View allAll Photos Tagged knowing
Knowing what waits in the end
makes your doubtful feet tremble
but this sunlight , this sky
still feels memorable
- Frosted July -
Regrets, travel and photography - a blog post. Read about it here.
...
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knowing that inevitably, I'll always be alone, alone with this, alone with it all.
written 21 November 2007
Not knowing if todays run was still on I decided to venture out anyway and hope it was.Getting to the chosen location was a task in itself with the road closed we wanted to go down.Finally reaching our chosen location we found a few other photographers already in position with some good news that the tour was still on.One of the eminent photographers in position was Trevor Law who I had already met a few weeks ago at Gamston. Running thirty minutes down and just before a local unit was going to block the view ex LNER A4 Class 60007 Sir Nigel Gresley for the second weekend running makes a majestic sight in the winter sunshine. The Lindum Christmas Fayre Kings Cross - Lincoln - Kings Cross.
Copyright - Simon Lathlane No unauthorised use of this photo without the prior permission of the copyright holder.
The photograph was published in the Steam Railway magazine issue 384 p 78/79. It was also voted best steam railway photograph of 2010 by Chris Milner, Deputy Editor of The Railway Magazine in the National Preservation Competition.
1st – 60007 in the snow. A perfect execution of a difficult shot, that has retained detail in the exhaust and the snow, plus its low angle has not only dealt with the drifting smoke issue A4s have, but has give the shot a much more powerful feel.
Best viewed in lightbox on black.
In Stockholm and the surrounding parts of Sweden, week 9 is winter holiday for the schools. This meant that when I was visiting the Haga Ocean butterfly house that week - there were significantly more visitors than a usual weekday.
Since I am quite fond of talking, this meant a lot more chatting about butterflies and this one became a go-to subject.
It's a male yellow mormon
(Papilio lowii), also known as the Asian swallowtails (like this pink rose: www.flickr.com/photos/tinyturtle/52728240224/in), and he had landed on a leaf at about eye-level and didn't move for several hours.
Knowing he was right there, I could point him out to other visitors and I'm certain he was the most photographed butterfly there that day.
I've just learend that this species, like all the mormons, mimic the red-bodied swallowtail which isn't a single species, but rather a whole bunch of them. Those are venomous which obviously make them not so popular on the menu for birds.
They obviously look similar to these (not much mimicry otherwise), but as the name suggests, their body has a much larger portion of red (equally obviously).
For a shot from the other side showing the beautiful markings on the dorsal side, have a look here: www.flickr.com/photos/tinyturtle/52721755981/
"Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad."
-- Brian O'Driscoll (Irish former professional rugby union player who captained Ireland from 2003 until 2012)
Technical Information (or Nerdy Stuff):
Camera - Nikon D7200 (handheld)
Lens – Nikkor 18-300mm Zoom
ISO – 500
Aperture – f/8
Exposure – 1/60 second
Focal Length – 38mm
The original RAW file was processed with Adobe Camera Raw and final adjustments were made with Photoshop CS6.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." ~Jeremiah 29:11
The best way to view my photostream is through Flickriver with the following link: www.flickriver.com/photos/photojourney57/
Knowing that 1751 would lead short hood forward the next day we made an early departure and were in position as it left Palmer for today's turn. We're at the Summer St grade crossing in Palmer for our first photo of the day.
End of the season petunias....protected from the cold. We do that to our flowers here, knowing soon it will be gray and cloudy with no color...That's when the indoor flower pots appear!
Thanks for stopping by, hope your week is going well.....Pat xo
knowing that this is the spring runoff season, I thought I would share an image from my archives, taken during a runoff season a few years ago. Made at the dams for the Pepperell Mills on the Saco River in Biddeford.
Stay safe, everyone!
Knowing I saw an NCT in the distance and wondering what it was doing in the Shirebrook area, It was one of those who Johnson Bros now own still in the current spare livery and with little branding left (the front, the interior and the rear ads). This is the start of what's to come. Will they get any of the 10 reg buses from NCT when they start leaving the fleet (which is sooner than later).
no. YN08 MLV
Model: Omi
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Knowing that some of the ex-South Coastliner E400s are based up here, I was hoping I'd run into one or two of them. Shame it's a bit blurred, but I'll try again over the weekend.
15586 - GX59 JYT
Scania N230UD, ADL Enviro 400 (H47/29F)
Stagecoach Merseyside & South Lancs
Berry Street Liverpool
05 November 2021
Knowing how badly Emperor Palpatine wants to find those droids, Stormtrooper Bruce has come up with another idea to raise credits for the P's campaign. They guys are there mostly because it's Movie Night, but are always willing to help when needed.
STB: Good morning glories. You know, I'm exhausted from staying up baking all night, so I really appreciate you showing up early. And after all - it's for a good cause!
TK-432: If you say so.
TK-1110: Don't mind him. He's just upset because there's no free samples.
STB: I already explained - this is to help out the P.
TK-432: Yes, we know. He'll love you for it. We get it. But still. Not even one measly cookie?
TK-1110: We're supposed to be his watchdogs to make sure no one swipes anything when it gets busy. The reward comes later, right?
STB: Your reward will come once the Bake Sale is over. Movie night will start and then we'll get to chow down on the leftovers.
TK-432: What? You're not donating the leftovers to the P for his “Weekend Breakfast with the Boss” staff meeting?
STB: Whoa! That's an awesome idea! I'll do it!
TK-432: Dude! I was just joking.
STB: The P is going to love me. It'll be the best staff meeting ever!
TK-1110: You know, sometimes I find your inability to keep your mouth shut disappointing.
TK-432: Me, too.
STB: OK, places you two before the crowd arrives!
________________________________________________
Viewing Large is always fun. Just click on the image.
Knowing how much I love roses, my husband replaced a number of the flowers in our garden with some roses. This is one of my favorites! Home-grown beauty! I hope you enjoy!
Spanaway, WA
091117
© Copyright 2017 MEA Images, Merle E. Arbeen, All Rights Reserved. If you would like a copy of this, please feel free to contact me through my FlickrMail, Facebook, or Yahoo email account. Thank you.
Knowing that CSX had marked the CSX SD70MAC 4816 as a "heavy smoker" and it was supposed to trail, I was bummed to see it still leading when it pulled to the south end of the CSX Flint McGrew Yard. Needless to say it would have been a better leader in the second unit...CSX SD50-2 8607. Well after getting going and being able to see the smoke for over 2 miles away...I decided it wasnt bad at all...CSX G752-21 has just crossed the CN and is heading south on the CSX Saginaw Sub passing under the old searchlight bridge at Atwood Wye. This Portsmouth, VA bound grain load is 64 cars and weighing in at 8787 tons. The 3885 foot train was handed off to the CSX at McGrew by the Lake State Railway.
Knowing about this, I knew what I was doing after the race at Talledega was finished. I decided to give this spot a try and then go back to P&W Jct, where I would come across Jon, Harry, Alex, and Dave who chased this out of Butler.
Alot of people are still very much afraid to live beyond their fenced-off properties. They have these irrational fears based on grotesquely proportioned myths that keep them from really knowing their environment, getting to touch with what's real and what's really going on. Obviously I know no body wants crime to happen to them and so people do take the best of precautions, however letting that influence the whole flow of your life (and ultimately the destination) only enables those who want to control your flow. By engaging with your environment on all levels, not just the designated ones or the supposed 'safe-zones', you begin to get a true understanding for it and how it works and are then able to change it.
So as you can see, it's quite a big one this, takes up the whole bridge. Sorry about the funky joiner (my photoshop skills aren't too hot). Took about 25-30 hours collectively over a couple of days. Sorry that it took alittle longer than expected, I get carried away with these things. I don't mind though, because art is about the only thing where the juice is truly worth the squeeze. The more you squeeze, the more juice you get, and I'm damn thirsty! Shouts going out to OWN and 012 on this one!
We were watching the Buzzer Channel, which appropriately plays vintage game shows.
Knowing the fragility of the early color TVs, the fact that this RCA Victor still works is nothing short of amazing.
1966 was a pivotal year, when many programs switched from using black and white film (or videotape) to full-color.
At the time, a color console like this one cost a small fortune! Perhaps that's why my friend's parents still have theirs? Nothing like getting your money's worth.
An additional memory: In 1966 at age 7, I used to LOVE the Batman show but we had only one large black and white TV.
My dad was kind enough to drive me to Alexander's Department Store at the old Connecticut Post Mall once a week so I could watch Batman on an array of brand new color TVs!
I don't like how this turned out. I should have stood in the middle more, but oh well. 12 pictures taken on the iPhone 4S and stitched together in Photoshop.
I like this idea. I'm thinking that the awareness that we know so little also applies to wisdom. A brick on a footpath.
Finally.
The foxy lady and I have become friends.
Pretty close friends, for being a fox and a human.
"I wanna take you home....I woun´t do you no harm..."
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are not in Lettice’s flat. Instead, we have followed Lettice south-west, through the neighbouring borough of Belgravia to the smart London suburb of Pimlico and its rows of cream and white painted Regency terraces. There, in a smart red brick Edwardian set of three storey flats on Rochester Row, is the residence of Lettice’s client, recently arrived American film actress Wanetta Ward.
Now that the flat is completely redecorated under Lettice’s deft hands, Miss Ward has vacated her suite at the Metropole Hotel* and has been living at her Pimlico address for a few weeks now. As a thank you to Lettice, the American has invited her to afternoon tea. And so, we find ourselves in the beautifully appointed, spacious drawing room.
“Now, darling girl!” Miss Ward says as she sweeps into the drawing room through the green baize door that leads from the service area of the flat. “You must try my own brew of coffee!” She enthusiastically hoists a beautiful china coffee pot decorated with cherry blossoms in the air. “I promise you that you’ll never go back to that sludge you British call coffee after you’ve had this.”
Lettice smells the rich aroma from the pot’s spout as Miss Ward places it with an appropriately theatrical swoop, enhanced by the brightly coloured Spanish shawl draped over her bare shoulders, onto the silver tray on the cherrywood table between the Queen Anne style settee and the matching pair of Chinese armchairs. “It smells divine, Miss Ward.”
“Darling!” Miss Ward enthuses. “Divine isn’t the word for this!”
“I look forward to tasting it, then.” Lettice replies with a bemused smile. “And afternoon tea, Miss Ward?”
“I know! I know!” the American brandishes her hands in the air. “I admit I said it was a quaint observance, but it’s one that I’ve come to enjoy since living here in England. We might not have petit fours like they do at the Metropole, but trust me, Harriet has found the most wonderful little local bakery that makes an amazing selection of cookies. Try one!” She indicates to the plate piled generously with an assortment of brightly coloured and delicious looking biscuits.
“Harriet, Miss Ward?”
The American picks up a biscuit as she speaks and then pauses with it to her lips. “My new maid, Miss Chetwynd.”
Lettice considers the woman with a rather angular face in black silk moiré afternoon uniform and lace collar, cuffs, cap, apron and cap who answered the door. She didn’t strike her as having such a lovely name. She looked to be more of an Augusta or Bertha.
Miss Ward’s American voice interrupts Lettice’s contemplation. “Oh, I must thank you too, for the number of that domestics employment agency you gave me.”
“You can thank my mother, Miss Ward.” Lettice selects a small pink macaron and takes a ladylike bite from it before depositing the remainder on her plate. She feels the pastry and filling melt in her mouth. “She and I may not agree about a good many things, but Mater certainly knows the best agency In London for staff.”
“Well, Harriet is perfect!” Miss ward exclaims. “She fits in here so well, and she doesn’t throw a fit with all my comings and goings at all hours to and from the studio, taking telephone messages for me with the efficiency of a secretary, and she doesn’t even seem to mind the unannounced arrivals when friends come to pay call.”
“I do hope you told her about me coming today, Miss Ward.” Lettice remarks in alarm.
“Oh I did, Miss Chetwynd! It’s quite alright!” She stuffs the biscuit into her mouth, rubbing her fingers together to rid them of crumbs which tumble through the air and onto her lap where they disappear amidst the fuchsia coloured georgette of her dress. “Mind you,” she continues, speaking with her mouth full. “I don’t think Harriet likes it when I insist on making my own coffee.” She gulps loudly. “She doesn’t like it when I go onto the kitchen. She says it’s her domain.” She looks across at Lettice perched elegantly on the settee, dressed in a pretty pastel yellow frock that matches the trim of her straw hat. “I imagine your maid is the same.”
“I’m sure I haven’t asked Edith, Miss Ward.”
“Well, perhaps you should, Miss Chetwynd.”
“What a ridiculous notion!” Lettice laughs. “Of course she wouldn’t mind! It’s my flat. I can come and go where and when I please.”
“If you’ll pardon me, my dear girl,” Miss Ward picks up the coffee pot and pours the steaming, rich golden brown liquid first into Lettice’s cup and then her own. “But it’s a ridiculous notion that you don’t. If I may be so bold: it may be your flat, but you’re a lady, and even I, the egalitarian American in the room, knows that masters and servants don’t mix. You probably vex the poor little mouse when you swan into her domain, rather than ring the servant’s bell. Not that she would tell you that of course! Your maid is much to meek to speak her mind, whereas Harriet tells me that god invented servants’ bells, so I don’t have to go into her kitchen.” She smiles cheekily. “Mind you, I draw the line at her making coffee for me or my guests.” She indicates to the milk jug and sugar bowl. “Now, there is cream in the jug and sugar in the bowl Miss Chetwynd. Do help yourself.” She picks up the jug and glugs a dollop of cream into her coffee before scooping up two large heaped teaspoons of sugar.
After Lettice has added a small amount of cream and a flat teaspoon of sugar to her own coffee, she looks around the drawing room observantly whilst she stirs her cup’s contents. To her delight, and no little amount of surprise, the room remains as she designed it. She was quite sure that Wanetta would rearrange her well thought out designs as soon as she moved in, yet against her predictions the furniture remains where she had them placed, the gold and yellow Murano glass comport still standing in the centre of the mantelpiece, the yellow celadon vase with gold bamboo in place on the console table. Even the small white vase, the only piece left over from the former occupier’s décor, remains next to the comport on the mantle. The American was ready to throw it into the dustbin at every opportunity, yet it happily nestles between the comport and a large white china vase of vibrant yellow roses and lilies. It is as she notices the celadon vase that she sees the painting of Wanetta, which only arrived at the flat when its sitter did.
“So that’s the famous yellow portrait, Miss Ward,” Lettice remarks, admiring the likeness of the dark haired American, draped in a golden yellow oriental shawl, sitting languidly in a chair.
“Oh yes!” gasps Miss Ward as she turns around in her armchair to look at the painting hanging to the right of the fireplace, above a black console table. “You haven’t seen it, have you? Do you like it?”
“Yes I do,” acknowledges Lettice. “It’s a remarkable likeness, and the artist has captured the light in your eyes so well.”
“Thank you, darling girl! I think it’s beautiful.”
“So is your coffee!” Lettice remarks. “It’s quite delicious, and not at all what Bramley makes for me at Glynes**.”
“I told you, you British drink sludge.” She takes an appreciative, if overly large, gulp of her own coffee. “Now this, is real coffee.”
“So, have you christened your cocktail cabinet, yet?”
“Yes I have. I threw a cocktail party for the actors, actresses, director and crew when we wrapped up ‘After the Ball is Over’. It was quite the occasion!”
“Oh I could well imagine, Miss Ward.”
“Of course,” the American quickly adds. “I’m sure it wasn’t anywhere near as extravagant as your cocktail party that you threw for Mr. and Mrs. Channon.”
“You heard about that then, Miss Ward?”
“Heard about it? My darling girl,” Her eyes widen and sparkle with excitement. “I immersed myself in the article published by the Tattler, drinking in every little detail of your fabulous soiree. You looked stunning, darling!”
Lettice blushes and shuffles awkwardly in her seat on the settee at the brazen compliment. “Thank you, Miss Ward.”
“So did Mrs. Channon, of course! And wasn’t Lady Diana Cooper’s*** robe de style**** to die for?”
“Err, yes… quite, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies awkwardly. Anxious to change the subject and move away from her own private life, and thereby avoid the American’s potential attempts to try and gather some gossip to share with her fellow actors and actresses at Islington Studios*****, Lettice asks. “And what’s the next moving picture you will be making, Miss Ward? Another villainess role in a historical romance?”
“Oh, the studio is shutting for Christmas, so I’m sailing on the Aquitania****** on Monday, back to the States to visit my parents. I haven’t seen them in an age, and, well, they aren’t getting any younger. Besides, Islington Studios are paying for the journey and are organising for me to promote ‘After the Ball is Over’ at a few functions whilst I’m back home.”
“That will be lovely for you, Miss Ward.”
“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be back in the new year, when we start filming ‘Skating and Sinning’.”
“’Skating and Sinning’, Miss Ward?”
“Yes!” the American gushes as she picks up the coffee pot which she proffers to Lettice, who declines, and then proceeds to fill her own cup. “It’s the first picture planned for 1922. Another historical drama, set in London in the Seventeenth Century, when the Thames froze over.”
“Yes, 1607 I believe.”
“You’re a font of knowledge, Miss Chetwynd!” Miss Ward exclaims, clapping her ring decorated hands in delight. “You never cease to amaze me! A first-class interior designer and a historian!”
“Knowing trivial historical facts is just part and parcel of an education in a family as old as mine, Miss Ward.” Lettice deflects, taking another sip of her coffee. “And the sinning?”
“The sinning, Miss Chetwynd?” the American woman queries.
“Well, I assume the frozen Thames explains the skating part of the film’s title, Miss Ward.”
“Oh, the sinning!” Miss Ward settles back in her armchair with a knowing smile, placing her coffee cup on the black japanned table between the two Chinese chairs. “Well, that’s me, darling!” She raises both her arms dramatically, the Spanish shawl gathering about her shoulders as she does. “I will be playing a merry young, recently widowed, Duchess, with her eyes on our heroine’s young betrothed!”
“And do you succeed, Miss Ward?”
“Ah-ah! That,” She wags her finger playfully at Lettice. “Would be telling, darling girl. I can’t go giving away the ending, or you won’t come see the film.”
Lettice smiles at the actress. “Well, I’m glad that London has entranced you enough to return from the delights of America.”
“Well of course it has! And anyway, I have to come back to enjoy and show off my beautiful new home!”
Lettice blushes at the compliment.
“I’ll have you know Miss Chetwynd, that at my cocktail party, I had so many compliments about this beautiful room, the furnishings and the décor. You’ll be hearing from directors and future starlets in the new year, I’ll guarantee!”
“I shall have to see whether I can accommodate them, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies. “As you know, I will be decorating some of the principal rooms of Mr. and Mrs. Channon’s country house in the new year, and I have a few other potential commissions currently under negotiation.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to squeeze them in, darling! When the moving pictures come knocking, you just won’t be able to say no.”
“Well…” Lettice begins, imagining her mother’s face drained of colour, and her father’s flushed with anger, if she takes on another commission from a moving picture actress.
“Oh, and thinking of my flat. The other reason why I asked you here.” Miss Ward interrupts, standing up and walking over to the console table beneath her portrait, where some papers sit beneath the base of one of the Murano glass bottles. She fumbles through them and withdraws a small slip of paper. Walking over to Lettice she hands it to her. “A cheque to settle my bill before I set sail for home, darling girl.”
“Thank you, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies, opening her lemon yellow handbag sitting between her and her black and yellow straw hat on the settee and depositing the cheque safely inside. “I appreciate your prompt payment.”
“It’s my pleasure, Miss Chetwynd.” the American replies. “And thank you again for all that you have done.” Her glittering eyes flit about the room. “I just love being here! It’s so perfect! It’s so, so me! A mixture of the old, and the new, the oriental and the European, all of which I love.”
“I’m so pleased you approve, Miss Ward. It is your home, after all.”
“I even have to concede that you were right about having touches of white in here. It adds a touch of class. And that wonderful wallpaper you suggested,” She indicates to the walls. “Well, it is the pièce de résistance of this room’s décor!” Stepping over to the fireplace, she picks up the small white vase. “This puzzles me though.” Her face crumples. “Why were you so anxious that I keep this vase?”
“Well, “ Lettice explains. “Call me sentimental, but I felt that it is part of your home’s story and coming from an old family home surrounded by history, I thought it would be a shame to see it just tossed away. I hope you don’t disagree.”
Miss Ward considers the small Parian vase in her manicured hands for a moment before replacing it. “Not at all, you sentimental girl you!”
The pair smile at one another, happily.
*Now known as the Corinthia Hotel, the Metropole Hotel is located at the corner of Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall Place in central London on a triangular site between the Thames Embankment and Trafalgar Square. Built in 1883 it functioned as an hotel between 1885 until World War I when, located so close to the Palace of Westminster and Whitehall, it was requisitioned by the government. It reopened after the war with a luxurious new interior and continued to operate until 1936 when the government requisitioned it again whilst they redeveloped buildings at Whitehall Gardens. They kept using it in the lead up to the Second World War. After the war it continued to be used by government departments until 2004. In 2007 it reopened as the luxurious Corinthia Hotel.
**Glynes is the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie.
***Born Lady Diana Manners, Diana Olivia Winifred Maud Cooper, Viscountess Norwich was an English aristocrat who was a famously glamorous social figure in London and Paris. As a young woman, she moved in a celebrated group of intellectuals known as the Coterie, most of whom were killed in the First World War. She married Duff Cooper in 1919. In her prime, she had the widespread reputation as the most beautiful young woman in England, and appeared in countless profiles, photographs and articles in newspapers and magazines. She was a film actress in the early 1920s and both she and her husband were very good friends with Edward VIII and were guests of his on a 1936 yacht cruise of the Adriatic which famously caused his affair with Wallis Simpson to become public knowledge.
****The ‘robe de style’ was introduced by French couturier Jeanne Lanvin around 1915. It consisted of a basque bodice with a broad neckline and an oval bouffant skirt supported by built in wire hoops. Reminiscent of the Spanish infanta-style dresses of the Seventeenth Century and the panniered robe à la française of the Eighteenth Century they were made of fabric in a solid colour, particularly a deep shade of robin’s egg blue which became known as Lanvin blue, and were ornamented with concentrated bursts of embroidery, ribbons or ornamental silk flowers.
*****Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.
******The RMS Aquitania was a British ocean liner of the Cunard Line in service from 1914 to 1950. She was designed by Leonard Peskett and built by John Brown and Company in Clydebank, Scotland. She was launched on the 21st of April 1913 and sailed on her maiden voyage from Liverpool to New York on the 30th of May 1914. Like her sister ships the ill fated Lusitania and the renown Mauritania, she was beautifully appointed and was a luxurious way for first and second-class passengers to travel across the Atlantic between Britain and America.
This upper-class 1920s Art Deco drawing room scene may be different to how it may appear, for the whole scene is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces I have had since I was a teenager and others that I have collected on my travels around the world.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The cherry blossom patterned tea set, which if you look closely at the blossoms, you will see they have gilt centres, I acquired from an online stockist on E-Bay. It stands on a silver tray that is part of tea set that comes from Smallskale Miniatures in England. To see the whole set, please click on this link: www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/51111056404/in/photost.... The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The wooden Chinese dragon chairs and their matching low table ,that serves as Wanetta’s tea table, I found in a little shop in Singapore whilst I was holiday there. They are beautifully carved from cherrywood.
The Queen Anne settee made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM with great attention to detail.
The black japanned cocktail cabinet with its gilded handles was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
All the glass comport on the mantlepiece has been blown and decorated and tinted by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The white and gold Georgian Revival clock next to it is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Hall’s Miniature Clocks, supplied through Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniatures in England. The ginger jar to the right of the clock is hand painted. It is an item that I bought from a high street doll house stockist when I was a teenager.
The yellow celadon vase with gold bamboo painted on it, I bought as part of a job lot of small oriental vases from an auction many years ago. The soapstone lidded jar in the foreground came from the same auction house, but from a different job lot of oriental miniature pieces.
Lettice’s black straw hat with yellow trimming and a yellow rose, which sits on the settee is made by Mrs. Denton of Muffin Lodge. It is an artisan miniature made just like a real hat! 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. Lettice’s lemon yellow purse is also an artisan piece and is made of kid leather which is so soft. It is trimmed with very fine braid and the purse has a clasp made from a piece of earring. It come from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Lettice’s furled Art Deco umbrella is also a 1:12 artisan piece made of silk, acquired through an online stockist on E-Bay.
The vases of flowers on the mantle piece and side table are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
The stylised Art Deco fire screen is made using thinly laser cut wood, made by Pat’s Miniatures in England.
The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out.
Wanetta’s paintings, including the yellow portrait, were made in America by Amber’s Miniatures.
The miniature Oriental rug on the floor was made by hand by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney
The Georgian style fireplace I have had since I was a teenager and is made from moulded plaster.
The striking wallpaper is an art deco design that was very popular during the 1920s.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we have left the hustle and bustle of London, travelling southwest to a stretch of windswept coastline just a short drive the pretty Cornish town of Penzance. Here, friends of Lettice, newlyweds Margot and Dickie Channon, have been gifted a Recency country “cottage residence” called ‘Chi an Treth’ (Cornish for ‘beach house’) as a wedding gift by the groom’s father, the Marquess of Taunton. Margot, encouraged by her father Lord de Virre who will foot the bill, has commissioned Lettice to redecorate a few of the principal rooms of ‘Chi an Treth’. In the lead up to the wedding, Lord de Virre has spent a great deal of money making the Regency house habitable after many years of sitting empty and bringing it up to the Twentieth Century standards his daughter expects, paying for electrification, replumbing, and a connection to the Penzance telephone exchange. Now, with their honeymoon over, Dickie and Margot have finally taken possession of their country house gift and have invited Lettice to come and spend a Friday to Monday with them so that she might view the rooms Margot wants redecorating for herself and perhaps start formulating some ideas as to how modernise their old fashioned décor. As Lettice is unable to drive and therefore does not own a car, Margot and Dickie have extended the weekend invitation to one of their other Embassy Club coterie, Lettice’s old childhood chum, Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy who has tried to gain some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street. Gerald owns a Morris*, so he can motor both Lettice and himself down from London on Friday and back again on Monday.
After the retirement of the housekeeper, Mrs. Trevethan, from the main house to the gatekeeper’s cottage, the quartet of Bright Young Things** find themselves alone in the sprawling double storey Regency residence of white stucco with ample time on their hands owing to a lack of distractions beyond what parlour games from the Nineteenth Century they found mouldering in the games room cupboard. Encouraged by the consumption of several bottles of French champagne before, during and after dinner, Lettice, Margot, Dickie and Gerald have embarked upon a game of sardines*** after Lettice suggested them playing it earlier in the day. An old house, new to them all, full of wonderful nooks and crannies is too much of a temptation not to play the game. So far Gerald has been found hiding behind an old oriental screen in one of the disused bedrooms and Margot inside the capacious, if slightly musty, interior of an empty wardrobe. Lettice was the last of them to find Margot, so it is her turn to hide and await the other three sardines to seek her out.
Abandoning the ideas of the disused bedrooms upstairs, Lettice has returned to the ground floor of ‘Chi an Treth’ in search of a much better hiding place. Seeking out the service entrance, she quietly pushes open the green baize door studded with dull brass tacks. Like all the other doors and windows of ‘Chi an Treth’, it groans on its hinges, but gives way easily, leading Lettice into the servants’ quarters of the house with its white painted walls and bare lightbulb utilitarian décor. She is about to go into the kitchen to seek out the pantry or a dry store cupboard when her eye catches a narrow wooden door standing partially ajar at the end of a rather short corridor with no other doors off it and only a small bench for furniture.
“Perfect!” she breathes with excitement, scuttling along the old, worn flagstone floor, her louis heels clicking loudly. “Shhhh!” she hisses at them in her slightly inebriated state. “You’re sure to give me away if I don’t hurry!”
Unusually, the door opens outwards, and unlike the green baize door, whilst it does creak, its groaning protests are far quieter than its counterparts. Slipping inside, Lettice finds the light pull cord and with eyes closed, yanks on it, hoping that this rather out-of-the-way store cupboard has been electrified. Her wishes are granted as with a click and the almost imperceptible buzz of electricity, the room is suddenly flooded in a soft golden light from a naked bulb above. A small flurry of dust motes disturbed into the air are illuminated in the glow.
“Oh bully for Lord de Virre!” Lettice exclaims, clasping her elegant hands in delight. “Thank goodness he insisted the service area of the house was electrified as well as the living areas.”
Happy with her choice of hiding place, Lettice settles to await for the others to find her out and sardine with her.
Figuring it will take a little while for her friends to find her and finding sitting in one spot doing nothing rather boring, Lettice decides to explore her cupboard hiding place more thoroughly. She works out quickly that it must be a storage room for things for the nearby dining room as there are stacks of neatly folded table linens on the lower shelves. There are also interesting odd pieces of various dinner sets including tureens without lids, jugs, bowls and stacks of mismatched plates.
“Hhhmmm. No longer usable, but evidently too good to throw away.” she remarks as she picks up a blue and white sugar bowl without a lid bearing a pretty floral pattern. She turns it over in her hands thoughtfully. “This must be Regency era. I wonder if the old captain himself used this.”
Putting it back, she continues to explore, finding incomplete canteens of cutlery, lacquered stands for vases and bowls and boxes of any amount of different cleaning agents from different eras of the house’s history. Lettice quietly wonders whether there are cupboards like this at Glynes**** and if so, what she might find in them.
“Perhaps my own family’s long lost portrait,” she remarks aloud, even though there is no one to hear her. Peering curiously into a Huntley and Palmer’s***** biscuit box full of age discoloured napkins she adds, “Not that we have one that I know of.”
Stepping back, she suddenly discovers that the pale blue satin front of her bodice has come away with dust from the Huntly and Palmer’s box.
“Oh no!” she exclaims, batting at the sooty looking smears with her hands. “Oh, Gerald will kill me if I ruin one of his dresses!”
Unwilling to pull out any of the neatly folded table linens on the lower shelves out and sully them for fear of Mrs. Trevethan’s wrath if she is in fact the regular user of them, Lettice begins to fossick for alternatives to dust down her gown and manage, if not eradicate, any marks on her bodice. Forgetting the box of old linen napkins in her panic, she searches the shelves high and low for a cloth of some kind.
It is then that she spots a muslin cloth which looks quite clean dangling from a stack on an upper shelf. Lettice stretches up, but isn’t quite tall enough to reach it, even when she stands on her toes. She jumps up but misses it. She jumps again and feels the fabric teasingly caress her fingertips like a light breeze. She jumps a third time, and this time catches the fabric between her right index and middle fingers. Locking them tightly, she lands on the ground again, but doesn’t realise that by doing so she is also bringing with her the rest of the pile as well as the cloth, and down it comes, colliding crashing, making such a din that Lettice screams in fright, adding to the discordant cacophony as wood splinters, newspaper crumples and china shatters over the unforgiving flagstone floor.
The little broom cupboard is plunged into a thick silence in the immediate wake of the accident. Standing with her back against a shelf, Lettice is momentarily shocked into stillness before her body starts to react to the near miss of the shower of objects that now lie smashed and broken across the ground, as opening her tightly clenched eyes she starts to tremble and then sob.
“Lettice! Lettice!” Dickie cries are heard getting closer and closer to her hiding place along with the thunder of his approaching footsteps as he bursts into the cupboard. His eyes widen at the carnage of splintered porcelain, pottery and glass across the floor along with shattered pieces of wood. As he takes it in, he looks over at his friend, dusty and sobbing, but apparently unharmed. “Lettice dear girl! Are you alright?”
It is like the floodgates open with his words and Lettice stumbles across the broken items into Dickie’s arms and cries, uttering great juddering sobs as she clings to him.
“There, there, old girl,” Dickie soothes reassuringly, running his hands over Lettice’s blonde hair as she buries herself into his chest. “It’s alright. You’re alright. No harm done. You’ve just had a bad fright is all.”
“Lettice!” Gerald’s voice calls anxiously as his running steps grow louder before finding Dickie and Lettice on the threshold of the store cupboard. “Lettice are you alright? Answer me.”
“Shh. Shh.” Dickie mutters. “It’s alright old girl.”
“Oh my god, Lettice!” Margot gasps, appearing at the door. “Dickie! Dickie, is she injured? Oh! I’ll never forgive myself if she’s been hurt.”
“It’s alright darling, it’s fine Gerald.” Dickie assures them. “Lettice just had a rather nasty fright and a near miss is all.” He sways gently, rocking Lettice slowly as she continues to cry, only with less force now as she starts to calm down. Looking over his shoulder at his wife’s face, looking even more pale than usual against her dark hair he says, “Go fetch the brandy from the drawing room would you, my love?”
“Of course! Of course!” Margot replies breathlessly as she turns to leave.
“And for god’s sake, don’t run Margot. Just walk.” he chides as she goes. “We don’t want you turning an ankle on the flags to top it all off.”
“What happened?” Gerald asks, looking at the mess lying across the ground and the swirl of dust motes dancing in the golden light cast by the naked lightbulb above as it gently circles above.
“I’d say a few boxes went for a tumble, dear boy.” Dickie observes. “But there’s been no harm done to Lettice here. Now has there?” He directs his last comment to the young lady in his arms.
“Which is more than I can say for the captain’s old dinner service.” Gerald remarks, bending down and picking up a chunk of white pottery by its brightly painted handle. “What a mess you’ve made Lettuce Leaf.”
Sniffing, Lettice releases herself from Dickie’s arms and wipes her eyes with the back of her now rather grubby hand, smearing kohl across her cheek. “Don’t… don’t call me that, Gerald,” she says in a breaking voice. “You know I don’t like it.”
Gerald smiles gratefully firstly at her and then at Dickie. “No,” he smirks. “No harm done to Lettice.”
“Here’s the brandy,” Margot calls, appearing at the door clutching the crystal decanter from the drawing room and a faceted glass tumbler.
“Capital, my love.” Dickie says gratefully.
Gerald takes them from Margot and pours several large slugs of brandy into the tumbler and hands it to Lettice, who takes it in both of her still slightly trembling hands and raises the glass to her quivering lips.
“I say old girl,” Dickie pipes up cheerfully in an effort to break the tension. “I always took you for being an expert at playing sardines!”
“Yes darling,” Gerald adds. “You know that you’re supposed to let us find you, not alert us of your hiding place by creating a ruckus.”
“Or a mess,” Lettice snuffles. Looking down at the broken pieces she notices what is left of an old pendulum wall clock amongst the debris, it’s glass face covering shattered and its hands telling the incorrect time of ten past ten, no doubt never to move again. “Oh, I am sorry Dickie.”
“Come, come!” Dickie replies, placing a caring arm around his friend’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter about that. They’re just things. So long as you’re not hurt.” He smiles at her. “That’s what’s important.”
“Oh but Mrs. Trevethan!” Lettice protests. “She already has so much to do, looking after us and keeping the house tidy without this!” She extends a hand to the debris at her feet.
“Oh, pooh Mrs. Trevethan!” Margot replies, walking into the storeroom. “They don’t call this a broom cupboard for nothing!” She goes to a corner of the room which has remained undisturbed and pulls out a handmade birchwood broom and a metal bucket. “I’ll clean this up.” She looks over at Gerald, lolling languidly against the door frame holding the decanter of brandy. “And Gerald will help me, won’t you Gerald?”
“What? Me?” Gerald’s eyes grow wide as he looks back at Margot in shock as she withdraws a dustpan and brush. “But… but I’m a guest.”
“And such a helpful guest too,” Margot answers back in honeyed tones. “He designs frocks and sweeps floors.” She thrusts the dustpan and brush out to him forcefully. “What more could a hostess ask for?”
“But.. but what about Dickie?” he splutters.
“Dickie is playing nursemaid to Lettice,” she replies matter-of-factly. “So he’s got his hands full.”
“Evidently so have I.” Gerald replies glumly as he begrudgingly accepts the dustpan and brush from Margot.
Lettice giggles, but quickly smothers it with her hand as she receives a glare from her childhood friend.
“That’s better!” Dickie smiles. “Now, you just come out here, and we’ll leave Margot and Gerald to this.” He ushers Lettice out of the cupboard. “There’s a little seat out here in the hallway.”
The pair sit down on the small wooden bench in the hallway and watch in silence as Gerald and Margot start sorting things.
“Well, I don’t think this will ever go again.” Gerald chuckles as he picks up the wall clock and leans it against a corner of the shelves atop a stack of flour bags, its springs and cogs protesting metallically with its movement.
“If it even was going before, Gerald.” Margot replies. “I think our Mrs. Trevethan is a little bit of a hoarder, with so much space to store things and the run of the house her own until now.” She considers and assesses the mess on the floor with her left hand resting on her hip as she clutches the broom, looking a peculiar sight dressed in an elegant deep blue satin evening frock and high heels whilst holding it. “Now, any broken bits of wood can go into here.” She puts down a metal bucket. “And we’ll use it for firewood. And any broken glass and porcelain can go here.” She places a second bucket next to the first. “And I’ll get Mrs. Trevethan to deal with it in the morning.”
“I say,” Gerald remarks as he leans over a cracked square of wood and some discoloured tissue paper. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?” Margot asks as she starts sweeping broken pieces of pottery and shards of glass into a pile.
“This.” Gerald replies as he starts to move the splintered piece of wood.
“Gerald now isn’t a time for playing,” Margot says exasperatedly as she leans on the broom handle. “We’ll never get this cleaned up by breakfast time if you insist on fiddling with everything. Let’s just tidy this up. It won’t take long!”
“No!” protests Gerald, transfixed by what he has found. “I’m serious.”
“So am I, Gerald.” grumbles Margot.
Not hearing her querulous remark, he ignores her, and he moves closer to the pile of wood. “It looks like an old frame.” He shifts the wood aside. “A gilded frame.”
“Houses like this are full of old frames, Gerald,” Dickie calls from his seat on the bench next to Lettice where he cradles her with one arm, and the decanter of brandy in his other hand. “You know that. We English never like to throw away anything that might be of service at a later date.”
“No, this is different. It’s a beautiful frame. It must have been boxed up as it’s in splendid condition.”
Outside the store cupboard, Lettice and Dickie hear Margot’s broom cease its gentle swishing as the pair in the storeroom cease speaking.
“Margot? Gerald?” Dickie calls. “Are you alright?”
When no answer is forthcoming, both he and Lettice pick themselves up off the bench and walk to the door of the storeroom.
“I say you two,” Dickie continues. “What is going on here?” He looks at his wife and friend who are standing in the middle of the space, staring at the gilded frame as it gleams in the light, nestled comfortably amid a bed of crumpled tissue paper. His eyes widen.
“What is it, Gerald?” Lettice asks.
Gerald turns around and stares at Lettice, a look of amazement on his face. “See for yourself, darling.” he breathes.
Lettice looks at the painting inside the frame. Looking out from behind a thin layer of protective glass, a young lady with dark curls shaped into a stylish fashion by a host of red ribbons gazes over the bare shoulder. Two ropes of pearls hang about her elongated neck. However, it is her face, beautiful and radiant, with a knowing smile and soulful brown eyes that follow you about that catches her own eyes. She gasps.
“Lettice, dear girl,” breathes Dickie softly. “I think you may have inadvertently discovered the long lost Winterhatler****** of ‘Chi an Treth’.”
*Morris Motors Limited was a privately owned British motor vehicle manufacturing company established in 1919. With a reputation for producing high-quality cars and a policy of cutting prices, Morris's business continued to grow and increase its share of the British market. By 1926 its production represented forty-two per cent of British car manufacturing. Amongst their more popular range was the Morris Cowley which included a four-seat tourer which was first released in 1920.
**The Bright Young Things, or Bright Young People, was a nickname given by the tabloid press to a group of Bohemian young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London.
***Sardines is an active game that is played like hide and go seek — only in reverse! One person hides, and everyone else searches for the hidden person. Whenever a person finds the hidden person, they quietly join them in their hiding spot. There is no winner of the game. The last person to join the sardines will be the hider in the next round. Sardines was a very popular game in the 1920s and 1930s played by houseguests in rambling old country houses where there were unusual, unknown and creative places to hide.
****Glynes is the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie.
*****Huntley and Palmers is a British firm of biscuit makers originally based in Reading, Berkshire. The company created one of the world’s first global brands and ran what was once the world’s largest biscuit factory. Over the years, the company was also known as J. Huntley and Son and Huntley and Palmer. Huntley and Palmer were renown for their ‘superior reading biscuits’ which they promoted in different varieties for different occasions, including at breakfast time.
******Franz Xaver Winterhalter (1805 – 1873) was a German painter and lithographer, known for his flattering portraits of royalty and upper-class society in the mid-19th century. His name has become associated with fashionable court portraiture. Among his best known works are Empress Eugénie Surrounded by her Ladies in Waiting (1855) and the portraits he made of Empress Elisabeth of Austria (1865).
This cluttered storage space full of interesting remnants of times past may not be all that it first appears, for this scene is made up of items from my miniatures collection, including pieces that I have had since I was a child.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The lost Winterhalter painting of ‘Chi an Treth’ in its gilded frame is a 1:12 artisan piece made by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The pendulum wall clock behind the frame I have had since I was a young child. It was either a Christmas or a birthday gift, but I cannot remember which.
The tin buckets, mop and birchwood broom are all artisan made miniatures that I have acquired in more recent years.
The feather duster on the top shelf I made myself using fledgling feathers (very spring) which I picked up off the lawn one day thinking they would come in handy in my miniatures collection sometime. I bound them with thread to the handle which is made from a fancy ended toothpick!
The table linens on the bottom right-hand shelves are all 1:12 size miniatures with beautiful tint stitching to finish each piece off. They were acquired from Michelle’s Miniatures in Sydney.
The porcelain jugs, bowls, tureens, plates and cups all come from different eBay online sellers.
The Huntly and Palmers’ box to the top right of the photograph comes from Jonesy’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Huntley and Palmers is a British firm of biscuit makers originally based in Reading, Berkshire. The company created one of the world’s first global brands and ran what was once the world’s largest biscuit factory. Over the years, the company was also known as J. Huntley and Son and Huntley and Palmer. Huntley and Palmer were renown for their ‘superior reading biscuits’ which they promoted in different varieties for different occasions, including at breakfast time.
In front bottom right hand corner of the photo is a can of Vim with stylised Art Deco packaging. It was made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, as was the box of Sunlight soap in the small tin bucked to the right of the photograph. Vim was a common cleaning agent, used in any Edwardian household. Vim scouring powder was created by William Hesketh Lever (1st Viscount Leverhulme) and introduced to the market in 1904. It was produced at Port Sunlight in Wirrel, Merseyside, a model village built by Lever Brothers for the workers of their factories which produced the popular soap brands Lux, Lifebuoy and Sunlight. Kleeneze is a homeware company started in Hanham, Bristol. The company's founder, Harry Crook, had emigrated to the United States with his family several years earlier, and whilst there joined Fuller Brush as a sales representative. He returned to Bristol several years later, and started a business making brushes and floor polish which were sold door-to-door by salesmen. Technically Kleeneze didn’t start until 1923, which is two years after this story is set. I couldn’t resist including it, as I doubt I will ever be able to photograph it as a main part of any other tableaux. Thus, I hope you will forgive me for this indulgence.
On the shelf to the left of the photograph is some Zebo grate polish made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Zebo (or originally Zebra) Grate Polish was a substance launched in 1890 by Reckitts to polish the grate to a gleam using a mixture that consisted of pure black graphite finely ground, carbon black, a binding agent and a solvent to keep it fluid for application with a cloth or more commonly newspaper.
The tin buckets, wooden apple box, basket, mop, brush, pan and birchwood broom are all artisan made miniatures that I have acquired in more recent years.
Worship God in Spirit and in Truth | A Cappella "The Result Achieved by Knowing God" | Gospel Music
One day,
you will feel that the Creator
is no longer a riddle,
that the Creator has never been hidden from you,
that the Creator
has never concealed His face from you,
that the Creator is not at all far from you,
that the Creator is no longer the One that you constantly long for in your thoughts but that you cannot reach with your feelings,
that He is really and truly standing guard to your left and right,
supplying your life, and controlling your destiny, controlling your destiny.
He is not on the remote horizon, nor has He secreted Himself high up in the clouds.
He is right by your side, presiding over your all,
He is everything that you have, and He is the only thing you have.
Such a God
allows you to love Him from the heart,
cling to Him, hold Him close, admire Him,
fear to lose Him,
and be unwilling to renounce Him any longer, disobey Him any longer,
or any longer to evade Him or put Him at a distance.
All you want is to care for Him, obey Him,
requite all that He gives you, and surrender to His dominion.
You no longer refuse to be guided,
supplied, watched over, and kept by Him,
no longer refuse what He dictates and ordains for you,
what He dictates and ordains for you.
All you want is to follow Him, walk alongside Him to His left or right, to follow Him, walk alongside Him to His left or right,
all you want is to accept Him as your one and only Lord,
all you want is to accept Him as your one and only Lord, your one and only God.
You no longer
You no longer
You no longer
You no longer
refuse to be guided, supplied, watched over, and kept by Him,
no longer refuse
no longer refuse
no longer refuse
no longer refuse
what He dictates and ordains for you, what He dictates and ordains for you.
All you want is to follow Him, walk alongside Him to His left or right, to follow Him, walk alongside Him to His left or right,
all you want is to accept Him as your one and only Lord,
all you want is to accept Him as your one and only Lord, your one and only God.
All you want is to follow Him, walk alongside Him to His left or right, to follow Him, walk alongside Him to His left or right,
all you want is to accept Him as your one and only Lord, as your one and only Lord, your one and only God,
your one and only God.
from Continuation of The Word Appears in the Flesh
Taken with my new AF-S VR Micro-NIKKOR 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED lens. You'll be seeing a lot more from this....what a great lens!
Paphiopedilum 'May Fly' BM/JOGA x micranthum
knowing only the northern Steiermark, one of the federal states of Austria, we wanted to see the famous and beautiful capital Graz and the southern parts of the Steiermark... and met relaxed pupils just before their holidays started
Today I invite you to have a look around the biggest courtyard of the New York Chinese Scholar's Garden. It is dedicated to my dear flickr friend ecco9494 who spend her afternoon with us exploring Snug Harbor.
My main picture is a roof detail of the Knowing Fish Pavilion. I just love those elegant forms and the craftsmenship that went into creating this beauty. Hope you feel so too.
Some previously unmentioned information about the design as it plays a role in my additional captures in the comments:
The garden is designed with "ya", or elegance. The garden is traditionally entered through a narrow passage where meditation takes place, prior to entering the main garden. The design of the garden produces harmony through its views and concepts. The garden creates an infinite space within an enclosed area.
- The borrowed view extends space beyond the border of the garden.
- The hidden view creates suspense and excitement as one moves deeper into the garden.
- The opposite view is framed by a moon gate or floral window.
The following text contains the same info as provided with yesterdays post:
The New York Chinese Scholar's Garden (寄興園 or New York Chinese Garden). It is a part of the Staten Island Botanical Garden, located in the Snug Harbor Cultural Center (opened in June 1999). A team of 40 Chinese artists and artisans from Suzhou constructed the garden.
Some History:
Traditional Chinese gardens go back almost 2,000 years to the Han Dynasty though most Scholar's Gardens date back to the more recent Ming and Qing dynasties.
A Scholar's Garden would have been built by a scholar or an administrator retiring from the emperor's court. It would have been an enclosed private garden always associated with a house which, in turn without its garden, would not have been considered whole.
This garden, designed and built by Landscape Architecture Corporation of China (LAC), is enclosed by walls, a series of pavilions, and covered walkways. These are all organized in an irregular manner to create a series of courtyards of varying sizes.
The art of the Chinese garden is closely related to Chinese landscape painting - it is not a literal imitation of a natural landscape, but the capturing of its essence and spirit.
The parallel could be drawn to a Chinese hand scroll painting which as it unrolls, reveals a journey full of surprises and meditative pauses.
The enjoyment of the garden is both contemplative and sensual. It comes from making the most out of the experiences of everyday life, as such, architectural elements are always a part of a Scholar's Garden.
The painter's eye must be used to lay out the main architectural elements - the wall becomes the paper the rockery and plant are painted on. The structures playfully rise and fall, twist and turn and even "leave" the garden to take advantage of and even create a great variety of beautiful scenes.
To paraphrase the 15th century garden designer Ji Ching:
"The garden is created by the human hand, but should appear as if created by heaven."
Some of the elements found in the garden:
Wood - Nails or glue are not used in a Chinese garden. Wooden elements are joined together using traditional Chinese construction techniques.
Rocks - In Chinese literature, rocks are described as the "bones of the earth."
Water - The garden contains three ponds and one waterfall. Water is thought of as the arteries of the world.
Plantings - China has contributed the rose, lilac, daphne, species of rhododendron, and the peony to the rest of the world. Trees, shrubs, and flowers are selected for shape, seasonal character, and symbolic meaning.
Furniture - The furniture of the garden is called the "internal organs."
Walls - Walls are strategically placed in the garden for design purposes.
Walkways - The curvature of the walkways offer many views and angles.
Pavilions - There are two pavilion in the garden. One is for the scholar's study and the other provides visual access to various other scenes.
Xie - A Xie is a building one half hovering over a lake. The designs makes it seem that the building is floating in the water.
Bridge - Bridges are often curvy, providing visitors a better view of the surroundings.
Painting and Calligraphy - Paintings and calligraphy represent the garden owner's knowledge of literature and art.
And a little bit about Snug Harbor:
Sailors' Snug Harbor, also known as Sailors Snug Harbor or Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden or referenced informally as Snug Harbor, is a collection of architecturally significant 19th century buildings set in a park located along the Kill Van Kull on the north shore of Staten Island in New York City. It was once a home for aged sailors and is now a 83-acre (340,000 m2) city park. Some of the buildings and the grounds are used by arts organizations under the umbrella of the Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden. Sailors' Snug Harbor includes 26 Greek Revival, Beaux Arts, Italianate and Victorian style buildings. The site is considered Staten Island's "crown jewel" and "an incomparable remnant of New York's 19th-century seafaring past." It is a National Historic Landmark District. (from either wikipedia or Snug Harbor Cultural Center & Botanical Garden)
I know a secret. The little wise one told me.
I just remembered,
this knowing. It rushed into the empty space I cleared.
You cannot go backwards,
can’t forget what you know. But,
you can misplace it,
let the noise of the world and all their smoke and mirrors obfuscate.
I know a truth. The Lovely Lady told me.
She is not gentle, just like me.
Are you ready?
Put this in your pocket til it vibrates like a bell, some radioactive thing to tune to:
You already hold it.
You have it.
You are the glowing thing.
You don’t chase, you allow. You beckon.
You pulse.
All the things rush in because you wiped the slate,
prepared it,
burned your candles. You burned your darlings and your demons.
It’s all ashes and soot, a sooty spot,
drag your hands through it and over your face.
Laugh like madness,
you just arrived and it is coming,
not quietly but with a thundering, a rumbling quickness, a force.
You chared it. You’re brand new again.
Open wide.
04.05.22
Visit this location: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Winter%20Moon/76/182/29
That feeling when you realise your child is growing inside you, bonding with you, your body changing. The physical bond of a mother and her unborn child. The man simply gives the seed, the woman gives her soul.
Knowing I wold be in Italy for three days, I thought… I can't visit this wonderful country without sampling one of its lovelies. By “sampling”, of course I mean doing a photo shoot to produce an artistic, sensual souvenir that would hopefully delight viewers for many years to come. So I arranged to do a shoot with Arianna Espen Grimoldi. My lovely model is not new to glamor photography. She had been featured in Italian Playboy in September of 2011 and will be again on the cover of the December 2012 issue. I feel honored and privileged to have had this opportunity of shooting with Arianna.
I will be adding images from these sessions as I process them. Come back often to see how this set will evolve and grow.
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Here are some of the videos I produced as a result of my sessions with Arianna.
vimeo.com/60615774 , vimeo.com/54648531 and vimeo.com/65520617
This image can be purchased as a signed, limited edition print, by contacting me either here on Flickr or by email sol@sollang.com
Great photography requires dedication, time and effort.
But above all there are costs involved as well.
Equipment, props and model fees, not to mention time,
are all "out-of-pocket" expenses for the artist.
If you enjoy my photography, you might like to help to support my art.
I offer over 2 hours of great videos, including many
behind-the-scenes of some of my best photo sessions,
all artistically crafted for your enjoyment.
Video on Demand on Vimeo.
Thanks for your time and support.