disarray photos on Flickr

An Exceptional Greek Silver Stater of Perikles, Dynast of Lycia, a Magnificent Facing Head, From the Podalia Hoard of 1957 by Ancient Art & Numismatics

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Dynasts of Lycia

Perikles. Circa 380-360 BC. Stater (Silver, 21mm, 9.76 g 9), Antiphellos, c. 380-375. Bearded head of Perikle facing, turned slightly to left and with his hair in dramatic disarray. Rev. PARIKLA Vähñtäz, (in Lycian script). Warrior, nude but for his helmet, advancing right, brandishing sword with his right hand and holding oval shield with his left; to right, above, triskeles; to right, below, whelk. Olçay-Mørkholm 397-401, A1-P3 (same dies). A rare variety. Toned and with a splendid portrait. Some striking flatness, otherwise, extremely fine. From the B. in B. Collection, ex Bank Leu 30, 28 April 1982, 194 and from the Podalia Hoard of 1957.

NOMOS8, 197

Spinster by A tree called life

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Now this particular girl

During a ceremonious april walk

With her latest suitor

Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck

By the bird's irregular babel

And the leaves' litter.

By this tumult afflicted, she

Observed her lover's gestures unbalance the air,

His gait stray uneven

Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower;

She judged petals in disarray,

The whole season, sloven.

How she longed for winter then!-

Scrupulously austere in its order

Of white and black

Ice and rock; each sentiment within border,

And heart's frosty discipline

Exact as a snowflake.

But here - a burgeoning

Unruly enough to pitch her five queenly wits

Into vulgar motley-

A treason not to be borne; let idiots

Reel giddy in bedlam spring;

She withdrew neatly.

And round her house she set

Such a barricade of barb and check

Against mutinous weather

As no mere insurgent man could hope to break

With curse, fist, threat

Or love, either.

-- Sylvia Plath --

cobwebbed angel by Simon Knott

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St Andrew and St Patrick, Elveden, Suffolk

As you approach Elveden, there is Suffolk’s biggest war memorial, to those killed from the three parishes that meet at this point. It is over 30 metres high, and you used to be able to climb up the inside. Someone in the village told me that more people have been killed on the road in Elveden since the end of the War than there are names on the war memorial. I could well believe it. Until about five years ago, the busy traffic of the A11 Norwich to London road hurtled through the village past the church, slowed only to a ridiculously high 50 MPH. If something hits you at that speed, then no way on God's Earth are you going to survive. Now there's a bypass, thank goodness.

Many people will know St Andrew and St Patrick as another familiar landmark on the road, but as you are swept along in the stream of traffic you are unlikely to appreciate quite how extraordinary a building it is. For a start, it has two towers. And a cloister. And two naves, effectively. It has undergone three major building programmes in the space of thirty years, any one of which would have sufficed to transform it utterly.

If you had seen this church before the 1860s, you would have thought it nothing remarkable. A simple aisle-less, clerestory-less building, typical of, and indistinguishable from, hundreds of other East Anglian flint churches. A journey to nearby Barnham will show you what I mean.

The story of the transformation of Elveden church begins in the early 19th century, on the other side of the world. The leader of the Sikhs, Ranjit Singh, controlled a united Punjab that stretched from the Khyber Pass to the borders of Tibet. His capital was at Lahore, but more importantly it included the Sikh holy city of Amritsar. The wealth of this vast Kingdom made him a major power-player in early 19th century politics, and he was a particular thorn in the flesh of the British Imperial war machine. At this time, the Punjab had a great artistic and cultural flowering that was hardly matched anywhere in the world.

It was not to last. The British forced Ranjit Singh to the negotiating table over the disputed border with Afghanistan, and a year later, in 1839, he was dead. A power vacuum ensued, and his six year old son Duleep Singh became a pawn between rival factions. It was exactly the opportunity that the British had been waiting for, and in February 1846 they poured across the borders in their thousands. Within a month, almost half the child-Prince's Kingdom was in foreign hands. The British installed a governor, and started to harvest the fruits of their new territory's wealth.

Over the next three years, the British gradually extended their rule, putting down uprisings and turning local warlords. Given that the Sikh political structures were in disarray, this was achieved at considerable loss to the invaders - thousands of British soldiers were killed. They are hardly remembered today. British losses at the Crimea ten years later were much slighter, but perhaps the invention of photography in the meantime had given people at home a clearer picture of what was happening, and so the Crimea still remains in the British folk memory.

For much of the period of the war, Prince Duleep Singh had remained in the seclusion of his fabulous palace in Lahore. However, once the Punjab was secure, he was sent into remote internal exile.

The missionaries poured in. Bearing in mind the value that Sikh culture places upon education, perhaps it is no surprise that their influence came to bear on the young Prince, and he became a Christian. The extent to which this was forced upon him is lost to us today.

A year later, the Prince sailed for England with his mother. He was admitted to the royal court by Queen Victoria, spending time both at Windsor and, particularly, in Scotland, where he grew up. In the 1860s, the Prince and his mother were significant members of London society, but she died suddenly in 1863. He returned with her ashes to the Punjab, and there he married. His wife, Bamba Muller, was part German, part Ethiopian. As part of the British pacification of India programme, the young couple were granted the lease on a vast, derelict stately home in the depths of the Suffolk countryside. This was Elveden Hall. He would never see India again.

With some considerable energy, Duleep Singh set about transforming the fortunes of the moribund estate. Being particularly fond of hunting (as a six year old, he'd had two tutors - one for learning the court language, Persian, and the other for hunting to hawk) he developed the estate for game. The house was rebuilt in 1870.

The year before, the Prince had begun to glorify the church so that it was more in keeping with the splendour of his court. This church, dedicated to St Andrew, was what now forms the north aisle of the present church. There are many little details, but the restoration includes two major features; firstly, the remarkable roof, with its extraordinary sprung sprung wallposts set on arches suspended in the window embrasures, and, secondly, the font, which Mortlock tells us is in the Sicilian-Norman style. Supported by eight elegant columns, it is very beautiful, and the angel in particular is one of Suffolk's loveliest. You can see him in an image on the left.

Duleep Singh seems to have settled comfortably into the role of an English country gentleman. And then, something extraordinary happened. The Prince, steeped in the proud tradition of his homeland, decided to return to the Punjab to fulfill his destiny as the leader of the Sikh people. He got as far as Aden before the British arrested him, and sent him home. He then set about trying to recruit Russian support for a Sikh uprising, travelling secretly across Europe in the guise of an Irishman, Patrick Casey. In between these times of cloak and dagger espionage, he would return to Elveden to shoot grouse with the Prince of Wales, the future King Edward VII. It is a remarkable story.

Ultimately, his attempts to save his people from colonial oppression were doomed to failure. He died in Paris in 1893, the British seemingly unshakeable in their control of India. He was buried at Elveden churchyard in a simple grave.

The chancel of the 1869 church is now screened off as a chapel, accessible from the chancel of the new church, but set in it is the 1894 memorial window to Maharaja Prince Duleep Singh, the Adoration of the Magi by Kempe & Co.

And so, the Lion of the North had come to a humble end. His five children, several named after British royal princes, had left Elveden behind; they all died childless, one of them as recently as 1957. The estate reverted to the Crown, being bought by the brewing family, the Guinnesses.

Edward Cecil Guinness, first Earl Iveagh, commemorated bountifully in James Joyce's 1916 Ulysses, took the estate firmly in hand. The English agricultural depression had begun in the 1880s, and it would not be ended until the Second World War drew the greater part of English agriculture back under cultivation. It had hit the Estate hard. But Elveden was transformed, and so was the church.

Iveagh appointed William Caroe to build an entirely new church beside the old. It would be of such a scale that the old church of St Andrew would form the south aisle of the new church. The size may have reflected Iveagh's visions of grandeur, but it was also a practical arrangement, to accommodate the greatly enlarged staff of the estate. Attendance at church was compulsory; non-conformists were also expected to go, and the Guinnesses did not employ Catholics.

Between 1904 and 1906, the new structure went up. Mortlock recalls that Pevsner thought it 'Art Nouveau Gothic', which sums it up well. Lancet windows in the north side of the old church were moved across to the south side, and a wide open nave built beside it. Curiously, although this is much higher than the old and incorporates a Suffolk-style roof, Caroe resisted the temptation of a clerestory. The new church was rebenched throughout, and the woodwork is of a very high quality. The dates of the restoration can be found on bench ends up in the new chancel, and exploring all the symbolism will detain you for hours. Emblems of the nations of the British Isles also feature in the floor tiles.

The new church was dedicated to St Patrick, patron Saint of the Guinnesses' homeland. At this time, of course, Ireland was still a part of the United Kingdom, and despite the tensions and troubles of the previous century the Union was probably stronger at the opening of the 20th century than it had ever been. This was to change very rapidly. From the first shots fired at the General Post Office in April 1916, to complete independence in 1922, was just six years. Dublin, a firmly protestant city, in which the Iveaghs commemorated their dead at the Anglican cathedral of St Patrick, became the capital city of a staunchly Catholic nation. The Anglicans, the so-called Protestant Ascendancy, left in their thousands during the 1920s, depopulating the great houses, and leaving hundreds of Anglican parish churches completely bereft of congregations. Apart from a concentration in the wealthy suburbs of south Dublin, there are hardly any Anglicans left in the Republic today. But St Patrick's cathedral maintains its lonely witness to long years of British rule; the Iveagh transept includes the vast war memorial to WWI dead, and all the colours of the Irish regiments - it is said that 99% of the Union flags in the Republic are in the Guinness chapel of St Patrick's cathedral. Dublin, of course, is famous as the biggest city in Europe without a Catholic cathedral. It still has two Anglican ones.

Against this background then, we arrived at Elveden. The church is uncomfortably close to the busy road, but the sparkle of flint in the recent rain made it a thing of great beauty. The main entrance is now at the west end of the new church. The surviving 14th century tower now forms the west end of the south aisle, and we will come back to the other tower beyond it in a moment.

You step into a wide open space under a high, heavy roof laden with angels. There is a wide aisle off to the south; this is the former nave, and still has something of that quality. The whole space is suffused with gorgeously coloured light from excellent 19th and 20th century windows. These include one by Frank Brangwyn, at the west end of the new nave. Andrew and Patrick look down from a heavenly host on a mother and father entertaining their children and a host of woodland animals by reading them stories. It is quite the loveliest thing in the building.

Other windows, mostly in the south aisle, are also lovely. Hugh Easton's commemorative window for the former USAAF base at Elveden is magnificent. Either side are windows to Iveaghs - a gorgeous George killing a dragon, also by Hugh Easton, and a curious 1971 assemblage depicting images from the lives of Edward Guinness's heir and his wife, which also works rather well. The effect of all three windows together is particularly fine when seen from the new nave.

Turning ahead of you to the new chancel, there is the mighty alabaster reredos. It cost £1,200 in 1906, about a quarter of a million in today’s money. It reflects the woodwork, in depicting patron Saints and East Anglian monarchs, around a surprisingly simple Supper at Emmaus. This reredos, and the Brangwyn window, reminded me of the work at the Guinness’s other spiritual home, St Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, which also includes a window by Frank Brangwyn commisioned by them. Everything is of the highest quality. Rarely has the cliché ‘no expense spared’ been as accurate as it is here.

Up at the front, a little brass plate reminds us that Edward VII slept through a sermon here in 1908. How different it must have seemed to him from the carefree days with his old friend the Maharajah! Still, it must have been a great occasion, full of Edwardian pomp, and the glitz that only the fabulously rich can provide. Today, the church is still splendid, but the Guinesses are no longer fabulously rich, and attendance at church is no longer compulsory for estate workers; there are far fewer of them anyway. The Church of England is in decline everywhere; and, let us be honest, particularly so in this part of Suffolk, where it seems to have retreated to a state of siege. Today, the congregation of this mighty citadel is as low as half a dozen. The revolutionary disappearance of Anglican congregations in the Iveagh's homeland is now being repeated in a slow, inexorable English way.

You wander outside, and there are more curiosities. Set in the wall are two linked hands, presumably a relic from a broken 18th century memorial. They must have been set here when the wall was moved back in the 1950s. In the south chancel wall, the bottom of an egg-cup protrudes from among the flints. This is the trademark of the architect WD Caroe. To the east of the new chancel, Duleep Singh’s gravestone is a very simple one. It is quite different in character to the church behind it. A plaque on the east end of the church remembers the centenary of his death.

Continuing around the church, you come to the surprise of a long cloister, connecting the remodelled chancel door of the old church to the new bell tower. It was built in 1922 as a memorial to the wife of the first Earl Iveagh. Caroe was the architect again, and he installed eight bells, dedicated to Mary, Gabriel, Edmund, Andrew, Patrick, Christ, God the Father, and the King. The excellent guidebook recalls that his intention was for the bells to be cast to maintain the hum and tap tones of the renowned ancient Suffolk bells of Lavenham... thus the true bell music of the old type is maintained.

This church is magnificent, obviously enough. It has everything going for it, and is a national treasure. And yet, it has hardly any congregation. So, what is to be done?

If we continue to think of rural historic churches as nothing more than outstations of the Church of England, it is hard to see how some of them will survive. This church in particular has no future in its present form as a village parish church. New roles must be found, new ways to involve local people and encourage their use. One would have thought that this would be easier here than elsewhere.

The other provoking thought was that this building summed up almost two centuries of British imperial adventure, and that we lived in a world that still suffered from the consequences. It is worth remembering where the wealth that rebuilt St Andrew and St Patrick came from.

As so often in British imperial history, interference in other peoples’ problems and the imposition of short-term solutions has left massive scars and long-cast shadows. For the Punjab, as in Ireland, there are no simple solutions. Sheer proximity has, after several centuries of cruel and exploitative involvement, finally encouraged the British government to pursue a solution in Ireland that is not entirely based on self-interest. I fear that the Punjab is too far away for the British to care very much now about what they did there then.

Britain Weather by Peter Morrissey

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My world adventure starts with me sitting at home wondering if my flight will even leave the ground, from Melbourne, for London, tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

From 'The Australian'.comau

CHRISTMAS travel might be cancelled for thousands of stranded passengers as snow and ice continue to cause chaos at airports across a frozen Europe.

The international airline hubs of London, Paris, Frankfurt, Amsterdam and Brussels are struggling to clear a backlog of passengers stranded over the weekend as holidaymakers tried to reach their destinations in time for December 25.

Some travellers who had been sleeping on airport floors since Friday faced further frustration, with aircraft stuck in the wrong places, throwing flight schedules into disarray.

Frankfurt airport even resorted to sending in clowns to ease the frustration, while another accepted the problems could run on for days.

London Heathrow, the world's busiest international passenger airport, warned travellers to anticipate delays and cancellations “potentially beyond Christmas Day” as it fought to sort out its schedule.

It cut flights down to a third until tomorrow in a bid to get diverted jets and crew back to their normal positions.

Disappointment turned to anger for many weary travellers as money and patience wore thin. Heathrow's Terminal 3 had been turned into a makeshift camp with exhausted passengers crashed out on temporary mattresses.

“I am ashamed to be British,” said Marian Perkins, 65, who was hoping to fly to Australia to see her new grandson for the first time.

“It's disgusting. We are here in the cold with the same clothes since Friday, because we don't carry winter clothes when we go to Australia,” she said.

American musician Giovanni Bet, 22, was trying to get back to Chicago after a tour.

“We were here last night. It was like a shanty camp with people sleeping on the floor,” he said.

British airport operator BAA was forced to defend its handling of the crisis, with chief executive Colin Matthews saying Heathrow had to bring in earthmoving equipment and 50 trucks to remove the snow.

“I cannot remember in my lifetime any episode of cold and snow remotely like today,” he said.

Night-flight restrictions were lifted until Christmas Eve and special repatriation flights were being arranged.

Temperatures reached a record low in Northern Ireland, hitting minus 17.6 degrees Celsius.

Britain's National Grid forecast a record demand for gas yesterday, while the Automobile Association breakdown service forecast the day would “break all records” for emergency call-outs.

Eurostar, which operates high-speed passenger trains linking London with Paris and Brussels, cancelled some services due to the snow and operated speed restrictions on trains that did run, nearly doubling some journey times.

“We will operate a contingency timetable with some cancellations for a number of days,” the company said.

Five-hour queues stretched around the block in freezing weather from the terminal at London's Saint Pancras station.

Brussels airport grounded all departures until tomorrow due to lack of de-icing liquid.

There were fresh snowfalls in France, hitting both Paris international airports, Roissy-Charles de Gaulle and Orly.

“Air traffic at all airports in the Paris region is very disrupted,” the civil aviation authority said.

At Roissy, 3,000 people were forced to spend Sunday night in the terminals after 40 per cent of flights were scrapped.

Authorities banned heavy trucks from the roads around Paris and many buses were cancelled in the region, the RATP Paris transport network said.

Frankfurt airport, Germany's busiest, resorted to clowns to keep stranded children entertained - after the police were sent in, according to press reports, to calm some angry passengers.

The airport scrapped around 340 flights yesterday - mainly because other airports around Europe were closed - after more than a thousand travellers spent the night on camp beds.

Traffic continued to be disrupted at Amsterdam-Schiphol airport, with flights cancelled or delayed due to problems at other airports, spokeswoman Antoinette Spaans said.

In Italy, the bodies of two homeless people were found yesterday, likely victims of the cold.

The western Mediterranean Sea was also affected by bad weather, with crossings between Tarifa in southern Spain and Tangier in northern Morocco suspended.

AF

Photo from News.com.au

Ohhh Mrs. Claus...what happens at the North Pole, stays at the North Pole by Renee Rendler-Kaplan

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FFF 2014 Lovely Disarray HopScotch QE Designs by Fayette Aeon

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Blog

(2010) Disney Store Prince Eric by A Thousand Splendid Dolls

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BOX DATE: None

APPROXIMATE RELEASE DATE: 2010

MANUFACTURER: Disney Store

DOLLS IN LINE: Prince Naveen; Li Shang; John Smith; Aladdin; The Beast; Prince Eric; Prince Phillip; Prince Charming; Snow White Prince

BODY TYPE: No date; blue painted underwear; articulated elbows; bend & snap legs

HEAD MOLD: No date

PERSONAL FUN FACT written by my sister: I've said this before but I'll say it again--for me, looking at my dolls are like looking at snapshots in a photo album. I can't look at this Eric and not think of the day Shelly and I drove out, back in 2013, to get her first Disney Store Eric. I can't look at this stud without remembering the fall day in 2018 when my friend Laurie called to notify me of doll stuff, sitting on the roadside in front of a neighbor's yard. I also can't look at Eric without the visual of him sitting topless, first on Shelly's sewing table, then on the art desk, for several weeks. Why was he hanging out without his shirt? Well, about a week after we found them, all the dolls were identified. They were all clean and the vast majority were fully clothed and waiting for small things, like hair accessories and some styling. However, there were two exceptions to this rule--Toy Story Hawaiian Vacation Barbie, and this Prince Eric. Barbie needed a partial reroot and Eric's shirt needed to be mended. Normally, these things would have been attended to within the next week, however, things didn't go according to plan. I was awakened before my alarm on Monday morning, about a week after the dolls moved in, by Shelly's screaming voice--our ancient water heater had finally kicked the bucket, and our basement, formerly a dolly paradise, had become a flood zone. Now, it's not as bad as it sounds. There were no casualties. The only things that got wet were our big Barbie houses, and, when I say "got wet," I mean the very bottoms. However, it was total disarray. Everything had to be moved out of the basement closet. Bins of clothes had to be moved in front of other bins of doll clothes to get them clear of the flood zone. The bureau holding up most of our actual Barbie containers was also in the flood zone...it was like Barbie's Ark. Unable to put away our large Barbie house, our computer/art room felt super cluttered. Anytime we went to the basement, we had to see paradise turned into natural disaster. Due to the time put into fixing the basement and the space being extremely confined, processing our most recent finds not only took a back burner, it became inconvenient. Also, in truth, we didn't feel very motivated. It wasn't for several weeks, when the basement was returned to its former glory, that Shelly got to the mending and Eric was reunited with his shirt and poor Toy Story Barbie given new bangs and a new lease on life.

Eric being such a powerful reminder of a month of my life notwithstanding, he is an incredible find. I have been really fond of Disney Store dolls since our sudden, intense interest in them. For a few months, we were really invested in them (literally). We made several trips to the mall, first to hit sales on separately sold dolls, then to buy Shelly's first-ever Disney Princess gift pack and, when the outlet in the mall closed, we even drove out to a shopping center to buy Shelly's Deluxe Singing Tiana. However, we stopped the shopping addiction quickly. In truth, most Disney Store dolls come in similar outfits and look similar. However, while we no longer felt like paying retail, we've always been ecstatic to come across different ones secondhand. This Eric is obviously a different one that Shelly's first one because he was sold in the wedding outfit! I also thought it was very cool that he was sold in his wedding outfit--most of our Erics came in his more typical fashion. Eric was a very exciting find! Obviously, the previous owner of the "Sweet Sunday Surprises" dolls had excellent taste and really liked Disney dolls!

me & julio by Megan Lane

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Connection to You by Aki Jul-Rødvin

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I do not know whether you know it or not, but I depend on you more than I would ordinarily share. Every morning I lookout for you and every time you are due home I do the same. Like a dog awaiting its master you could say. A dog does this as it does not like to be away from who it depends on most and with anyone in this world, we depend on someone. I know things went into disarray before. but the sun is shining on me now and I am here if you want choose to depend on me too.

Whispers of Continuance - Life in the Shadows of the North 1 00045 by ArtisticPonder

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In the far reaches of northern Scotland, within a village where time meanders at its own tranquil pace, a series of images unfolds, painting a tableau of life's relentless march amidst the shadows of climate's dismay and the distant rumbles of war that threaten to engulf Europe. It is a Wednesday evening, draped in the quietude of rainfall, a scene reminiscent of an Edward Hopper collection—imbued with solitude, emptiness, yet a profound continuance.

A Poem:

In this hamlet 'neath Scottish skies so wide,

Where the rains whisper and the winds confide,

Looms the spectre of a world in disarray,

Yet within these bounds, life finds its way.

Upon the cusp of night, shadows merge and dance,

In the pub's warm glow, eyes steal a glance.

The hearth's soft crackle, a comforting song,

In this northern retreat, where hearts belong.

The world outside may churn and roar,

With climates wracked and the drums of war.

Yet here we stand, in this time-suspended place,

Where tomorrow's worries are but a trace.

The local pub, our living room, our sphere,

A sanctuary from doubt, from dread, from fear.

We'll return come dusk, as sure as the tide,

In the rhythm of the ordinary, we take pride.

For what are we, but passengers in time,

Through days mundane, through nights sublime?

The question lingers, in the air, it floats,

Is this all there is? In whispers, it denotes.

Yet, as we stand 'neath the gentle pour,

We find beauty in the repeat, in the encore.

For in these moments, life's essence we distill,

In the quiet of the village, in the peace, so still.

A Haiku:

Rain veils the night's face,

Quiet pub bids farewell—

Life's quiet march on.

clean desk by Elaine

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this is rare. I clean my room each and every day because I can't stand mess, but this is one place that is generally in SOME state of disarray. haha

The Blue Room by Susanne Hupfer

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This farmhouse, on the Gavel Family Farm Preserve, appears to have been abandoned in a hurry. There are still papers, furniture, clothing, and other detritus strewn everywhere and rotting. Now that the windows are big gaping holes, letting the elements in, I fear this house's days are numbered. I didn't venture inside; floors are starting to cave in, and it looked very dangerous.

It's sad to contemplate what brings a home to this kind of end. Was there an elderly person who had to be transferred to other living arrangements one day, before their effects could be squared away? Did someone die suddenly and leave the disarray behind? It's sad and more than a little mysterious...

Quai des Belges - Marseille (France) by Perry Tak

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Vieux Port 24/08/2019 16h09

La Canebière is undergoing a major refurbishment and will be transformed from a busy street to an urban boulevard which will be 'piétonisée' with space for pedestrians and bicycles (and the electric scooters nowadays as well).

La Canebière

La Canebière is the historic high street in the old quarter of Marseille. About a kilometre long, it runs from the Vieux Port of Marseille to the Réformés quarter. It has been called the Champs-Élysées of Marseille.

The name 'Canebière' ('Canabiera' in Provençal dialect) comes from the word Cannabis in Latin, as the area around the Old Port were originally hemp fields and Marseille was one of the world's largest trader of hemp baskets and ropes from the Middle Ages until the 1930s, when other fibers were used instead.

The avenue was built in 1666, when King Louis XIV of France (1638–1715) decided to expand the city of Marseille.

At the end of the eighteenth century, as the Grand Arsenal shipbuilding dock was demolished, the avenue was extended down to the Old Port and elegant buildings were built. Only as late as 1928 was it extended from the Old Port to the Église Saint-Vincent-de-Paul (also known as the Église des Réformés).

The avenue fell in disarray after the French colonial empire came to an end by the 1960s. In recent years, it has been refurbished.

The new Line T2 of the Tramway de Marseille runs along La Canebière between Rue de Rome/Cours Belsunce and Réformés. Noailles (M2) and Vieux-Port (M1) metro stations are located along the street.

[ Wikipedia ]

0175 The Monument to the Heroes of Laguna and Dourados, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil by Mark – Back after a long absence

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View of Sugarloaf Mountain (Pão de Açúcar).

The Monument to the Heroes of Laguna and Dourados

The Monument to the Heroes of Laguna and Dourados is located in General Tibúrcio Square, on the Red Beach , Urca neighborhood, in the city and state of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil . It honors the episode of the Retreat of the Laguna , occurred in the context of the War of the Triple Alliance. The monument was erected on the initiative of Colonel Pedro Cordolino de Azevedo, who, still a lieutenant, launched the idea in 1920 . Accepted with enthusiasm, a commission was later organized, composed by the then Minister of War, João Pandiá Calógeras , Colonel Eduardo Monteiro de Barros , Felix Pacheco , Professor José Otávio Correia Lima , Cordolino de Azevedo himself - now captain - and By the 1st Lieutenant Norival Francisco de Lemos. A competition for the presentation of models was opened, 16 artists competed, obtaining the first prize the Brazilian sculptor Antonino Pinto de Matos. The monument was cast in the Bronze Artistic Foundry of Covina & Co., and the bronze of ancient cannons used by the same glorified heroes was used. The artist, having performed the work, died days before its opening, originally scheduled for 29 of December of 1938 , but in the meantime moved to 31 the same month , under bad weather. Attending the inauguration were the then President of the Republic, Getúlio Vargas, civil and military authorities and copious public. The monument has a circumference of 53 meters, based on white granite. In the foreground of the pedestal are bronze reliefs, in paintings incrusted in granite, representing: the withdrawal of Lieutenant Oliveira Melo, the attack on the Fort of Coimbra, the combat of Alegre and the resumption of Corumbá. On the sides of the pedestal are colonnade-sized bronze statues of Colonel Camisão , in an attitude of concern, one hand holding his sword and the other a sheet of paper; The guide Lopes, sitting pensively, hand on chin, holding a whip in his other hand; The lieutenant Antônio João, in the position of the one who is going to fall, in the fight, in disarray, sheath without sword, being seen next to a piece of the same, broken in the heat of the fight. A brass ring rounds the pedestal in another plane, the most dramatic scenes of the Retreat forming in relief: the transport of the choleric ones, seeing the exhausted soldiers, carrying on their shoulders, in paws, the sick; The rescue of the guns, seeing the joints of oxen, tired, pulling the carts, with the help of the soldiers, half-naked; The forced march, the foreman of the column ahead, his left hand with a paper, and his right arm stretched out resolutely, indicating to the soldiers the way forward. Allegorical figures, about two meters in another plane, symbolize the Homeland, the Force and History. On the granite pedestal, in circumference, a six-meter high column, also in granite, rises to a bronze statue, a figure of winged woman, representing Gloria. The total height of the monument is 15 meters, presenting one of the most impressive sculptural ensembles of the city. Completing the work, an underground crypt, nine steps below the monument, guards the ashes of the heroes of Laguna and Dourados.

pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monumento_aos_Her%C3%B3is_de_Laguna...

The Lost World (20th Century Fox, 1960) Screen Captures by Morbius19

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The Lost World (20th Century Fox, 1960).

youtu.be/h1CLA-gJbmA?t=5s Trailer

Irwin Allen, the producer who would go on to make the disaster film a huge success in the seventies, brought us this Saturday afternoon fodder with giant lizards posing as dinosaurs. Starring Michael Rennie, David Hedison, Claude Rains and Jill St. John.

Intended as a grand sci-fi/fantasy epic remake of Arthur Conan Doyle's classic novel. The first film adaptation, shot in 1925, was a milestone in many ways, but movie making and special effects had come a long way in 35 years. Irwin Allen's Lost World (LW) & 20th Century Fox version was derailed on the way to greatness, but managed to still be a respectable, (if more modest) A-film. Allen's screenplay followed the book fairly well, telling of Professor Challenger's expedition to a remote plateau in the Amazon upon which dinosaurs still lived. Aside from the paleontological presumptions in the premise, there is little "science" in The Lost World. Nonetheless, dinosaur movies have traditionally been lumped into the sci-fi genre.

Synopsis

When his plane lands in London, crusty old professor George Edward Challenger is besieged by reporters questioning him about his latest expedition to the headwaters of the Amazon River. After the irascible Challenger strikes reporter Ed Malone on the head with his umbrella, Jennifer Holmes, the daughter of Ed's employer, Stuart Holmes, offers the injured reporter a ride into town. That evening, Jenny is escorted by Lord John Roxton, an adventurer and big game hunter, to Challenger's lecture at the Zoological Institute, and Ed invites them to sit with him. When Challenger claims to have seen live dinosaurs, his colleague Professor Summerlee scoffs and asks for evidence. Explaining that his photographs of the creatures were lost when his boat overturned, Challenger invites Summerlee to accompany him on a new expedition to the "lost world," and asks for volunteers. When Roxton raises his hand, Jenny insists on going with him, but she is rejected by Challenger because she is a woman. Ed is given a spot after Holmes offers to fund the expedition if the reporter is included. The four then fly to the Amazon, where they are met by Costa, their guide and Manuel Gomez, their helicopter pilot. Arriving unexpectedly, Jenny and her younger brother David insist on joining them. Unable to arrange transportation back to the United States, Challenger reluctantly agrees to take them along. The next day, they take off for the lost world and land on an isolated plateau inhabited by dinosaurs. That evening, a dinosaur stomps out of the jungle, sending them scurrying for cover. After the beast destroys the helicopter and radio, the group ventures inland. When one of the creatures bellows threateningly, they flee, and in their haste, Challenger and Ed slip and tumble down a hillside, where they encounter a native girl. The girl runs into the jungle, but Ed follows and captures her. They then all take refuge in a cave, where Roxton, who has been making disparaging remarks about Jenny's desire to marry him solely for his title, angers Ed. Ed lunges at Roxton, pushing him to the ground, where he finds a diary written by Burton White, an adventurer who hired Roxton three years earlier to lead him to the lost diamonds of Eldorado. Roxton then admits that he never met White and his party because he was delayed by a dalliance with a woman, thus abandoning them to certain death. Gomez angrily snaps that his good friend Santiago perished in the expedition. That night, Costa tries to molest the native girl, and David comes to her rescue and begins to communicate with her through sign language. After Gomez goes to investigate some movement he spotted in the vegetation, he calls for help, and when Roxton runs out of the cave, a gunshot from an unseen assailant is fired, nearly wounding Roxton and sending the girl scurrying into the jungle. Soon after, Ed and Jenny stray from camp and are pursued by a dinosaur, and after taking refuge on some cliffs, watch in horror as their stalker becomes locked in combat with another prehistoric creature and tumbles over the cliffs into the waters below. Upon returning to camp, they discover it deserted, their belongings in disarray. As David stumbles out from some rocks to report they were attacked by a tribe of natives, the cannibals return and imprison them in a cave with the others. As the drums beat relentlessly, signaling their deaths, the native girl reappears and motions for them to follow her through a secret passageway that leads to the cave in which Burton White lives, completely sightless. After confirming that all in his expedition perished, White tells them of a volcanic passageway that will lead them off the plateau, but warns that they must first pass through the cave of fire. Cautioning them that the natives plan to sacrifice them, White declares that their only chance of survival is to slip through the cave and then seal it with a boulder. After giving them directions to the cave, White asks them to take the girl along. As the earth, on the verge of a volcanic eruption, quakes, they set off through the Graveyard of the Damned, a vast cavern littered with dinosaur skeletons, the victims of the deadly sulfurous gases below. Pursued by the ferocious natives, Roxton takes the lead as they inch their way across a narrow ledge above the molten lava. After escaping the natives, they jam the cave shut with a boulder and, passing a dam of molten lava, finally reach the escape passage. At its mouth is a pile of giant diamonds and a dinosaur egg. As Costa heaps the diamonds into his hat, Challenger fondles the egg and Gomez pulls a gun and announces that Roxton must die in exchange for the death of Santiago, Gomez' brother. Acting quickly, Ed hurls the diamonds at Gomez, throwing him off balance and discharging his gun. The gunshot awakens a creature slumbering in the roiling waters below. After the beast snatches Costa and eats him alive, Ed tries to dislodge the dam, sending a few scorching rocks tumbling down onto the monster. Feeling responsible for the peril of the group, Gomez sacrifices his life by using his body as a lever to dislodge the dam, covering the creature with oozing lava. As the cave begins to crumble from the impending eruption, the group hurries to safety. Just then, the volcano explodes, destroying the lost world. After Roxton hands Ed a handful of diamonds he has saved as a wedding gift for him and Jenny, Challenger proudly displays his egg, which then hatches, revealing a baby dinosaur. The End.

The 50s had seen several examples of the dinosaur sub-genre. LW is one of the more lavish ones, owing to color by DeLuxe and CinemaScope. The A-level actors help too. Claude Rains plays the flamboyant Challenger. Michael Rennie plays Roxton, perhaps a bit too cooly. Jill St. John and Vitina Marcus do well as the customary eye candy. David Hedison as Malone and Fernando Lamas as Gomez round out the bill.

The first film version of LW was a silent movie shot in 1925: screenplay by Marion Fairfax. The film featured stop-motion animated dinosaurs by a young Willis O'Brien. Fairfax followed Doyle's text, but Fairfax added a young woman to the team, Paula White. Ostensibly trying to find her father from the first failed expedition, she provided the love triangle interest between Malone and Roxton.

Allen's screenplay tried to stick to Doyle's text as much as Hollywood would allow. It carried on Fairfax's invention of the young woman member of the group as triangle fodder. Fairfax had Doyle's ape men (ape man) but omitted the native humans. Allen had the natives, but no ape men. Allen revived the Gomez/revenge subplot, which Fairfax skipped. Doyle's story had Challenger bringing back a pterodactyl. Fairfax made it a brontosaur who rampaged through London streets (spawning a popular trope). Allen suggested the baby dinosaur traveling to London.

Willis O'Brien pitched 20th Century Fox in the late 50s, to do a quality remake of LW. He had gained much experience in the intervening 35 years, so his stop-motion dinosaurs were to be the real stars. Fox bass liked the idea, but by the time the ball started rolling, there was trouble in studioland. Fox's grand epic Cleopatra was underway, but was already 5 million dollars over budget. Cleo would nearly sink 20th Century Fox when it was finally released in 1963. To stay afloat, all other Fox films' budgets were slashed. Allen could no longer afford the grand O'Brien stop-motion.

Allen's production is often criticized for its "cheap" dinosaurs, which were live monitor lizards and alligators with fins and plates and horns glue onto them. (more on that below) These were already a bit cheesy when used in the 1940 film One Million B.C.. O'Brien is still listed on the credits as "Effects Technician," but all Allen could afford was lizards with glued on extras. Somewhat amusingly, the script still refers to them as brontosaurs and T-Rexes.

The character of Jennifer Holmes starts out promising. She's a self-assured to the edges of pushy, and is said to be able to out shoot and out ride any man. Yet, when she gets to the Amazon jungle, she's little more than Jungle Barbie, dressed in girlie clothes and screaming frequently. She even does the typical Hollywood trip-and-fall when chased by the dinosaur, so that a man must save her.

Bottom line? FW is a finer example of the not-quite-sci-fi dinosaur sub-genre. The actors are top drawer, even if some of their acting is a bit flat. Nonetheless, FW is a fair adaptation of Doyle's

classic adventure novel, given the constraints of Hollywood culture.

The Movie Club Annals … Review

The Lost World 1960

Introduction

There was absolutely nothing wrong with Irwin Allen's 1960 production of The Lost World. Nothing. It was perfect in every way. I therefore find myself in the unique and unfamiliar position of having to write a rave review about a Movie Club movie that was entirely devoid of flaws.

Faced with such a confounding task, I half-heartedly considered faking a bad review, then praying my obvious deceptions would go unnoticed. But the patent transparency of my scheme convinced me to abandon it posthaste. After all, leveling concocted criticisms at such an unassailable masterpiece would be a futile and tiresome exercise, the pretense of which would escape nary a semi-cognizant soul.

Thus, having retreated from my would-be descent into literary intrigue, I start this review in earnest by borrowing a quote from the legendary Shelly Winters, spoken during the 1972 filming of Irwin Allen's The Poseidon Adventure:

"I'm ready for my close up now, Mr. Allen.” Shelly Winters, 1972

Review

A bit of research into the casting choices of Irwin Allen, who wrote, produced, and directed The Lost World, begins to reveal the genius behind the virtuosity.

The first accolades go to Irwin for his casting of Vitina Marcus, the immaculately groomed Saks 5th Avenue cave girl with exquisite taste in makeup, jewelry, and cave-wear. No finer cave girl ever graced a feature film.

Vitina Marcus, as The Cave Girl

She was the picture of prehistoric glamour, gliding across the silver screen in her designer bearskin mini-pelt, her flawless coiffure showing no signs of muss from the traditional courting rituals of the day, her perfect teeth the envy of even the most prototypical Osmond. Even her nouveau-opposable thumbs retained their manicure, in spite of the oft-disagreeable duties that frequently befell her as an effete member of the tribal gentry.

By no means just another Neanderthal harlot, Vitina had a wealth of talent to augment her exterior virtues. Her virtuoso interpretation of a comely cave girl in The Lost World certainly didn't escape the attention Irwin Allen. In fact, he was so taken with her performance that he later engaged her services again, casting her as the Native Girl in episode 2.26 of his Voyage to The Bottom of The Sea TV series.

Leery of potential typecasting, Vitina went on to obtain roles with greater depth and more sophisticated dialogue. This is evidenced by the great departure she took from her previous roles when she next portrayed the part of Sarit, a female barbarian, in episode 1.24 of Irwin Allen's The Time Tunnel TV series.

Vitina, as Sarit

Vitina's efforts to avoid typecasting paid off in spades, as she was soon rewarded with the distinctive role of Girl, a female Tarzanesque she-beast character, in episode 3.14 of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. TV series.

Lured back from the U.N.C.L.E. set by Irwin Allen, Vitina was next cast in the role of Athena (a.k.a. Lorelei), the green space girl with the inverted lucite salad bowl hat, in episodes 2.2 and 2.16 of the revered Lost in Space TV series.

And with this, Vitina reached the pinnacle of her career. For her many unparalleled displays of thespian pageantry, she leaves us forever in her debt as she exits the stage.

For those who would still question the genius of Irwin Allen, I defy you to find a better casting choice for the character of Lord John Roxton than that of Michael Rennie. Mr. Rennie, who earlier starred as Klaatu in The Day the Earth Stood Still, went on to even greater heights, starring as The Keeper in episodes 1.16 and 1.17 of the revered Lost in Space TV series. Throughout his distinguished career, Mr. Rennie often played highly cerebral characters with

unique names, such as Garth A7, Tribolet, Hasani, Rama Kahn, Hertz, and Dirk. How befitting that his most prolific roles came to him through a man named Irwin, a highly cerebral character with a unique name.

The selection of David Hedison to play Ed Malone was yet another example of Irwin's uncanny foresight. Soon after casting him in The Lost World, Irwin paved Mr. Hedison's path to immortality by casting him as a lead character in his Voyage to The Bottom of The Sea TV series. Although Voyage ended in 1968, Mr. Hedison departed the show with a solid resume and a bright future.

In the decades following Voyage, Mr. Hedison has been a veritable fixture on the small screen, appearing in such socially influential programs as The Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Knight Rider, The Fall Guy and The A Team. Mr. Hedison's early collaborations with Irwin Allen have left him never wanting for a day's work in Hollywood, a boon to the legions of discerning fans who continue to savor his inspiring prime time depictions.

Irwin selected Fernando Lamas to play Manuel Gomez, the honorable and tortured soul of The Lost World who needlessly sacrificed himself at the end of the movie to save all the others. To get a feel for how important a casting decision he was to Irwin, just look at the pertinent experience Mr. Lamas brought to the table:

Irwin knew that such credentials could cause him to lose the services of Mr. Lamas to another project, and he took great pains to woo him onto the set of The Lost World. And even though Mr. Lamas never appeared in the revered Lost in Space TV series, his talent is not lost on us.

Jay Novello was selected by Irwin Allen to play Costa, the consummate Cuban coward who perpetually betrays everyone around him in the name of greed. In pursuing his craven calling, Mr. Novello went on to play Xandros, the Greek Slave in Atlantis, The Lost Continent, as well as countless other roles as a coward.

Although Mr. Novella never appeared in the revered Lost in Space TV series, his already long and distinguished career as a coward made him the obvious choice for Irwin when the need for an experienced malingerer arose.

Jill St. John was Irwin's pick to play Jennifer Holmes, the "other" glamour girl in The Lost World. Not to be upstaged by glamour-cave-girl Vitina Marcus, Jill played the trump card and broke out the pink go-go boots and skin-tight Capri pants, the perfect Amazonian summertime jungle wear.

Complete with a perfect hairdo, a killer wardrobe, a little yip-yip dog named Frosty, and all the other trappings of a wealthy and pampered prehistoric society, Jill's sensational allure rivaled even that of a certain cave girl appearing in the same film.

With the atmosphere rife for an on-set rivalry between Jill and Vitina, Irwin still managed to keep the peace, proving that he was as skilled a diplomat as he was a director.

Claude Rains, as Professor George Edward Challenger

And our cup runneth over, as Irwin cast Claude Rains to portray Professor George Edward Challenger. His eminence, Mr. Rains is an entity of such immeasurable virtue that he is not in need of monotonous praise from the likes of me.

I respectfully acknowledge the appearance of Mr. Rains because failure to do so would be an unforgivable travesty. But I say nothing more on the subject, lest I state something so obvious and uninspiring as to insult the intelligence of enlightened reader.

Irwin's casting of the cavemen mustn't be overlooked, for their infallibly realistic portrayals are unmatched within the Pleistocene Epoch genre of film. Such meticulous attention to detail is what separates Irwin Allen from lesser filmmakers, whose pale imitations of his work only further to underscore the point.

To be sure, it is possible to come away with the unfounded suspicion that the cavemen are really just a bunch of old white guys from the bar at the local Elks lodge. But Irwin was an absolute stickler for authenticity, and would never have allowed the use of such tawdry measures to taint his prehistoric magnum opus.

In truth, Irwin's on-screen cavemen were borne of many grueling years of anthropological research, so the explanation for their somewhat modern, pseudo-caucasian appearance lies obviously elsewhere. And in keeping with true Irwin Allen tradition, that explanation will not be offered here.

1964 - Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Season One, Episode 7 - "Turn Back the Clock", featuring Vitina Marcus as The Native Girl. Produced by Irwin Allen.

And then there was Irwin Allen's masterful handling of the reptilian facets of The Lost World, most notably his inimitable casting of the dinosaurs. His dinosaurs were so realistic, so eerily lifelike, that they almost looked like living, breathing garden variety lizards with dinosaur fins and horns glued to their backs and heads.

The less enlightened viewer might even suppose this to be true, that Irwin's dinosaurs were indeed merely live specimens of lizards, donned in Jurassic-era finery, vastly magnified, and retro-fitted into The Lost World via some penny-wise means of cinematic trickery.

But those of us in the know certainly know better than that, as we are privy to some otherwise unpublished information about The Lost World. The lifelike appearance of the Irwin's dinosaurs can be attributed to a wholly overlooked and fiendishly cunning approach to the art of delusion, which is that the dinosaurs didn't just look real, they were real.

While the world abounds with middling minds who cannot fathom such a reality, we must follow Irwin's benevolent leanings and temper our natural feelings of contempt for this unfortunate assemblage of pedestrian lowbrows. In spite of Irwin's superior intellect, he never felt disdain toward the masses that constituted his audiences. He simply capitalized on their unaffectedness, and in the process recounted the benefits of exploiting the intellectually bereft for personal gain.

The purpose of all this analysis, of course, is to place an exclamation point on the genius of Irwin Allen, the formation of his dinosaur exposé being a premier example. Note how he mindfully manipulates the expectations of his unsuspecting audience, compelling them to probe the dinosaurs for any signs of man-made chicanery. Then, at the palatial moment when the dinosaurs make their entry, he guilefully supplants the anticipated display of faux reptilia with that of the bona fide article.

Upon first witnessing the de facto dinosaurs, some in the audience think they've been had, and indeed they have. Irwin, in engineering his masterful ruse, had used reality as his medium to convey the illusion of artifice. His audience, in essence, was blinded by the truth. It was the immaculate deception, and none but Irwin Allen could have conceived it.

Indeed, the matter of where the live dinosaurs came from has been conspicuously absent from this discussion, as the Irwinian technique of fine film making strongly discourages the practice of squandering time on extraneous justifications and other such trite means of redundant apologia. For the benefit of the incessantly curious, however, just keep in mind that Irwin Allen wrote and produced The Time Tunnel TV Series, a fact that should provide some fair insight into his modis operandi.

Carl R.

Disarray by Norah Al-Wa'al

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