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Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
*********************************************************************************
This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
.************************************************************************************
Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.
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Thank You
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So..this is me...It has occurred to me as of late that I cannot expect to like myself or have others like me if it is all a facade...even partially. We're all in an age of digital imagery and keyboards, computers etc. It is SO easy to be something we are not...There are simple and complex programs that can alter things about us that we deem imperfections. We all here are a bit narcissistic...and hell, we want to look good....but this is more for others than ourselves...We think this makes us feel better but the underlying fact is that it doesn't...we create an image that we can only live up to on the internet...we make connections...establish relationships and friendships that may never come to fruition in fear of physically having to meet...This is all so non realistic and not conducive to anything at all..especially our connections...Connections and experiences are everything in this lifetime...Look around at your own lives...your homes..your children..your family...your spouse etc...real life...Hell...even the trees and animals etc...LIFE!!
Perhaps Flickr and other venues can be an escape from all of that when needed but why can't we all just be who we are...if people don't like you for who you are then who cares...NEXT!
It has also occurred to me that other people who see me...men..women ....may measure themselves according to what I project as an image of me...At 42 I have wrinkles...I don't embrace them fully but to me it shows I have laughed and smiled in this lifetime...My body has seen better days..hell I've had two 9LB kids!!! I always say I am far from perfect but what am I basing that on? Perfect in the sense of what I think I should appear as? Screw that too..What makes me perfect? My heart....my soul...MYSELF!
So this is me..untouched...not softened...no erasing of lines etc....This is 42..this is ME!!!
XOXO
Buster spent this last week with me and my girls. The events which brought him to our home are too laborious to go into great detail but the short story; he was found running the streets, brought to a five kill day shelter, on his fifth day a rescue group stepped in to save him, he was brought to a foster, adopted by family six states away, turned back in and landed safely at my home. He is a sweet and loving boy, who for all he had been through the last two months, did beautifully. Thursday he was placed with a permanent adopter. I learned several lessons from him.
Lesson One: Don't let yesterday's troubles weigh you down. Shake them off.
This is the little nuthatch we have been raising for about 3 weeks. He now eats on his own and I even dug up some worms for him:>) Yuck!! We just have to keep working on flying so he may leave and join his fellow birds.
A lesson learnt: After talking with my friend Gary, I decided not to go to the Dover Patrol, but somewhere under the route posted.
So, that is why I was parked up at the edge of a field in Martin. I got distracted by a buzzard, rattled off a few shots, then noticed that my battery was nearly flat. I went back to my car to get my other camera body, just in case. I went back to the spot I was before, but was not happy.
I would walk onto the road. I checked my watch, ten to two.
I looked up.
There was the Vulcan, coming straight for me. I raised the camera, but with it set on 400mm and the dull background, it would not focus.
I tried again and again. Nothing.
The Vulcan was getting closer. Those shots I missed would have been sensational, or so I tell myself.
With the Vulcan almost overhead, I find it in the viewfinder and rattle off a few shot, this being the best.
The plane flew off, I got some OK ones, but nothing like the head on ones I should have got.
“Taormina cemetery: the monumental funerary complex of Count Otto Geleng, at the top presents the bust of his son Ermanno, the presence of symbolisms such as the hourglass, the rooster, the book (the Holy Bible) and the god Mercury, makes me believe that Count Otto was part of the Masonic lodge of Taormina, at the time the mayor of Taormina was also part of it, dr. Cacciola and his wife Lady Florence Trevelyan: in his palace, Dr. Cacciola, built a temple, which became the first Masonic lodge in Taormina: the "Renaissance" (1904)”
"cimitero di Taormina: il complesso monumentale funerario del conte Otto Geleng, in alto presenta il mezzobusto del figlio Ermanno, la presenza di simbolismi come la clessidra, il gallo, il libro (la Sacra Bibbia) ed il dio Mercurio, mi fa ritenere che il conte Otto facesse parte della loggia massonica di Taormina, all’epoca ne faceva parte anche il sindaco di Taormina, dott. Cacciola e sua moglie Lady Florence Trevelyan: nel suo palazzo il dott. Cacciola, realizzò un tempio, che divenne la prima loggia massonica di Taormina : la "Rinascimento" (1904)"
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The photographer Baron Wilhelm von Gloeden: and some "secret stories” of Taormina ...
At the age of about 11-12, I made a very particular discovery, I found a fair number of ancient photographs (they had been well hidden by my grandmother) inside an ancient chest of drawers in our house in Taormina, for me it was a huge surprise, the a taste for the forbidden appeared in me for the first time, they were black and white photographs, they portrayed naked boys, or only partially dressed in drapes or sheets, they were posed to imitate certain statues (or drawings) of the Greco-Roman period; I was very intrigued by them, every now and then I went to look at them, without ever feeling discomfort, I did not consider them vulgar photographs. Some of the photos were the size of a postcard, others of various sizes increasingly larger, up to a format similar to A3; on the back there were stamps, there were also, inside small red cardboard boxes, glass plates, not large, looking at them against the light, they let us glimpse images of naked boys, or only partially dressed: they were photographic negatives made on glass plates. What was that particular photographic material hidden by my grandmother in the dresser of our house? Let's take a step back in time let's teleport to April 2, 1787 when the German poet, narrator, playwright Johan Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) lands in Palermo, following his Grand Tour in Italy (the word "tourism" derives from it) he will say of Sicily that it is a place of splendor, beauty and harmony, but at the same time a place of poverty, suffering, misery and social injustice; Goethe wrote the book "Journey to Italy", revealing himself to be one of Italy's most passionate admirers, stating that "Sicily is the key to everything" (the incredible resemblance of thought with the great Sicilian writer and journalist Leonardo Sciascia (1921-1989) who published in 1979 the book entitled “Sicily as a metaphor”). At the time of Goethe (and for a long time to come) the knowledge of Sicily was made up of stereotyped ideas, it was considered a land of mysteries, a den of brigands, which aroused fear in travelers, tourism did not exist, very few knew a foreign language, journeys with carriages were slow, nothing strange therefore that Taormina was an unknown village at the time. Garibaldi, in the year 1860, frees Sicily from the domination of the Bourbons. In February 1863, Count Ottone (Otto) Geleng (1843-1939) arrives in Taormina from Germany, he is a landscape painter, he begins an intense pictorial activity, thus succeeding in making Taormina and its landscapes known in the various cultural circles of Germany and France. Count Otto thus invites the then painter (who later became a photographer) Baron Wilhelm von Gloeden (1856-1931) to come to Taormina to treat his "subtle ache", pulmonary tuberculosis, which would have benefited from the mild climate of Sicily. Von Gloeden, twenty-two, arrived in Taormina in 1878, became passionate about photography by taking lessons from the local engineer and photographer Giuseppe Bruno (1836-1904), perhaps also a teacher of Giovanni Crupi (1859-1925), landscape photographer friend of von Gloeden, Crupi himself could also have contributed to the training as a photographer of the young von Gloeden. Like Otto Geleng's paintings, the photographs of the young Wilhelm also began to entice the then bourgeoisie across the border to come to Sicily: in the last 20 years of the 1800s the foundations were being laid for tourism in Sicily. The photographs taken by von Gloeden had as their subject young Sicilian adolescents dressed in the old-fashioned way with drapes, or completely naked, at most adorned with wreaths of flowers or laurel leaves placed on their heads, the young models assumed well-studied poses under the directed by the photographer baron, designed to create scenes that wanted to reconstruct the atmosphere of the mythical Arcadia (bucolic landscape of ancient Greece). In his poetics we can find the interest in disguise and transvestism, the young fisherman is made ambiguous by making him wear a wig, made resembling a young Sicilian girl; the images are not produced for the sole and mere trade, they are works that will be published in various famous magazines (such as "The National Geographic Magazine" or "the photographic progress", A. Stieglitz publishes his nudes on “Camera Notes"), also participating in international photographic exhibitions. The young models are filmed among ancient ruins, in rocky environments, outdoors, eliciting a spiritual feeling full of nostalgia, which follows pictorial models of German romanticism. In the photographic book "Verga photographer" (created on the discovery of 327 glass plates and 121 celluloid frames), in Giovanni Verga (1840-1922) great Sicilian narrator, it is possible to observe his photographs interwoven with "realism", while in the photographs of von Gloeden the symbolism andthe spiritualism predominate, however Wilhelm will also produce documentary-type photographs, photographing the terrible earthquake (and tsunami) of Messina (and Reggio Calabria) of 1908. Von Gloeden seems fully integrated into the Taormina society , nevertheless suffers heavy homophobic attacks from the local press and from important characters from Taormina, including Otto Geleng himself, who will be sued by the baron, which will then be withdrawn upon payment of 896 lire, and a restorative declaration published in the "Gazzetta di Messina" . Von Gloeden worked in his house-studio in front of the Hotel San Domenico Palace, with him lived his sister Sofia Raabe (1847-1930), daughter of his mother's first husband, who helped him manage the house-studio, and in the to receive the illustrious guests who visited him (such as Oscar Wilde, FA Krupp, Richard Strauss, the German emperor Wilhelm II, Eleonora Duse). Von Gloeden died on February 16, 1931 at the age of 74, he was buried in the non-Catholic cemetery of Taormina, his heir was his all-around assistant Pancrazio Buciunì known as "il moro" (1879-1963) ("u 'moru", family nickname), which continues the activity, selling the prints: he undergoes two searches in full fascist regime with partial seizure and destruction of the photographic material that belonged to von Gloeden (fascism persecuted homosexuals, the repression of homosexuality was entrusted to the fascist police, which confined many homosexuals to the islands of the Mediterranean, Lipari was one of these, see the beautiful film by Ettore Scola "a special day"), Buciunì undergoes two trials for detention of obscene material, and, despite an adverse appraisal by the appointed expert prof. Stefano Bottari, holder of the chair of history of medieval and modern art at the University of Messina, who declares much of the seized material obscene, the Court of Messina, demonstrating tolerance and open-mindedness, acquits Buciunì. At this point in the story we return to my grandmother's dresser and reveal the little mystery: the hidden photographs belonged to my great-grandfather Don Gaetano D'Agata (1883-1949), von Gloeden's assistant photographer, also on the baron's teaching, he made nude photographs, as well as landscape or portrait photographs; Don Gaetano was a globetrotter, in our family album he is portrayed in various parts of the world, always in the company of beautiful women: but I will never know if those "forbidden photos" were taken by my great-grandfather Gaetano or by Von Gloeden himself, because my grandmother, having understood that I was going to peek at them in secret, made them disappear permanently, and I never heard anymore of that photographic material. For my part, it is only right to mention other figures who contributed to making Taormina the current destination for international tourism. Lady Florence Trevelyan (1852-1907), was Queen Victoria's lady-in-waiting, she was then sent into exile in various parts of the world by Queen herself, she arrived in Taormina and stayed there forever, she was a woman of exceptional gifts, endowed with great sensitivity and humanity, animal rights activist, philanthropist, passionate about esotericism, she was married to the then mayor and doctor of Taormina dr. Salvatore Cacciola, she were one of the first women admitted to world Freemasonry (her husband Cacciola also belonged to Freemasonry): I have already talked about it previously in one of my photographic stories. On the occasion of the XXI festival of the two worlds in Spoleto, in 1978, the essayist and literary critic Roland Barthes (1915-1980) curated an exhibition entitled "Wilhelm von Gloeden", with interventions by artists such as Andy Warhol, M. Pistoletto and J. Beuys. Finally, Raffaella Perna, Researcher in History of Contemporary Art at the University of Catania, underlines in her book on "Wilhelm von Gloeden, disguises, portraits, tableaux vivants", of how LaChapelle, Witkin, Mapplethorpe are the contemporary artists who they are indicated as heirs of von Gloeden's poetics.
P.S. Von Gloeden's photographs were made by photographing both the large panels with gigantographic reproductions of von Gloeden's works, which are located at the entrance of the Mocambo bar in Taormina, and in the shop-bazaar of the photographer from Taormina, my late friend, Nino Malmbrì (owner of the baron's original photographic material). The photographs of Gaetano D’Agata, were taken from my family album: in a photo a little damaged, but exceptional for its historical and emotional value, my great-grandfather, the photographer Gaetano D'Agata, here very young, holds his daughter "Ninitta" (a of the four children, had by three wives), she is my paternal grandmother; in another photo, the photographer Gaetano D'Agata poses next to her a few years later, with my grandmother already a young girl; always made by great-grandfather D'Agata there is both a portrait photo, a close-up, of my very young grandmother "Ninitta", and there is a photo of her posing as a peasant girl, with a painted backdrop behind her, as if used in studio photos; finally I put two photos taken by my great-grandfather Gaetano "en plein air" of bathers, "the location" is the beach of Mazzarò (Taormina). The photographs of the tombstones of the characters mentioned in the story were taken in the Catholic and non-Catholic cemetery of Taormina; the monumental funerary complex of Count Otto Geleng at the top presents the bust of his son Ermanno, the presence of symbolisms such as the hourglass, the rooster, the book (the Holy Bible) and the god mercury, makes me believe that Count Otto was part of the Masonic lodge of Taormina, at the time the mayor of Taormina was also part of it, dr. Cacciola and his wife Lady Florence Trevelyan: in his palace, Dr. Cacciola, built a temple, which became the first Masonic lodge in Taormina: the "Renaissance" (1904).
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Il barone fotografo Wilhelm von Gloeden: ed alcune “storie segrete” di Taormina …
Io, all’età di circa 11-12 anni, feci una scoperta molto particolare, trovai un discreto numero di antiche fotografie (erano state ben nascoste da mia nonna) dentro un antico comò in casa nostra a Taormina, per me fu una enorme sorpresa, il gusto del proibito si affacciò in me per la prima volta, erano fotografie in bianco e nero, ritraevano ragazzi nudi, o solo in parte vestiti con drappi o lenzuoli, messi in posa imitavano certe statue (o disegni) del periodo greco-romano; io ne ero rimasto molto incuriosito, ogni tanto le andavo a riguardare, senza mai provare disagio, non le consideravo fotografie volgari. Alcune foto erano della grandezza di una cartolina, altre di varie dimensioni sempre più grandi, fino ad arrivare ad un formato assimilabile all’A3; sul retro c’erano impressi dei timbri, c’erano anche, dentro dei piccoli scatoli in cartoncino di colore rosso, delle lastrine in vetro, non grandi, guardandole in controluce, lasciavano intravedere immagini di ragazzi nudi, o poco vestiti: erano i negativi fotografici realizzati su vetro. Cosa ci faceva quel materiale fotografico, così particolare, nascosto da mia nonna nel comò di casa nostra? Facciamo un salto indietro nel tempo teletrasportiamoci al 2 aprile 1787 quando a Palermo sbarca il poeta, narratore, drammaturgo tedesco Johan Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832), in seguito al suo Grand Tour in Italia (turismo deriva da esso) dirà della Sicilia che essa è luogo di splendore, bellezza ed armonia, ma al tempo stesso luogo di povertà, sofferenza, miseria ed ingiustizia sociale; Goethe scrive il libro “Viaggio in Italia”, rivelandosi uno dei più appassionati ammiratori dell’Italia, affermando che “la Sicilia è la chiave di tutto” (incredibile la rassomiglianza di pensiero col grande scrittore e giornalista siciliano Leonardo Sciascia (1921-1989) che pubblica nel 1979 il libro dal titolo “la Sicilia come metafora”). Ai tempi di Goethe (e per molto tempo ancora) la conoscenza della Sicilia era fatta di idee stereotipate, era considerata terra di misteri, covo di briganti, il che incuteva timore nei viaggiatori, il turismo non esisteva, pochissimi conoscevano una lingua straniera, i viaggi con carrozze ertano lenti, nulla di strano quindi che Taormina fosse all’epoca un villaggio sconosciuto. Garibaldi, nell’anno 1860, libera la Sicilia dalla dominazione dei Borboni. Nel febbraio del 1863, dalla Germania giunge a Taormina il conte Ottone (Otto) Geleng (1843-1939), egli è un pittore paesaggista, inizia una intensa attività pittorica, riuscendo in tal modo a far conoscere Taormina ed i suoi paesaggi nei vari circoli culturali della Germania e della Francia. Il conte Otto invita così l’allora pittore (poi divenuto fotografo) barone Wilhelm von Gloeden (1856-1931) a venire a Taormina per curare il suo “mal sottile”, la tubercolosi polmonare, che avrebbe tratto giovamento dal clima mite della Sicilia. Von Gloeden, ventiduenne, nel 1878 giunge a Taormina, si appassiona alla fotografia prendendo lezioni dall’ingegnere e fotografo locale Giuseppe Bruno (1836-1904), forse anche insegnante di Giovanni Crupi (1859-1925), fotografo paesaggista amico di von Gloeden, il quale Crupi stesso potrebbe anche aver contribuito alla formazione come fotografo del giovane von Gloeden. Così come i dipinti di Otto Geleng, anche le fotografie del giovane Wilhelm incominciarono ad invogliare l’allora borghesia d’oltre confine, a venire in Sicilia: negli ultimi 20 anni dell’800 si stavano gettando le basi per il turismo in Sicilia. Le fotografie realizzate da von Gloeden avevano come soggetto giovani adolescenti siciliani vestiti all’antica con drappi, o completamente nudi, tutt’al più adornati da coroncine di fiorellini o foglie d’alloro messi sul capo, i giovani modelli assumevano pose ben studiate sotto la regia del barone fotografo, atte a realizzare scene che volevano ricostruire l’atmosfera della mitica Arcadia (paesaggio bucolico dell’antica Grecia). Nella sua poetica possiamo riscontrare l’interesse per il travestimento ed il travestitismo, il giovane pescatore viene reso ambiguo facendogli indossare una parrucca, reso somigliante ad una giovane ragazza siciliana; le immagini non vengono prodotte per il solo e mero commercio, sono opere che verranno pubblicate su varie riviste famose (come “The National Geographic Magazine” o “Il Progresso fotografico”, A. Stieglitz pubblica i suoi nudi su “Camera Notes”), partecipando anche ad esposizioni fotografiche internazionali. I giovani modelli sono ripresi tra antichi ruderi, in ambienti rupestri, all’aperto, elicitando un sentimento spirituale carico di nostalgia, il che ricalca modelli pittorici del romanticismo tedesco. Nel libro fotografico “Verga fotografo” (realizzato su ritrovamento di 327 lastre in vetro e 121 fotogrammi in celluloide), in Giovanni Verga (1840-1922) grande narratore siciliano, è possibile osservare le sue fotografie intessute di “verismo”, mentre nelle fotografie di von Gloeden predomina il simbolismo e lo spiritualismo, purtuttavia Wilhelm produrrà anch’egli fotografie di tipo documentaristico, andando a fotografare il terribile terremoto (e maremoto) di Messina (e di Reggio Calabria) del 1908. Von Gloeden sembra pienamente integrato nella società taorminese, ciononostante subisce pesanti attacchi omofobi dalla stampa locale e da importanti personaggi taorminesi, incluso lo stesso Otto Geleng, i quali verranno querelati dal barone, querela che verrà poi ritirata dietro pagamento di 896 lire, ed una dichiarazione riparatoria pubblicata sulla “Gazzetta di Messina”. Von Gloeden lavorava nella sua casa-studio di fronte l’Hotel San Domenico Palace, con lui viveva sua sorella Sofia Raabe (1847-1930), figlia del primo marito di sua madre, che lo aiutava a governare la casa-studio, e nel ricevere gli illustri ospiti che lo andavano a trovare ( come Oscar Wilde, F.A. Krupp, Richard Strauss, l’imperatore tedesco Guglielmo II, Eleonora Duse). Von Gloeden muore il 16 febbraio 1931 all’età di 74 anni, viene sepolto nel cimitero acattolico di Taormina, il suo erede è il suo assistente tutto fare Pancrazio Buciunì detto “il moro” (1879-1963) (“u’ moru”, soprannome di famiglia), che ne prosegue l’attività, vendendone le stampe: il quale subisce in pieno regime fascista due perquisizioni con parziale sequestro e distruzione del materiale fotografico che apparteneva a von Gloeden (il fascismo perseguitò gli omosessuali, la repressione dell’omosessualità fu affidata alla polizia fascista, che confinò molti omosessuali nelle isole del mediterraneo, Lipari fu una di queste, vedi il bellissimo film di Ettore Scola “una giornata particolare”), Buciunì subisce due processi per detenzione di materiale osceno, e, nonostante una perizia avversa da parte del nominato perito prof. Stefano Bottari, titolare della cattedra di storia dell’arte medioevale e moderna dell’Università di Messina, che dichiara osceno gran parte del materiale sequestrato, il Tribunale di Messina dimostrando tolleranza ed apertura mentale, assolve il Buciunì. A questo punto del racconto ritorniamo al comò di mia nonna e sveliamo il piccolo mistero: le fotografie nascoste appartenevano al mio bisnonno don Gaetano D’Agata (1883-1949), assistente fotografo di von Gloeden, anch’egli sull’insegnamento del barone, realizzò fotografie di nudo, oltre che di paesaggio o ritratto; don Gaetano era un giramondo, nel nostro album di famiglia lui è ritratto in varie parti del mondo, sempre in compagnia di belle donne: ma io non saprò mai se quelle “foto proibite” erano realizzate dal mio bisnonno Gaetano o da Von Gloeden stesso, perché mia nonna, avendo capito che le andavo a sbirciare di nascosto, le fece sparire definitivamente, e di quel materiale fotografico non ne seppi più nulla. Da parte mia, è doveroso citare altre figure che contribuirono a rendere Taormina l’attuale meta del turismo internazionale. Lady Florence Trevelyan (1852-1907), era dama di corte della regina Vittoria, dalla stessa regina Lady Florence fu poi mandata in esilio in varie parti del mondo, giunse a Taormina e qui vi restò per sempre, era una donna dalle doti eccezionali, dotata di grande sensibilità ed umanità, animalista, filantropa, appassionata di esoterismo, fu sposa dell’allora sindaco e medico di Taormina dott. Salvatore Cacciola, fu una delle prime donne ammesse alla massoneria mondiale (apparteneva alla massoneria anche il marito Cacciola): ne ho già parlato in precedenza in un mio racconto fotografico. Robert Hawthorn Kitson (1873-1947) era un pittore britannico omosessuale, egli lasciò l’Inghilterra a causa dell’emendamento Labouchere, che rendeva illegale qualsiasi atto omosessuale nel Regno Unito (1885), giunse a Taormina e qui si stabilì, costruendo nel 1905 Casa Cusani, una villa con vista sull’Etna, oggi casa museo; nella sua sala da pranzo si trovano gli affreschi “proibiti” realizzati da Frank Brangwyn, essi narrano dell’amore omosessuale tra Kitson ed il suo compagno Carlo Siligato: nel 1908 in seguito al terremoto che distrusse Messina (e Reggio Calabria), essi adottarono un bambino che era rimasto orfano, divenendo di fatto una famiglia omosessuale, all’epoca assolutamente proibita; gli affreschi di Casa Cuseni sono ispirati alle fotografie di von Gloeden, così come nella villa, si trova una “autocromia a colori” del 1910, realizzata da von Gloeden, documento eccezionale che testimonia la volontà del barone di sperimentare nuove tecniche. In occasione del XXI festival dei due mondi di Spoleto, nel 1978, il saggista e critico letterario Roland Barthes (1915-1980) cura una mostra intitolata “Wilhelm von Gloeden”, con interventi di artisti quali Andy Warhol, M. Pistoletto e J. Beuys. Infine, Raffaella Perna, Ricercatrice in Storia dell'arte contemporanea all'Università degli Studi di Catania, sottolinea nel suo libro su “Wilhelm von Gloeden, travestimenti, ritratti, tableaux vivants”, di come LaChapelle, Witkin, Mapplethorpe siano gli artisti contemporanei che vengono indicati come eredi della poetica di von Gloeden.
P.S. le fotografie di Von Gloeden sono state realizzate fotografando sia i grandi pannelli con gigantografiche riproduzioni delle opere di von Gloeden, che si trovano all’ingresso del bar Mocambo di Taormina, sia nel negozio-bazar del fotografo taorminese, compianto mio amico, Nino Malmbrì (possessore di materiale fotografico originale del barone). Le fotografie di Gaetano D’Agata, sono state prese dal mio album di famiglia: in una foto un pò rovinata, ma eccezionale per il suo valore storico e per me affettivo, il mio bisnonno, il fotografo Gaetano D'Agata, qui molto giovane, tiene in braccio sua figlia "Ninitta" (una dei quattro figli, avuti da tre mogli), lei è la mia nonna paterna; in un'altra foto, il fotografo Gaetano D'Agata posa accanto a lei qualche anno dopo, con mia nonna già ragazzina; sempre realizzate dal bisnonno D'Agata c'è sia un foto-ritratto, un primo piano, di mia nonna "Ninitta" molto giovane, e c'è la foto di lei mentre posa come contadinella, con dietro un fondale dipinto, come si usava nelle foto da studio; infine ho messo, due foto realizzate dal mio bisnonno Gaetano "en plein air" a delle bagnanti, "la location" è la spiaggia di Mazzarò (Taormina). Le fotografie delle tombe dei personaggi menzionati nel racconto, sono state fatte nel cimitero cattolico ed acattolico di Taormina; il complesso monumentale funerario del conte Otto Geleng in alto presenta il mezzobusto del figlio Ermanno, la presenza di simbolismi come la clessidra, il gallo, il libro (la Sacra Bibbia) ed il dio mercurio, mi fa ritenere che il conte Otto facesse parte della loggia massonica di Taormina, all’epoca ne faceva parte anche il sindaco di Taormina, dott. Cacciola e sua moglie Lady Florence Trevelyan: nel suo palazzo il dott. Cacciola, realizzò un tempio, che divenne la prima loggia massonica di Taormina : la "Rinascimento"(1904).
My camera suddenly started overexposing and at first I couldn't figure out why. It wasn't until I got home and started thinking about it that I remembered the camera has an assignable thumb wheel that was set to EV. In the previous evening I was doing something with the camera at home and when I set it down I accidentally turned the wheel and unknowingly dialed in about +3EV. I ruined a few photos as you can see here, but I have now set the EV back to zero and turned off the thumbwheel function. Lesson learned the hard way.
when you set aside your expectations and overcome the fear of uncertainty
that's when you get the most out of it
regardless of how it turns out
embrace it
learn from it
My camera suddenly started overexposing and at first I couldn't figure out why. It wasn't until I got home and started thinking about it that I remembered the camera has an assignable thumb wheel that was set to EV. In the previous evening I was doing something with the camera at home and when I set it down I accidentally turned the wheel and unknowingly dialed in about +3EV. I ruined a few photos as you can see here, but I have now set the EV back to zero and turned off the thumbwheel function. Lesson learned the hard way.
If your require coffee to wake yourself up in the morning, never attempt to shoot it! I tried so many zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Wha? Oh yeah,
View on black or I will zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Our Dailzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Our Daily Challenge: On top of zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Thats it! I'm drinking the dang subject now zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
“AgainstExodus: Canticle of Creatures (Antonio Presti Foundation - Fiumara d'Arte)“: the moment of the "unveiled";
“Controesodo: Cantico delle Creature (Fondazione Antonio Presti - Fiumara d'Arte)”: il momento della "svelata";
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or…. Press the “L” button to zoom in the image;
clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;
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www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...
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A contemporary history of Sicily (with an appendix story).
With the story I am posting, with words and photographs, I try to describe the truly singular figure of a contemporary "Sicilian", whom I have known personally, his name is Antonio Presti. As a young man he studied construction engineering at the University of Palermo, studies which he then abandoned due to the death of his father, the paternal construction company needed a guide, Antonio thus took on the responsibility of managing the company, but at the age of 29 years old, he perceives the urgency of having to change his life path, throwing himself body and soul into what he feels to be his vocation, art and ethics, which will be his two poles of reference from this moment on. , towards which he will always direct his choices. In memory of his father, he creates an artistic path that represents the continuity between life and death, idealizing the preservation of memory through contemporary art: this is how the sculptural park of Fiumara d 'Arte was born.
The works are carried out along a path that involves many municipalities, Antonio Presti obtains the consent of mayors and administrators, despite this he is forced to undergo a criminal trial for illegal building, from which he is acquitted after 23 years, as the Cassation recognizes " the exceptional nature of the case ", thus saving the Works from demolition. In Pettineo (one of the municipalities of "Fiumara") organizes the event "a kilometer of canvas", it is an impromptu painting event with hundreds of artists, who create their works on a very long canvas that crosses the streets of the town, therefore each single work is then cut, all of these are finally given to the inhabitants, in whose houses they are thus exhibited, becoming the "Domestic Museum" (the event gets numerous replicas in various centers of Sicily). In 1990 he bought a 40-room hotel in Castel di Tusa: each room is then furnished by an artist, the aim is that art is fully experienced with all five senses, not just with the satisfaction of the sight. In 2002 "Third eye - Meridians of Light" comes to life, a project that involves important photographers and directors from around the world who are asked to "photograph the soul of the Librino district, that is, the people" (the "Librino" is a district of outskirts of Catania). These that I have mentioned are just some of the numerous initiatives undertaken by Antonio Presti around Sicily, I could mention many others, all interesting and singular, but among these I would like to mention two of his "ideas" (also because in one of these , despite myself, I was involved); the first conception involves the hospital of Taormina, which has become, thanks to his initiative, a real "art installation" that welcomes "with amazement and admiration", before one can reach the ward, the various patients, relatives, doctors, nurses, the various figures that gravitate within a hospital, in fact the walls of the various corridors located on the various floors that lead to the wards, have been covered with gigantic canvases, on which the children of various schools and different age groups worked, to use a term very dear to Presti, leaving on them "a sign of beauty and hope"; the second initiative of Antonio Presti takes the name of "Against Exodus”, which involved seven Sicilian municipalities, whose streets were covered with giant photographic prints accompanied by the verses of San Francesco, whose goal is to focus attention on the risk of abandonment of the territory due to possible mass migration, and it is here that I mention that "appendix story" of the title, and which sees me involved. In July 2019 I participate in the photo contest "Motta Camastra, his identity" (I learn that the commission that will examine the various participating photographs will be composed of five experts, including Antonio Presti, and the famous photographic critic Giuseppe Pappalardo), in short, two of my photographs arrive first ex aequo, but my amazement is great when I see that both will be set as blow-ups (the only ones in black and white) together with the other blow-ups of "Against Exodus", placed on a large wall located at the entrance to the picturesque village of Motta Camastra. Of the photographs that I post, they were in part taken on the day "of the unveiling" of the blow-ups of the installation by Motta Camastra "Against Exodus”, guest of honor Antonio Presti, which took place on October 05, 2019; the other Gigantographies that I publish are those found in the Sicilian towns of Castiglione di Sicilia and Gaggi; the photos of the painted canvases, hung on the walls, were taken in the hospital of Taormina. I have inserted two photos of the feast of San Biagio in Motta Camastra of 03/02/2020, with the kids who throw the launch of the Saint as they pass in front of the blow-up that was made on the same occasion, only a few years earlier.
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Una storia contemporanea di Sicilia (con racconto d’appendice).
Col racconto che sto postando, con parole e fotografie, tento di descrivere la figura davvero singolare di un “siciliano” contemporaneo, che ho conosciuto personalmente, il suo nome è Antonio Presti. Da giovane egli studia ingegneria edile all’Università di Palermo, studi che poi abbandona a causa della scomparsa del padre, l’azienda edile paterna ha bisogno di una guida, Antonio si carica così della responsabilità di gestire l’azienda, però all’età di 29 anni matura percepisce l’urgenza di dover cambiare percorso di vita, gettandosi anima e corpo in quella che lui sente essere la sua vocazione, l’arte e l’etica, che saranno da questo momento in poi i suoi due poli di riferimento, verso i quali indirizzerà sempre le sue scelte. In ricordo del padre, realizza un percorso artistico che rappresenti la continuità tra la vita e la morte, idealizzando la conservazione della memoria attraverso l’arte contemporanea: nasce così il Parco scultoreo di Fiumara d’Arte.
Le Opere vengono realizzate lungo un percorso che coinvolge molti comuni, Antonio Presti ottiene il consenso di sindaci ed amministratori, nonostante ciò è costretto a subire un processo penale per abusivismo edilizio, dal quale viene prosciolto dopo 23 anni, in quanto la Cassazione ne riconosce “l’eccezionalità del caso”, salvando così le Opere dalla demolizione. A Pettineo (uno dei comuni della “Fiumara”) organizza la manifestazione “un chilometro di tela”, è una manifestazione estemporanea di pittura con centinaia di artisti, che realizzano le loro opere su di una lunghissima tela che attraversa le strade del paese, quindi ogni singola opera viene poi tagliata, tutte queste infine vengono regalate agli abitanti, nelle cui case vengono così esposte, divenendo “Museo Domestico” (la manifestazione ottiene numerose repliche in vari centri della Sicilia). Nel 1990 acquista a Castel di Tusa un albergo di 40 stanze: ogni stanza viene quindi arredata da un artista, lo scopo è quello che l’arte sia vissuta appieno con tutti i cinque sensi, non solo con l’appagamento della vista. Nel 2002 prende vita “Terzocchio-Meridiani di Luce”, un progetto che vede coinvolti importanti fotografi e registi del mondo ai quali si chiede di “fotografare l’anima del quartiere Librino, cioè le persone” (il “Librino” è un quartiere della periferia di Catania). Queste che ho menzionato sono solo alcune delle numerose iniziative intraprese da Antonio Presti in giro per la Sicilia, ne potrei citare tantissime altre, tutte interessanti e singolari, ma tra queste ci tengo a menzionare due sue “ideazioni” (anche perché in una di queste, sono stato mio malgrado, coinvolto); la prima ideazione vede coinvolto l’ospedale di Taormina, il quale è diventato, grazie alla sua iniziativa, una vera e propria “installazione d’arte” che accoglie “con stupore ed ammirazione”, prima che si possa giungere in reparto, i vari pazienti, parenti, medici, infermieri, le varie figure che gravitano in seno ad un ospedale, infatti le pareti dei vari corridoi situati sui vari piani che conducono ai reparti, sono stati tappezzati con gigantesche tele, sulle quali i ragazzi di varie scuole e di diverse fasce d’età, hanno lavorato, per usare un termine molto caro a Presti, lasciando su di esse “un segno di bellezza e di speranza”; la seconda iniziativa di Antonio Presti prende il nome di “Controesodo”, che ha coinvolto sette comuni siciliani, le cui vie sono state tappezzate da giganti stampe fotografiche accompagnate dai versi di San Francesco, il cui obiettivo è focalizzare l’attenzione sul rischio dell’abbandono del territorio a causa della possibile migrazione di massa, ed è qui che accenno a quel “racconto d’appendice” del titolo, e che mi vede coinvolto. Nel luglio 2019 partecipo al concorso fotografico “Motta Camastra, la sua identità” (vengo a sapere che la commissione che esaminerà le varie fotografie partecipanti, sarà composta da cinque esperti, tra questi Antonio Presti, ed il famoso critico fotografico Giuseppe Pappalardo), in breve, due mie fotografie arrivano prime ex aequo, ma il mio stupore è grande quando vedo che entrambe verranno incastonate come gigantografie (le uniche in bianco e nero) insieme alle altre gigantografie di “Controesodo”, poste su di una grande parete situata all’ingresso del pittoresco paesino di Motta Camastra. Delle fotografie che posto, in parte sono state realizzate il giorno “della svelata” delle gigantografie dell’installazione di Motta Camastra “Controesodo”, ospite d’onore Antonio Presti, avvenuta il 05 ottobre, 2019; le altre Gigantografie che pubblico, sono quelle che si trovano nei paesi siciliani di Castiglione di Sicilia, e di Gaggi; le foto delle tele dipinte, appese alle pareti, sono state realizzate nel presidio ospedaliero di Taormina. Ho inserito due foto della festa di San Biagio di Motta Camastra del 03/02/2020, coi ragazzini che tirano la vara del Santo mentre passano davanti la gigantografia che fu fatta nella stessa occasione, solo qualche anno prima.