scala on a contract and Anatoly Efros has been brought in, a director of radically different approach. His project, Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard, caused a sensation. Critics praised Alla Demidova (as Ranevskaya) and Vysotsky (as Lopakhin) powerful interplay, some describing it as one of the most dazzling in the history of the Soviet theater. Lyubimov, who disliked the piece, accused Efros of giving his actors "the stardom malaise." The 1976 Taganka's visit to Bulgaria resulted in Vysotskys's interview there being filmed and 15 songs recorded by Balkanton record label. On return Lyubimov made a move which many thought outrageous: declaring himself "unable to work with this Mr. Vysotsky anymore" he gave the role of Hamlet to Valery Zolotukhin, the latter's best friend. That was the time, reportedly, when stressed out Vysotsky started taking amphetamines.
Another Belorussian voyage completed, Marina and Vladimir went for France and from there (without any official permission given, or asked for) flew to the North America. In New York Vysotsky met, among other people, Mikhail Baryshnikov and Joseph Brodsky. In a televised one-hour interview with Dan Rather he stressed he was "not a dissident, just an artist, who's never had any intentions to leave his country where people loved him and his songs." At home this unauthorized venture into the Western world bore no repercussions: by this time Soviet authorities were divided as regards the "Vysotsky controversy" up to the highest level; while Mikhail Suslov detested the bard, Brezhnev loved him to such an extent that once, while in hospital, asked him to perform live in his daughter Galina's home, listening to this concert on the telephone. In 1976 appeared "The Domes", "The Rope" and the "Medieval" cycle, including "The Ballad of Love".
In September Vysotsky with Taganka made a trip to Yugoslavia where Hamlet won the annual BITEF festival's first prize, and then to Hungary for a two-week concert tour. Back in Moscow Lyubimov's production of The Master & Margarita featured Vysotsky as Ivan Bezdomny; a modest role, somewhat recompensed by an important Svidrigailov slot in Yury Karyakin's take on Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Vysotsky's new songs of this period include "The History of Illness" cycle concerning his health problems, humorous "Why Did the Savages Eat Captain Cook", the metaphorical "Ballad of the Truth and the Lie", as well as "Two Fates", the chilling story of a self-absorbed alcoholic hunted by two malevolent witches, his two-faced destiny. In 1977 Vysotsky's health deteriorated (heart, kidneys, liver failures, jaw infection and nervous breakdown) to such an extent that in April he found himself in Moscow clinic's reanimation center in the state of physical and mental collapse.
In 1977 Vysotsky made an unlikely appearance in New York City on the American television show 60 Minutes, which falsely stated that Vysotsky had spent time in the Soviet prison system, the Gulag. That year saw the release of three Vysotsky's LPs in France (including the one that had been recorded by RCA in Canada the previous year); arranged and accompanied by guitarist Kostya Kazansky, the singer for the first time ever enjoyed the relatively sophisticated musical background. In August he performed in Hollywood before members of New York City film cast and (according to Vladi) was greeted warmly by the likes of Liza Minnelli and Robert De Niro. Some more concerts in Los Angeles were followed by the appearance at the French Communist paper L’Humanité annual event. In December Taganka left for France, its Hamlet (Vysotsky back in the lead) gaining fine reviews.
1978 started with the March–April series of concerts in Moscow and Ukraine. In May Vysotsky embarked upon a new major film project: The Meeting Place Cannot Be Changed (Место встречи изменить нельзя) about two detectives fighting crime in late 1940s Russia, directed by Stanislav Govorukhin. The film (premiered on 11 November 1978 on the Soviet Central TV) presented Vysotsky as Zheglov, a ruthless and charismatic cop teaching his milder partner Sharapov (actor Vladimir Konkin) his art of crime-solving. Vysotsky also became engaged in Taganka's Genre-seeking show (performing some of his own songs) and played Aleksander Blok in Anatoly Efros' The Lady Stranger (Незнакомка) radio play (premiered on air on 10 July 1979 and later released as a double LP).
In November 1978 Vysotsky took part in the underground censorship-defying literary project Metropolis, inspired and organized by Vasily Aksenov. In January 1979 Vysotsky again visited America with highly successful series of concerts. That was the point (according to biographer Vladimir Novikov) when a glimpse of new, clean life of a respectable international actor and performer all but made Vysotsky seriously reconsider his priorities. What followed though, was a return to the self-destructive theater and concert tours schedule, personal doctor Anatoly Fedotov now not only his companion, but part of Taganka's crew. "Who was this Anatoly? Just a man who in every possible situation would try to provide drugs. And he did provide. In such moments Volodya trusted him totally," Oksana Afanasyeva, Vysotsky's Moscow girlfriend (who was near him for most of the last year of his life and, on occasion, herself served as a drug courier) remembered. In July 1979, after a series of Central Asia concerts, Vysotsky collapsed, experienced clinical death and was resuscitated by Fedotov (who injected caffeine into the heart directly), colleague and close friend Vsevolod Abdulov helping with heart massage. In January 1980 Vysotsky asked Lyubimov for a year's leave. "Up to you, but on condition that Hamlet is yours," was the answer. The songwriting showed signs of slowing down, as Vysotsky began switching from songs to more conventional poetry. Still, of nearly 800 poems by Vysotsky only one has been published in the Soviet Union while he was alive. Not a single performance or interview was broadcast by the Soviet television in his lifetime.
In May 1979, being in a practice studio of the MSU Faculty of Journalism, Vysotsky recorded a video letter to American actor and film producer Warren Beatty, looking for both a personal meeting with Beatty and an opportunity to get a role in Reds film, to be produced and directed by the latter. While recording, Vysotsky made a few attempts to speak English, trying to overcome the language barrier. This video letter never reached Beatty. It was broadcast for the first time more than three decades later, on the night of 24 January 2013 (local time) by Rossiya 1 channel, along with records of TV channels of Italy, Mexico, Poland, USA and from private collections, in Vladimir Vysotsky. A letter to Warren Beatty film by Alexander Kovanovsky and Igor Rakhmanov. While recording this video, Vysotsky had a rare opportunity to perform for a camera, being still unable to do it with Soviet television.
On 22 January 1980, Vysotsky entered the Moscow Ostankino TV Center to record his one and only studio concert for the Soviet television. What proved to be an exhausting affair (his concentration lacking, he had to plod through several takes for each song) was premiered on the Soviet TV eight years later. The last six months of his life saw Vysotsky appearing on stage sporadically, fueled by heavy dosages of drugs and alcohol. His performances were often erratic. Occasionally Vysotsky paid visits to Sklifosofsky [ru] institute's ER unit, but would not hear of Marina Vlady's suggestions for him to take long-term rehabilitation course in a Western clinic. Yet he kept writing, mostly poetry and even prose, but songs as well. The last song he performed was the agonizing "My Sorrow, My Anguish" and his final poem, written one week prior to his death was "A Letter to Marina": "I'm less than fifty, but the time is short / By you and God protected, life and limb / I have a song or two to sing before the Lord / I have a way to make my peace with him."
Although several theories of the ultimate cause of the singer's death persist to this day, given what is now known about cardiovascular disease, it seems likely that by the time of his death Vysotsky had an advanced coronary condition brought about by years of tobacco, alcohol and drug abuse, as well as his grueling work schedule and the stress of the constant harassment by the government. Towards the end, most of Vysotsky's closest friends had become aware of the ominous signs and were convinced that his demise was only a matter of time. Clear evidence of this can be seen in a video ostensibly shot by the Japanese NHK channel only months before Vysotsky's death, where he appears visibly unwell, breathing heavily and slurring his speech. Accounts by Vysotsky's close friends and colleagues concerning his last hours were compiled in the book by V. Perevozchikov.
Vysotsky suffered from alcoholism for most of his life. Sometime around 1977, he started using amphetamines and other prescription narcotics in an attempt to counteract the debilitating hangovers and eventually to rid himself of alcohol addiction. While these attempts were partially successful, he ended up trading alcoholism for a severe drug dependency that was fast spiralling out of control. He was reduced to begging some of his close friends in the medical profession for supplies of drugs, often using his acting skills to collapse in a medical office and imitate a seizure or some other condition requiring a painkiller injection. On 25 July 1979 (a year to the day before his death) he suffered a cardiac arrest and was clinically dead for several minutes during a concert tour of Soviet Uzbekistan, after injecting himself with a wrong kind of painkiller he had previously obtained from a dentist's office.
Fully aware of the dangers of his condition, Vysotsky made several attempts to cure himself of his addiction. He underwent an experimental (and ultimately discredited) blood purification procedure offered by a leading drug rehabilitation specialist in Moscow. He also went to an isolated retreat in France with his wife Marina in the spring of 1980 as a way of forcefully depriving himself of any access to drugs. After these attempts failed, Vysotsky returned to Moscow to find his life in an increasingly stressful state of disarray. He had been a defendant in two criminal trials, one for a car wreck he had caused some months earlier, and one for an alleged conspiracy to sell unauthorized concert tickets (he eventually received a suspended sentence and a probation in the first case, and the charges in the second were dismissed, although several of his co-defendants were found guilty). He also unsuccessfully fought the film studio authorities for the rights to direct a movie called The Green Phaeton. Relations with his wife Marina were deteriorating, and he was torn between his loyalty to her and his love for his mistress Oksana Afanasyeva. He had also developed severe inflammation in one of his legs, making his concert performances extremely challenging.
In a final desperate attempt to overcome his drug addiction, partially prompted by his inability to obtain drugs through his usual channels (the authorities had imposed a strict monitoring of the medical institutions to prevent illicit drug distribution during the 1980 Olympics), he relapsed into alcohol and went on a prolonged drinking binge (apparently consuming copious amounts of champagne due to a prevalent misconception at the time that it was better than vodka at countering the effects of drug withdrawal).
On 3 July 1980, Vysotsky gave a performance at a suburban Moscow concert hall. One of the stage managers recalls that he looked visibly unhealthy ("gray-faced", as she puts it) and complained of not feeling too good, while another says she was surprised by his request for champagne before the start of the show, as he had always been known for completely abstaining from drink before his concerts. On 16 July Vysotsky gave his last public concert in Kaliningrad. On 18 July, Vysotsky played Hamlet for the last time at the Taganka Theatre. From around 21 July, several of his close friends were on a round-the-clock watch at his apartment, carefully monitoring his alcohol intake and hoping against all odds that his drug dependency would soon be overcome and they would then be able to bring him back from the brink. The effects of drug withdrawal were clearly getting the better of him, as he got increasingly restless, moaned and screamed in pain, and at times fell into memory lapses, failing to recognize at first some of his visitors, including his son Arkadiy. At one point, Vysotsky's personal physician A. Fedotov (the same doctor who had brought him back from clinical death a year earlier in Uzbekistan) attempted to sedate him, inadvertently causing asphyxiation from which he was barely saved. On 24 July, Vysotsky told his mother that he thought he was going to die that day, and then made similar remarks to a few of the friends present at the apartment, who begged him to stop such talk and keep his spirits up. But soon thereafter, Oksana Afanasyeva saw him clench his chest several times, which led her to suspect that he was genuinely suffering from a cardiovascular condition. She informed Fedotov of this but was told not to worry, as he was going to monitor Vysotsky's condition all night. In the evening, after drinking relatively small amounts of alcohol, the moaning and groaning Vysotsky was sedated by Fedotov, who then sat down on the couch next to him but fell asleep. Fedotov awoke in the early hours of 25 July to an unusual silence and found Vysotsky dead in his bed with his eyes wide open, apparently of a myocardial infarction, as he later certified. This was contradicted by Fedotov's colleagues, Sklifosovsky Emergency Medical Institute physicians L. Sul'povar and S. Scherbakov (who had demanded the actor's immediate hospitalization on 23 July but were allegedly rebuffed by Fedotov), who insisted that Fedotov's incompetent sedation combined with alcohol was what killed Vysotsky. An autopsy was prevented by Vysotsky's parents (who were eager to have their son's drug addiction remain secret), so the true cause of death remains unknown.
No official announcement of the actor's death was made, only a brief obituary appeared in the Moscow newspaper Vechernyaya Moskva, and a note informing of Vysotsky's death and cancellation of the Hamlet performance was put out at the entrance to the Taganka Theatre (the story goes that not a single ticket holder took advantage of the refund offer). Despite this, by the end of the day, millions had learned of Vysotsky's death. On 28 July, he lay in state at the Taganka Theatre. After a mourning ceremony involving an unauthorized mass gathering of unprecedented scale, Vysotsky was buried at the Vagankovskoye Cemetery in Moscow. The attendance at the Olympic events dropped noticeably on that day, as scores of spectators left to attend the funeral. Tens of thousands of people lined the streets to catch a glimpse of his coffin.
According to author Valery Perevozchikov part of the blame for his death lay with the group of associates who surrounded him in the last years of his life. This inner circle were all people under the influence of his strong character, combined with a material interest in the large sums of money his concerts earned. This list included Valerii Yankelovich, manager of the Taganka Theatre and prime organiser of his non-sanctioned concerts; Anatoly Fedotov, his personal doctor; Vadim Tumanov, gold prospector (and personal friend) from Siberia; Oksana Afanasyeva (later Yarmolnik), his mistress the last three years of his life; Ivan Bortnik, a fellow actor; and Leonid Sul'povar, a department head at the Sklifosovski hospital who was responsible for much of the supply of drugs.
Vysotsky's associates had all put in efforts to supply his drug habit, which kept him going in the last years of his life. Under their influence, he was able to continue to perform all over the country, up to a week before his death. Due to illegal (i.e. non-state-sanctioned) sales of tickets and other underground methods, these concerts pulled in sums of money unimaginable in Soviet times, when almost everyone received nearly the same small salary. The payouts and gathering of money were a constant source of danger, and Yankelovich and others were needed to organise them.
Some money went to Vysotsky, the rest was distributed amongst this circle. At first this was a reasonable return on their efforts; however, as his addiction progressed and his body developed resistance, the frequency and amount of drugs needed to keep Vysotsky going became unmanageable. This culminated at the time of the Moscow Olympics which coincided with the last days of his life, when supplies of drugs were monitored more strictly than usual, and some of the doctors involved in supplying Vysotsky were already behind bars (normally the doctors had to account for every ampule, thus drugs were transferred to an empty container, while the patients received a substitute or placebo instead). In the last few days Vysotsky became uncontrollable, his shouting could be heard all over the apartment building on Malaya Gruzinskaya St. where he lived amongst VIP's. Several days before his death, in a state of stupor he went on a high speed drive around Moscow in an attempt to obtain drugs and alcohol – when many high-ranking people saw him. This increased the likelihood of him being forcibly admitted to the hospital, and the consequent danger to the circle supplying his habit. As his state of health declined, and it became obvious that he might die, his associates gathered to decide what to do with him. They came up with no firm decision. They did not want him admitted officially, as his drug addiction would become public and they would fall under suspicion, although some of them admitted that any ordinary person in his condition would have been admitted immediately.
On Vysotsky's death his associates and relatives put in much effort to prevent a post-mortem being carried out. This despite the fairly unusual circumstances: he died aged 42 under heavy sedation with an improvised cocktail of sedatives and stimulants, including the toxic chloral hydrate, provided by his personal doctor who had been supplying him with narcotics the previous three years. This doctor, being the only one present at his side when death occurred, had a few days earlier been seen to display elementary negligence in treating the sedated Vysotsky. On the night of his death, Arkadii Vysotsky (his son), who tried to visit his father in his apartment, was rudely refused entry by Yankelovich, even though there was a lack of people able to care for him. Subsequently, the Soviet police commenced a manslaughter investigation which was dropped due to the absence of evidence taken at the time of death.
Vysotsky's first wife was Iza Zhukova. They met in 1956, being both MAT theater institute students, lived for some time at Vysotsky's mother's flat in Moscow, after her graduation (Iza was 2 years older) spent months in different cities (her – in Kiev, then Rostov) and finally married on 25 April 1960.
He met his second wife Lyudmila Abramova in 1961, while shooting the film 713 Requests Permission to Land. They married in 1965 and had two sons, Arkady (born 1962) and Nikita (born 1964).
While still married to Lyudmila Abramova, Vysotsky began a romantic relationship with Tatyana Ivanenko, a Taganka actress, then, in 1967 fell in love with Marina Vlady, a French actress of Russian descent, who was working at Mosfilm on a joint Soviet-French production at that time. Marina had been married before and had three children, while Vladimir had two. They were married in 1969. For 10 years the two maintained a long-distance relationship as Marina compromised her career in France to spend more time in Moscow, and Vladimir's friends pulled strings for him to be allowed to travel abroad to stay with his wife. Marina eventually joined the Communist Party of France, which essentially gave her an unlimited-entry visa into the Soviet Union, and provided Vladimir with some immunity against prosecution by the government, which was becoming weary of his covertly anti-Soviet lyrics and his odds-defying popularity with the masses. The problems of his long-distance relationship with Vlady inspired several of Vysotsky's songs.
In the autumn of 1981 Vysotsky's first collection of poetry was officially published in the USSR, called The Nerve (Нерв). Its first edition (25,000 copies) was sold out instantly. In 1982 the second one followed (100,000), then the 3rd (1988, 200,000), followed in the 1990s by several more. The material for it was compiled by Robert Rozhdestvensky, an officially laurelled Soviet poet. Also in 1981 Yuri Lyubimov staged at Taganka a new music and poetry production called Vladimir Vysotsky which was promptly banned and officially premiered on 25 January 1989.
In 1982 the motion picture The Ballad of the Valiant Knight Ivanhoe was produced in the Soviet Union and in 1983 the movie was released to the public. Four songs by Vysotsky were featured in the film.
In 1986 the official Vysotsky poetic heritage committee was formed (with Robert Rozhdestvensky at the helm, theater critic Natalya Krymova being both the instigator and the organizer). Despite some opposition from the conservatives (Yegor Ligachev was the latter's political leader, Stanislav Kunyaev of Nash Sovremennik represented its literary flank) Vysotsky was rewarded posthumously with the USSR State Prize. The official formula – "for creating the character of Zheglov and artistic achievements as a singer-songwriter" was much derided from both the left and the right. In 1988 the Selected Works of... (edited by N. Krymova) compilation was published, preceded by I Will Surely Return... (Я, конечно, вернусь...) book of fellow actors' memoirs and Vysotsky's verses, some published for the first time. In 1990 two volumes of extensive The Works of... were published, financed by the late poet's father Semyon Vysotsky. Even more ambitious publication series, self-proclaimed "the first ever academical edition" (the latter assertion being dismissed by sceptics) compiled and edited by Sergey Zhiltsov, were published in Tula (1994–1998, 5 volumes), Germany (1994, 7 volumes) and Moscow (1997, 4 volumes).
In 1989 the official Vysotsky Museum opened in Moscow, with the magazine of its own called Vagant (edited by Sergey Zaitsev) devoted entirely to Vysotsky's legacy. In 1996 it became an independent publication and was closed in 2002.
In the years to come, Vysotsky's grave became a site of pilgrimage for several generations of his fans, the youngest of whom were born after his death. His tombstone also became the subject of controversy, as his widow had wished for a simple abstract slab, while his parents insisted on a realistic gilded statue. Although probably too solemn to have inspired Vysotsky himself, the statue is believed by some to be full of metaphors and symbols reminiscent of the singer's life.
In 1995 in Moscow the Vysotsky monument was officially opened at Strastnoy Boulevard, by the Petrovsky Gates. Among those present were the bard's parents, two of his sons, first wife Iza, renown poets Yevtushenko and Voznesensky. "Vysotsky had always been telling the truth. Only once he was wrong when he sang in one of his songs: 'They will never erect me a monument in a square like that by Petrovskye Vorota'", Mayor of Moscow Yuri Luzhkov said in his speech.[95] A further monument to Vysotsky was erected in 2014 at Rostov-on-Don.
In October 2004, a monument to Vysotsky was erected in the Montenegrin capital of Podgorica, near the Millennium Bridge. His son, Nikita Vysotsky, attended the unveiling. The statue was designed by Russian sculptor Alexander Taratinov, who also designed a monument to Alexander Pushkin in Podgorica. The bronze statue shows Vysotsky standing on a pedestal, with his one hand raised and the other holding a guitar. Next to the figure lies a bronze skull – a reference to Vysotsky's monumental lead performances in Shakespeare's Hamlet. On the pedestal the last lines from a poem of Vysotsky's, dedicated to Montenegro, are carved.
The Vysotsky business center & semi-skyscraper was officially opened in Yekaterinburg, in 2011. It is the tallest building in Russia outside of Moscow, has 54 floors, total height: 188.3 m (618 ft). On the third floor of the business center is the Vysotsky Museum. Behind the building is a bronze sculpture of Vladimir Vysotsky and his third wife, a French actress Marina Vlady.
In 2011 a controversial movie Vysotsky. Thank You For Being Alive was released, script written by his son, Nikita Vysotsky. The actor Sergey Bezrukov portrayed Vysotsky, using a combination of a mask and CGI effects. The film tells about Vysotsky's illegal underground performances, problems with KGB and drugs, and subsequent clinical death in 1979.
Shortly after Vysotsky's death, many Russian bards started writing songs and poems about his life and death. The best known are Yuri Vizbor's "Letter to Vysotsky" (1982) and Bulat Okudzhava's "About Volodya Vysotsky" (1980). In Poland, Jacek Kaczmarski based some of his songs on those of Vysotsky, such as his first song (1977) was based on "The Wolfhunt", and dedicated to his memory the song "Epitafium dla Włodzimierza Wysockiego" ("Epitaph for Vladimir Vysotsky").
Every year on Vysotsky's birthday festivals are held throughout Russia and in many communities throughout the world, especially in Europe. Vysotsky's impact in Russia is often compared to that of Wolf Biermann in Germany, Bob Dylan in America, or Georges Brassens and Jacques Brel in France.
The asteroid 2374 Vladvysotskij, discovered by Lyudmila Zhuravleva, was named after Vysotsky.
During the Annual Q&A Event Direct Line with Vladimir Putin, Alexey Venediktov asked Putin to name a street in Moscow after the singer Vladimir Vysotsky, who, though considered one of the greatest Russian artists, has no street named after him in Moscow almost 30 years after his death. Venediktov stated a Russian law that allowed the President to do so and promote a law suggestion to name a street by decree. Putin answered that he would talk to Mayor of Moscow and would solve this problem. In July 2015 former Upper and Lower Tagansky Dead-ends (Верхний и Нижний Таганские тупики) in Moscow were reorganized into Vladimir Vysotsky Street.
The Sata Kieli Cultural Association, [Finland], organizes the annual International Vladimir Vysotsky Festival (Vysotski Fest), where Vysotsky's singers from different countries perform in Helsinki and other Finnish cities. They sing Vysotsky in different languages and in different arrangements.
Two brothers and singers from Finland, Mika and Turkka Mali, over the course of their more than 30-year musical career, have translated into Finnish, recorded and on numerous occasions publicly performed songs of Vladimir Vysotsky.
Throughout his lengthy musical career, Jaromír Nohavica, a famed Czech singer, translated and performed numerous songs of Vladimir Vysotsky, most notably Песня о друге (Píseň o příteli – Song about a friend).
The Museum of Vladimir Vysotsky in Koszalin dedicated to Vladimir Vysotsky was founded by Marlena Zimna (1969–2016) in May 1994, in her apartment, in the city of Koszalin, in Poland. Since then the museum has collected over 19,500 exhibits from different countries and currently holds Vladimir Vysotsky' personal items, autographs, drawings, letters, photographs and a large library containing unique film footage, vinyl records, CDs and DVDs. A special place in the collection holds a Vladimir Vysotsky's guitar, on which he played at a concert in Casablanca in April 1976. Vladimir Vysotsky presented this guitar to Moroccan journalist Hassan El-Sayed together with an autograph (an extract from Vladimir Vysotsky's song "What Happened in Africa"), written in Russian right on the guitar.
In January 2023, a monument to the outstanding actor, singer and poet Vladimir Vysotsky was unveiled in Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, in the square near the Rodina House of Culture. Author Vladimir Chebotarev.
After her husband's death, urged by her friend Simone Signoret, Marina Vlady wrote a book called The Aborted Flight about her years together with Vysotsky. The book paid tribute to Vladimir's talent and rich persona, yet was uncompromising in its depiction of his addictions and the problems that they caused in their marriage. Written in French (and published in France in 1987), it was translated into Russian in tandem by Vlady and a professional translator and came out in 1989 in the USSR. Totally credible from the specialists' point of view, the book caused controversy, among other things, by shocking revelations about the difficult father-and-son relationship (or rather, the lack of any), implying that Vysotsky-senior (while his son was alive) was deeply ashamed of him and his songs which he deemed "anti-Soviet" and reported his own son to the KGB. Also in 1989 another important book of memoirs was published in the USSR, providing a bulk of priceless material for the host of future biographers, Alla Demidova's Vladimir Vysotsky, the One I Know and Love. Among other publications of note were Valery Zolotukhin's Vysotsky's Secret (2000), a series of Valery Perevozchikov's books (His Dying Hour, The Unknown Vysotsky and others) containing detailed accounts and interviews dealing with the bard's life's major controversies (the mystery surrounding his death, the truth behind Vysotsky Sr.'s alleged KGB reports, the true nature of Vladimir Vysotsky's relations with his mother Nina's second husband Georgy Bartosh etc.), Iza Zhukova's Short Happiness for a Lifetime and the late bard's sister-in-law Irena Vysotskaya's My Brother Vysotsky. The Beginnings (both 2005).
A group of enthusiasts has created a non-profit project – the mobile application "Vysotsky"
The multifaceted talent of Vysotsky is often described by the term "bard" (бард) that Vysotsky has never been enthusiastic about. He thought of himself mainly as an actor and poet rather than a singer, and once remarked, "I do not belong to what people call bards or minstrels or whatever." With the advent of portable tape-recorders in the Soviet Union, Vysotsky's music became available to the masses in the form of home-made reel-to-reel audio tape recordings (later on cassette tapes).
Vysotsky accompanied himself on a Russian seven-string guitar, with a raspy voice singing ballads of love, peace, war, everyday Soviet life and of the human condition. He was largely perceived as the voice of honesty, at times sarcastically jabbing at the Soviet government, which made him a target for surveillance and threats. In France, he has been compared with Georges Brassens; in Russia, however, he was more frequently compared with Joe Dassin, partly because they were the same age and died in the same year, although their ideologies, biographies, and musical styles are very different. Vysotsky's lyrics and style greatly influenced Jacek Kaczmarski, a Polish songwriter and singer who touched on similar themes.
The songs – over 600 of them – were written about almost any imaginable theme. The earliest were blatnaya pesnya ("outlaw songs"). These songs were based either on the life of the common people in Moscow or on life in the crime people, sometimes in Gulag. Vysotsky slowly grew out of this phase and started singing more serious, though often satirical, songs. Many of these songs were about war. These war songs were not written to glorify war, but rather to expose the listener to the emotions of those in extreme, life-threatening situations. Most Soviet veterans would say that Vysotsky's war songs described the truth of war far more accurately than more official "patriotic" songs.
Nearly all of Vysotsky's songs are in the first person, although he is almost never the narrator. When singing his criminal songs, he would adopt the accent and intonation of a Moscow thief, and when singing war songs, he would sing from the point of view of a soldier. In many of his philosophical songs, he adopted the role of inanimate objects. This created some confusion about Vysotsky's background, especially during the early years when information could not be passed around very easily. Using his acting talent, the poet played his role so well that until told otherwise, many of his fans believed that he was, indeed, a criminal or war veteran. Vysotsky's father said that "War veterans thought the author of the songs to be one of them, as if he had participated in the war together with them." The same could be said about mountain climbers; on multiple occasions, Vysotsky was sent pictures of mountain climbers' graves with quotes from his lyrics etched on the tombstones.
Not being officially recognized as a poet and singer, Vysotsky performed wherever and whenever he could – in the theater (where he worked), at universities, in private apartments, village clubs, and in the open air. It was not unusual for him to give several concerts in one day. He used to sleep little, using the night hours to write. With few exceptions, he wasn't allowed to publish his recordings with "Melodiya", which held a monopoly on the Soviet music industry. His songs were passed on through amateur, fairly low quality recordings on vinyl discs and magnetic tape, resulting in his immense popularity. Cosmonauts even took his music on cassette into orbit.
Musically, virtually all of Vysotsky's songs were written in a minor key, and tended to employ from three to seven chords. Vysotsky composed his songs and played them exclusively on the Russian seven string guitar, often tuned a tone or a tone-and-a-half below the traditional Russian "Open G major" tuning. This guitar, with its specific Russian tuning, makes a slight yet notable difference in chord voicings than the standard tuned six string Spanish (classical) guitar, and it became a staple of his sound. Because Vysotsky tuned down a tone and a half, his strings had less tension, which also colored the sound.
His earliest songs were usually written in C minor (with the guitar tuned a tone down from DGBDGBD to CFACFAC)
Songs written in this key include "Stars" (Zvyozdy), "My friend left for Magadan" (Moy drug uyekhal v Magadan), and most of his "outlaw songs".
At around 1970, Vysotsky began writing and playing exclusively in A minor (guitar tuned to CFACFAC), which he continued doing until his death.
Vysotsky used his fingers instead of a pick to pluck and strum, as was the tradition with Russian guitar playing. He used a variety of finger picking and strumming techniques. One of his favorite was to play an alternating bass with his thumb as he plucked or strummed with his other fingers.
Often, Vysotsky would neglect to check the tuning of his guitar, which is particularly noticeable on earlier recordings. According to some accounts, Vysotsky would get upset when friends would attempt to tune his guitar, leading some to believe that he preferred to play slightly out of tune as a stylistic choice. Much of this is also attributable to the fact that a guitar that is tuned down more than 1 whole step (Vysotsky would sometimes tune as much as 2 and a half steps down) is prone to intonation problems.
Vysotsky had a unique singing style. He had an unusual habit of elongating consonants instead of vowels in his songs. So when a syllable is sung for a prolonged period of time, he would elongate the consonant instead of the vowel in that syllable.
The Vladimir Semyonovich Vysotsky Statue is a prominent monument located in Voronezh, Russian Federation, dedicated to the legendary Russian singer-songwriter, actor, and poet Vladimir Semyonovich Vysotsky. This statue stands as a tribute to Vysotsky's immense contributions to Russian culture and his enduring legacy.
Vladimir Vysotsky was born on January 25, 1938, in Moscow, Russia. He quickly gained recognition for his unique artistic style, characterized by his powerful voice, poetic lyrics, and charismatic stage presence. Vysotsky's songs captured the essence of the Soviet era, addressing social issues, human emotions, and political satire. His music resonated deeply with the masses, and he became an iconic figure in Russian popular culture.
The idea of erecting a statue in Voronezh to honor Vladimir Vysotsky was conceived to commemorate his connection to the city. Vysotsky had a special relationship with Voronezh, as he spent a significant portion of his early career performing in local theaters and interacting with the local artistic community. The statue serves as a reminder of this bond and celebrates his artistic contributions.
The Vysotsky Statue was unveiled on November 18, 2009, in front of the Voronezh Academic Drama Theater, where Vysotsky performed numerous times. The monument was created by renowned Russian sculptor Grigory Pototsky. Standing at approximately 5 meters tall, the bronze statue captures Vysotsky in a dynamic pose, holding a guitar and singing passionately.
The sculpture depicts Vysotsky in mid-performance, capturing his energy and intensity on stage. The attention to detail in the statue is remarkable, with intricate facial features, flowing hair, and realistic clothing. The sculptor aimed to convey Vysotsky's passion and charisma through the artwork, and the statue successfully embodies these qualities.
The location of the statue, in front of the Voronezh Academic Drama Theater, is significant. It symbolizes Vysotsky's strong ties to the theater and his impact on the performing arts. The statue serves as a meeting point for admirers of Vysotsky's work, attracting locals and tourists alike. It has become an iconic landmark in Voronezh, attracting visitors who come to pay their respects and celebrate Vysotsky's artistic legacy.
The statue's unveiling was accompanied by a grand ceremony, attended by government officials, artists, and Vysotsky's fans. The event highlighted the significance of Vysotsky's artistic contributions and celebrated his enduring influen
Quando corri, se ti volti a guardare in dietro, è probabile che inciampi. A volte però capita, per un motivo o per un altro, di doversi fermare. Allora è bene sfruttare questi momenti per riposarsi e per valutare la strada percorsa e godere del posto in cui ci si è fermati.
My legs are the only part of my body that I love.
All Rights Reserved: If you use any of my photos for any use at what so ever, like or comment on them and source them as well, please.
“The map shows how to say (or rather write) the equivalent of 'Merry Christmas' in European languages. The colouring corresponds to etymological relations between the translations of the word Christmas (i.e. not to language families and not to relations between other parts of the phrase).”
— Jakub Marian (accessed 26 December 2016).
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▶ “This leads to a few unexpected results. Even though Romanian and Hungarian are completely unrelated languages, the words karácsony and Crăciun come from a common root (either Proto-Slavic *korčiti or Latin creātiōnem).
Something similarly strange happens in Czech and Slovak. The word Vánoce resp. Vianoce is derived from German Weihnachten by retaining the 'Weih' part (which comes from an old Germanic expression meaning 'holy') and replacing nachten ('nights') by the Czech/Slovak translation, 'noce'. However, the word 'noce' itself comes from the same Proto-Indo-European root as German 'Nachten' (and English “nights”), so the Czech/Slovak and German expressions are essentially etymologically equivalent.”
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▶ Image via Jakub Marian.
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A sign language (also signed language) is a language which, instead of acoustically conveyed sound patterns, uses visually transmitted sign patterns (manual communication, body language) to convey meaning—simultaneously combining hand shapes, orientation and movement of the hands, arms or body, and facial expressions to fluidly express a speaker's thoughts.
Wherever communities of deaf people exist, sign languages develop. Their complex spatial grammars are markedly different from the grammars of spoken languages. Hundreds of sign languages are in use around the world and are at the cores of local deaf cultures. Some sign languages have obtained some form of legal recognition, while others have no status at all.
Here used at the flea market :-)
(excuse my excessive language in this i'm just kinda pissed right now)
do you ever feel like you're just obligated to something? like it's more of a task than just something you enjoy doing? that's what i feel about for basically everything. i feel like that about basically everything right now. i feel worthless at the moment. i don't feel like i'm useful for anything anymore. i do kinda miss my friends on here. what happened you guys? i feel the need to rant though because i have a lot to get off my chest.
i don't know lately i've just been really depressed. i've had so many issues dealing with friends and stuff, i can't take it anymore. literally the only place that is my escape from reality is the internet and running. don't know if you guys know this but i do in fact, enjoy running. i've been doing cross country and track since 6th grade and i love it. it's my life. but right now my running is limited which brings up alyssa. alyssa was my best friend since 2nd grade, i don't know why i put up with her bullshit all these years though. anyway 2 months ago alyssa and i stopped being friends for the most stupid reason ever. literally all she talked about was this guy that she loved a lot. they've been off and on between their relationship for a long time. we haven't had a real conversation in a long time and i was tired of it. literally when i'd start telling her a story she'd stop me in the middle of it and be like 'omg ya that totes reminds me of this rlly cute thing jonathan did yesterday ahahahah!!!11!!" i went up to her after history and told her "alyssa, i love you, but i'm getting kind of tired of you talking on and on about this guy" and she took it really personal and said “well okay if you don’t accept my feelings then i guess we shouldn’t be friends” and we had a huge ass fight. so i felt really bad and texted her like every minute saying i’m sorry. i wrote her a huge ass letter saing i’m sorry but she didn’t accept it. i even went UP to her and said i’m sorry but she kept ignoring me. okay so she does this thing where when she hates someone and they’re rushing to class and they like brush by her to class and she says “ew it touched me” so i was running to history and i passed by her and she said “ew it touched me” and it pissed me off so i went up to he at the end of classr and said “you know what alyssa you’re being a fucking hypocrite, you expect me to listen to your opinions and feelings, but you can’t even hear me out on mine and accept my own fucking opinion. look i’m done with your shit” and she tilted her head and asked her friend “i’m sorry did you guys hear something” and she kicked me to the ground on my fractured ankle that she knew hurt a fuck ton. that was the week before i was supposed to get it off but then i had it on for another two weeks because of her.
so last night alyssa ended up in the hospital. i really don't wanna say why. anywho, she texted me a freaking picture of her in the hospital with a caption saying, "happy now?" and it was really frustrating, i didn't know what to think at that time. i sobbed my eyes out and told my parents how she was in the hospital and it felt like it was all my fault, but my parents kept telling me it wasn't. i went up to my room and just sat there for a while absorbing everything that happened. and then i texted her back, "you know what, no, screw you. why should i feel pity for you considering the fucking fact i've had to put up with your bullshit all these years. i've had you taunt me and harm me both physically and mentally. you have no right to blame me for the fact you're in the fucking hospital because i did this to you. because in all honesty i didn't. you're being the fucking hypocrite who can't fucking accept my opinion civilly, but somehow i have to manage to accept yours. screw you"
i felt kinda happy and scared at the same time when i sent that to her but i feel like it was worth it. i still don't know if i'm doing the right thing or not but i felt the need to share it and get it off my chest.
i still am unsure of what i'm supposed to feel but i do know one thing i shouldn't feel for her is pity.
okay on a less depressing note this photo is waaaaay over edited oops.
Copyright © 2014 Eric Morris - All Rights Reserved
This Image is Available for Request to License through Getty Images
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Christian Yelich at bat, in the early stages of a hitting streak, facing Stephen Strasburg on Jackie Robinson Day at Marlins Park. The Marlins defeated Strasburg and the Washington Nationals 11-2 behind strong pitching from Tom Kohler, a 3-Run Home Run by Giancarlo Stanton, and a Nationals Team that seemingly imploded.
There was even a near-brawl on the field as one of Kohler's pitches sailed high and inside (kinda) on Ian Desmond and Desmond took exception to it. There was a pitch just a bit earlier that was even closer on Jason Werth, so I can understand Desmond's concern somewhat. No punches were thrown even though both bullpens emptied...everyone went back to baseball and we enjoyed a great game at a great ballpark.
** A footnote about Ian Desmond: He is a class act. Before the game, he was working out between second base and first base and saw a young boy wearing an Ian Desmond jersey patiently watching near the wall behind first base. After a while, the boy turned to walk back through the tunnel to his seat and Ian called over to the field security guard and asked him to call the boy back. When the boy returned to the wall, Ian was waiting for him with an outstretched hand, and a hearty, "Hi! I'm Ian. What's your name?" The two talked for a few minutes and then concluded with Ian's signature on the boy's jersey and another handshake bidding each other farewell. I wouldn't make such a big deal out of this if not for the fact that I don't see it very often at the major league level during the regular season...and I've seen something similar out of Ian twice now (the other time being prior to a Nationals-Mets game at Nationals Park in Washington, DC, last summer). Yep - Ian Desmond is good people.
A Dutch language brochure, folding out to form a town plan of Enschede, and that appears to have been issued by the local VVV Enschede - that, I think, was possibly a local, municipal publicity and tourist agency. The brochure is not dated but the style - and lack of TET tramway operations - makes c1935 feel right.
Enschede is one of the most eastern cities in the Netherlands, in the Province of Overijssel and part of the region of Twente. The town became rapidly industrialised in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries and grew accordingly. Eventually a more planned approach to development took place and, in 1935, the municipality expanded to annexe neighbouring Lonneker.
The covers of the brochure are rather fine, minimalist works of graphic design and obviously selling Enschede as a 'modern' city for trade, industry as well as for tourism. The cover claims this as "de nieuwe stad in t'oude land" - the new city in the old country - and shows old houses against a background of modern architecture and a factory chimney.
This includes an advert panel for the city's inland harbour, or docks, where the Zutphen - Enschede Canal terminates. The inner section includes a fine diagrammatic map of the N V Twentse Electrische Tramweg Maatschappij's bus network designed by "Vugt".
Exotic Mountain or Gunung Nona (In Indonesian language) or Buntu Kabobong (in Toraja Traditional Language) that has mean "The Mount Of Girl". There is a myth that this mountain was made by God curse. That happen when God know there was a king in Sulawesi that want to married his own daughter, so the king and her daughter was cursed into a mountain.
This mount is located in Enrekang district that will pass by everyone that want to visit Tana Toraja district, but many tourist always missed this great scenery because they prefer to go to Tana Toraja district at night.
Visitors that want to see the scenery also can take a rest in a hotel and cafe that build directly in the front of the mount, so people can enjoy that beautiful scenery while drink a cup of tea or coffe before continuing journey to Tana Toraja.
Taken @Mt Nona, Makassar, South Sulawesi, Indonesia.
sign language by kinetics & one love
above photo--my reaction to school; below-- emily lee's project for art that i am absolutely in love with. <3
recently, have had a lot going on with school, friends, family, and relationships... but when it comes down to it, i know that God, THE God, is gonna make it all okay and it's totally gonna be fine. :)
so despite being overwhelmed, there's going to be an end to this!
whilst i'm still procrastinating (major factor in my misery HAHA)...
tagged by farisia, miki, and hansika!
ten facts about brendaleeeeeeeeeee!
one. i refuse to wear matching socks; why wear the SAME colour when you can just add another?
two. my standard outfit up till maybe ninth grade was tshirt, jeans, sneakers... hair tied up... and a hoodie. as seen in this photo, my fashion sense has not improved by much (though silly bandz do make it more exciting as well as the super bright green scarf i like to use as a substitute pillow in class!
three. in fifth grade, i got recess detention almost every day for 'excessive talking'. consider my lesson not learned.
four. my dad is perhaps one of my best friends in the whole wide world--not sure what i'll do without him in college.
five. speaking of college--my criteria were as follows: do they have what i want to study? do they have good food? christian fellowship? quidditch? location? size? can i even make it in?
six. food--i love fruit. and ice cream. and SANDWICHES! everything tastes better as a sandwich. and my food consumption level is that of a teenage boy (depending on who i'm with) and i would love to join a burping contest with you, thanks for asking!
seven. i exercise so i can eat more. exercise may be in the form of running, lifting weights (i like fitnessy stuff) ab workouts, pushups, tripping up the stairs and running down them screaming OW OW OW OW OW OW and various dance party study breaks... i guess soccer counts as exercise too. heh.
eight. if i'm angry with you, i might be going "piew piew!" in my head with my finger guns pointed right at you... but you'd never know.. ^^
nine. i wear my retainers everyday because i'm forever scared by braces and on that note dental hygiene is important people-floss everyday! gums matter too!
ten. i sing really loudly when i'm walking alone on the streets and i'm going somewhere as if my life were a musical... i figure the chinese locals will just roll with it cuz they cool
and that's a random assortment of facts you REALLY didn't need to know. :) sorry for the length, you're awesome possum soooo enjoy!
was in June 1992 that an unusual architectural manifesto was launched in Great Britain. For the next ten years or more, the manifesto entitled "Urban Villages, a concept for creating mixed-use urban developments on a sustainable scale" continued to make waves, and was much commented and criticised - often unfavourably - in the specialist and general media.
In the language of contemporary British town planning, the expression "urban village" has for many people come to be synonymous with the name "Poundbury", the neo-traditionalist suburban development on the fringes of the rural town of Dorchester, piloted and largely masterminded by the Prince of Wales. Yet although Poundbury is certainly the most extensively developed of Britain's urban village projects, there are many others throughout Britain, and the expression "urban villages" is also used in other English speaking countries to describe modern suburban developments - and in some cases rural developments - that conform (or more or les conform) to certain holistic principles of planning that run against the grain of accepted modern practices in suburban development.
This article takes a concise look at the origins of the "urban village" concept, and its definition, before studying the situation of urban village development in the UK today, looking at Poundbury and the other projects throughout the country that were in 2001 affiliated to the Urban Villages Forum, the think tank set up under the patronage of the Prince of Wales.
Indeed, no discussion of "urban villages" in a British context can begin without reference to the role of the Prince of Wales who, long dissatisfied by much of the dreary suburban development that has occurred in Britain during his lifetime, has used his position to spearhead the development of socially and architecturally successful sustainable communities designed to avoid the failures of the recent past.
The much-used expression "neo-traditionalist", imported from the United States, clearly establishes the conceptual framework that underlies the urban village movement; urban villages are seen as not just an architectural or planning concept, but one predicated on a form of social organisation that has its roots in a long-established model that has stood the test of time. In Britain, as in the United States, the aim of the proponents of urban villages is not just to design modern living environments that reflect those of a previous and supposedly more stable rural society, but to rediscover the forms of living environment that engendered the stability of such traditional rural communities. In this respect, the "urban village" is a concept that takes its place in a historic British - and notably English - paradigm that has previously been illustrated in the model towns of Lever, Cadbury and others, the garden cities of the first half of the twentieth century, and, in community terms at least, in late twentieth century developments such as Newcastle's Byker village.
The expression "urban village" seems however to be an American invention. The earliest bibliographical reference to the phrase would seem to be a book entitled Urban Village: Population, Community, and Family Structure in Germantown, Pennsylvania, 1683-1800, by Stephanie Grauman, published in 1980. Yet early usages of the expression do not refer to any specific planning concept, but are a more a convenient pairing of words used to describe certain types of close-knit urban communities whose structures reflected traditional rural models. The phrase was even used as a rendering of the Spanish expression "barrio". It was in the early eighties, however, that the first references to the "urban village" as a planning concept began to appear, in the writings of Christopher Leinberger, a Los Angeles based urban affairs consultant (Urban Villages: The Locational Lessons. Wall Street Journal. New York. November 13, 1984) and Charles Lockwood (The Arrival of the Urban Village in Princeton Alumni Weekly November 1986). Leinberger used the phrase "urban villages" to describe what he saw as a new tendency towards mixed-use development in suburban America, resulting from the fact that in post-industrial America, there was no longer any need to separate business and residential areas for environmental reasons (pollution, noise, etc.).
More recently, and notably in the 1990's, the phrase has been used sporadically in discussions of the American "new urbanism" movement, often by and with reference to neotraditionalist planners Leon Krier and the Andres Duany / Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk partnership; yet generally speaking, American writers and planners - until recently - have made considerably more use of the expression "new urbanism", rather than "urban village". The idea of the "village", with its notions of "community", seems to be particularly English, and it was only in the late 1990's, following the international interest aroused by the first of England's "urban villages", Poundbury, that the expression really began to become popular in the United States and Australia.
It was the Prince of Wales who introduced the concept of the "urban village" into the vocabulary of British planning; the expression is used briefly in his 1989 book A Vision of Britain (the follow up to a 1988 television documentary), though not at the time directly in conjunction with the Poundbury project, which is mentioned. It was also this book that clearly established the dual parentage of the urban village concept in the English acceptance of the phrase; on the one hand, the historic English village tradition, on the other hand the American neotraditionalist architectural planners, notably Krier and Duany. In the final pages of A Vision of Britain, a presentation of Krier's archetypal neotraditionalist development in Florida, the town of Seaside, covers a full five pages, compared to just two covering the development of "model villages" in the U.K. from Saltaire to the garden cities.
Yet clearly, however great the influence of Krier on Prince Charles has been, it is the historic English concept of the village, and the idealised view of village life, that form the theoretical models that the British proponents of the "urban village" have sought to translate into a modern idiom.
One may speculate as to whether Prince Charles, while thinking over the possibility of creating a planned modern urban village at Poundbury, on the outskirts of Dorchester, had read P.H.Ditchfield's 1908 book The Charm of the English Village, which had recently been reprinted (1985); there is a lot in this book, most notably perhaps its preoccupation with the small details, the use of materials, and the stylistic and functional variety that characterise traditional English villages, that prefigures the Prince's view of the model community. Along with many other publications, both Prince Charles's and Ditchfield's books are also woven on the loom of nostalgia for a supposed almost utopian past, common to the proponents of New Urbanism, and anathema to many modernists. In an article in Harvard Design Magazine in 1997, marxist geographer David Harvey, professor at Johns Hopkins university wrote :
"The New Urbanism in fact connects to a facile contemporary attempt to transform large and teeming cities, so seemingly out of control, into an interlinked series of 'urban villages', where, it is believed, everyone can relate in a civil and urbane fashion to everyone else."
Harvey, however was looking on new urbanism in the fundamentally North American idiom; and although, historically, many earlier settlers in the United States - notably in New England - transposed onto north American soil social models imitated from those of the English village, on the whole the American model was, by definition, different. Early American villages may not have been subject to the rectilinear grid planning of 19th century American towns and villages, but neither did they evolve slowly over time in the manner of the historic English village. In addition, America's "New Urbanism", as exemplified by Seaside, is rather different from the English "urban village" as first exemplified at Poundbury.
Ditchfield (1908) more than once stresses the particular nature of English villages, even as opposed to villages in other parts of Europe, referring to the particular social structure of the English village as the "village commonwealth", a structure that would more normally be referred to in modern terms as the "village community". It should be noted that the notion of "community" is a fundamental building block in the societies of modern English speaking countries, and is considerably more deeply rooted in the English tradition (and more broadly speaking the Germanic traditions) than in that of any newer country, or even of other European countries in which the structures of pre-industrial society had evolved out of Roman law.
Since the departure of the Romans, the village has been the core community unit in the British Isles. Though England long boasted, in London, Europe's largest city, and though Britain was the first European nation to undergo major population drift to the towns, the village has always survived - in thought, literature or art - as the ideal, and often idealised, social unit. In Roman times, cities became the nuclei of life in Britain; but after the Romans left, most of their great cities, with the exception of London, were largely abandoned, the British populations moving out to occupy new village sites outside the city walls or further afield; and whilst in continental western Europe the great cities of Roman times remained great cities after the Romans left, and in many cases remain so to this day, the same was not true in the British Isles.
In mediaeval Britain, the extensive devolution of power and authority under the Anglo-Norman feudal system - inherited from the Anglo Saxon period - and the territorial representation that existed in English parliaments from the late thirteenth century onwards, played their role in formulating, in the national psyche, an image of England as being a nation represented emblematically by its villages, rather than by its capital city. In the English mind, London has never been the nexus of national identity in the way that Paris has long been the symbol of France and French life. In Shakespeare, the quintessential images of English life are not those of Henry IV and Bolingbroke at court or on the battle field; they are those of Justice Shallow in his orchard in rural Gloucestershire.
The Industrial Revolution completed, by the mid nineteenth century, a process that had been set in motion by the Enclosures Acts of the eighteenth, precipitating Europe's first massive rural exodus, and with it a further pauperisation of the former rural labourers. It was during this period that poets, artists and novelists, from Blake to Constable to William Morris or Thomas Hardy, began to place rural England at the heart of English art and writing, often in an idealised manner that helped give a new impetus to the longstanding perception of the superiority of English rural society over urban society. The apparent immortality of the BBC's classic radio soap opera, the Archers, set in its fictitious village of Ambridge, is just another more modern illustration of the same point.
It is perhaps significant that Trevor Osborne, chairman of the Urban Villages Group, notes, in the introduction to Urban Villages, that "the term 'urban village' will not be readily understood in mainland Europe; when exported to other EC member states, it will need a different label." One might even add : "or to the USA".
It is clearly by another quirk of coincidence that the first English "Urban Village", Poundbury, should have been located on the outskirts of Dorchester, the town immortalised under the name of Casterbridge, in the novels of Thomas Hardy.
Proposals for a major expansion of Dorchester were first debated in 1987, and two years later outline planning permission for the westward extension of the town was granted by West Dorset District Council, for a mixed-use residential suburb that will eventually stretch over 400 acres (about 190 hectares). The initial development was to cover 35 acres of land.
Prince Charles was involved in the project from the start; the greenfield site on the outskirts of Dorchester was in effect his land, agricultural leasehold land belonging to the Duchy of Cornwall. When the Dorchester council applied to the Duchy to purchase the land for development, the answer they received was more favourable than they had imagined possible. Not only would the Duchy make the land available for development, but Prince Charles himself would oversee the operation, with the aim of establishing an attractive mixed-use and socially mixed suburban development; Britain's first "urban village".
For many in the UK architectural and planning establishment, news that the Prince of Wales was to take charge of a major suburban development project was like a red rag to a bull. Relations between the Prince and many of Britain's leading architects and planners had been, to say the least, tense ever since the Prince had begun airing in public his none-too-complimentary opinions on the architecture and planning of the sixties and seventies. His famous description of Birmingham's new library as looking more like an incinerator than a place of learning, or his much quoted speech to the Royal Institute of British Architects, in 1984, when he described the proposed extension to London's National Gallery as being like a "monstrous carbuncle on the face of a much-loved and elegant friend", had done little to endear him to the modernists in British architecture.
Consequently, and unsurprisingly, reactions to the initial proposals for Poundbury were not favourable, neither in the specialised reviews nor in the architectural columns of the British broadsheets. The project was decried variously as an exercise in retrophilia, a pastiche, an irrelevance, or worse.
That was in 1989; and it is true that Leon Krier's bird's-eye sketch of what Poundbury might look like, published at the time in A Vision of Britain (p138), does look more like a heteroclite exercise in nostalgia than a serious plan for a late twentieth century suburban development.
The reality of Poundbury has been somewhat different: with the first phase of building now complete, the earliest streets have already had time to mellow, and as an urban environment, the general consensus among both residents and the press is that this new "urban village" is a success. After its early hostile coverage, the British mainstream press - including the Guardian, the Telegraph, the Mirror and the Mail - has now changed tack, and since 1998 press coverage of the ever-evolving project has been largely positive.
Among the common complaints voiced by residents now is that Poundbury is a victim of its success, with large numbers of tourists and visiting architects and town planners who invade their space, sometimes in coachloads, turning their residential quarter into an unintended tourist attraction.
So why do they come? What is it that has established Poundbury as a stopping point on the architect's and town planner's tour of Britain in the early twenty-first century? Firstly, of course, there is its curiosity value - an unusual - some would still say eccentric - act of royal patronage, an experiment in suburban architecture and planning, masterminded by an amateur planner who is due to become the next King of England. Secondly they come to see how the ten point theory of the "urban village", laid out in the Vision of Britain, transforms into reality.
Over 22 pages, the book sets out a list of "ten principles we can build upon" in order to create a successful modern urban living environment. These are as follows:
1. Place. That planners should understand the local environment, and design their projects to blend with it.
2. Hierarchy. That the design of buildings should always reflect their hierarchical position in the community, that "public buildings ought to proclaim themselves with pride", and others be designed in function of their value in society.
3. Scale. That buildings should bear relation to the human scale, and the scale of other buildings in an area.
4. Harmony. That buildings should blend harmoniously with others in the vicinity.
5. Enclosure. That spatial identity is of major importance, and that new developments should incorporate such public spaces as squares and courtyards
6. Materials. that building materials used should reflect the diversity of local traditions, and not conform to any national or international standard.
7. Decoration. That decorative craftsmanship should still be, as it always has been, a major feature of the urban environment.
8. Art. That artistic decoration has a major and a symbolic role to play in the enhancement of the urban environment, and that artists as well as architects should have a role to play in the designing of new living environments.
9. Signs and lighting. That these also contribute to the success of the built environment, not detract from it, and should therefore be put up with care and attention.
10. Community. That a successful community is a place where residents feel involved, and contribute to the planning and running of their environment.
While points 1 - 9 can be - and in the case of Poundbury, are being - ensured through the masterplan, point 10 cannot. A successful community can only be brought about by the people who live in it; and so far, in spite of the fact that Poundbury is still very much an ongoing project, those who live there are happy with their environment and, on the whole, consider it to be a successful community.
Besides the above ten points, which essentially concern the architectural and visual aspects of the environment in urban villages, there are other fundamental aspects that distinguish the urban village from other suburban or rural housing projects, aspects that are perhaps rather more fundamental than aesthetics. These are social mixity, and mixed use - together seen as preconditions for the creation of new sustainable communities.
As well as reflecting the ten principles, the masterplan for Poundbury was for a housing development that would include a seamless and indistinguishable mixture of owner-occupied dwellings and social housing. The mixed-use plan also called for the inclusion, within easy walking distance of the residential streets, of shops, workshops and factories, enabling residents to live and work in the community without the need for commuting.
In many details, the masterplan for Poundbury went against conventional planning orthodoxy. Its fundamental tenet, mixed use, ran counter to accepted zoning theory, which prefers to concentrate business in business parks, housing in housing estates, and shops in shopping centers.
As for social diversity, critics of the Poundbury plan argued that the type of home buyers wanting to buy in Poundbury would not wish to buy houses that shared a dividing wall with social housing units; it was also suggested that the densely-packed housing environment was out of keeping with the tastes and expectations of modern middle-class British house-buyers, more usually attracted by the ideal of detached houses in wrap-around gardens.
Others predicted that industry would not want to relocate in the middle, or even on the edge, of a residential area, and that in the end, Poundbury would end up as no more than a "glorified council estate".
So far at least, this has not been the case - which is exactly what its planners expected. Having conceived Poundbury as a carefully planned (or, in its critics' opinions, contrived) recreation of a traditional organically developed village, they did not expect to encounter the problems facing many other suburban developments.
Like the village, the urban village is conceived as a community of mixed housing, catering for all ages and income groups. At Poundbury, the first phase of housing consisted of 55 units of social housing, administered by a housing association, the Guinness Trust, and 141 freehold owner-occupier homes, as well as retail and commercial premises. By the time the development is completed, towards the year 2020, Poundbury will have between 2,000 and 3,000 housing units, with social housing accounting for about 20% of the total, in line with the national average.
The question that remains, however, is whether the model of Poundbury can be transposed into other settings, or whether the success of this rather middle-class development on the edge of a rather trouble-free county town in the heart of the Westcountry, can be replicated in other areas?
Following the media coverage - both positive and negative - given to the Poundbury project when it was first mooted in the late 1980's, a forum known as the Urban Villages Group was founded in 1989, at the Prince of Wales's behest, under the wing of Business in the Community, an organisation whose purpose is "to tackle economic, social and environmental issues affecting local communities" (Aldous, p8).
Among the founder members of the Group were Leon Krier, plus the chief executives of a number of property development companies, housing corporations, and the Managing Director of the Cooperative Bank. The aim of the Group was to encourage councils and property developers to take the urban village concept nationwide, as a viable - if slightly more costly - alternative to the monotonous standardized run-of-the-mill developments, the "edge cities" that have mushroomed, and will continue to mushroom, on the outskirts of most British urban areas.
As of January 2002, eighteen development projects across England are being carried out in partnership with the Prince's Foundation, according to "urban village" principles; none however is as advanced as Poundbury, and some, such as the Westoe Colliery project at South Shields and the Northwich city centre project, are still on the drawing board. Yet as the location of these two projects shows - one in the heart of the depressed northeast, and the other in the rundown centre of a Cheshire town - the "urban village" concept can be, and is being, applied in areas that are very different from semi-rural Dorset.
Only two other projects are listed, like Poundbury, as "urban extensions" on greenfield sites, one in Basdildon Essex, the other in Northampton; by far the majority of projects are "urban regeneration" projects on brownfield sites.
Some of these are in fact far removed from the "urban village" concept as illustrated by Poundbury. In particular, the Ancoats project in Manchester, the Jewellery quarter in Birmingham and the Little Germany redevelopment in the centre of Bradford appear more like classic industrial heritage preservation programmes, along the lines of the Albert Dock regeneration scheme in Liverpool, or the redevelopment of Butler's Wharf on the South Bank in London.
They are, however, different, inasmuch as these three projects, though they will never become villages in the sense that Poundbury can call itself a large village, have been conceived with the ethos of the urban village concept in mind, and not as just three more chic urban residential areas for the upwardly mobile.
Little Germany and the Jewelry Quarter are interesting cases, both being central urban areas which, in the past, had a clear spatial and social identity, the former as the fiefdom of Bradford's German cloth merchants, the latter as the densely populated network of small streets which housed both the homes and the workshops of Birmingham's hundreds of jewelers and watchmakers - a classic historic example of both mixed usage and a clearly defined urban quarter.
A hundred years ago, Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter provided employment for some 70,000 people – many of whom lived and worked in the quarter. Since then, the number of jobs in the sector has fallen by over 90%, and the residential population has all but disappeared. In 2000, the quarter harboured some 1,200 business, but only about 700 residents. The aim of the project is to redress this imbalance, and rekindle the vibrant community that existed at the start of the twentieth century.
The Ancoats Urban Village, in Manchester, is different - so different indeed that although Ancoats announces itself as an "urban village", the project's development manager herself is not convinced that it really is one.
"I feel uneasy about offering Ancoats as representative of the Urban Villages movement, as it does not conform to many of the criteria that the Urban Villages movement sets out, and although we are still members of the Prince's Foundation, I don't think they would suggest Ancoats as an example of their philosophy; we seem to spend most time disagreeing!" (Lyn Fenton, private letter of 02/01/02).
Ancoats prides itself for its place in urban history, as the world's first industrial suburb – an area in which 13,000 people once lived and worked; the targets of the Urban Village project are to bring people back to live in this historic industrial site, close to the centre of Manchester, through a programme of mixed use residential and business development. Classed as a conservation area in 1989, it is on the UK's short list for designation as a UNESCO world heritage site. In spite of the reservations of the developers, the targets set out in the Ancoats Supplementary Planning Guidance reflect the same principles as those adopted for Poundbury; the fact that this, as some other urban village sites, are not totally new-build areas, does not fundamentally change the perspective.
Naturally perhaps, it is not in Britain's great urban centres that other urban village projects closer to the Poundbury model can be found, but on the edges of Britain's smaller towns and cities, as the following two examples illustrate. The Westoe site in South Shields is being developed by Wimpey on the 17 hectare site of a disused colliery, as a high-density mixed-use and socially mixed suburb with up to 800 homes, its own school, shops and office premises. In Lancashire, the Luneside development at Lancaster, albeit smaller - 6 hectares - is being developed along similar lines.
Finally, although only 18 projects are affiliated to the Prince's Trust as recognised "urban village" developments, neither the Prince nor the trust has exclusive rights to the expression, and other new housing development projects elsewhere in Britain, are taking up the label in order to give themselves a certain cachet.
Indeed, the "urban village" approach to the design and planning of residential areas has now found its way into official UK government guidelines, a new guide from the Department of the Environment, Transport and the Regions showing among its primary inspirations:
" the 'Urban Villages' movement in the UK and neo-traditional design generally. Indeed, the design philosophy promoted is essentially one of working with context, promoting pedestrian friendly environments, returning to traditional perimeter block systems, and - where possible - mixing uses." (DETR Website 2002)
The current popularity of the notion of the "urban village" in contemporary UK planning would tend to indicate that a sea change in planning theory has taken place in the UK since Prince Charles first launched his vision of Britain in 1989. Whether or not this will result in the recreation of something resembling the types of close-knit communities that existed in nineteenth century, or pre-Enclosures English villages, or even in twentieth century industrial villages, and whether "mixed usage" will really have any serious impact on the social habits of the British in the 21st century, other than reducing car usage, are different matters.
And in the end, it is perhaps of little matter in the context of this paper, in which I have set out to show the peculiarly high value attached to the word village in England, and the particularly strong belief that runs through English thought and culture, that the village - and notably the idealised village with its green spaces, flowered gardens, and friendly folk, is the finest possible form of spatial and social organisation - even in the resolutely urban society of the start of the third millennium. In this respect, the phrase "urban village" has readily come to be seen not as a contradiction in terms, but as a means of having one's cake and eating it, or at least getting the best of both worlds.
Bibliography
Aldous, Tony. Urban Villages, a concept for creating mixed-use urban developments on a sustainable scale, London, The Urban Villages Group 1992.
Ditchfield, P.H. The Charm of the English Village, 1908, reprinted London, Bracken Books, 1985,
Harvey, David. The New Urbanism and the Communitarian Trap, in Harvard Design Magazine, Winter/Spring 1997, no. 1.
Miller, Anthony. The role of Landscape Architecture in fostering community; Byker, a case study, in L'Espace Urbain Européen, Cahiers du Créhu 6. Annales littéraires de l'Université de Franche Comté 1996
Mumford, Lewis. T, The City in History, Secker & Warburg 1961, reprinted Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, 1973 &&.
Rossiter, Andrew. Retour à l'Utopie? Poundbury; redéfinir la banlieue en village urbain. In Ville et Utopie, Cahiers du Créhu no. 10, actes du Colloque. Presses Universitaires de Franche Comté, 2001.
Wales, Charles, Prince of. A Vision of Britain, a personal view of architecture. London, Doubleday, 1989
Webography:
Thandani, Diriu A. New Urbanism Bibliography, published by the Architectural Resources Network
periferia.org/publications/cnubibliography.html
Department of the Environment, Transport and the Regions:
www.planning.detr.gov.uk/livingplaces/02/03.htm
Copyright :
About-Britain academic : texts © Authors and About-Britain.com
Andrew Rossiter, Université de Franche Comté
From a paper presented at the International Symposium on Urban and Rural Britain at the University of Valenciennes, France, 2002
The Firehydrant..chapter one..Busted..an excerpt from a story set in 1973/74
After that first court appearance in the Windsor courthouse I was sitting in the back of the paddy wagon being transported along with a few other criminals to the county bucket a five minute or so ride from the courthouse. I was still pretty high, if you look at it from a different perspective, I’d been high for about four or five years. Once, years earlier at the Don Gaol in Toronto, I was serving a four day weekend when these two cool hip looking Yankee dudes asked me what the prices were on the streets for weed and hash, shit like that. They had all the hippie trappings, long hair, hawk like features from looking over their shoulders too often. Briefly I thought maybe they were cops, plants, but they were Americans and had just left the O.R. in Guelph where they knew my buddy Coop de Grasser who was the head of the inmate committee at that time. I knew the difference in body language and voices from that of common pigs, they gave me that term, “we’ve been high for seven years, then we got busted” they had a Cheech and Chong quality about them especially in the eyes, they were crazies too, coming from California I could grasp their earlier introduction to the Herb.
Sitting in that wagon, (nic nac paddy whack, paddy wagon gonna take ya back, lock ya up and thro away the keys) handcuffed to some murderer or child molester, it just didn’t feel right, or seem right. I was not in the same criminal category as “those” criminals. They were bad, I just sold recreational drugs, which made people happy. I looked out the unmarked vans wired windows at some familiar sights. There was the Ambassador Bridge the Hippies at school had marched on the year before protesting for an end to the war in Vietnam while the Simon and Garfunkel song A Bridge Over Troubled Water played over loudspeakers. It was the same bridge Pete Kalci and self used to score the Hookers, buy the case of Ripple Wine, cross over to attend the Ravi Shankar and Traffic concerts. The very same bridge that took you to Ann Arbour and all the hip people living near those Michigan campuses. I was feeling greasy, very dirty, sweat was stinking up my armpits, my new blue leisure jacket was all wrinkled from being used as a pillow in the police station cell the night before where I once again carved the initials CTuna into the institutional paint.
Prison is a very sobering experience. That morning in the courtroom a man in his thirties, a violent robber, he threatened the people he robbed, gave them a smack with a gun to get their attention, you’d think this guy was rock solid, wouldn’t crack, no matter what. He started to ball when they gave him eight years in Federal Penitentiary, His lawyer had pleaded for leniency as he had a wife and a new baby on the way. You could tell the judge wasn’t swayed by this plea bargaining, he had to protect society from this monster repeat offender. Downstairs in the dungeon like remand cells I stayed away from him he was so emotionally distraught he might of lashed out at me.
You don’t get to pick your company in jail. At the county prison where I would be held for six weeks waiting for my trial and sentencing I was put through the usual routines, fingerprinted, again as I had already been fingerprinted at the police station the night before when I was arrested. At the county jail your clothes are taken from you and put in a bag with your name on them. The intake officer instructs you to have a shower in this big stall that was doorless. Afterwards you are instructed to stand there while a another officer sprays you for lice with a pressure mister that resembles a brass plant and weed sprayer similar to one you would use in your garden to kill bugs. All loose things like lighters, smokes, pills, cough candies, change, had been put into a manila envelope with your name on it at the police station downtown. This included my teacher/friends Don and Carol’s car keys to their car which I had parked on one of the upper floors at the Toronto Airport before taking the flight to Windsor. The paddy wagon driver another pink faced anglo saxon refugee handed that manila envelope over to the guard on duty when we arrived through the heavy steel gates and through a small brick lined tunnel into the courtyard of the very old county jail, the steel gates clanked shut automatically.
The desk guard had each of us answer some rudimentary questions, sex, race, age, education, religion, he looked startled and upset when he heard I was Taoist (pronounced Daoist). This was my spiritual flavour of the month, a Chinese faith based on the worship of Nature.
My bed for the next six weeks was located on the second tier of the three tiered old thick stone building built I would think in the last century. On this tier there were three other wards each ward holding a dozen cages/cells/cribs, each cell comprised of a steel bed a dull once stainless steel washbasin and a similar steel toilet without a seat, a piece of four inch square stainless steel was mounted above the sink, the mirror. The tier was designed to allow a single guard to patrol all four wards on the floor from the command centre located in the centre of the unit. There were always two guards on each floor one in the booth, the other always roaming. A roll of toilet paper had been issued to me as well as a cheap toothbrush and some tooth powder a threadbare facecloth and a towel big enough to dry your face and hands. A twenty five watt bulb glowed in the ceiling above, it would be on from six in the morning, till lights out at ten.
Home Sweet Home. My roommates were of various criminal backgrounds, there was a tall skinny biker with greasy yellow hair like the kind a worker at a wrecking yard might have, he was in for rape, his partner slept in the next set of cells, a portly unshaven fellow possibly related to a black bear or Kentucky mountain person, he was also in for rape, the two of them belonged to the Loners M.C, the local biker club. Next to me in the adjoining cell was a guy named Bill Hoskins who was quiet, had a scared look on his face, hadn’t shaved in a while, slightly receding, looked a bit like Garth Hudson of the Band, he was in on a smuggling marijuana charge and was not pleased with his circumstances. Little Mikey was the ward comic, shit disturber, go between, who was the one who bridged social classes and intermingled with all types, a chatterbox. There were a few quiet chaps and there was a young likeable guy all tattooed with crudely tattooed LOVE and HATE on his knuckles who it seemed had spent most of his young life in jail. He was just hoping to get sent to a prison in the area The Burtch Institution, he spoke of Burtch the way we would usually talk about home. Besides this motley crew there was one guy who everyone liked, I don’t recall his name, it might have been Jim he was coming down from using junk, he was dark haired and sort of reminded me of the Veteres from my youth, my neighbourhood Mt.Dennis, this Jim, he was street wise, quick to talk, he’d been around for his young twenty something age.
In very quick fashion a new person is sized up by the powers on the ward of any prison in any country, and it isn’t very long before the new prisoners place in the prison pack is established. For some reason my popularity irritated the power and after a few days I was asked to give the bad guys smokes while we were out in the small yard strolling around getting fresh air, I gave this some thought and passed out a few TMs as tailor made cigarettes were called but not without some resistance, the bikers weren’t very pleased to have a smart ass comparatively wealthy guy like myself around who might wrestle the minds of the weaker members of the pack from them.
As usual I became quite popular, my ability to tell stories and write stories about the fabled life in Toronto, the apartment building full of drugs (Rochdale) had every ones eyes bulging out. By this time two black brothers from Detroit were in the same ward with a minor infraction, they passed themselves off as bona fide black 'gangstas', I bought their story, they needed a connection to some crystal meth in TO and I turned them on to a pair of bikers who were living in the west end and whom I thought might appreciate the referral. As it was I had a list of phone numbers hidden in my shoes under the lining which along with some of my street clothes I was allowed to wear after they had been fumigated and cleaned since I was on remand and not yet officially a ward of the government. The black guys got bail fast, I never saw them again. Later in life the guys I referred them to paid me a visit as I worked the day shift at the Queensbury Arms, they weren’t pleased with my introduction. It could have been curtains for me, had I not been able to think on my feet. They thought the black guys may have been cops..
There was a crooked screw (guard) on the floor who for a price would smuggle in drugs and other contraband for those who had money and cravings. His name was Sidney and he was very tight with the diverse criminal element. In every prison man ever created there have been bent guards. Up to this time in life I had only known the soft side of Windsor, the niceties of the University scene, this was a much different perspective as the other folk I was now incarcerated with thought this situation as one of their schools of higher learning, a step in the ladder of criminality.
To help make time pass we played cards at the larger than picnic table sized metal tables that were bolted to the floor along with metal benches that were also bolted I suppose so no one would use them to hit each other with. A box shaped colour TV set sat in one corner of the ward. It was hung on one of those hospital style adjustable mounts and it was only put on at certain times, in the evenings from 7 to 10 or a bit later if something that was important was being shown. On weekends that TV might be on all day, starting with cartoons in the morning, which I recall quite a few of the people enjoying, then sports, and then hockey at night. There wasn’t much to do on weekends everybody’s routines ground to a halt.
The news story of the day was Richard Nixon’s impeachment from office. The previous year it seemed as if I had lost touch with events in the world. On reflection it may have been a lack of interest in the news that television and other media fed you. Lacking very many options at this time I began to join the herd and watched and laughed at All in The Family. The dreaded hockey games were on Saturday nights. Hockey is a Canadian staple and there were fierce conversations about various teams. Being so close to Detroit made for a lively rivalry, there weren’t as many teams in the league, it was an easier sport to appreciate.
Besides these time fillers I wrote pages and pages of short stories, some lyrical, like poems or songs. One in particular was a rhyming story about a “Gypsy Caravan” that parked under the full moon and where my lost love wept for me as I’d been sent to war. There were numerous verses and choruses, it was in my eyes a grand work. Several of the inmates would gather around the table as I would recite these stories, I recall Jim the Junkie giving the story his blessing and that was quite important for me as his sense of beauty and appreciation was different than the others. The other prisoners on remand held him in awe for some reason, he was like a Robin Hood type, a criminal All Star born and raised in Windsor. He got out on bail and a short while later word filtered back that he had died of an overdose of heroin and I always felt good that I had painted this nice scene for him of gypsies and love along a riverbank in golden days, like a Van Morrison lyric and his praise still ranks with the praise of others given me over the years.
Perhaps that is where my new nickname came from, that story about the gypsies. Around then someone tagged me with the title ‘Gypsy’ and it stuck right through my prison life. It took a while at first to get used to the new title, after all, nicknames were nothing new to me, as a kid I had been called Brooks by Bud Walford after Brooks Robinson the ballplayer with the Baltimore Orioles, Barb Sue Kevin and Shane often called me Weaver “Hey Weave” when we were younger playing cards on Victoria Blvd, then early on I used to carve my initials into the poured concrete sidewalks all over our area called Mount Dinky. C Tuna I would carve, using a stick or a piece of rock. Around this time there was a cartoon character called Charlie Tuna who was seen in tv advertisements for the Starkist Tuna company, there was a jingle with the ads and the ads were based on the premise that only the finest Tunas were good enough for Starkist customers and old Charlie a suave, Jackie Gleason type of Tuna with slicked back hair was always thrown back in to the sea. C Tuna was scraped also in the odd prison cell of Toronto’s #12, #31 and #52 Divisions as well as the gritty Don Gaol and now Windsor. One time, in Toronto I woke up from a drunken stupor and a police man at the #52 Divison asked me, “are you Charles Gregory aka C Tuna?” I replied I was, and was curtly charged with being drunk in a public place. I went back to sleep and was released in the morning, I couldn’t have been much more than sixteen.
My long relationship with the drink started around fifteen or so. While hanging out at Nick’s Pool Hall on Weston Road near Eglinton I met guys who were a bit older and liked to drink, especially on the weekends. An older guy named Bud a good pool player would go to the beer store and buy us a box of beer, I had developed a taste for it. Today, when I reflect on this behavior I have difficulty in recalling why I drank so much to the point often of blacking out as the consumption of beer became mixed with that of hard alcohol, whiskey, scotch etcetera. A common Saturday night would find me drinking a dozen beers with a mickey of Johnny Walker red as a chaser. At one time, I had been arrested six weekends in a row for drinking under age, drinking in a public place, drunk and disorderly…My mom was fed up bailing me out on Sunday mornings at the local police holding cells, located in the police stations, 31 division and 12 division. The fine for such behavior was usually $25 or $35 dollars or three days in jail. Not once do I recall anyone saying, this boy needs counseling. I may have been such a ‘tough nut’ that they felt it would have been a waste of time.
My friend George Holmes loved shouting out “here comes Tuna Fish” up at the corner of Keele and Eglinton during my greaseball period. This period took place between frat days and hippy days. Around town in my greaseball days that name C Tuna was recognizable up in the Junction, over on St Clair at Blackthorn and as well at Lansdowne and St Clair, also farther west towards Jane and Wilson and in Weston proper. I suppose the greasers up at Dufferin and Eglinton like Kenny Tanaka and Danny MacDonald had also known my AKA. It wasn’t that I was a prize fighter or anything a moniker was more a Title like that of a knight or a duke, sort of a right of passing, like a coming of age. Lots of guys had nick names just like the TV gangsters of the day, or the good guy bad guys in cowboy films. Names that quickly come to mind are, Hook, Coop de Grassser, Gooch, Scarecrow, Mars, Jake the Snake, Crazy Ivan, Fat Jack Hamilton, Mod, Vern the Tern, Dump, Butler, The Kid, Toot, Count, one guy, my friend Dave Wellwood had several nick names, The Goat, News, The General, Pee Wee and on and on.
Chassly Gangbusters was a favourite of the Hook and Coop years, Herbie used to like calling me Storch it was his invention he’d say it ‘Storch’ then back off a few steps in case I’d give him a smack, I always gave him a nasty sneer when he called me that. Charlie, Chuck, Chas, but almost never Charles. My name comes from a friend of my dads, Charles Bishop who died in the second war. Lately Schmiddy has been calling me the Kaliph of Keene which I really like. In the tradition of moms father Leon Yamel, actually Noel Lemay I’ve often tagged myself as Selrahc Yrogerg, this dates back to my saying words backwards while I waited to get on the field at the Smythe Park baseball league.
After a few days in the ward I could almost feel the drugs leaving my system and after two or three weeks I’d never been so clean, voluntarily. Even when I had the Hepatitis at Rochdale earlier that winter I was toking the finest hash and bud available. I must admit there was a new clarity to my mental comprehension, I could not adjust myself with other substances, alcohol included.
The food was awful, repetitive, I smoked like a chimney, there was a few hundred dollars in my pocket when I was picked up, I don’t recall the figure exactly. These funds in prison buy a lot of tobacco! To keep the peace I gave out as many smokes as required to avoid the bad guys wanting to shank me. We played cards night and day to pass the time, if anything I can remember that in particular, the time passing real slowly. That’s what more seasoned guys were saying that once you got where you were going, once you were sentenced you would find that your days took on structure and time was easier to do. This kind of time, waiting to be sentenced is called Dead Time and rightly so.
Michael Snyder the lawyer supplied free via the government legal aid program was a little lame in court during my first appearance. I took him aside and chewed him out. I wrote a letter to the court system, maybe the judge or the Attorney Generals Office, I’m not sure. The crooked screw Sidney read the letter and informed the lawyer of my dissatisfaction this got his attention and he did a fine job afterwards. I wonder if that letter ever made it out of that place.
Bill Hoskins as it turns out was in for a serious smuggling rap that he was not telling any of us about. He was on a sailing boat that had come up from the Bahamas area loaded with marijuana. The pot was hidden in false walls built into the customized ship, tons and tons of gange. As advisory counsel for my defense he nixed my hand written ten page dialogue about my historical accounting of the events leading up to my arrest, from the dysfunctional family situation with big Al at home which I used as my starting point in the dialogue, nixed the U.I.C. appeals process where I was cut off pogey for quitting my position without proper reason, nixed it all. He said to get a bunch of people to write letters who could speak for your good side, which in point of fact wasn’t so long ago, just the previous year I was bringing the teachers apples and cleaning the chalk off of the blackboards.
Turns out Sidney the crooked guard did me a favour by reading the mail that I had addressed to the law society and others regarding my lawyers lameness. When the lawyer caught wind of this he rushed in to appease me. Three weeks in the bucket passed and I was anxious to get on with things, when asked how I wished to plead it was a no brainer, I pled guilty. In court the judge found me guilty of all the charges, trafficking in narcotics, marijuana, hashish, peyote, acid, there was no blow left and I guess they didn’t bother to analyze the salt like crystal meth, there wasn’t much of it. I sat in the dock, again resolved, resolved not to break down and cry when sentenced like that other guy had done. I had to wait three more weeks for sentencing as the judge had asked for a pre-sentence report, which is like a record of your life, the details of your life, your failures and your successes if any. I recall finding this worrisome, although in my mind, having recently attended university under trying (at home) circumstances as a mature student, I felt I was on the right track, just jumped off the track momentarily.
That morning back in the court holding cells this big young Coloured man, I repeat, this was a big, strong athletic mean and angry twenty year old who wore those thick soled, tan coloured boots that motorcycle riders wore in the day, Fry Boots was their name. A diddler, a full grown twenty something farm kid from the sticks had just been returned to the holding cells in the basement of the court house, he walked with his head down, ashamed and afraid at the same time. As if in a movie the cell area was dimly lit an invitation for terror.
The farm kid went into a cell at the back of the block, none of the cell doors were locked. In court it came out that a couple of young girls had been molested the day before, quite young, under ten or so. You know how they say the jail system has its own way of getting folk, well this kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That big negro boy took his hatred out on that boy, he went into that cell and put the boots to the farm kids face, his gut, his balls, his legs, you name it, he got hit real hard. Nobody, no prisoner, no guard interfered I just watched stunned, I didn’t try to break it up, I just watched in my own kind of terror, that’s the way it can be in prison for diddlers they get no mercy, they are garbage. The guards very slowly came and broke it up, put the diddler in a solitary area, by this time his assailant had left the cell, he just brushed pass us all, me the other prisoners, the guards and took a seat in a cell holding his head in his hands, the screws never even bothered to ask what had happened, then we all went to the jailhouse in the paddy wagon, the diddler got separate transportation. Funny, I never saw that black guy again, he may have gone up to court and been given bail.
At the county bucket they put the diddler in a cell on my ward. That night we got him there as well but in a different way. Myself and others made a mixture of shit and piss, cold tea, spit and saliva, toilet water any vile substance we could find and poured it all over him as he lay in a back corner of the ward, not saying a word, afraid for his life, afraid to say anything, I mean we really humiliated him, I was a big part of this humiliation, this hazing, it was worse than a military blackballing. I’d been involved as a recipient in a mild fraternity hazing, I suppose that is where I got the idea. Over the years I’ve had a lot of remorse about this event but I still hold that this punishment, this prison tar and feathering was better than him losing his life, his balls or an eye or an ear.
They moved the big scared blonde haired blue eyed farm boy diddler from the ward that night put him into solitary confinement. In the visiting room the next day Frankie Herbert’s dad Frank Sr. came to visit, my first visit in nearly a month. Mr. Herbert worked as a travelling salesman for a big novelty company, he toured Ontario selling kitschy stuff like bingo markers, and roulette wheels and all sorts of things fundraising organizations use in their work and that large corporate stores stocked. At the same time Frank Sr. was visiting the diddler was visiting his dad, telling his dad through his pulverized face that I was one of his enemies, one of the perpetrators of his black eyes and bruises. That diddler, he don’t know how close he come to dying in that cell downtown. Frank Sr. he just looked at this farm kid with the shiners, looked at me, Frank Sr. he knew what the score was, he just shook his head, my father figure, surrogate dad visiting his son in gaol. Years earlier, Mr. Herbert had put up bail for me when the RCMP had placed a bag of pot in our groups car (actually a stretch Cadillac limo) as we tried to enter the Rockwood Festival. We had heard via the radio that everyone was getting busted that heading to the concert so we had stopped and stashed our goods in the woods, a ways from the entrance. The other five people were given bail but I was refused because of a previous minor offence. The charges were all thrown out in court later. I told the RCMP, this guy last name of Ryan, that if I saw him on the streets, I would kick the shit of him!
A couple of university school chums paid a visit one day after I had been sentenced, Tim, a bright musician type from the university showed up with my old baked and breaded sardine dinner girlfriend, Mary Lewis. That was kind of them to show up at that depressing place, it was the last time I ever saw or heard from them except when I contacted Mary Lewis and she sent me a year book from the university. A book I looked at maybe twice then mysteriously wrapped in several windings of masking tape for thirty years and hid in a milk crate with several old photo albums on top, securing its hiding place, was that my soul in that book? Who was that guy?
Bill the Smuggler had a birthday card sent in from someone on the outside, in the card, on the nose of the clown they had poured some liquid LSD and Bill did some, offered me a taste, I declined, felt the surroundings not conducive to a good trip. Bill laid some on the bikers to secure their loyalty. Now here you have these three or four biker types running around all looney, higher than kites, grooving to the little AM radio playing in the corner, digging the tunes, staring at hallucinations only they could see. In a way it was like the lawyer in Easy Rider getting turned on, except these were bad guys, getting all soft and mushy, I stayed in my crib that night until the party settled down. I think I was scared the bikers might be able (through the power of acid) be able to see my true feelings for them. Like many a night I read to sleep. Dostoyevsky offered imaginable experiences to escape to.
Next day in the yard the bikers were hovering together, conspiring, they were good at that, at joining forces, intimidation by numbers. At some point this middle aged black inmate took an epileptic fit, started shaking all over, fell to the ground, I thought he had been shot, the guards blew their stupid whistles they thought someone had beaten the guy up. We all had to stand at attention while the screws came and took the fellow away on a stretcher. It was a cool forty five degree F morning, the sun was shining. The heavy grey cloth winter coats we’d been issued had to be turned in when we went back inside, it felt so good being out in the yard, the fresh air, the bit of Spring green showing on the small lawn. Another inmate pointed out where they used to do the hangings, there remained a shuttered doorway a few levels up I was also shown where they used to bury the bodies they had hung, this was becoming a real adult experience.
Poetry in a language that’s not mine:
It’s easier, ‘cause I’m hid behind a mask.
Speaking the tongues of Anglos, every line
Is a gift, for which I did not ask.
Because I love the words, their sound, their meaning
The way they make me listen and roll around
In tinted marbles: while I feel I’m leaning
Toward the music that is gaining ground.
I did not know I could do that, and now
I’m hooked, and I feel I need to write.
I still remember when it happened, and how…
Me, sitting on a rock: the sun was bright.
The therapy is good, it works but leaves me weak
I am but hands and eyes, the book is here to speak.
(Sonnet by SiRiChandra)
PRESIDIO OF MONTEREY, Calif. -- Halloween came early for our local service members and their families when the Army's 229th Military Intelligence Battalion hosted the Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center "Trunk or Treat" event at Soldier Field, Oct. 28.
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PHOTO by Steven L. Shepard, Presidio of Monterey Public Affairs.