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APRIL 13, 2023 WASHINGTON DC. WORLD BANK GROUP/ INTERNATIONAL MONETARY FUND 2023 SPRING MEETINGS.
Accelerating Development in an Age of Global Crisis
The existential threat of climate change, impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Russian invasion of Ukraine, persistent high inflation and increased fragility have injected volatility and uncertainty into the global economy – a reality that may continue for a while. The panel of speakers explore central questions around what it will take to address some of the most critical issues of our time including climate change, food insecurity, pandemics, and increasing fragility and poverty.
Axel van Trotsenburg, Senior Managing Director, Development Policy and Partnerships, World Bank Group; Amina Mohammed, Deputy Secretary-General, United Nations; José Antonio Ocampo, Minister of Finance and Public Credit, Colombia; Leila Benali, Minister of Energy Transition and Sustainable Development, Morocco; Ahmed Ogwell Ouma, Acting Director, Africa Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC); Daniel Zelikow, Chair of the Governing Board, Development Finance Institution, J.P. Morgan. Photo: World Bank / Simone D. McCourtie
A photo Taken in The Forest between Jurmala and Jelgava just after our first vaccine shot. The Setting sun between the branches was so beautiful. Shot with a Flektogon CarlZeissJena 35mm.
Sydney is behind me, for now. This time slip feels right, and for the grammar purist, I recommend you take a step back from this one. Honestly, you don't have to be Einstein to get it, or to even suppose we've come full circle to get here.
There is seasonal insouciance about all this. The theme is musical without a Christmas tune. There might be some creedence to the tradition of putting a candle in the window. Even as that stage is crowded, so too will be this house when the lights finally go down. All of that aside, later, when I emerge into the tumult of the night, my emotions with be smashed like four seasons in one day. Classical or not, Le quattro stagioni is written as a slogan across the finest Bormioli Rocco preserving jars in my pantry. These are the things I live by.
There are four music stands on that podium. One each for the four players — sans the prescribed harpsicord — but enough for the imaginative. The first violin — 294 years old — is still younger than the violin concerti I am here to enjoy. Sure, it's done to death in modern culture, even stooping to advertising muzak. When it's all said and done, there is some comfort in that familiarity. What is unfamiliar is what is said — I had no idea that the score was accompanied by sonnets; albeit hardly Shakespearian sonnets.
This little theatre — named after an arts patron, and coincidentally a scion of one of the benefactors who purchased the land for that little church back in Manly — is hosting a string quartet's recital of Antonio Vivaldi's Four Seasons which may, or may not be 300 years old this year. I can't remember.
Now, to that apostrophe. The first violin is responsible for what appears to be a grammatical violation. Her name wasn't Carol. That didn't stop the first violin calling the other violinist Annie, even when her name was actually Pip. It might as well have been Carol, in which case, she would have been by candlelight.
Show over, it was time to emerge into the gloaming, and a sound that clenches the buttocks, rattles the chest like a top fuel dragster at close quarters, and makes me want to look for cover: a war bird on full song…
I don't recall telling anyone I'd be here, so I wasn't expecting an F35 flypast. Logically my reaction was: "SO SOON?". That's when I remembered the gathering crowds in the valley down which that plane was screaming. No, not yet. I didn't have long to wait before it came around for another pass, this time almost straight overhead, afterburner lit, stick back, and into a vertical climb until, so soon, even that Roman Candle disappeared into the dark. Did you know that the G-suit was invented by Professor Frank Cotton of the Sydney University? Importantly for us, his niece was a famous photographer. All right, the Canadians claim the honour, even if theirs was made a year later than Uncle Frank's.
Being neither July 4, nor November 5, we need another thing or two for March 14. You clever lot! Some of you know. I'm off home to bed. I'm up well past my bedtime.
Let’s go back to 1861 or 1862, a time after the initial burst of patriotism—perhaps fueled by an enthusiastic town rally and a stirring speech that prompted one to enlist, then the donning of a new uniform and receipt of weapons and equipment, studying military manuals, and endless hours of drill and instruction. The quintessential citizen-soldier in an infantry regiment was left to ponder existential questions that haunt almost every soldier who makes it onto a battlefield for the first time: How will I perform in combat? Will I find the courage to stand and fire my musket at the human beings opposite me? Will I flee? What will I do in the moment?
Willie Rexford, pictured here, answered these questions during the Peninsula Campaign, during which senior officers of his regiment, the 44th New York Infantry, mentioned him in two official reports—also known to students of the Civil War as after-action reports.
On June 27, 1862, at Gaines’ Mill, Willie and the 44th held the extreme left of the Union line. Led by Colonel James C. Rice, the 44th helped destroy bridges to delay Confederate artillery, built earthworks and abatis, and deployed skirmishers who reported enemy movements and inflicted steady losses. For hours, the 44th repulsed attacks, even as neighboring regiments gave way. When Confederates finally broke through the Union right and rear, the 44th fought fiercely from both sides of their works before being ordered to retreat. Their withdrawal under devastating fire was costly: five killed, twenty-two wounded, and twenty-nine missing. Willie numbered among those who were “specially and favorably noticed for gallant and meritorious conduct.”
Willie received the second mention for outstanding conduct just days later at Malvern Hill. The 44th held reserve positions early in the engagement before filing into a critical gap on the Union left as Confederate attacks intensified. Under heavy shelling, the regiment maintained formation and later advanced, pushing past multiple Union lines. The 44th charged to within 100 yards of the enemy, helping to break Confederate lines and capturing a battle flag marked “Seven Pines.” They held off a fresh enemy brigade until reinforcements arrived. Of the 225 men and officers engaged, the regiment lost 11 killed, 84 wounded, and four missing.
Born William Mangum Rexford in Norwich, N.Y., Willie numbered among the vast majority of American boys with no formal military education prior to his enlistment. He did, however, earn a college degree, graduating with the Class of 1860 from Union College in Schenectady, N.Y., where he also became a Theta Delta Chi fraternity brother. He then returned home and studied law in the office of his father, attorney Benjamin Franklin Rexford.
Then war came. Willie marked his 20th birthday on the same day pro-secession mobs pelted Union soldiers from the 6th Massachusetts Infantry with bricks and rocks as they marched through Baltimore. The riot turned deadly before the troops completed their trek through the city and on to Washington. Willie remained in his father’s office through the spring and early summer, watching as the nascent Confederate states established control over their territory and federal forces moved to stop the movement.
Willie could remain at home no longer after President Abraham Lincoln called for volunteers to put an end to the Southern rebellion. In early August, he enlisted as a sergeant in the “People’s Ellsworth Regiment,” organized after the death and martyrdom of Col. Elmer E. Ellsworth in May 1861, when Ellsworth hauled down a Confederate flag from the rooftop of a hotel in Alexandria, Va.
Willie is pictured here soon after his enlistment in his Zouave uniform, itself a tribute to Ellsworth, who had popularized the style before the war when he commanded the U.S. Zouave Cadets and led them on a popular drill tour through major U.S. cities. Willie appears ready for active campaigning with a cap box and Model 1840 noncommissioned officer’s sword attached to his waist belt, fastened with a Pattern 1851 eagle plate; a Model 1855 rifled-musket with bayonet; knapsack; and rolled blanket. His forage cap is marked with his company letter, D, and regimental number, 44.
This is how Willie looked when he distinguished himself in the battles of Gaines’ Mill and Malvern Hill. The praise he received in after-action reports marked him as a rising star in the regiment. In fact, his star did rise—but with other regiments.
In August 1862, about a month after Malvern Hill, Willie left the 44th to accept a captaincy in the new 114th New York Infantry, which had been raised in his hometown of Norwich and the surrounding Chenango and Madison counties. Before the end of the year, the regiment arrived in New Orleans, assigned to the Gulf Department commanded by Maj. Gen. Nathaniel P. Banks.
Willie experienced a brief tenure with the 114th. On the last day of 1862, he received a commission as major of the 131st New York Infantry, a regiment raised under the auspices of the New York City police and sent to Louisiana about the same time as the 114th. Now a senior commander, he spent the rest of the war in operations in Louisiana that included the Battle of Irish Bend and the Port Hudson Campaign, and in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley for the battles of Opequon Creek, Fisher’s Hill, and Cedar Creek.
At the September 19, 1864, engagement at Opequon Creek, also known as the Third Battle of Winchester, federal forces led by Maj. Gen. Philip Sheridan defeated Lt. Gen. Jubal Early’s Confederates—the largest combat fought in the Shenandoah Valley during the war and the first in a series of defeats for Early’s army. The 131st, with Willie now lieutenant colonel, fought hard. Willie earned a brevet rank of colonel for his gallantry.
The 131st finished the waning months of the war in North Carolina and Georgia, where Willie served a stint as provost judge of the district of northern Georgia. The regiment mustered out of service at Savannah in July 1865.
A New York–based railroad contractor after the end of his service in 1865, Willie became involved in numerous organizations, including the American Geographical Society, the University Club, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Union College Alumni, the Phi Beta Kappa Society, the Engineers’ Club, and the Loyal Legion.
In 1897, more than three decades after the close of the war, veterans of the 131st held their first reunion at the Union League Club in New York City. Three of the regiment’s field officers attended—colonel and brevet brigadier general Nicholas W. Day, Maj. Augustus C. Tate, and Willie—as well as its brigade commander, colonel and brevet major general Edward L. Molineux. A newspaper report described the event: “In pleasant, informal addresses Gen. Molineux, Gen. Day, Col. Rexford and Major Tate recalled scenes of the ‘Louisiana lowlands, low,’ of Port Hudson, Bisland, of Winchester and Cedar Creek, and memories were stirred by the battle and camp pictures. It was late when the old veterans separated, determined that hereafter they must meet more frequently.”
Five years later, on a July morning in 1902, Willie collapsed after returning to his residence from a long walk and never regained consciousness. He was 61 years old and unmarried.
One admirer left behind an observation that might serve as Willie’s finest tribute: “Colonel Rexford is a true type of an American soldier; brave, cool, and determined. His promotions were fairly earned, and his service reflects great credit on himself and friends.”
Happened in Chinatown (Spadina and Dundas). Offered to help two women (not shown) load these Xs into their van. They politely said no. They also declined to tell me what the Xs are for! Very eXistential!
Walking on foot brings you down to the very stark, naked core of existence. We travel too much in airplanes and cars. It’s an existential quality that we are losing. It’s almost like a credo of religion that we should walk.
There is, of course, something inherently romantic—if not heroic—about the extreme solitary explorer enveloped by nature. The very image of Herzog on foot recalls the iconic 19th-century paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, especially his Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, with its lone figure staring out at the wide vista above the clouds.
'Truth itself wanders through the forests,' Herzog writes near the end. Yet here he embroiders his memories for effect: The vast swath of geography between Munich and Paris is littered with industrial towns and cities.
Once he comes out on the other end, traversing the deforested Champs-Élysées (“We were close to what they call the breath of danger”), Herzog emerges victorious.
― Of Walking in Ice: (Munich-Paris, 23 November–14 December 1974)
by Werner Herzog
020
FORTUNE Brainstorm Health 2022
Los Angeles, CA
Wednesday, May 11th, 2022
9:15 AM
EXISTENTIAL THREATS: PREPARING FOR THE NEXT GLOBAL HEALTH CRISIS
In a hyperconnected world rife with virulent pathogens, preparedness is our best defense. After Ebola roared through West Africa and the novel coronavirus brought the world to its knees, the most pressing question for the safety of the global population is this: What have we learned—and how can we better prepare for the next hyper-contagious disease?
Dr. Sandro Galea, Dean and Robert A. Knox Professor, Boston University School of Public Health
Dr. Angela Rasmussen, Virologist, Department of Vaccine and Infectious Disease, University of Saskatchewan
Moderator: Clifton Leaf, Former FORTUNE Editor-in-Chief and Founder, Fortune Brainstorm Health
Photograph by Stuart Isett/Fortune
Recently, I've had a slight existential crisis. I used to paint a lot - in fact, it used to be my job.
But now I have a very different job, and though I do love what I do, things have been crazy busy for so, so long now. I've barely painted in months. Dolls and sewing are a bit easier - I do bits on the train in the morning, or in an hour or two in the evening. Painting takes more commitment, though; I hate leaving a picture in a state that I'm not happy with, and sometimes this means I will paint until 5am, and it's in a state I can accept. Obviously, that's not really compatible with a full-time job and a vile commute.
It was making me a bit sad, though, that I wasn't painting; it was like I'd abandoned this really important part of myself. I've still been drawing a lot though, and I actually think my ability to draw from life has improved. So I decided to test myself with a little painting. This is pretty small, about 15 x 20cm, I think, and I've been trying to work directly from life - just me and the mirror, with no photographic reference. It went through an inevitable 'ugh' phase, but I quite like where this is heading. Got an awful crick in the neck from looking sideways for three straight hours, though.
Fingers crossed for more painting time in the months ahead...
Walking on foot brings you down to the very stark, naked core of existence. We travel too much in airplanes and cars. It’s an existential quality that we are losing. It’s almost like a credo of religion that we should walk.
There is, of course, something inherently romantic—if not heroic—about the extreme solitary explorer enveloped by nature. The very image of Herzog on foot recalls the iconic 19th-century paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, especially his Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, with its lone figure staring out at the wide vista above the clouds.
'Truth itself wanders through the forests,' Herzog writes near the end. Yet here he embroiders his memories for effect: The vast swath of geography between Munich and Paris is littered with industrial towns and cities.
Once he comes out on the other end, traversing the deforested Champs-Élysées (“We were close to what they call the breath of danger”), Herzog emerges victorious.
― Of Walking in Ice: (Munich-Paris, 23 November–14 December 1974)
by Werner Herzog
Thanks to Käty Tarkpea for alerting me to this border curiosity
Valga, or Valka as it is known in Latvia, has more than its fair share of existential challenges. Between 1298 and 1558 it was invaded and burnt to the ground or destroyed six times. It has been colonized or occupied by Sweden and then Russia and Germany twice. Finally, from at least 1920, the town was split into two pieces and divided between Latvia and Estonia. The fences and border gates finally came down in 2009 but the town remains divided by two very different languages, one Nordic and similar to Finnish, the other one of only two still-spoken Baltic languages. As a result it is hard for people from the two sides of town to communicate and Russian is often used as the common language for those that speak it.
As with several other strange or disputed borders in this set, the people of Estonia and Latvia have a Brit to thank for the border running down the middle of their town. In 1920, Colonel S. G. Tallents helped lay out the border with most of the town going to Estonia with the exception of the area surrounding Lugazi Square.
As with other strange borders, the town's unique history has now made it something of a tourist attraction. The Visit Estonia website asks, "Where else could you stand, one foot in one country, holding “jäätis” (ice cream in Estonian) in your left hand and other foot in another country, holding “saldejums” (ice cream in Latvian) in your right hand?"
Sources:
Google Maps
geosite.jankrogh.com/borders/valga_valka.htm
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valga,_Estonia
www.visitestonia.com/en/holiday-destinations-in-estonia/c...
The more I learn about myself, the more I fear myself. I’m told I should remain neutral. A Switzerland of the mind.
Quand novembre s’installe en moi
élagueur des forêts internes
me serrant la gorge comme une asphyxie
d’où me vient ce songe au milieu de la nuit…
Au détour des pages d’un livre rêvé
des annotations de ta main me reviennent
ce sentiment étrange d’une vie dévastée
que j’aurais vécue sans être jamais mienne.
De ma face il dérobe l’air vital
me plonge dans l’effroi
ignorant mon mépris
des regrets et consciences vaines.
Alors, dans un éclair de fausse lucidité
m’apparaît la vacuité de mon existence même
Il faut le pouvoir du jour
à mon nez le baume du tigre
à mon cerveau le café
pour que la vie lentement me revienne.
Enfin, l’angoisse fermant la porte
me laisse la force paradoxale
de ceux qui ont aimé d’amour
une femme aujourd’hui morte
et la clarté qu’une fenêtre apporte.
Zébulon rouge
John Barth - End of the Road
Avon Books T-481, 1960
Cover Artist: unknown
"A savagely candid novel of marriage and infidelity among the moderns..."
APRIL 13, 2023 WASHINGTON DC. WORLD BANK GROUP/ INTERNATIONAL MONETARY FUND 2023 SPRING MEETINGS.
Accelerating Development in an Age of Global Crisis
The existential threat of climate change, impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Russian invasion of Ukraine, persistent high inflation and increased fragility have injected volatility and uncertainty into the global economy – a reality that may continue for a while. The panel of speakers explore central questions around what it will take to address some of the most critical issues of our time including climate change, food insecurity, pandemics, and increasing fragility and poverty.
Axel van Trotsenburg, Senior Managing Director, Development Policy and Partnerships, World Bank Group; Amina Mohammed, Deputy Secretary-General, United Nations; José Antonio Ocampo, Minister of Finance and Public Credit, Colombia; Leila Benali, Minister of Energy Transition and Sustainable Development, Morocco; Ahmed Ogwell Ouma, Acting Director, Africa Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC); Daniel Zelikow, Chair of the Governing Board, Development Finance Institution, J.P. Morgan. Photo: World Bank / Simone D. McCourtie
Gilbert Garcin – deeply original and poetic surreal photo montages; instantly recognizable, a blend of philosophical humor, existential inquiry, and minimalist composition.
His owners are wandering the streets of Highgate, crying out "Why! Why!" Please keep an eye out for the poor little thing.
Ardente avocate de l’existentialisme, elle soulève des questionnements afin de trouver un sens à la vie dans l’absurdité d’un monde dans lequel nous n’avons pas choisi de naître. Associée à celle de Sartre, son œuvre s’en différencie dans la mesure où elle aborde le caractère concret des problèmes, préférant une réflexion directe et ininterrompue sur le vécu.
The expressions on these Highland cattle are a masterclass in stoic bewilderment. They appear to be caught in a state of quiet, existential contemplation, peering at the grill with a mix of mild curiosity and a heavy, unspoken realization. There is no outward anger - just a deep, shaggy-haired confusion as they process the sensory overlap of the lush green pasture they call home and the savory, familiar-yet-foreign aroma wafting from the wooden BBQ. They look less like they’re ready for dinner and more like they’re reconsidering their life choices.
To be blunt, letting them see the BBQ is probably a bit "medium-rare" on the scale of good ideas. While cattle aren't exactly known for their deep understanding of human culinary arts, the visual irony here is undeniably macabre. It’s the ultimate social faux pas - like inviting a computer to watch a hardware recycling plant. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, it creates a vibe that is less "peaceful afternoon in the meadow" and more "grim foreshadowing," making for a scene that is as hilariously awkward as it is slightly dark.
Ultimately, this image captures the bizarre logic that only AI can produce, where the majesty of nature meets the stark reality of the food chain in the most literal way possible. While the cattle themselves seem relatively chill about the whole ordeal, the scene serves as a tongue-in-cheek reminder of the disconnect between the pasture and the plate. For the sake of the cows' peace of mind - and to keep the mood of the picnic a bit lighter - it’s probably best to keep the livestock and the grill in separate zip codes next time.
To walk through the American West half-Chinese, half American dressed in rags with a floppy hat and a bedroll is the dream of the Kung-Fu Wanna Be. But he can't pursue his wanderlust because he's "addicted to his paycheck"* and must return to the office soon.
*I found this concept online and am trying to resurrect the source for you. Delete Comment