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2011 LAMBORGHINI SESTO ELEMENTO FE
Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York City
April 27, 1961
Mr. Chairman, ladies, and gentlemen:
I appreciate very much your generous invitation to be here tonight.
You bear heavy responsibilities these days and an article I read some time ago reminded me of how particularly heavily the burdens of present-day events bear upon your profession.
You may remember that in 1851 the New York Herald Tribune under the sponsorship and publishing of Horace Greeley, employed as its London correspondent an obscure journalist by the name of Karl Marx.
We are told that foreign correspondent Marx, stone broke, and with a family ill and undernourished, constantly appealed to Greeley and managing editor Charles Dana for an increase in his munificent salary of $5 per installment, a salary which he and Engels ungratefully labeled as the “lousiest petty bourgeois cheating.”
But when all his financial appeals were refused, Marx looked around for other means of livelihood and fame, eventually terminating his relationship with the Tribune and devoting his talents full time to the cause that would bequeath the world the seeds of Leninism, Stalinism, revolution and the cold war.
If only this capitalistic New York newspaper had treated him more kindly; if only Marx had remained a foreign correspondent, history might have been different. And I hope all publishers will bear this lesson in mind the next time they receive a poverty-stricken appeal for a small increase in the expense account from an obscure newspaperman.
I have selected as the title of my remarks tonight “The President and the Press.” Some may suggest that this would be more naturally worded “The President Versus the Press.” But those are not my sentiments tonight.
It is true, however, that when a well-known diplomat from another country demanded recently that our State Department repudiate certain newspaper attacks on his colleague it was unnecessary for us to reply that this Administration was not responsible for the press, for the press had already made it clear that it was not responsible for this Administration.
Nevertheless, my purpose here tonight is not to deliver the usual assault on the so-called one-party press. On the contrary, in recent months I have rarely heard any complaints about political bias in the press except from a few Republicans. Nor is it my purpose tonight to discuss or defend the televising of Presidential press conferences. I think it is highly beneficial to have some 20,000,000 Americans regularly sit in on these conferences to observe, if I may say so, the incisive, the intelligent and the courteous qualities displayed by your Washington correspondents.
Nor, finally, are these remarks intended to examine the proper degree of privacy which the press should allow to any President and his family.
If in the last few months your White House reporters and photographers have been attending church services with regularity, that has surely done them no harm.
On the other hand, I realize that your staff and wire service photographers may be complaining that they do not enjoy the same green privileges at the local golf courses that they once did.
It is true that my predecessor did not object as I do to pictures of one's golfing skill in action. But neither on the other hand did he ever bean a Secret Service man.
My topic tonight is a more sober one of concern to publishers as well as editors.
I want to talk about our common responsibilities in the face of a common danger. The events of recent weeks may have helped to illuminate that challenge for some; but the dimensions of its threat have loomed large on the horizon for many years. Whatever our hopes may be for the future–for reducing this threat or living with it–there is no escaping either the gravity or the totality of its challenge to our survival and to our security–a challenge that confronts us in unaccustomed ways in every sphere of human activity.
This deadly challenge imposes upon our society two requirements of direct concern both to the press and to the President–two requirements that may seem almost contradictory in tone, but which must be reconciled and fulfilled if we are to meet this national peril. I refer, first, to the need for a far greater public information; and, second, to the need for far greater official secrecy.
The very word “secrecy” is repugnant in a free and open society; and we are as a people inherently and historically opposed to secret societies, to secret oaths and to secret proceedings. We decided long ago that the dangers of excessive and unwarranted concealment of pertinent facts far outweighed the dangers which are cited to justify it. Even today, there is little value in opposing the threat of a closed society by imitating its arbitrary restrictions. Even today, there is little value in insuring the survival of our nation if our traditions do not survive with it. And there is very grave danger that an announced need for increased security will be seized upon by those anxious to expand its meaning to the very limits of official censorship and concealment. That I do not intend to permit to the extent that it is in my control. And no official of my Administration, whether his rank is high or low, civilian or military, should interpret my words here tonight as an excuse to censor the news, to stifle dissent, to cover up our mistakes or to withhold from the press and the public the facts they deserve to know.
But I do ask every publisher, every editor, and every newsman in the nation to reexamine his own standards, and to recognize the nature of our country's peril. In time of war, the government and the press have customarily joined in an effort based largely on self-discipline, to prevent unauthorized disclosures to the enemy. In time of “clear and present danger,” the courts have held that even the privileged rights of the First Amendment must yield to the public's need for national security.
Today no war has been declared–and however fierce the struggle may be, it may never be declared in the traditional fashion. Our way of life is under attack. Those who make themselves our enemy are advancing around the globe. The survival of our friends is in danger. And yet no war has been declared, no borders have been crossed by marching troops, no missiles have been fired.
If the press is awaiting a declaration of war before it imposes the self-discipline of combat conditions, then I can only say that no war ever posed a greater threat to our security. If you are awaiting a finding of “clear and present danger,” then I can only say that the danger has never been more clear and its presence has never been more imminent.
It requires a change in outlook, a change in tactics, a change in missions–by the government, by the people, by every businessman or labor leader, and by every newspaper. For we are opposed around the world by a monolithic and ruthless conspiracy that relies primarily on covert means for expanding its sphere of influence–on infiltration instead of invasion, on subversion instead of elections, on intimidation instead of free choice, on guerrillas by night instead of armies by day. It is a system which has conscripted vast human and material resources into the building of a tightly knit, highly efficient machine that combines military, diplomatic, intelligence, economic, scientific and political operations.
Its preparations are concealed, not published. Its mistakes are buried, not headlined. Its dissenters are silenced, not praised. No expenditure is questioned, no rumor is printed, no secret is revealed. It conducts the Cold War, in short, with a war-time discipline no democracy would ever hope or wish to match.
Nevertheless, every democracy recognizes the necessary restraints of national security–and the question remains whether those restraints need to be more strictly observed if we are to oppose this kind of attack as well as outright invasion.
For the facts of the matter are that this nation's foes have openly boasted of acquiring through our newspapers information they would otherwise hire agents to acquire through theft, bribery or espionage; that details of this nation's covert preparations to counter the enemy's covert operations have been available to every newspaper reader, friend and foe alike; that the size, the strength, the location and the nature of our forces and weapons, and our plans and strategy for their use, have all been pinpointed in the press and other news media to a degree sufficient to satisfy any foreign power; and that, in at least in one case, the publication of details concerning a secret mechanism whereby satellites were followed required its alteration at the expense of considerable time and money.
The newspapers which printed these stories were loyal, patriotic, responsible and well-meaning. Had we been engaged in open warfare, they undoubtedly would not have published such items. But in the absence of open warfare, they recognized only the tests of journalism and not the tests of national security. And my question tonight is whether additional tests should not now be adopted.
The question is for you alone to answer. No public official should answer it for you. No governmental plan should impose its restraints against your will. But I would be failing in my duty to the nation, in considering all of the responsibilities that we now bear and all of the means at hand to meet those responsibilities, if I did not commend this problem to your attention, and urge its thoughtful consideration.
On many earlier occasions, I have said–and your newspapers have constantly said–that these are times that appeal to every citizen's sense of sacrifice and self-discipline. They call out to every citizen to weigh his rights and comforts against his obligations to the common good. I cannot now believe that those citizens who serve in the newspaper business consider themselves exempt from that appeal.
I have no intention of establishing a new Office of War Information to govern the flow of news. I am not suggesting any new forms of censorship or any new types of security classifications. I have no easy answer to the dilemma that I have posed, and would not seek to impose it if I had one. But I am asking the members of the newspaper profession and the industry in this country to reexamine their own responsibilities, to consider the degree and the nature of the present danger, and to heed the duty of self-restraint which that danger imposes upon us all.
Every newspaper now asks itself, with respect to every story: “Is it news?” All I suggest is that you add the question: “Is it in the interest of the national security?” And I hope that every group in America–unions and businessmen and public officials at every level– will ask the same question of their endeavors, and subject their actions to the same exacting tests.
And should the press of America consider and recommend the voluntary assumption of specific new steps or machinery, I can assure you that we will cooperate whole-heartedly with those recommendations.
Perhaps there will be no recommendations. Perhaps there is no answer to the dilemma faced by a free and open society in a cold and secret war. In times of peace, any discussion of this subject, and any action that results, are both painful and without precedent. But this is a time of peace and peril which knows no precedent in history.
It is the unprecedented nature of this challenge that also gives rise to your second obligation–an obligation which I share. And that is our obligation to inform and alert the American people–to make certain that they possess all the facts that they need, and understand them as well–the perils, the prospects, the purposes of our program and the choices that we face.
No President should fear public scrutiny of his program. For from that scrutiny comes understanding; and from that understanding comes support or opposition. And both are necessary. I am not asking your newspapers to support the Administration, but I am asking your help in the tremendous task of informing and alerting the American people. For I have complete confidence in the response and dedication of our citizens whenever they are fully informed.
I not only could not stifle controversy among your readers–I welcome it. This Administration intends to be candid about its errors; for as a wise man once said: “An error does not become a mistake until you refuse to correct it.” We intend to accept full responsibility for our errors; and we expect you to point them out when we miss them.
Without debate, without criticism, no Administration and no country can succeed–and no republic can survive. That is why the Athenian lawmaker Solon decreed it a crime for any citizen to shrink from controversy. And that is why our press was protected by the First Amendment– the only business in America specifically protected by the Constitution- -not primarily to amuse and entertain, not to emphasize the trivial and the sentimental, not to simply “give the public what it wants”–but to inform, to arouse, to reflect, to state our dangers and our opportunities, to indicate our crises and our choices, to lead, mold, educate and sometimes even anger public opinion.
This means greater coverage and analysis of international news–for it is no longer far away and foreign but close at hand and local. It means greater attention to improved understanding of the news as well as improved transmission. And it means, finally, that government at all levels, must meet its obligation to provide you with the fullest possible information outside the narrowest limits of national security–and we intend to do it.
It was early in the Seventeenth Century that Francis Bacon remarked on three recent inventions already transforming the world: the compass, gunpowder and the printing press. Now the links between the nations first forged by the compass have made us all citizens of the world, the hopes and threats of one becoming the hopes and threats of us all. In that one world's efforts to live together, the evolution of gunpowder to its ultimate limit has warned mankind of the terrible consequences of failure.
And so it is to the printing press–to the recorder of man's deeds, the keeper of his conscience, the courier of his news–that we look for strength and assistance, confident that with your help man will be what he was born to be: free and independent.
The Osprey was obviously upset with the goose. He flew around around the nest with his talons balled up like fists. He made at least two close approaches but was rebuffed by the goose. A pair of Osprey have made a nest in the trees very close to this position. They probably want this spot.
Around the busy times of the day, when all you want to do is get home and relax. So does everyone else! The buses are packed not to their pre-arranged safe numbers, but to as many people who can fit in!! Here you can see that in the background there are about 3 layers of people. I remember a story from when I live in Qingdao... one of my friends, a teacher was an hour late for her class, when she tried to get off the bus she couldn't!! She kept trying and it took 3 stops before she managed to get off, much further away from her usual stop!! Already late by this time, she tried to hail a taxi. Another thing about China is that the taxi's all change over at the busy time too. So hailing a taxi at this time is impossible!! They might stop, but if you're not on their route home then they will flatly refuse and drive onto the next person. So by the time she eventually got a cab in the right direction she was an hour late for her class, which only had 30 minutes left to run!! I heard this story first hand, and she was not happy about it let me tell you!!! My advice, just don't bother travelling at this time in China!!
It refuses to stick with any name I am trying to give it, so "Yigg" is yet another attempt.
It also refused to stay part of Anagnorisis, as planned. It just decided it wants to do its own thing... whatever that is. At least it still features blacks, reds and tentacles, though I have to say, these colours surprise me.
But, this is how it wanted to be, and so me, humble creator, obliged.
Loving these organicly-built things, though clarity of shape suffers a bit due to, well - lack of any plan.
The Asahiflex Test experience
Asahi Opt. Co. Asahiflex IIb (1954 second model) + Takumar 83mm f1.9
Lomochrome Purple XR 100-400
Fuji Color Service Low-res scan from negative
Stalking her photo preys. Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan. © Michele Marcolin, 2022.
Some of weeks ago (during my banning from FB), while waiting for the slide film of a Miranda S Test to be processed, I spotted a LOMOChrome Purple film, in a photo shop I check out frequently. And I couldn't resist the curiosity, being the results so reminiscent of infra-red and cross processed film (which I like so much). So I decided to give it a try. However, not being sure if everything was fine with the Miranda (which turned out with a cut curtain-later repaired), I was left only with the old Asahiflex IIb that came with the Takumar 58mm f2.4, quite some time ago. A camera so far I used only for... 'decoration'. Fortunately it worked pretty well - marvels of the golden age of camera making - and I was quite satisfied with the results, considering that I have not been shooting color film (and in complete manual mode) since years. I am particularly happy with the results of the precious chrome Takumar 83mm f1.9. A very beautiful portrait lens, I have to say. Will post some later.
I still need to understand well, when and how the film reacts better to produce purples and greens, but I really like the results. A bit of grain here is the fault also of the low-res film scan: the prints are way smoother. Unfortunately the shop refuses to do high-res scan to avoid losing printing customers, knowing that digitally reproducing negatives is not that straightforward task you can do with one single command or in batch. But, don't worry... we have also Pentax Film Duplicator.
Second model Asahiflex II b starts around noº 52117.
Differences:
- vertical lug for straps.
- bold arrow on rewind knob
- smaller AOCO logo, slimmer type
- filled triangles instead of arrows
- different design on shutter time dial
- flash sync X in red
- bold type arrow on winder in bold type
- logo on the back removed.
I found a tree full of leaves that refuse to drop-- in February!
Dried but beautiful, I liked their color and texture...
Refuse normalcy. Beauty is everywhere, love is endless, and joy bleeds from our everyday existence. Embrace it.
― Dominic Owen Mallary
My last few shots in the last few minutes of a long day, as the sun was setting. Much can be learned in a few minutes...
Thank You by Led Zeppelin
If the sun refused to shine
I would still be loving you
When mountains crumble to the sea
There will still be you and me
Kind a woman, I give you my all
Kind a woman, nothing more
Little drops of rain, whisper of the pain
Tears of love's lost in the days gone by
My love is strong, with you there is no wrong
Together we shall go until we die, my, my, my
Inspiration's what you are to me
Inspiration, look 'n' see
And so, today my world it smiles
Your hand in mine, we walk the miles
Thanks to you, it will be done
For you to me are the only one
Alright, yeah
Happiness, no more be sad
Happiness, I'm glad
If the sun refused to shine
I would still be loving you
Mountains crumble to the sea
There will still be you and me
Ford / Leach
Many thanks to the office of the San Diego City Clerk and to Andy Patriquin for these photos.
37402 BR 37419 M Pass through BURTON ON TRENT with the 5Z88 14.31 CREWE DOWN REFUSE SIDINGS - BURTON WETMORE SIDINGS ECS. Sunday 16th June 2019
Ford / Leach
Many thanks to the office of the San Diego City Clerk and to Andy Patriquin for these photos.
6-yard Front Load Dumpster
Royal Refuse Service
Eugene, OR
June 2017
©Bryn Erdman. All Rights Reserved.
y Twmpath (welsh)
The Mound in English,
It was called, in the old tongue,”y Twmpath”
Welsh for The mound
The area known as ”y Twmpath” was not really a mound, actually more of a small bald mountain that overlooked a wide valley.
”y Twmpath” had always been as void of any type of vegetation as that valley below was lush and green with.
The ancient ones, Druid Wisemen, used it for their most important ceremonies but only during the daylight for ”y Twmpath” became " strong in voice" as twilight came with the rising moon. So at nightfall, those ceremonial rituals were performed at ”y Twmpath’s” feet.
Through those early times, the area saw many different invaders who took over the valley. Driving away the Druid elders, they ignored their warnings and attempted to conquer the hill.
Various outposts were built by these newcomers to have an overlook over the valley.
And one by one those outposts were destroyed in a chillingly similar manner.
Soon after one of these outposts was finished and occupied ….Always around the time Calan Gaeaf or Sauin (The roots of which Halloween is derived)…
Dark clouds would amass and swirl around the mountain, and in the night, unleash terrifying lightning storms that seemed to roll down from ”y Twmpath’s” and wrack carnage to the valley below.
With the light of day, as the valley occupants emerged to survey the damage, they would discover that whatever structure had been built upon” y Twmpath” was gone, along with any man who had been garrisoned there.
Then, In an attempt to consecrate and make holy the ”y Twmpath” a group of missionary priests built a brick chapel on a small ridge located halfway up the mountain. It lasted for two years before the discovery was made one morning by superstitious villagers that the chapel had been deserted. Further exploration of ”y Twmpath”, in full daylight, discovered the bodies of the missionary priests laid out in a circle at the top of the hill. A crucifix from the chapel plunged upside down in the Centre.
No one dared to build another structure upon it after that…
So these were the legends that made their way to more modern days when sayings like “beyond the pale” became meaningless with electricity and the Telegraph.
And though the legends were told, and scoffed at, the small village in the valley below grew into a large city, that surrounded ”y Twmpath” seemingly giving a wide berth around the small mountain.
Then in 1888 one of the city’s richest men, A heralded Lord, Eric Macmillan, who was a widower with two children, took a much younger lass as his new bride. A wealthy American lady with grand ideas and plans.
She would not settle for a mansion in the city. Her abode had to be above all the others.
Literally….
Without heeding the warnings, she had her lovestruck husband build a stone house upon ”y Twmpath” as to overlook the valley. As a Queen would overlook her peasants.
The great house was built within 3 years without issue. And many believed that the old tales about ”y Twmpath” were merely children’s Nursury tales to keep young ones from exploring the dark shadowy mountain.
It was early spring when the mansion was completed. A great stone structure with looming towers and arched windows and doorways. Upon ”y Twmpath’s” bald top it stood out with a quite ominous presence.
The small family soon were moved in. The wealthy Lord, his wife, and the two children. A boy of 12 and a girl of 10. Along with 2 servants.
The house actually needed more than 2 servants to keep it, but no locals would dare venture there, and the 2 that did take the job were the only ones from out of town that answered the advertisement.
Not much was seen of the family after they moved in. Just the pair of servants when they came to town to pick up supplies that no one else would deliver.
Spring turned to summer, summer turned to autumn and late autumn turned to conversations among the locals, starting in the pubs, that no one could remember the last time the servants from the manor on ”y Twmpath” had been seen.
They would stare up at the house as darkness fell, and noticed that no lights were lit.
“Should someone go up and check?” We’re the questions asked. But no one dared to go there at night. So it was decided the local constables would be told to go up in the light of day to see what was going on.
But later that very evening dark clouds the likes of which had never been seen in the local’s memory began forming and lightning began to streak and crash all around as a driving rain pelted down.
The villagers took cover until the dawn when the storm finally subsided. As the city's occupants emerged and accessed the damage, they looked up at ”y Twmpath”. The stone manor still stood, despite the legends. But nothing, absolutely nothing, appeared to be alive in or around it.
It was not until two days later the pair of local constables were able to leave and check up on the stone mansions' occupants.
They left after lunch, with a herd of locals leaving the pubs to follow in their wake
The gawkers were made to stay out at the foot of ”y Twmpath”. As the constables went up on foot along the winding road and path of stone stairs that stretched almost a full Kilometer up to the stone manor.
Two hours later the constables came back down, visibly shaken. They went to the nearest pub and ordered whisky. The waiting gawkers had followed and filled the pub, surrounding the pair of officials while demanding to know what was all found?
“Nothing….” They both answered as they then downed their drinks and looked around the room before continuing…
“No sign of anything living, or having lived there for some weeks. Though the whole time we were there, both of us felt were being watched and heard sounds behind us as if being followed.”
The other constable chimed in…
“But when we turned around, nothing was there, was it. And when we called out, only our echoes in the hallways answered us back. Job doesn’t pay enough for us to stay there. Let the Yard Detectives figure this one out.”
Detectives did come and scoured the house and property, including the remains of the old stone church.
Only 3 clues were found. None of them really afforded an explanation to what had taken place.
Clue 1: A child’s doll found in the church ruins. Dry as a bone-like it had very recently been set there.
Clue 2: in the nursery, on a drawing board a child’s picture lay upon it. Drawn in crayon the picture was remarkably a well-done likeness depicting the front of the manor house. Above the manor were dark clouds and lightening down with finger paint, from a small hand. The paint was still damp!?
Clue 3: Suitcases of clothing belonging to the occupants were piled in the foyer. The Constables both swore they had not seen anything of the sort when they were there.
As the months passed nothing more was learned of the fate of the Macmillan family and their two servants.
To keep curious from coming onto the property, a caretaker/watchman was hired by the propertys' solicitor.
Though the caretaker refused to stay anywhere near the house at night. He built a small cottage next to the ruined church, using it’s’ remaining stones.
And so it remained, empty and put out of mind.
For nearly 35 years no one dared to go to the Macmillan Manor on desolate y Twmpath after dark.
Then during October 1931…as the country was still embroiled in the “great slump”, one person, a young man, finally did.
This ends the first part of this story.
The second part is his to tell
Grass, weighed down after being deluged by heavy overnight rain, attempting to straighten up, next morning, in the warmth of welcome sunlight.
I suggest that you view my picture in Lightbox - Press L.
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I'd really appreciate it if you did not incorporate your own photostream badges, etc. into your comments : I simply haven't enough time to give them the attention they deserve. Sorry. I should also be grateful if you did not post your own photographs or Flickriver strips etc. into the comment boxes below.
No multiple awards / invitations please.
view at the end of a trash filled alley in the plateau. the exhaust of some of the trendiest spots in town.
“Refuse to fall down. If you cannot refuse to fall down, refuse to stay down, lift your heart toward heaven like a hungry beggar, ask that it be filled and it will be filled. You may be pushed down. You may be kept from rising. But no one can keep you from lifting your heart toward heaven--only you. It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear. The one who says nothing good came of this is not yet listening.” - Clarissa Pinkola Estes
[I am listening.]
This song with this image.
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It takes 2 days driving in an all wheel drive from Nairobi to arrive in Loiyangalani on the Turkana lake shores… you have never heard about this place? And yet it’s here that they filmed « The Constant Gardener » with Ralph Fiennes.
The Lake Turkana region presents a lunar landscape, somewhat desert, covered in black volcanic rocks. It’s an extremely inhospitable environment for humans and their livestock. There is no potable water and limited pastures. The rainfall averages is less than 6 inches a year. During the day the high temperatures (up to 45°C) are come with strong winds (up to 11 meters per second), pushing dust. But it’s just a magical place on earth !
No human should be able to live in these conditions and yet 250,000 Turkana people are living here. Their territory extends to northern Kenya around Lake Turkana, and on the boundaries with south Sudan and Ethiopia. In 1975, the lake (400 km long, 60 large) was named after them.
Herders Above All Else : The importance of livestock
They are a traditionally pastoralist tribe, moving their livestock (goats, sheep, camels, cattle, and donkeys) and their homes to search water for their animals. Turkana have not been affected by western civilization yet and live in a very traditional way. The number of animals and the diversity of the herd are closely linked to a family’s status in the community. The herds are their bank account.
They depend on the rain to provide grazing for their animals, and on their animals for milk and meat. Because water is so hard to find in the area, they often fight with other tribes like Dassanech. Their main concerns are land and how to win it or to keep it!
The Turkana place such a high value on cattle that they often raid other tribes to steal animals. These razzias have become more dangerous as they now use guns. As the Turkana are one of the most courageous groups of warriors in Africa, fights are serious!
After a raid, the robbers ask some friends from neighboring villages to keep some cows. Their herd is scattered between several places to reduce the risk of being stolen the whole.
The Turkana choose their good friends as neightbors more so than people they share kinship ties with. The clans (ekitela), 28 in number, no longer have a social function. Each clan owns water wells dug in the dried river beds. Unless an explicit request is made, the community can deny water to those passing by.
Even today, the Turkana never kill their livestock to sell their meat. They only kill for celebrations. The Turkana need their animals since they use them as currency in marriage or various social transactions. If a man loses his livestock to drought, he is not only impoverished but shamed. In these cases, NGOs often help get him back on his feet but he can’t reclaim his pride until he has reestablished his herd.
The animals are given very poetic names which the owners often take on as well. It’s common to call a good friend the name of his favorite bull. The Turkana even write songs for their favorite animals. Once a young man has selected his favorite bull, he shapes its horns into bizarre forms to make it stand out. Many tribes use to do this in the area.
The Fish is Taboo for the Herdsmen
Turkana people traditionally do not fish and do not eat fish. But during the droughts, Turkana people are encouraged to fish to get some food. Fishing has been regarded as something of a taboo, a practice reserved for the very poorest in Turkana society.
Social Structure
The Turkana are organized into generational classes. All males go through three life stages (child, warrior, and elder).
To become a man, the turkana teen must go through a ceremony where he will have to kill an animal with a spear, but he must kill it in one throw! Once done, the old men will open the stomach of the animal and put the content on the body of the new adult. It is the way they bless him.
For women, the process is different. They become adult when they reach puberty. Unlike many other tribes in Kenya, the Turkana do not practice FGM and circumcision.
The Turkana live in small households. Inside live of a man, his wives !as he can marry more than one), their children and sometimes some dependent old people. The house is called « awi ». It is built with wood, animal skin, and doum palm leaves. Only the women build the houses!
Herding is a family affair. The father assigns various tasks to his children depending on their age. It’s common to see kids walking long distances with the cattle. Later they will take care of sheep and goats. The girls carry water and collect wood.
Newborns receive their names in a unique way. They take the name of a parent who has huge prestige and add the name of the most beautiful animal in the herd.
Parents learn very early to the kids the taboos: you must not lie, be coward, steal, neglect elders…
Turkana have their own justice and the revenge system is working well: if a crime is committed, the family of the victim will try to kill the murderer or someone from its close family. They also can steal to the suspect a large amount of cattle. Usually, the elders try to make a reconciliation ceremony. It is an never ending story as the family will also want to make a vandetta of the vendetta !
If the homicide was an accident, it can be solved by giving a daughter in marriage.
Marriage
When a man wants to marry a girl, he must ask his own parents if they agree. His mother will have to check if the girl he wants is a good worker! The blood relationship between the families is forbidden, so the elders will check the family links before any agreement.
The man must pay the bride parents (30 cattle, 30 camels and 100 small stock minimum, sometimes a gun is added). It means that a man cannot marry until he has inherited livestock from his dead father. It also means that he collects livestock from relatives and friends. This strengthens social ties.
Daily life
Cattle dungs are used as fuel to cook the food, the urine is used as soap for washing when chemical soap is not available. I saw people using the urine to wash the milk containers, so I always refused to drink milk!
Camels are used for transportation of goods and are well adapted to the very arid climate of Turkana and the lack of water. They are also used in transactions for weddings, or economics deals.
Donkeys have a special status in Turkana tribe: the people do not drink its milk. They use them to carry their houses when they move or weak people with a special wood saddle. But even if donkeys are very useful, they are mocked by the turkana people. Donkey meat is eaten only in the Turkana, where it is savored as a delicacy while others tribe hate it!
They like chewing tobacco and often walk around with a chewed up ball of it on their ear. They also like snorting powdered tobacco.
Danses and songs are important in the social life. Dances allow the people to meet and to flirt. Circle dances are are performed by group of young unmarried girls. The men and young girls join hands and the circles move around. The men may then jump into the centre of the circle raising their arms to imitate the cow horns.
Spirituality, Superstitions, Beliefs
In 1960, a famine started in Turkana area, and so the « Africa Inland Mission » established a food-distribution centre in Lokori, bringing also christianity. But conversion did not meet a huge success (5 % may be converted) as Turkana are nomadics and still have strong believes in their own god. Some Turkana elders even told me :
« I wear a christian cross around my neck and go to the church to get an access to the help provided by the the missionaries for food and clothes! »
The majority of the Turkana still follow their traditional religion. There's one supreme God called Akuj, who is associated with the sky. If God is happy, he will give rain. But if he is angry with the people, he will punish them. In the old believings, giraffes were supposed to tickle the clouds with their high heads, and make the rain come !
Four million years ago, the Lake Turkana bassin may have been the cradle of mankind. You can spot some very nice engraving sites showing a mixture of giraffes and geometrics patterns made around 2000 years ago close to the lake.
Deviners, called the « emuron » are able to interpret or predict Akuj's plans through their dreams, or through sacrificed animal's intestines, tobacco, and through the tossing of …sandals ! Sandals are very important for the oracle. He blesses the sandals by spitting on them. He throws them up into the air and gives a meaning to the patterns they create when they fall on the ground.
When someone dies, the Turkana only hold funerals and burry the body. In the old times, people were were not given a burial, but were abandoned to hyenas.
As I was taking pictures of an old Turkana lady, after 3 pictures, she asked me to stop, and started to shout : « You’re sucking my blood, you make me feel weak » and she left. I was explained by a young boy that the old people believe that pictures are taking their blood away.
Medecine
Scarifications on the belly are made by traditional doctors to cure ill people: it is a way to put out the illness from the body. Scarification is practiced for aesthetic reasons too. Scars are a sign of beauty or to show how many people he has killed, if he is a man.
The skin is cut with an acacia or a sharp razor blade that may be shared by the people and bring diseases.
Turkana believe that a person who experienced illness and recovered from it can treat someone else who’s suffering from the same illness. This means that everybody can be a doctor ! If this does not work, they say that the animal slaughtered was the wrong one.
A good Turkana tip : if you suffer from a severe headache, you just have to take out the brain from a living animal, like a goat, and put it on your head !
Or, another solution : to lift a sheep over the patient, to cut the throat so that the blood strickles on the patient’s head.
The Turkana have the highest instance in the world of echinoccocus (7%) due to their proximity with dogs, who live and defecate everywhere. The dogs lick up blood and vomit and the women use the dog’s excrement as a lubricant for the necklaces that touch their neck.
This parasite has three hosts : sheep, dogs, and humans. In Turkana, these three species live very close, surrounded by little else in the vast desert, ideal conditions for the proliferation of the parasite. The diease causes huge cysts that can be removed by surgery. The locals believe that this "disease of the large belly" is due to a spell cast by the neighboring enemy tribe: the Toposa.
Beauty
Turkana girls and women love to adorn themselves with a lot of necklaces. Beads can be made of glass, seeds, cowry shells, or iron. They never remove them! This can only happen when they are ill or during a mourning time. It means they sleep with those huge necklaces… A married Turkana woman will also wear a plain metal ring around the neck. This is a kind of wedding ring (alagama). A Turkana man will do all he can to make sure that his women folk are dressed in beads of class. Even if some are not able to take their girls to school, they will still ensure that they have beads. By the quantity and style of jewelry a woman wears, you can guess her social status.
Beads colors have specific meaning. Yellow and red beads are given to girl by a man when they are fiancé. If a woman wears only white beads, it means she is a widow. Little girls wear few beads, usually given to them by their mothers, but the older ladies and women wear many, which are in sets rows.
A woman who cannot move her neck is envied! The big necklaces are heavy, like 5 kilos.
A woman without beads is bad, men will ignore her. « You look like an animal without beads! »
Young children only wear a simple strand of pearls. Adolescents wear small articles of clothing to cover their sex. These articles are often decorated with mulitcolored pearls or ostrich egg shells. They wear more and longer clothing as they approach puberty.
NakaparaparaI are the famous ear ornaments. They are made by the men of the tribe in aluminium most of the time and look like a leaf.
Men love to make an elaborate mudpack coiffures called emedot. It is a kind of chignon: the hairstyle takes the shape of a large bun of hair at the back of the head. They decorate it with ostrich feathers to show they are elders or warriors. 2 ostrich feathers costs 1 goat.
Men use a wood pillow (ekicolong) to sleep on it and protect the bun. It can last 2 months and must be rebuild after.
Tattooing is also common and usually has special meaning. Men are tattooed on the shoulders and upper arm each time they kill an enemy — the right shoulder for killing a man, the left for a women.
Lower incisors are removed in childhood, with a tool called « corogat », a finger hook. The origin of this practice was against tetanus, as people are lock-jawed, so they can feed them with milk through the hole. It is also a way to force the teeth at the top to stand out and not interfere with the labret many put on the lower lip. The is useful to spit through the gap of the teeth, without even opening the mouth. The Turkana enjoyed to have labrets, but nowadays, only the elders can be seen with on. They used to put an ivory lip plug, then a wood one, and for some years, they use a lip plug made of copper or even with plaited electric wires.The hole between the lower lip and chin is pierced using a thorn.
The finger hook is also used as a weapon, for gouging out an ennemy’s eye !
Hygiene
Since water is so rare, it’s used only for drinking, never for washing. The Turkana clean themselves by rubbing fat all over their skin.
Turkana women put grease paint on their bodies which is made from mixing animal fat with red ochre and the leaves of a tree to have nice perfume. They say it is good for the skin and it protects from the insects.
Women also put animal fat all around their neck and also on their huge necklaces to prevent from skin irritation.
They also use dog shit as a medicine and lubrificant for their neck.
Both men and women use the branch of a tree called esekon to clean their teeth. You can see them using it all day long…The Turkana people have the cleanest bill of dental health in the country.
For long, Turkana people did not use latrines because it is a taboo for men and women to share same facilities like a latrine. Campaigns have now been initiated to sensitize people on the importance of using latrines for hygiene.
Animal fat is considered to have medicinal qualities, and the fat-tailed sheep is often referred to as "the pharmacy for the Turkana. »... when they do not grill it to eat it!
Futur
Recently, oil has been found on their territory… many fear Turkanas people may loose their traditions, but the Turkana succeeded in maintaining their way of life for centuries. Against all odds they manage to raise livestock in the confines of the desert. Their knowledge allows them to live where most humans could not.
The recent discovery of massive groundwater reserves in the ground (3 billion cubic meters, nearly three times the water use in New York City) could allow them to keep their traditions for a long time.
© Eric Lafforgue
As a baby I refused to eat the fruits.
I started eating apples at my grandmother's, as it was her main snack, and she highly recommended an apple.
During my childhood and adolescence I learned to eat and like some fruits.
In the first year of my military service: 1982-83, my main food at the base was the apples that my father used to buy and my mother used to send with me.
I earned the nickname "Miss Apple" from a friend, ( EF ) who used to come into my office every day and see me with an apple in my hand.
At that time I used to tie my handmade strawberries on my hair.
Thanks for visiting.
Prayers for LOVE & PEACE. Copyrights (c) nIra Dabush.
Superstitious people may refuse to speak, or may even hold their breath, when walking under this 250 year old cedar tree in Caterham High Street.
The fear is of a witches curse after one was either hanged from the branches, or tied to the tree until she died. It is said that the witch placed a curse on the tree.
The curse takes different forms depending on who you ask, but most versions state that if you talk while passing under the tree something bad will happen to your loved ones.
Other versions of the curse state that if you share gossip under the tree the same gossip will come back to hurt you.
Just to be on the safe side I kept my trap shut (well I was on my own!) when I took this shot, and felt it looked better in black and white. The latter decision was mainly because I felt the lighting suited it, but also having read up about it's dark history.
Amedeo Modigliani
Italian, 1884 - 1920
Woman with a Necklace, 1917
Oil on canvas
(closeup)
Amedeo Clemente Modigliani (July 12, 1884 – January 24, 1920) was a Jewish-Italian painter and sculptor who pursued his career for the most part in France. Modigliani was born in Livorno, Italy and began his artistic studies in Italy before moving to Paris in 1906. Influenced by the artists in his circle of friends and associates, by a range of genres and movements, and by primitive art, Modigliani's oeuvre was nonetheless unique and idiosyncratic. He died in Paris of tubercular meningitis—exacerbated by a lifestyle of excess—at the age of 35.
Early life
Modigliani was born into a Jewish family in Livorno, Italy.
Livorno was still a relatively new city, by Italian standards, in the late nineteenth century. The city on the Tyrrhenian coast dates from around 1600, when it was transformed from a swampy village into a seaport. The Livorno that Modigliani knew was a bustling centre of commerce focused upon seafaring and shipwrighting, but its cultural history lay in being a refuge for those persecuted for their religion. His own maternal great-great-grandfather was one Solomon Garsin, a Jew who had immigrated to Livorno in the eighteenth century as a religious refugee.
Modigliani was the fourth child of Flaminio Modigliani and his wife, Eugenia Garsin. His father was in the money-changing business, but when the business went bankrupt, the family lived in dire poverty. In fact, Amedeo's birth saved the family from certain ruin, as, according to an ancient law, creditors could not seize the bed of a pregnant woman or a mother with a newborn child. When bailiffs entered the family home, just as Eugenia went into labour, the family protected their most valuable assets by piling them on top of the expectant mother.
Modigliani had a particularly close relationship with his mother, who taught her son at home until he was ten. Beset with health problems after a bout of typhoid at the age of fourteen, two years later he contracted the tuberculosis which would affect him for the rest of his life. To help him recover from his many childhood illnesses, she took him to Naples in Southern Italy, where the warmer weather was conducive to his convalescence.
His mother was, in many ways, instrumental in his ability to pursue art as a vocation. When he was eleven years of age, she had noted in her diary that:
“The child's character is still so unformed that I cannot say what I think of it. He behaves like a spoiled child, but he does not lack intelligence. We shall have to wait and see what is inside this chrysalis. Perhaps an artist?"
Art student years
Modigliani is known to have drawn and painted from a very early age, and thought himself "already a painter", his mother wrote, even before beginning formal studies. Despite her misgivings that launching him on a course of studying art would impinge upon his other studies, his mother indulged the young Modigliani's passion for the subject.
At the age of fourteen, while sick with the typhoid fever, he raved in his delirium that he wanted, above all else, to see the paintings in the Palazzo Pitti and the Uffizi in Florence. As Livorno's local museum only housed a sparse few paintings by the Italian Renaissance masters, the tales he had heard about the great works held in Florence intrigued him, and it was a source of considerable despair to him, in his sickened state, that he might never get the chance to view them in person. His mother promised that she would take him to Florence herself, the moment he was recovered. Not only did she fulfil this promise, but she also undertook to enroll him with the best painting master in Livorno, Guglielmo Micheli.
Micheli and the Macchiaioli
Modigliani worked in the studio of Micheli from 1898 to 1900. Here his earliest formal artistic instruction took place in an atmosphere deeply steeped in a study of the styles and themes of nineteenth-century Italian art. In his earliest Parisian work, traces of this influence, and that of his studies of Renaissance art, can still be seen: artists such as Giovanni Boldini figure just as much in this nascent work as do those of Toulouse-Lautrec.
Modigliani showed great promise while with Micheli, and only ceased his studies when he was forced to, by the onset of tuberculosis.
In 1901, whilst in Rome, Modigliani admired the work of Domenico Morelli, a painter of melodramatic Biblical studies and scenes from great literature. It is ironic that he should be so struck by Morelli, as this painter had served as an inspiration for a group of iconoclasts who went by the title, the Macchiaioli (from macchia—"dash of colour", or, more derogatively, "stain"), and Modigliani had already been exposed to the influences of the Macchiaioli. This minor, localised art movement was possessed of a need to react against the bourgeois stylings of the academic genre painters. While sympathetically connected to (and actually pre-dating) the French Impressionists, the Macchiaioli did not make the same impact upon international art culture as did the followers of Monet, and are today largely forgotten outside of Italy.
Modigliani's connection with the movement was through Micheli, his first art teacher. Micheli was not only a Macchiaioli himself, but had been a pupil of the famous Giovanni Fattori, a founder of the movement. Micheli's work, however, was so fashionable and the genre so commonplace that the young Modigliani reacted against it, preferring to ignore the obsession with landscape that, as with French Impressionism, characterised the movement. Micheli also tried to encourage his pupils to paint en plein air, but Modigliani never really got a taste for this style of working, sketching in cafes, but preferring to paint indoors, and especially in his own studio. Even when compelled to paint landscapes (three are known to exist), Modigliani chose a proto-Cubist palette more akin to Cézanne than to the Macchiaioli.
While with Micheli, Modigliani not only studied landscape, but also portraiture, still-life, and the nude. His fellow students recall that the latter was where he displayed his greatest talent, and apparently this was not an entirely academic pursuit for the teenager: when not painting nudes, he was occupied with seducing the household maid.
Despite his rejection of the Macchiaioli approach, Modigliani nonetheless found favour with his teacher, who referred to him as "Superman", a pet name reflecting the fact that Modigliani was not only quite adept at his art, but also that he regularly quoted from Nietzsche's Thus Spake Zarathustra. Fattori himself would often visit the studio, and approved of the young artist's innovations.
In 1902, Modigliani continued what was to be a life-long infatuation with life drawing, enrolling in the Accademia di Belle Arti (Scuola Libera di Nudo, or "Free School of Nude Studies") in Florence. A year later while still suffering from tuberculosis, he moved to Venice, where he registered to study at the Istituto di Belle Arti.
It is in Venice that he first smoked hashish and, rather than studying, began to spend time frequenting disreputable parts of the city. The impact of these lifestyle choices upon his developing artistic style is open to conjecture, although these choices do seem to be more than simple teenage rebellion, or the cliched hedonism and bohemianism that was almost expected of artists of the time; his pursuit of the seedier side of life appears to have roots in his appreciation of radical philosophies, such as those of Nietzsche.
Early literary influences
Having been exposed to erudite philosophical literature as a young boy under the tutelage of Isaco Garsin, his maternal grandfather, he continued to read and be influenced through his art studies by the writings of Nietzsche, Baudelaire, Carduzzi, Comte de Lautréamont, and others, and developed the belief that the only route to true creativity was through defiance and disorder.
Letters that he wrote from his 'sabbatical' in Capri in 1901 clearly indicate that he is being more and more influenced by the thinking of Nietzsche. In these letters, he advised friend Oscar Ghiglia,
“(hold sacred all) which can exalt and excite your intelligence... (and) ... seek to provoke ... and to perpetuate ... these fertile stimuli, because they can push the intelligence to its maximum creative power.”
The work of Lautréamont was equally influential at this time. This doomed poet's Les Chants de Maldoror became the seminal work for the Parisian Surrealists of Modigliani's generation, and the book became Modigliani's favourite to the extent that he learnt it by heart. The poetry of Lautréamont is characterised by the juxtaposition of fantastical elements, and by sadistic imagery; the fact that Modigliani was so taken by this text in his early teens gives a good indication of his developing tastes. Baudelaire and D'Annunzio similarly appealed to the young artist, with their interest in corrupted beauty, and the expression of that insight through Symbolist imagery.
Modigliani wrote to Ghiglia extensively from Capri, where his mother had taken him to assist in his recovery from the tuberculosis. These letters are a sounding board for the developing ideas brewing in Modigliani's mind. Ghiglia was seven years Modigliani's senior, and it is likely that it was he who showed the young man the limits of his horizons in Livorno. Like all precocious teenagers, Modigliani preferred the company of older companions, and Ghiglia's role in his adolescence was to be a sympathetic ear as he worked himself out, principally in the convoluted letters that he regularly sent, and which survive today.
“Dear friend
I write to pour myself out to you and to affirm myself to myself. I am the prey of great powers that surge forth and then disintegrate... A bourgeois told me today - insulted me - that I or at least my brain was lazy. It did me good. I should like such a warning every morning upon awakening: but they cannot understand us nor can they understand life...”
Paris
Arrival
In 1906 Modigliani moved to Paris, then the focal point of the avant-garde. In fact, his arrival at the epicentre of artistic experimentation coincided with the arrival of two other foreigners who were also to leave their marks upon the art world: Gino Severini and Juan Gris.
He settled in Le Bateau-Lavoir, a commune for penniless artists in Montmartre, renting himself a studio in Rue Caulaincourt. Even though this artists' quarter of Montmartre was characterised by generalised poverty, Modigliani himself presented - initially, at least - as one would expect the son of a family trying to maintain the appearances of its lost financial standing to present: his wardrobe was dapper without ostentation, and the studio he rented was appointed in a style appropriate to someone with a finely attuned taste in plush drapery and Renaissance reproductions. He soon made efforts to assume the guise of the bohemian artist, but, even in his brown corduroys, scarlet scarf and large black hat, he continued to appear as if he were slumming it, having fallen upon harder times.
When he first arrived in Paris, he wrote home regularly to his mother, he sketched his nudes at the Colarossi school, and he drank wine in moderation. He was at that time considered by those who knew him as a bit reserved, verging on the asocial. He is noted to have commented, upon meeting Picasso who, at the time, was wearing his trademark workmen's clothes, that even though the man was a genius, that did not excuse his uncouth appearance.
Transformation
Within a year of arriving in Paris, however, his demeanour and reputation had changed dramatically. He transformed himself from a dapper academician artist into a sort of prince of vagabonds.
The poet and journalist Louis Latourette, upon visiting the artist's previously well-appointed studio after his transformation, discovered the place in upheaval, the Renaissance reproductions discarded from the walls, the plush drapes in disarray. Modigliani was already an alcoholic and a drug addict by this time, and his studio reflected this. Modigliani's behaviour at this time sheds some light upon his developing style as an artist, in that the studio had become almost a sacrificial effigy for all that he resented about the academic art that had marked his life and his training up to that point.
Not only did he remove all the trappings of his bourgeois heritage from his studio, but he also set about destroying practically all of his own early work. He explained this extraordinary course of actions to his astonished neighbours thus:
“Childish baubles, done when I was a dirty bourgeois."
The motivation for this violent rejection of his earlier self is the subject of considerable speculation. The self-destructive tendencies may have stemmed from his tuberculosis and the knowledge (or presumption) that the disease had essentially marked him for an early death; within the artists' quarter, many faced the same sentence, and the typical response was to set about enjoying life while it lasted, principally by indulging in self-destructive actions. For Modigliani such behavior may have been a response to a lack of recognition; it is known that he sought the company of other alcoholic artists such as Utrillo and Soutine, seeking acceptance and validation for his work from his colleagues.
Modigliani's behavior stood out even in these Bohemian surroundings: he carried on frequent affairs, drank heavily, and used absinthe and hashish. While drunk he would sometimes strip himself naked at social gatherings. He became the epitome of the tragic artist, creating a posthumous legend almost as well-known as that of Vincent van Gogh.
During the 1920s, in the wake of Modigliani's career and spurred on by comments by Andre Salmon crediting hashish and absinthe with the genesis of Modigliani's style, many hopefuls tried to emulate his 'success' by embarking on a path of substance abuse and bohemian excess. Salmon claimed—erroneously—that whereas Modigliani was a totally pedestrian artist when sober,
“...from the day that he abandoned himself to certain forms of debauchery, an unexpected light came upon him, transforming his art. From that day on, he became one who must be counted among the masters of living art.”
While this propaganda served as a rallying cry to those with a romantic longing to be a tragic, doomed artist, these strategies did not produce unique artistic insights or techniques in those who did not already have them.
In fact, art historians suggest that it is entirely possible for Modigliani to have achieved even greater artistic heights had he not been immured in, and destroyed by, his own self-indulgences. We can only speculate what he might have accomplished had he emerged intact from his self-destructive explorations.
Output
During his early years in Paris, Modigliani worked at a furious pace. He was constantly sketching, making as many as a hundred drawings a day. However, many of his works were lost - destroyed by him as inferior, left behind in his frequent changes of address, or given to girlfriends who did not keep them.
He was first influenced by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, but around 1907 he became fascinated with the work of Paul Cézanne. Eventually he developed his own unique style, one that cannot be adequately categorized with other artists.
He met the first serious love of his life, Russian poet Anna Akhmatova, in 1910, when he was 26. They had studios in the same building, and although 21-year-old Anna was recently married, they began an affair. Tall (Modigliani was only 5 foot 5 inches) with dark hair (like Modigliani's), pale skin and grey-green eyes, she embodied Modigliani's aesthetic ideal and the pair became engrossed in each other. After a year, however, Anna returned to her husband.
Experiments with sculpture
In 1909, Modigliani returned home to Livorno, sickly and tired from his wild lifestyle. Soon he was back in Paris, this time renting a studio in Montparnasse. He originally saw himself as a sculptor rather than a painter, and was encouraged to continue after Paul Guillaume, an ambitious young art dealer, took an interest in his work and introduced him to sculptor Constantin Brancusi.
Although a series of Modigliani's sculptures were exhibited in the Salon d'Automne of 1912, he abruptly abandoned sculpting and focused solely on his painting.
Question of influences
In Modigliani's art, there is evidence of the influence of primitive art from Africa and Cambodia which he may have seen in the Musée de l'Homme, but his stylisations are just as likely to have been the result of his being surrounded by Mediaeval sculpture during his studies in Northern Italy (there is no recorded information from Modigliani himself, as there is with Picasso and others, to confirm the contention that he was influenced by either ethnic or any other kind of sculpture). A possible interest in African tribal masks seems to be evident in his portraits. In both his painting and sculpture, the sitters' faces resemble ancient Egyptian painting in their flat and masklike appearance, with distinctive almond eyes, pursed mouths, twisted noses, and elongated necks. However these same chacteristics are shared by Medieval European sculpture and painting.
Modigliani painted a series of portraits of contemporary artists and friends in Montparnasse: Chaim Soutine, Moise Kisling, Pablo Picasso, Diego Rivera, Marie "Marevna" Vorobyev-Stebeslka, Juan Gris, Max Jacob, Blaise Cendrars, and Jean Cocteau, all sat for stylized renditions.
At the outset of World War I, Modigliani tried to enlist in the army but was refused because of his poor health.
The war years
Known as Modì, which roughly translates as 'morbid' or 'moribund', by many Parisians, but as Dedo to his family and friends, Modigliani was a handsome man, and attracted much female attention.
Women came and went until Beatrice Hastings entered his life. She stayed with him for almost two years, was the subject for several of his portraits, including Madame Pompadour, and the object of much of his drunken wrath.
When the British painter Nina Hamnett arrived in Montparnasse in 1914, on her first evening there the smiling man at the next table in the café introduced himself as Modigliani; painter and Jew. They became great friends.
In 1916, Modigliani befriended the Polish poet and art dealer Leopold Zborovski and his wife Anna.
Jeanne Hébuterne
The following summer, the Russian sculptor Chana Orloff introduced him to a beautiful 19-year-old art student named Jeanne Hébuterne who had posed for Foujita. From a conservative bourgeois background, Hébuterne was renounced by her devout Roman Catholic family for her liaison with the painter, whom they saw as little more than a debauched derelict, and, worse yet, a Jew. Despite her family's objections, soon they were living together, and although Hébuterne was the love of his life, their public scenes became more renowned than Modigliani's individual drunken exhibitions.
On December 3, 1917, Modigliani's first one-man exhibition opened at the Berthe Weill Gallery. The chief of the Paris police was scandalized by Modigliani's nudes and forced him to close the exhibition within a few hours after its opening.
After he and Hébuterne moved to Nice, she became pregnant and on November 29, 1918 gave birth to a daughter whom they named Jeanne (1918-1984).
Nice
During a trip to Nice, conceived and organized by Leopold Zborovski, Modigliani, Tsuguharu Foujita and other artists tried to sell their works to rich tourists. Modigliani managed to sell a few pictures but only for a few francs each. Despite this, during this time he produced most of the paintings that later became his most popular and valued works.
During his lifetime he sold a number of his works, but never for any great amount of money. What funds he did receive soon vanished for his habits.
In May of 1919 he returned to Paris, where, with Hébuterne and their daughter, he rented an apartment in the rue de la Grande Chaumière. While there, both Jeanne Hébuterne and Amedeo Modigliani painted portraits of each other, and of themselves.
Last days
Although he continued to paint, Modigliani's health was deteriorating rapidly, and his alcohol-induced blackouts became more frequent.
In 1920, after not hearing from him for several days, his downstairs neighbor checked on the family and found Modigliani in bed delirious and holding onto Hébuterne who was nearly nine months pregnant. They summoned a doctor, but little could be done because Modigliani was dying of the then-incurable disease tubercular meningitis.
Modigliani died on January 24, 1920. There was an enormous funeral, attended by many from the artistic communities in Montmartre and Montparnasse.
Hébuterne was taken to her parents' home, where, inconsolable, she threw herself out of a fifth-floor window two days after Modigliani's death, killing herself and her unborn child. Modigliani was interred in Père Lachaise Cemetery. Hébuterne was buried at the Cimetière de Bagneux near Paris, and it was not until 1930 that her embittered family allowed her body to be moved to rest beside Modigliani.
Modigliani died penniless and destitute—managing only one solo exhibition in his life and giving his work away in exchange for meals in restaurants. Had he lived through the 1920s when American buyers flooded Paris, his fortunes might well have changed. Since his death his reputation has soared. Nine novels, a play, a documentary and three feature films have been devoted to his life.
Happy Monday Blues all!
Here's a shot of one of the towers around The Taj Mahal. I have deliberately kept the other small structure in the frame for the sake of perspective.
More of the Taj Mahal here: www.flickr.com/photos/ashumittal/sets/72157622017700886/
Give this a try to browse Flickr, you won't be disappointed: flickroom.org/
During the Seventies, Yugoslavia joined efforts with Romania to develop a modern high speed fighter-bomber; the resulting Aircraft was known as the J-22 Orao in Yugoslavia and as the IAR-93 Vultur in Romania. The aim was to build a supersonic jet powered by a single jet engine but since Romania was part of the Warsaw Pact, the UK refused to sell them the desired power-plant.
To evade this problem and since Yugoslavia had the license to produce the older Rolls-Royce Viper engine, they used two of these engines while launching at the same time the development of a newer indigenous version equipped with afterburners. Early variants without the afterburner were mostly used as reconnaissance platforms. A two-seat trainer version was also built.
The Orao resembled the British Sepecat Jaguar but was actually much smaller and slower. Still, it could carry and fire the American Maverick anti-tank or the Soviet AS-7 'Kerry' missile.
To know more about this plane, click here for the next picture:
www.flickr.com/photos/einon/52864421625
Eínon