-^- Central City, 2463 -^-

 

"My name is Eobard Thawne… and I am the fastest man alive."

 

"No, Eobard!"

 

"C'mon, you're ruining it."

 

"What the hell man…"

 

Eobard lowered his raised fist, staring at the group of kids hanging on the jungle gym. He frowned as the oldest of them, Tomon, hopped down from the top of the structure with his arms crossed.

 

"What are you doing, Eobard," he asked, narrowing his eyes at the smaller boy.

 

"I-I… I'm the Flash!" Eobard exclaimed, raising his fist into the air.

 

"No you aren't, we went over this," Tomon said, jutting a finger into Eobard's shoulder. "Kammi won the draw, so he gets to be Flash today."

 

"B-but you said if I played how you wanted last time, I could finally be Flash," Eobard pouted, staring up at the taller boy.

 

"Nope, not what I said," Tomon said, shaking his head. "I said you can be a Flash, not Flash."

 

"I don't wanna be Kid Flash, i-"

 

"You won't be," Tomon smirked, "you're the Reverse Flash."

 

Eobard's face fell, his head lowering. "You always make me Reverse Flash… it's not fun," he mumbled, listening to the other boys laugh. "He doesn't even have a name, can I at least be Godspeed?"

 

"Nope! That's not a Flash!" Tomon said, shaking his head at Eobard. "Besides, a nobody is perfect for you, Eobard."

 

Eobard but his lip, attempting to stop his tears from falling. Turning, he began walking away from the jungle gym. His teeth chewed on his bottom lip as he exited the park, hearing the mocking words from the boys he left behind, words he'd heard hundreds of times but never hurt any less.

 

He wasn't special. He was the opposite, really. He was the first generation of lab made children, the birthmark on his inner forearm showcasing it to the world. It was something frowned upon by society, but his parents had needed the money given to the participants, so they gladly offered their DNA.

 

They despised him. He was sure they'd have put him up for adoption if any orphanage would take a test tube child like himself. For a while, he thought it may have been the prospect of having a child, but his younger, natural born brother, Robern, proved the thought wrong. It proved he was the problem.

 

As he walked alone, his tears fell freely. He didn't care about being the Flash. He'd always wanted to, just once when playing with his friends, but it was never truly a deal breaker. He just wanted to play without being reminded of being different, to play without being called a science project gone wrong.

 

'Stop crying,' he thought to himself, wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve. 'The Flash doesn't cry, you can't either.'

 

As he wiped his nose, he noticed the large golden statue he stood under, its freshly polished marble pedestal reflecting the sunlight perfectly. The golden figure shone brightly in the sun's rays, its lightning crest standing out brilliantly. Behind the statue was a large building of the same marble that made up the statue's base.

 

'Huh… I guess I just came here on instinct…' Eobard thought, staring up at the statue of his hero, The Flash. 'It's not like mom and dad will care if I'm late anyways.'

 

Eobard walked forward, heading up the cherry red stairs and into the Flash Museum. Any time he'd entered the building, it was just like the first time. White walls were lined with lightning patterns that glowed a golden aura. Statues of heroes and villains alike stood tall throughout the main atrium, paintings of Flash's greatest battles hung from the walls with holo-logs available for the details on each piece. Eobard followed the red tile floor past the various halls, his destination made up in his mind

 

Jay Garrick; the Golden Age Hero, Wally West; the Ultimate Successor, Bart Allen; the Flash of the Future, Godspeed; the Redemption from Darkness, and the Hall of Team-ups were all exhibits he'd visited countless times. They were the people who surrounded his hero, the people who built him up to be who he was. They made him, him.

 

Barry Allen; Savior of the Multiverse. The hall that Eobard had visited more than any others. In his mind, the greatest hero to ever live.

 

Eobard's cheeks, still red from tear stains, widened with his smile. If stepping into the museum was a moment of awe, walking into Barry Allen's hall was like Christmas morning, at least like his brother's.

 

All of his greatest battles were on full display, each one marking a victory in Barry's journey to becoming the greatest hero. His first villain, the Mirror Master, the first generation of Rogues with Snart, Scudder, and Harkness, and even the first speedster he'd faced, Zoom. It was all here.

 

Eobard moved through the empty hall, rushing to the display of Barry's suits in the back of the room. Barry's hall was always empty, most patrons flocking to his successor Wally West's, or even the villain turned hero Godspeed. Eobard never cared, a room all to himself and his hero was always the best part of his week. He felt bad that people were missing out, however.

 

His eyes shone like stars as he approached the red and yellow suit display, the gold lighting behind the mannequin giving the costume an ethereal glow. He quickly tapped on the holo-log next to the suit, scrolling through the article he'd read hundreds of times. It was Barry's third suit, his most iconic suit that was worn through his prime years. It was Eobard's favorite. How could it not be?

 

"This suit was worn through perilous adventures, the most notable being his battle with Cobalt Blue, his estranged brother taken at birth," Eobard read, his head shifting to the statue of the blond swordsman facing off against the hero. "I wish I could've been his brother… I never would fight him."

 

Eobard looked back up from the holo-log, staring at the suit once more. "I bet you never cried as a kid. You were probably the bravest person ever," he said, sighing. "I just wish I could be more like you."

 

A buzz in his pocket caught his attention. Sliding his phone free, he saw three missed calls from his younger brother. "I guess I have to go…" he mumbled, looking back up at the suit and seeing his eyes reflect off the mannequin's mouth. "Maybe one day it'll fit."

 

Making his way out of the Barry Allen hall he felt a strange chill run down his back. Turning his head, he eyed his least favorite part of the museum, one most usually avoided.

 

The Hall of Villains.

 

Eobard's curiosity, against his better judgement, made him enter the wing. The boy shuffled past countless mannequins, all clad in colorful costumes. The rogues were lined together on the right, the three original members front and center with any after lined behind them. To his left was each villain that had super speed, the largest statue being Zoom.

 

The sound of metal clattering on the ground caused Eobard to jump, his head shooting in the direction of the noise. "Wh-whos there?" he mumbled. Receiving no response, he took slow, cautious steps towards the noise. "What?"

 

Tucked away in the corner of the room was a yellow and black costume, with red lightning accents along the torso and legs. Eobard gulped, stepping forward towards the mannequin. As his feet placed just before the costume, he noticed it had been knocked forward slightly, allowing his face to reflect off its own.

 

"Reverse Flash… I hate you," he said, staring into his own eyes. "You don't have a name. You don't have a story. You don't even have an original gimmick."

 

Looking down, he tapped on the holo-log, staring at the blank spots where any information could be held. "A ghost lost to time," he read, looking back up at the costume. "You hurt Flash more than anyone else… and you don't even have a reason to show. Why do you even exist? What made you… you?"

 

Eobard stepped back from the costume as his pocket buzzed once again. "I'm glad no one remembers you," he said, spitting on the display. Turning he walked out of the Hall of Villains and left the Flash Museum.

 

-^-

 

"Mom? Dad? Robern?"

 

Eobard stepped into his apartment, his hand lingering on the opened door as he entered. His body froze, arms stiff and jaw hanging, like a camera had taken a snapshot. Indecipherable noises came from the boy's mouth as he shook, staring at his family in front of him.

 

The room was painted crimson. His mother was split in two, her torso was face down in the living room while her legs sat against the fridge, intestines strung between the two. His father hung from the wall by his pinned hands, a steak knife lodged between the two just above his head. Gashes lined his body, the deepest where his heart would be, causing a constant drip of blood onto the floor.

 

Eobard dropped to his knees, gaze stuck on the massacre. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to run away, but he couldn't. Like a weight was pressing him down, he was completely frozen in place.

 

That's when a flash of red lightning sparked through the room, causing Eobard to blink. When his eyes reopened, two figures stood in front of him. "Re-re-re-reverse… Flash…" he mumbled.

 

The figure in yellow, black, and red smiled as he held onto Robern, one hand wrapped around the boy's neck while the other rested on his shoulder. In an instant, the resting hand began to vibrate, slipping through Robern's temple. Letting go of his throat, the boy fell forward, plopping lifelessly onto the ground.

 

"R-robern?" Eobard whispered, his voice trembling.

 

Reverse Flash stepped forward, grabbing Eobard by the throat and lifting him into the air. Eobard dug his nails into the man's black gloves, but the struggle only caused the villain to tighten his grip.

 

"P-p-please… p-p-please don't…"

 

"Kill you?" Reverse Flash asked, smiling as his free hand pulled the yellow cowl from his head. "How can I kill you… if I am you?"

 

"Wh… what?" Eobard asked, dropping to the floor as Reverse Flash loosened his grip. "What are you…"

 

"My name is Eobard Thawne… I'm you."

 

"Y-y-you're lying…" Eobard mumbled, scooting until his back hit the door. "Y-y-you can't be… you're Flash's enemy! You're an adult… I-I-I'm me!"

 

"You have so much to learn…" Reverse Flash said crouching down to stare Eobard in the eyes. "I am you. You are me. We are the same. We murdered your family, we killed Nora Allen, and we are Barry Allen's greatest enemy."

 

"I-I… I… I what?"

 

"Do you know why I made sure Reverse Flash's identity was lost in time?" he asked, leaning in close to Eobard's ear. "So you'd never have guessed you would be the man your hero hates most in the world."

 

With a gust of air, Reverse Flash was gone, leaving Eobard alone with the bodies of his family. His eyes were wide open, pupils constricting to tiny dots. He didn't know when his tears began to fall, but the sound of the droplets against his floor caused him to look down.

 

He stared at himself in the tile floor's reflection. The Eobard who looked back was different, however. His eyes weren't normal, instead a blood red, and his flat mouth was a large smile. Eobard grabbed onto his face, digging his nails into the skin and dragging down. It was then he finally felt a scream leave his body.

 

It was that moment he realized what he'd done.

 

-^- Central City, 2474 -^-

 

Eobard strapped the large silver device to his chest, making sure the locking mechanism was in place. His left hand typed away at the laptop sat beside him, while his eyes shifted between the screen and the stormy sky. It was New Year's Eve. Eobard stood atop the Flash Museum, ready to finally embrace his destiny.

 

"I'll be like you, Barry!" he shouted, pressing enter on the keypad, causing the large device behind him to spur to life; Clyde Mardon's weather machine. "I don't need to become your enemy! I can still be good!"

 

In an instant, a bolt of lightning came down against the device strapped to his chest. Eobard's eyes lit up white, an excruciating pain roaring through his body. The lights on his chest device glowed red as it pulsed electricity throughout Eobard's body. The man dropped to his knees, crying out as the device stopped, the glow dimming to a dark red.

 

Eobard's eyelids were heavy as he swayed side to side. He could hear the sizzling of his skin, but the pain didn't last. He could feel his fatigue quickly leave him, as red sparks began to generate around him.

 

His lips curved up into a smile. He'd done it, he'd finally done it.

  

-^- Central City, 2007 -^-

 

Eobard's eyes widened as he watched Barry slam his fist in the gut of Clyde Mardon, the Weather Wizard. He badly wanted to intervene, to help Barry beat his foe, but he knew he was far too inexperienced to be of any use to the speedster.

 

As Barry loaded the villain into the police transport van, Eobard made his move. Running towards Barry, he grabbed onto him, dragging him to the nearest rooftop. Barry was dazed for a moment, but his eyes widened the moment he saw Eobard.

 

"Thawne!?" he shouted, grabbing Eobard and slamming him against the roof door.

 

"Barry, listen to me," Eobard said, raising his hands. "I'm here to talk, to make amends!"

 

"Make amends?" Barry asked, pushing harder against Eobard's chest. "To talk? Why would I listen to you!?"

 

"It may sound strange, but I haven't murdered anyone yet! I'm Eobard Thawne after just gaining powers, not the one you know!" he explained, smiling at the man. "You have to believe me, I want to be better than the me you know!"

 

Barry grit his teeth, grabbing Eobard, and throwing him off the roof. Eobard acted fast, spinning his arms wildly to slow his fall as he landed in a back alley. Barry rushed down the building side, straddling Thawne.

 

"You think I'd just believe you!?" he shouted, slamming his fist into Eobard's face. "Not Eobard Thawne… never."

 

A rush of wind caused both to turn, spotting August Heart, the reformed villain Godspeed standing in the alleyway. "What's going on, Joe said you disappeared?" August asked, before looking down at Eobard. "Thawne…"

 

"Right there!" Eobard said, ignoring the bloody nose Barry had given him and pointing at August. "Godspeed… he was a villain… but you believed in him! He changed for the better! Let me try too!"

 

"Don't ever compare yourself to him!" Barry shouted, slamming his fist into Eobard's face once more. "You're a monster Thawne… you always will be. You are nothing like Godspeed… and you'll never be anything like me!"

 

"B-b-barry…"

 

As a tear rolled down Eobard's face, red lightning burst from his body, knocking both Barry and August away. Eobard stood, his eyes a burning red. "I thought you were a hero… but I was wrong…" he said, pulling the yellow cowl over his head. "You're nothing…"

 

In that moment, Eobard dashed away, returning to his own time, his tears burning away at the speed of light.

 

-^- Central City, 2475 -^-

 

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow boss."

 

"Night, Keiton."

 

Tomon smiled as he waved his line cook goodbye, flipping the closing sign on the restaurant door. The hefty man began lifting the chairs at various tables, placing them atop the tables to mop the floor.

 

As he cleaned, he felt an odd presence loom over him. Turning, his eyes widened as he spotted a ball of red lighting outside the building. He instantly dropped the mop, rushing to the kitchen, not turning as the glass of the front door shattered. He quickly grabbed the phone on the wall, dialing the authorities with a quickness.

 

"H-h-hello!? I need the science police, as-"

 

He stopped speaking as he heard a soft hum come from the phone. The line had been cut. Looking out at the dining floor through the serving window, the creature was gone. Gulping, his body turned, only to topple over as he spotted the intruder in the kitchen. The man wore a yellow suit, black and red complimenting the yellow.

 

"Reverse Flash!?" he shouted, watching as the man in yellow smiled.

 

Tomon picked himself up, running through the kitchen while knocking over anything he could to block the villain's path. Each obstacle created had no effect, however, as Reverse Flash simply phased through each appliance. In his panic, Tomon stumbled, falling face first into the ground.

 

"St-st-stay away!" he cried, shuffling backwards away from Reverse Flash. "You're supposed to be long dead!"

 

"My death was an… oversimplification of things," the villain mumbled. "Time is a tricky thing."

 

"What do you want from me!"

 

"Not much," Reverse Flash said. "I wanted to congratulate you, actually."

 

"Co-congratulate me?"

 

"You were always right back then," the man mumbled, pulling his cowl off his head, revealing the smiling face of Eobard Thawne. "I do make a good Reverse Flash."

 

"E-E-Eobard?" Tomon gasped.

 

"The one and only."

 

"I… we… we were friends!" he pleaded, crawling until his back hit the wall. "Sure, we gave you a tough time, but it was all in good fun!"

 

"Yeah, we were good friends," Eobard said, crouching down in front of the man and placing a hand on his shoulder, "weren't we?"

 

"Y-yeah… yeah," he said smiling with a slight chuckle. "The best of friends…"

 

Tomon let out a strained cough, blood flying from his mouth. Looking down, his eyes widened, staring at every knife in the kitchen lodged into his stomach. His eyes moved back up to Eobard, the yellow cowl over his head once more.

 

"Too bad I don't need friends anymore," he said, patting the man on the head. "Say hi to the others for me." Eobard then sped out of the building, leaving Tomon alone as his final moments passed.

 

-^- Central City, 1983 -^-

 

Eobard exited the negative Speed Force, skidding to a halt in the middle of the road. His body was in a constant smokescreen of black and red energy, a side effect of the constant time jumps, he assumed. It was quiet, the only sounds coming from the spring birds and yard sprinklers. Eobard surveyed the suburbs, the houses each looking incredibly different than the ones he had grown up in.

 

It was then that he spotted, through an open bay window, a woman standing up from her couch and moving to the kitchen. 'Nora…' he thought, a smile spreading across his face.

 

Dashing to the house, his body began to vibrate, allowing him to slip inside. He took slow, methodical steps as he rounded the couch, ready to strike his target. It was then that he spotted a boy, one that looked similar to Barry, but not identical.

 

'Malcolm?' he wondered, looking down at the boy. 'He isn't supposed to be here… the timeline is…' At that thought, he smiled, vibrating his hands as he looked at the boy. 'I guess a few changes won't hurt.'

 

"Oh god Malcolm!" Nora cried, running to the pool of blood left on the couch. The woman dropped to her knees, clutching the stained clothes.

 

As Eobard reentered the room, he bore a soft smile, staring at the woman.

 

"Clariss!"

 

Eobard's smile fell, his head swivelling towards the voice. His eyes locked onto some type of red, ghost-like figure. Yellow lightning sparked around him, which helped create an outline, one that shaped a dome helmet on his head.

 

'Garrick?' he thought, closing his eyes for a moment. 'He thinks I'm the Rival. It must be the side effects but… how is he… a Speed Force link. Barry must have gotten his powers differently.'

 

Eobard smiled, emulating the long-dead speedster. "A ghost from the future," he said, shifting his vocal chords to imitate what he'd heard from Clariss' holo-logs. "Too bad I'm not a ghost." Eobard dashed out of the home, reappearing seconds later with a kitchen knife laced with Henry Allen's prints. "I'm the reaper."

 

Eobard stared at Garrick's projection as he drove the knife forwards, carving into Nora's heart. The woman's screams were loud and long, but died out quickly as her body toppled to the side, her blood mixing with Malcolm's. Eobard dipped his hands into the blood, letting it soak into his gloves.

 

"Mom! Malcolm!" a young voice called from outside. "School let out early!"

 

Eobard's eyes narrowed as Barry entered the home. 'It would be so easy…' he thought, looking back down at the knife on the ground. 'Too easy for you…'

 

"Mom… m-m-mom…" Barry mumbled, freezing in place as he rounded the couch, staring at the dead woman on the floor. "Mom?"

 

Eobard turned towards Garrick, smirking at the ghost before charging at the blond boy. Barry leapt back, falling to the ground, reminding Eobard of his own reaction. Reaching out his hands, Nora and Malcolm's blood dripped onto the ground in front of Barry. As tears began to fall from the boy's eyes, Eobard left, his mission accomplished.

 

----------------------------

 

NEXT TIME: A Future Far Beyond!

British card. Photo: Daniel Day-Lewis and Gordon Warnecke in My Beautiful Laundrette (Stephen Frears, 1985).

 

Irish actor Daniel Day-Lewis (1957) won the Best Actor Oscar for My Left Foot (1990), There Will Be Blood (2007) and Lincoln (2013). Day-Lewis has also received more than 90 other acting awards fort these films and for his roles in My Beautiful Laundrette (1985), A Room with a View (1985), Gangs of New York (2002) and Nine (2009).

 

Sir Daniel Michael Blake Day-Lewis was born in Kensington, London, in 1957. His father was the British Poet Laureate Cecil Day-Lewis. His mother, actress Jill Bacon, came from a Jewish family and was the daughter of Sir Michael Balcon, former head of Ealing Studios. Cecil Day-Lewis was already 53 when his son was born, and it seemed that he had little interest in his children. Cecil died when Daniel was 15. Day-Lewis later said that he regretted never having had a good relationship with his father. At his school in Greenwich, Day-Lewis was often bullied by children, often because of his Jewish heritage and the luxurious way of life at home. Day-Lewis later said that he behaved badly in his younger years. He got into trouble several times for shoplifting and other illegal activities. In 1968, he went to a boarding school in Kent because his parents thought he was behaving too freely. Although he disliked the school, it was there that he was first introduced to two of his main interests, acting and woodworking. Day-Lewis made his debut in Sunday Bloody Sunday (John Schlesinger, 1971). He was 14 years old at the time and played a vandal. His role is not mentioned in the credits. According to Day-Lewis, he received two dollars for that role to wreck some expensive cars and he later said that this wrecking felt like "heaven". After two years at boarding school, he attended Bedalas School in Petersfield. He left the school in 1975. His behaviour had improved somewhat by then. Day-Lewis arrived at a time when he had to choose in which direction he wanted to go, acting or woodworking. He decided for acting, but he was not accepted because he had too little experience. That is why he chose acting. He followed a three-year course at the Bristol Old Vic theatre school. He then acted on stage with the Bristol Old Vic and Royal Shakespeare Companies. He made his West End stage debut in 1982, starring for several months in the play 'Another Country'.

 

In 1982, Daniel Day-Lewis had another small role in a major film, this time as the bully in Gandhi (Richard Attenborough, 1982). Later, he also starred in a 'Romeo and Juliet' play and had a supporting role in the film The Bounty (Roger Donaldson, 1984), starring Mel Gibson and Anthony Hopkins. His next theatre role was in 'The Count', a play about Dracula. In My Beautiful Laundrette (Stephen Frears,1985), he played a lower-class, gay ex-skinhead in love with an ambitious Pakistani businessman (Gordon Warnecke) in Margaret Thatcher's London. His next film A Room with a View (James Ivory, 1985) was again very well received. In that film, he played the fiancée of the main character played by Helena Bonham Carter. My Beautiful Laundrette and A Room With a View opened on the same day in New York. Day-Lewis astonished critics and audiences with his chameleon-like versatility. The New York Film Critics Circle took particular note of his talent, naming him the year's Best Supporting Actor for his work in both films. In 1987, Day-Lewis starred in Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Philip Kaufman, 1987), along with Lena Olin and Juliette Binoche. Day-Lewis played the role of a philandering surgeon from Prague, who gets an emotional relationship with a woman for the first time. In 1989, Day-Lewis did a brilliant performance as the disabled Irish writer Christy Brown in the film My Left Foot (Jim Sheridan, 1989). He won several awards for this role, including an Academy Award for Best Actor. During filming, Day-Lewis broke two ribs after an accident with the wheelchair in which his character always sat. After several films, Daniel Day-Lewis returned to the stage for Shakespeare's play 'Hamlet'. He collapsed on stage, however, when (supposedly) the ghost of Hamlet's father came on stage. Day-Lewis later said that he mistook him for his father's ghost. After this incident, Day-Lewis never returned to the stage. In 1992, three years after he won an Oscar, Day-Lewis starred in The Last of the Mohicans (Michael Mann, 1992), a film that met with mixed reviews but was a great success at the box office. He played a turn-of-the-century New York society man in Martin Scorsese's lavish adaptation of Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence (Martin Scorsese, 1993) opposite Michelle Pfeiffer and Winona Ryder. Another success was In the Name of the Father (Jim Sheridan, 1993). For his role as an innocent convict of an IRA bombing, he lost a lot of weight and had to act with an Irish accent. According to Day-Lewis, he frequently urged crew members to throw cold water on him and use verbal abuse against him so that his anger, which his character must have in circumstances such as the film, would become more realistic. Day-Lewis was again nominated for an Oscar for Best Actor for his role. He was also nominated for a BAFTA for the third time and a Golden Globe for the second time. Next, he starred as the tragically adulterous John Proctor alongside Winona Ryder in The Crucible (Nicholas Hytner, 1996). The film was based on a script by Arthur Miller, who would become Day-Lewis' father-in-law. He then had a role in Jim Sheridan's The Boxer (1997), as a former boxer trying to make a new life for himself after being imprisoned for fourteen years for his work with the IRA. He had to prepare for that role as well, training for six months in boxing with former world boxing champion Barry McGuigan.

 

Daniel Day-Lewis took a break for several years. He decided to focus on his old passion: woodworking. He moved to Florence in Italy. It was not until 2002 that another of his films premiered, Gangs of New York (Martin Scorsese, 2002) with Leonardo DiCaprio and Cameron Diaz. Day-Lewis' decidedly methodic approach to creating convincing screen characters would ultimately pay off as many cited his Oscar nominated performance as one of the most convincing of the talented actor's career. Day-Lewis typically disappeared from sight yet again after Gangs, waiting two years before appearing again in a film. In 2005, The Ballad of Jack and Rose premiered. This film was directed by his own wife, Rebecca Miller. Day-Lewis played the role of an old man who is dying and reflects on his life. During filming, he lived apart from his wife to make his role as a lonely old man even more believable. His next film was based on Upton Sinclair's novel 'Oil!'. The film was renamed There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007) and Day Lewis won the Best Actor Oscar for his role in that film. In 2009, Day-Lewis starred in Rob Marshall's musical adaptation Nine (2009) as film director Guido Contini. In 2013, he won his third Oscar for his portrayal of Abraham Lincoln in Lincoln (Steven Spielberg, 2013) with Sally Field. Daniel Day-Lewis is the only person in film history to have won the Oscar for best male lead three times. In 2014, he received a knighthood for his services to drama. Following the filming of Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2017 ), for which he was again nominated for an Oscar for best male lead, Day-Lewis announced that he was quitting acting. Day-Lewis is very protective of his privacy. He rarely reveals his private life in public. Day-Lewis first had a relationship with the French actress Isabelle Adjani. They had a son together, Gabriel-Kane Day-Lewis (in 1995), but by then the relationship had already ended. In 1996, while working on the film The Crucible, he went to visit the writer of the script, Arthur Miller. During that visit, he fell in love with Miller's daughter, Rebecca Miller. They were married two weeks before the premiere of The Crucible. They have two sons together, Ronan (born in 1998) and Cashel (2002). They spend their time together in their homes in the United States and Ireland. Daniel Day Lewis was in a relationship with Isabelle Adjani from 1989 to 1994. They have one son together, Gabriel-Kane Day Lewis (born 1995). With Rebecca Miller, he has two sons, Ronan Cal Day-Lewis (born 1998) and Cashel Blake Day-Lewis (born 2002). Daniel Day-Lewis has dual citizenship between the United Kingdom and Ireland.

 

Sources: Rebecca Flint Marx (AllMovie), Pedro Borges (IMDb), Wikipedia (Dutch) and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Like many religious buildings in India, there are a lot of guards. They methodically get the visitors through and put up with photography as part of the job. This building is no exception. I am very thankful to one of the members of the Lotus Temple that graciously walked me across the confines of the crowd ropes and into a quiet well lit area. I was given unlimited time to set up my shot and wait for the lighting to fade into that diaphanous beautiful blue that India's dust creates once the sun has set. This is a fun building to photograph and, just like Jorn Uzton's creation in Sydney, the facets and scallops create great negative forms. In particular, the compression that is created at each entrance is noticeable and discernible from a great distance.

 

thanks for reading....jhe

Good morning Durban!

 

"If we fail to nourish our souls, they wither, and without soul, life ceases to have meaning.... The creative process shrivels in the absence of continual dialogue with the soul. And creativity is what makes life worth living." - Marion Woodman

 

One way to nourish your soul is to get up early, at least an hour before the sun, and watch the day break; slowly, methodically, gracefully. Photography isn't just about the photo for me, it's about the preparation before the shoot, the meditation while shooting, and the artistic licence you give yourself while shaping the end product in your digital darkroom.

 

Canon South Africa​ 6D from Orms​, Canon EF 17–40mm lens​, F16, 1/250 sec, ISO 640 - Durban Royal Natal Yacht Club​: Sunday 5 April 2015, taken off marina pier

 

#sunrise #landscape #seascape #daybreak #durban #ilovedurban #031durbz #031mycity #mycity #canon #canonsouthafrica #ethekwini #mycity031

My first hummingbird moth! While over at my parent's house last week I saw this little guy feeding on a patch of bee balm. I didn't have a camera with me but fortunately when I returned the next day it was again at the same patch of flowers. Fun to watch, it moved from flower to flower very similar to a bumble bee with the exception that it never landed on the flower but hovered like a hummingbird at each petal as it worked its way methodically around each flower.

 

So glad I got to see one of these!

23. When one is not expressing himself, he is not free. Thus, he begins to struggle and the struggle breeds mechanical routine. Soon, he is doing his methodical routine as response rather than responding to what is.

wrhstol.com/2o8lsat

René Magritte (1898-1967) Originaire du Hainaut, Magritte s'établit à dix-sept ans à Bruxelles pour y entreprendre une formation artistique à l'Académie des Beaux-Arts. Après avoir touché au futurisme et au cubisme, il s'oriente vers le mouvement Dada, puis vers le surréalisme en 1926. L'impact produit par la vue d'une reproduction du Chant d'amour de Giorgio De Chirico a contribué grandement à ce changement de cap. Il décide de délaisser les recherches formelles pour se concentrer sur le sujet. Il use à présent d'une facture léchée au service d'un rendu illusionniste pour donner au « surréel » l'apparence de la normalité. En cela, il se distancie de l'automatisme prôné par André Breton qui, au départ, se montre réticent envers toute référence au réel. Magritte est méthodique et réfléchi. Sa situation géographique décentrée par rapport à Paris lui accordera cette liberté. Les relations avec Paris furent de tout temps difficiles. Ce n'est qu'à presque cinquante ans qu’il y aura une première exposition personnelle. Heureusement, à la même époque, les États-Unis qui regorgent de nouveaux collectionneurs lui ouvrent les bras. C'est le début, enfin, de la notoriété.

 

Salvador Dalí (1904-1989)Né à Figueras en 1904, Dalí peint avec une remarquable précocité des tableaux de style impressionniste à partir de ses six ans. Plus tard, à l'Académie des Beaux-Arts de Madrid, il s'initie à tous les « ismes ». Il commence à développer un style personnel à partir de 1927 et en 1929, est introduit auprès du groupe surréaliste à Paris par Joan Miró. Il y côtoie, entre autres, René Magritte dont la peinture le convainc que le surréalisme est possible sans passer par l'automatisme. Car Dalí aussi s'attache au rendu précis et réaliste de ses visions fantasques, mais pour d'autres raisons : il acquiesce entièrement à la thèse de De Chirico valorisant « il ritorno al mestiere ». Dalí, qui ambitionne de sauver l'art moderne du chaos et de la paresse, nourrit une profonde vénération pour les maîtres anciens. 1929 est aussi l'année où il développe sa méthode « paranoïaque-critique » devant permettre d'accéder à l'inconscient par l'analyse des images que nous projetons dans les formes. Lorsqu'il part avec Gala aux États-Unis en 1940, il est déjà un artiste reconnu. Sa gloire et sa fortune n'auront de cesse de croître, au point de lui valoir le sobriquet-anagramme « Avida Dollars » inventé par André Breton.

 

René Magritte (1898-1967) Originally from Hainaut, Magritte settled at the age of seventeen in Brussels to undertake artistic training there at the Academy of Fine Arts. After having touched on futurism and cubism, he turned to the Dada movement, then to surrealism in 1926. The impact produced by the sight of a reproduction of Giorgio De Chirico's Love Song contributed greatly to this Change of direction. He decides to abandon formal research to focus on the subject. He now uses a licked bill in the service of an illusionist rendering to give the "surreal" the appearance of normality. In this, he distances himself from the automatism advocated by André Breton who, at the outset, was reluctant to any reference to reality. Magritte is methodical and thoughtful. Its off-center geographic location compared to Paris will grant it this freedom. Relations with Paris have always been difficult. It will not be until almost fifty years that there will be a first solo exhibition. Fortunately, at the same time, the United States which abounds in new collectors open their arms to him. It is the beginning, finally, of notoriety.

 

Salvador Dalí (1904-1989) Born in Figueres in 1904, Dalí paints impressionist style paintings with remarkable precocity from the age of six. Later, at the Academy of Fine Arts in Madrid, he was introduced to all "isms". He began to develop a personal style from 1927 and in 1929 was introduced to the surrealist group in Paris by Joan Miró. He rubbed shoulders with, among others, René Magritte whose painting convinced him that surrealism is possible without going through automatism. Because Dalí too is attached to the precise and realistic rendering of his whimsical visions, but for other reasons: he fully agrees with De Chirico's thesis valuing "il ritorno al mestiere". Dalí, who aims to save modern art from chaos and laziness, nurtures deep veneration for the old masters. 1929 was also the year in which he developed his “paranoid-critical” method, which should allow access to the unconscious through the analysis of the images that we project into forms. When he left with Gala in the United States in 1940, he was already a recognized artist. His fame and fortune will continue to grow, to the point of earning him the nickname-anagram "Avida Dollars" invented by André Breton.

 

It's been a David and Goliath battle. But I knew I would win in the end even if I had to fight a little dirty. I'm not the keenest of gardeners but if I must have a mini-estate then at least it will have fine grass lawns. Each spring I work hard to remove the thatch and remove the cubic metre after cubic metre of moss. It's not a labour of love, but merely a 'must-do' given that we live in an area logically called Mossley. Even if I have left the weeds to grow two feet high in the borders once the lawn has some nice straight stripes rolled into it, the garden looks surprisingly well tended......and un-molested.

  

The first mole hills popped up near our hen house close to the neighbours fence. I can't help thinking this was our jealous neighbour's mole and he carelessly let it stray into our garden. Perhaps with some words of encouragement? Not that I blame the mole:the grass is definitely greener on my side of the fence! With the amount of food my wife and daughter scatter on the grass for the hens it is no surprise that the worms in our gardens are easily mistaken for small snakes, they are so big. But c'est la vie, I'm not going to have an issue with a mole making a couple of humps in the less visible parts of my garden, and besides everyone says moles are good for creating drainage.

  

Although it was messy, I didn't even take issue with the mole when I discovered he had pushed up two enormous mole hills in our garage. Which has a concrete floor. But he had exploited a few cracks in the poorly laid concrete and forced the soil up through it. Moles, despite their tiny size are indeed incredibly strong.

  

But when a trail of mole hills appeared over night right across the top of our lawn, near our conservatory, I concluded this little creature was becoming a nuisance. Something would have to be done. Now my wife and daughter refuse to allow any of God's creatures to be harmed unless they can find a way to make it taste delicious with a newly thought up gourmet recipe. So I'm not allowed to harm the fox that murders our girls, the hens in the garden, and I'm not allowed to kill the mole that destroys our garden. I have two options: remove it humanely or hope that one of the plethora of cooking programmes on TV reveals to viewers how roast mole is now the latest haute cuisine.

I do find Gordon Ramsey quite entertaining only because the show has little to do with cooking and a lot to do with confrontation and verbal violence. But it is the only cooking show I can tolerate for more than the time it takes to boil an egg so I have little chance of picking up a mole recipe. ( I have since found this www.flickr.com/photos/37919560@N00/5202723832/in/photolis... )

  

Determined to spoil his day as much as he was spoiling my garden, I resort to poking the hose pipe down Mr Mole's hole and leaving it turned on for two days. As soon as I get home from work on the second day I rush to turn it off quickly. My day at Manchester airport organising exports around the world has been ruined ever since the thought got into my head that all that water disappearing under my garden lawn is creating one of those sinkholes like they have in America, into which whole houses disappear.

  

Did I drown the mole or merely 'encourage' him to move away to a drier area? I stamp the soil of the molehills down into hard brown flat grass-less discs which when viewedfrom a short distance appear like an archipelago of little islands stretching across a green sea of grass. Magically no more molehills appear. For two days. That's when four mole hills appeared before the sun came up next morning. By the evening there were five. And after the full moon of the next night there were eight in a line across the bottom of the garden. It looked like a B-52 had dropped a stick of 1000 lb bombs. Now, this was war! And I wanted to go nuclear. But I have no shot gun (and besides my wife and daughter would hear if I used it) and I had no gin traps. I reasoned I couldn't even attach a hosepipe to the exhaust on my car and humanely gas them for fear that the mole tunnels run under our house and I would exterminate my family with carbon monoxide toxic gas seeping up into our home. I tried using the garden fork to methodically spear the ground every inch over the affected areas, but it was hard work, and seemed pointless because I had no idea where the mole was at any one time. And even if I did attack the right bit, I was willing to bet that bugger would end up with two fork prongs plunging harmlessly into the ground either side of him. No, eventually I bought a couple of "Humane mole traps" from ebay. These are just a plastic tube with a little round door in each end which can be pushed open from the outside but not pushed open from the inside. But, as I discover that doesn't mean a mole can't get out! The traps arrived in the mail and were waiting for me when I got home late one evening from work.

  

"Humane mole traps" it says on the packet. "Stop moles in their tracks"... oh yeah, that's a bit corny. "The mole can get in but can't get out", it continues. Well, isn't that just the idea of a trap?

  

Armed with a spade and a metal spike I strode out with desperate determination. Using the metal spike I pierced the ground close to a mole hill feeling for the emptiness of the tunnels underground. The tunnels didn't go straight between any two molehills. They didn't even go in a zig-zaggy demented course between holes. They went everywhere, and in all directions.. Having prodded and tested around I found areas where I thought I had a 'straight' stretch of tunnel, but digging down often found it was just a chamber or a hole with a tunnel at one end but blocked off at the other. It took a while to find a clean tunnel and dig out a suitable hole to insert the trap into. But by the time I had dug holes to find a suitable tunnel to put my two traps in I've lost any sense of try to preserve the visual beauty of my lawn. So engrossed in trapping the blighter, I've just ruined as much of the garden in twenty minutes with a spade as the mole has taken a week to do. But who cares? I'm no longer bothered in the visual aesthetics of an Englishman's grass lawn, I just want that little bugger's neck.

  

I slept poorly that night, wondering if every jet that passed over our house on its way to Manchester Airport could be a B-52 and visualising the lawn next morning with another stick of craters across it. Peering out in the dawn light I counted just the same total 32 mole hills spread across all the garden that there were yesterday. Clearly he was having a rest, and I would leave the traps until I got home from work.

  

But my daughter checked them and to her joy and my ecstasy she reported there was a mole in the trap. Neither she nor my wife had seen any recipes for moles on the numerous cooking programmes in the intervening days so it was resolved she would take Mr Mole and re-home him when she went out in an hour with her boyfriend for a walk in the nearby Peak District National Park. There he could make as many 'peaks' as he liked to his heart's delight. But on her return to collect the mole in his trap....no mole.

  

I was devastated to get this news by text at work. It seemed being nice and humane wasn't working at all. I'm told I became touchy and angry at work and generally everyone avoided me, unaware of the reason for my mood swing. Would I never be free of this beast?

  

"It has been a nice day", my wife said, referring to the weather, when I got home on the Friday evening. So, perhaps she had been able to enjoy the sunshine, but I wasn't feeling sunny. After grabbing some pizza, vital energy for a battle-fatigued soldier, I headed out to the warzone. I dug more holes. I cleared more soil. I made a greater mess of my priceless lawn. I laid my traps, wishing that they were Soviet antitank mines instead. And set paving stones over them, and only then returned to the house as the evening light started to dim.

  

Thirty minutes later I went to check my traps. Bingo! There he was, little snout sniffling out of the holes in the trap sides. But this time I took no chances and got him into a shoe box as fast as possible. After a quick portrait photo for my flickr friends, and as proof that I am humane before I kill him.....no, just kidding, I set off into the gathering gloom towards the nearby golf course with my shoe box. Woah, you golfers are saying! No, of course I didn't take him to the immaculately manicured 8th Hole, I took him to a suitably rough bit of shady woodland with deep soil just near the 12th Green and set the box down in the long grass. At first he did not climb out, but after a minute getting his bearings he stepped out and within a distance of about 5 centimetres, two inches, and a time of 10 seconds (I kid you not).....he was gone from sight. I could hear little 'cracks' and pops and see the earth quivering but already my mighty mole was underground. Amazing! And on the way back home with my empty shoe box I reflected on the battle with my little adversary. Total respect. I wished him a long career in mine engineering.

 

Mole wars, PART 2 : www.flickr.com/photos/pentlandpirate/9637677669/

 

The last day of the month! I love watching Carman's video

youtu.be/fYegOwzLb3A

on this day every year. Based on a true story and powerful!

 

"Witches Invitation" lyrics

One peaceful afternoon I picked up from my mailbox the strangest looking letter I'd ever seen, a chilling little envelope bordered with flying bats, and eerie serpents whose eyes were tinted green. The letter was addressed to me so as I opened it I froze. What I read turned my complexion three shades of blue. It said, 'My name is Isaac Horowitz. I'm a male witch, a warlock and I feel I need to spend some time with you.'

 

Now as a Christian from a little church with God's call on my life, a man of faith and power with a challenge to grow I did what any saint would do in my situation. I tore it up said, 'Lord, no way I'm gonna go.' Then gently and methodically the Holy Spirit spoke and reminded me we're God's voice to our nation. It's the church's responsibility to witness, so reluctantly I accepted this witch's invitation.

 

He had the house you'd expect, the old English cottage, a 'Nightmare on Elm Street' special right to the core, the overgrown ivy, the gate that creaked when opened, somehow you'd expect Freddy to answer this door. The doorbell rang, a hollow gong, the knob twisted then opened, and Isaac stood before me with a grin. His jet black hair and well trimmed beard flowed with his black silk clothes. My skin crawled as he said, 'Please come on in.'

 

His house was filled with every occultist symbol you could fathom; Hanging pentagrams and horoscope signs, a Ouija board and dungeons and dragons game set on the table, a crystal ball with an incandescent shine. Then graciously he handed me some steaming herbal tea. Its presence caused my memory to jog...I thought of every horror flick I'd seen when I was a kid and thought 'man if you drink this stuff next day you'll be a frog.'

 

Then he led me to a high backed chair as he meticulously began to unfold his scenario with evil patience. I was given a giant leather bound book jammed with newspaper clippings, thus the reason for this witch's invitation. With eagerness he pointed to each article with pride. He said, 'I healed this woman through a Babylonian chant; You see this man, I cured him while performing druid worship; I was paid to curse this man with AIDS by his aunt.'

 

On and on, page after page, delightfully he flaunted each incident for an hour without a breath. He said, 'Do you realize through my understanding of the dark regions that I can make you rich or even curse someone to death?' I sat literally intimidated by his immensity in demon power while his face shone with a satanic arrogant bliss. Then placing his hands on the arms of my chair and leaning into my face he said, 'What can your God do to compete with this?'

 

I knew then how Moses felt, when his rod turned to a serpent and the three Egyptian magicians did the same. It's as if you're sitting there in that stunned moment while your faith gets violated and all you feel is weak, powerless and lame. I desperately and deeply prayed saying, 'Jesus give me wisdom - I don't want to put you through some foolish test. Then a shaft of light shot through my soul igniting my eyes with fire. God stood me up and I threw the book back in his chest.

 

I said 'Isaac, I'll not compare God's miracles versus Satan's - the issue's not God's kingdom and Satan's lair. The real comparison is the condition of your soul and the condition of mine, and you puppet of the devil, that I will compare. I said, My friend, one day they're coming for you - the soft associates in your incantations - the friendly demons you think you now control. The time will come when you'll be lying in bed wheezing like a dying animal and those spirits lay claim to the rights they own to your soul.'

 

'Then the room will grow dark, and the most hideous evil faces you ever seen will come flaming out of the floor with a yell! The vile informants that promised reincarnation will claw your spirit and victoriously drag your soul to hell!'

 

Then I grabbed the book and said, 'In that moment which mantra, which incantation you gonna chant to tell them to leave you alone? I said, My friend, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt what I would say...'I'm bought with the blood of Jesus! Let me go!' '

 

I said, 'Isaac, when you tossed that book in my lap, you gloated with a sinister victory. You rejoiced when you saw your name in black and white. Now I rejoice, but not that your counsel of demons are subject to Jesus, but that my name is written in the Lamb's Book of Life!' Then Isaac jumped up from his chair and screamed, 'You must leave now!' I said, 'I will, but one last obligation - Next time think twice before you rumble with a man of God!!! And by the way thanks for your.. uhh... witch's invitation

 

Australian magpie (Gymnorhina tibicen)

 

The Australian magpie (Gymnorhina tibicen) is a medium-sized black and white passerine bird native to Australia and southern New Guinea. Although once considered to be three separate species, it is now considered to be one, with nine recognised subspecies. A member of the Artamidae, the Australian magpie is placed in its own genus Gymnorhina and is most closely related to the black butcherbird (Melloria quoyi). It is not, however, closely related to the European magpie, which is a corvid.

 

The adult Australian magpie is a fairly robust bird ranging from 37 to 43 cm (14.5 to 17 in) in length, with distinctive black and white plumage, gold brown eyes and a solid wedge-shaped bluish-white and black bill. The male and female are similar in appearance, and can be distinguished by differences in back markings. The male has pure white feathers on the back of the head and the female has white blending to grey feathers on the back of the head. With its long legs, the Australian magpie walks rather than waddles or hops and spends much time on the ground.

 

Described as one of Australia's most accomplished songbirds, the Australian magpie has an array of complex vocalisations. It is omnivorous, with the bulk of its varied diet made up of invertebrates. It is generally sedentary and territorial throughout its range. Common and widespread, it has adapted well to human habitation and is a familiar bird of parks, gardens and farmland in Australia and New Guinea. This species is commonly fed by households around the country, but in spring a small minority of breeding magpies (almost always males) become aggressive and swoop and attack those who approach their nests.

Over 1000 Australian magpies were introduced into New Zealand from 1864 to 1874 but have subsequently been accused of displacing native birds and are now treated as a pest species. Introductions also occurred in the Solomon Islands and Fiji, where the birds are not considered an invasive species. The Australian magpie is the mascot of several Australian sporting teams, most notably the Collingwood Magpies, the Western Suburbs Magpies and Port Adelaide Magpies.

  

Taxonomy

 

The Australian magpie was first described by English ornithologist John Latham in 1801 as Coracias tibicen, the type collected in the Port Jackson region. Its specific epithet derived from the Latintibicen "flute-player" or "piper" in reference to the bird's melodious call. An early recorded vernacular name is piping poller, written on a painting by Thomas Watling, one of a group known collectively as the Port Jackson Painter, sometime between 1788 and 1792. Tarra-won-nang, or djarrawunang, wibung, and marriyang were names used by the local Eora and Darug inhabitants of the Sydney Basin. Booroogong and garoogong were Wiradjuri words, and carrak was a Jardwadjali term from Victoria. Among the Kamilaroi, it is burrugaabu, galalu, or guluu. It was known as Warndurla among the Yindjibarndi people of the central and western Pilbara. Other names used include piping crow-shrike, piper, maggie, flute-bird and organ-bird. The term bell-magpie was proposed to help distinguish it from the European magpie but failed to gain wide acceptance.

 

The bird was named for its similarity in colouration to the European magpie; it was a common practice for early settlers to name plants and animals after European counterparts. However, the European magpie is a member of the Corvidae, while its Australian counterpart is placed in the family Artamidae (although both are members of a broad corvid lineage). The Australian magpie's affinities with butcherbirds and currawongs were recognised early on and the three genera were placed in the family Cracticidae in 1914 by John Albert Leach after he had studied their musculature. American ornithologists Charles Sibley and Jon Ahlquist recognised the close relationship between woodswallows and the butcherbirds in 1985, and combined them into a Cracticini clade, in the Artamidae. The Australian magpie is placed in its own monotypic genus Gymnorhina which was introduced by the English zoologist George Robert Gray in 1840. The name of the genus is from the Ancient Greek gumnos for "naked" or "bare" and rhis, rhinos "nostrils". Some authorities such as Glen Storr in 1952 and Leslie Christidis and Walter Boles in their 2008 checklist, have placed the Australian magpie in the butcherbird genus Cracticus, arguing that its adaptation to ground-living is not enough to consider it a separate genus. A molecular genetic study published in a 2013 showed that the Australian magpie is a sister taxon to the black butcherbird (Melloria quoyi) and that the two species are in turn sister to a clade that includes the other butcherbirds in the genus Cracticus. The ancestor to the two species is thought to have split from the other butcherbirds between 8.3 and 4.2 million years ago, during the late Miocene to early Pliocene, while the two species themselves diverged sometime during the Pliocene (5.8–3.0 million years ago).

The Australian magpie was subdivided into three species in the literature for much of the twentieth century—the black-backed magpie (G. tibicen), the white-backed magpie (G. hypoleuca), and the western magpie (G. dorsalis). They were later noted to hybridise readily where their territories crossed, with hybrid grey or striped-backed magpies being quite common. This resulted in them being reclassified as one species by Julian Ford in 1969, with most recent authors following suit.

  

Subspecies

 

There are currently thought to be nine subspecies of the Australian magpie, although there are large zones of overlap with intermediate forms between the taxa. There is a tendency for birds to become larger with increasing latitude, the southern subspecies being larger than those further north, except the Tasmanian form which is small.[26] The original form, known as the black-backed magpie and classified as Gymnorhina tibicen, has been split into four black-backed races:

•G. tibicen tibicen, the nominate form, is a large subspecies found in southeastern Queensland, from the vicinity of Moreton Bay through eastern New South Wales to Moruya, New South Wales almost to the Victorian border. It is coastal or near-coastal and is restricted to east of the Great Dividing Range.

 

•G. tibicen terraereginae, found from Cape York and the Gulf Country southwards across Queenslandto the coast between Halifax Bay in the north and south to the Mary River, and central and western New South Wales and into northern South Australia, is a small to medium-sized subspecies. The plumage is the same as that of subspecies tibicen, although the female has a shorter black tip to the tail. The wings and tarsus are shorter and the bill proportionally longer. It was originally described by Gregory Mathews in 1912, its subspecies name a Latin translation, terra "land" reginae "queen's" of "Queensland". Hybridisation with the large white-backed subspecies tyrannica occurs in northern Victoria and southeastern New South Wales; intermediate forms have black bands of varying sizes in white-backed area. Three-way hybridisation occurs between Bega and Batemans Bay on the New South Wales south coast.

 

•G. tibicen eylandtensis, the Top End magpie, is found from the Kimberley in northern Western Australia, across the Northern Territory through Arnhem Land and Groote Eylandt and into the Gulf Country. It is a small subspecies with a long and thinner bill, with birds of Groote Eylandt possibly even smaller than mainland birds. It has a narrow black terminal tailband, and a narrow black band; the male has a large white nape, the female pale grey. This form was initially described by H. L. White in 1922. It intergrades with subspecies terraereginae southeast of the Gulf of Carpentaria.

 

•G. tibicen longirostris, the long-billed magpie, is found across northern Western Australia, from Shark Bay into the Pilbara. Named in 1903 by Alex Milligan, it is a medium-sized subspecies with a long thin bill. Milligan speculated the bill may have been adapted for the local conditions, slim fare meaning the birds had to pick at dangerous scorpions and spiders. There is a broad area of hybridisation with the western dorsalis in southern central Western Australia from Shark Bay south to the Murchison River and east to the Great Victoria Desert.

  

The white-backed magpie, originally described as Gymnorhina hypoleuca by John Gould in 1837, has also been split into races:

 

•G. tibicen tyrannica, a very large white-backed form found from Twofold Bay on the New South Wales far south coast, across southern Victoria south of the Great Dividing Range through to the Coorong in southeastern South Australia. It was first described by Schodde and Mason in 1999. It has a broad black tail band.

 

•G. tibicen telonocua, found from Cowell south into the Eyre and Yorke Peninsulas in southern South Australia, as well as the southwestern Gawler Ranges. Described by Schodde and Mason in 1999, its subspecific name is an anagram of leuconota "white-backed". It is very similar to tyrannica, differing in having a shorter wing and being lighter and smaller overall. The bill is relatively short compared with other magpie subspecies. Intermediate forms are found in the Mount Lofty Ranges and on Kangaroo Island.

  

•G. tibicen hypoleuca now refers to a small white-backed subspecies with a short compact bill and short wings, found on King and Flinders Islands, as well as Tasmania.

 

•The western magpie, G. tibicen dorsalis was originally described as a separate species by A. J. Campbell in 1895 and is found in the fertile south-west corner of Western Australia. The adult male has a white back and most closely resembles subspecies telonocua, though it is a little larger with a longer bill and the black tip of its tail plumage is narrower. The female is unusual in that it has a scalloped black or brownish-black mantle and back; the dark feathers there are edged with white. This area appears a more uniform black as the plumage ages and the edges are worn away. Both sexes have black thighs.

 

•The New Guinean magpie, G. tibicen papuana, is a little-known subspecies found in southern New Guinea. The adult male has a mostly white back with a narrow black stripe, and the female a blackish back; the black feathers here are tipped with white similar to subspecies dorsalis. It has a long deep bill resembling that of subspecies longirostris. Genetically it is closely related to a western lineage of Australian magpies comprising subspecies dorsalis, longirostris and eylandtensis, suggesting their ancestors occupied in savannah country that was a land bridge between New Guinea and Australia and was submerged around 16,500 years ago.

  

Description

 

The adult magpie is a fairly solid, sturdy bird ranging from 37 to 43 cm (14.5 to 17 in) in length with a 65–85 cm (25.5–33.5 in) wingspan, and weighing 220–350 g (7.8–12.3 oz). Its robust wedge-shaped bill is bluish-white bordered with black, with a small hook at the tip. The black legs are long and strong. The plumage is pure glossy black and white; both sexes of all subspecies have black heads, wings and underparts with white shoulders. The tail has a black terminal band. The nape is white in the male and light greyish-white in the female. Mature magpies have dull red eyes, in contrast to the yellow eyes of currawongs and white eyes of Australian ravens and crows. The main difference between the subspecies lies in the "saddle" markings on the back below the nape. Black-backed subspecies have a black saddle and white nape. White-backed subspecies have a wholly white nape and saddle. The male Western Australian subspecies dorsalis is also white-backed, but the equivalent area in the female is scalloped black.

Juveniles have lighter greys and browns amidst the starker blacks and whites of their plumage; two- or three-year-old birds of both sexes closely resemble and are difficult to distinguish from adult females. Immature birds have dark brownish eyes until around two years of age. Australian magpies generally live to around 25 years of age, though ages of up to 30 years have been recorded. The reported age of first breeding has varied according to area, but the average is between the ages of three and five years.

Well-known and easily recognisable, the Australian magpie is unlikely to be confused with any other species. The pied butcherbird has a similar build and plumage, but has white underparts unlike the former species' black underparts. The magpie-lark is a much smaller and more delicate bird with complex and very different banded black and white plumage. Currawong species have predominantly dark plumage and heavier bills.

 

Vocalisation

 

One of Australia's most highly regarded songbirds, the Australian magpie has a wide variety of calls, many of which are complex. Pitch may vary as much as four octaves, and the bird can mimic over 35 species of native and introduced bird species, as well as dogs and horses. Magpies have even been noted to mimic human speech when living in close proximity to humans. Its complex, musical, warbling call is one of the most familiar Australian bird sounds. In Denis Glover's poem "The Magpies", the mature magpie's call is described as quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle, one of the most famous lines in New Zealand poetry, and as waddle giggle gargle paddle poodle, in the children's book Waddle Giggle Gargle by Pamela Allen.

 

When alone, a magpie may make a quiet musical warbling; these complex melodious warbles or subsongs are pitched at 2–4 KHz and do not carry for long distances. These songs have been recorded up to 70 minutes in duration and are more frequent after the end of the breeding season. Pairs of magpies often take up a loud musical calling known as carolling to advertise or defend their territory; one bird initiates the call with the second (and sometimes more) joining in. Often preceded by warbling, carolling is pitched between 6 and 8 kHz and has 4–5 elements with slurring indistinct noise in between. Birds will adopt a specific posture by tilting their heads back, expanding their chests, and moving their wings backwards. A group of magpies will sing a short repetitive version of carolling just before dawn (dawn song), and at twilight after sundown (dusk song), in winter and spring.

 

Fledgling and juvenile magpies emit a repeated short and loud (80 dB), high-pitched (8 kHz) begging call. Magpies may indulge in beak-clapping to warn other species of birds.They employ several high pitched (8–10 kHz) alarm or rallying calls when intruders or threats are spotted. Distinct calls have been recorded for the approach of eagles and monitor lizards.

 

Distribution and habitat

 

The Australian magpie is found in the Trans-Fly region of southern New Guinea, between the Oriomo River and Muli Strait, and across most of Australia, bar the tip of Cape York, the Gibson and Great Sandy Deserts, and southwest of Tasmania. Birds taken mainly from Tasmania and Victoria were introduced into New Zealand by local Acclimatisation Societies of Otago and Canterbury in the 1860s, with the Wellington Acclimatisation Society releasing 260 birds in 1874. White-backed forms are spread on both the North and eastern South Island, while black-backed forms are found in the Hawke's Bay region. Magpies were introduced into New Zealand to control agricultural pests, and were therefore a protected species until 1951. They are thought to affect native New Zealand bird populations such as the tui and kereru, sometimes raiding nests for eggs and nestlings, although studies by Waikato University have cast doubt on this, and much blame on the magpie as a predator in the past has been anecdotal only. Introductions also occurred in the Solomon Islands and Sri Lanka, although the species has failed to become established. It has become established in western Taveuni in Fiji, however.

 

The Australian magpie prefers open areas such as grassland, fields and residential areas such as parks, gardens, golf courses, and streets, with scattered trees or forest nearby. Birds nest and shelter in trees but forage mainly on the ground in these open areas. It has also been recorded in mature pine plantations; birds only occupy rainforest and wet sclerophyll forest in the vicinity of cleared areas. In general, evidence suggests the range and population of the Australian magpie has increased with land-clearing, although local declines in Queensland due to a 1902 drought, and in Tasmania in the 1930s have been noted; the cause for the latter is unclear but rabbit baiting, pine tree removal, and spread of the masked lapwing (Vanellus miles) have been implicated.

 

Behaviour

 

The Australian magpie is almost exclusively diurnal, although it may call into the night, like some other members of the Artamidae. Natural predators of magpies include various species of monitor lizard and the barking owl. Birds are often killed on roads or electrocuted by powerlines, or poisoned after killing and eating house sparrows or mice, rats or rabbits targeted with baiting. The Australian raven may take nestlings left unattended.

 

On the ground, the Australian magpie moves around by walking, and is the only member of the Artamidae to do so; woodswallows, butcherbirds and currawongs all tend to hop with legs parallel. The magpie has a short femur (thigh bone), and long lower leg below the knee, suited to walking rather than running, although birds can run in short bursts when hunting prey.

 

The magpie is generally sedentary and territorial throughout its range, living in groups occupying a territory, or in flocks or fringe groups. A group may occupy and defend the same territory for many years. Much energy is spent defending a territory from intruders, particularly other magpies, and different behaviours are seen with different opponents. The sight of a raptor results in a rallying call by sentinel birds and subsequent coordinated mobbing of the intruder. Magpies place themselves either side of the bird of prey so that it will be attacked from behind should it strike a defender, and harass and drive the raptor to some distance beyond the territory. A group will use carolling as a signal to advertise ownership and warn off other magpies. In the negotiating display, the one or two dominant magpies parade along the border of the defended territory while the rest of the group stand back a little and look on. The leaders may fluff their feathers or caroll repeatedly. In a group strength display, employed if both the opposing and defending groups are of roughly equal numbers, all magpies will fly and form a row at the border of the territory. The defending group may also resort to an aerial display where the dominant magpies, or sometimes the whole group, swoop and dive while calling to warn an intruding magpie's group.

 

A wide variety of displays are seen, with aggressive behaviours outnumbering pro-social ones. Crouching low and uttering quiet begging calls are common signs of submission. The manus flutter is a submissive display where a magpie will flutter its primary feathers in its wings. A magpie, particularly a juvenile, may also fall, roll over on its back and expose its underparts. Birds may fluff up their flank feathers as an aggressive display or preceding an attack. Young birds display various forms of play behaviour, either by themselves or in groups, with older birds often initiating the proceedings with juveniles. These may involve picking up, manipulating or tugging at various objects such as sticks, rocks or bits of wire, and handing them to other birds. A bird may pick up a feather or leaf and flying off with it, with other birds pursuing and attempting to bring down the leader by latching onto its tail feathers. Birds may jump on each other and even engage in mock fighting. Play may even take place with other species such as blue-faced honeyeaters and Australasian pipits.

 

Breeding

 

Magpies have a long breeding season which varies in different parts of the country; in northern parts of Australia they will breed between June and September, but not commence until August or September in cooler regions, and may continue until January in some alpine areas. The nest is a bowl-shaped structure made of sticks and lined with softer material such as grass and bark. Near human habitation, synthetic material may be incorporated. Nests are built exclusively by females and generally placed high up in a tree fork, often in an exposed position. The trees used are most commonly eucalypts, although a variety of other native trees as well as introduced pine, Crataegus, and elm have been recorded. Other bird species, such as the yellow-rumped thornbill (Acanthiza chrysorrhoa), willie wagtail(Rhipidura leucophrys), southern whiteface (Aphelocephala leucopsis), and (less commonly) noisy miner (Manorina melanocephala), often nest in the same tree as the magpie. The first two species may even locate their nest directly beneath a magpie nest, while the diminutive striated pardalote (Pardalotus striatus) has been known to make a burrow for breeding into the base of the magpie nest itself. These incursions are all tolerated by the magpies. The channel-billed cuckoo (Scythrops novaehollandiae) is a notable brood parasite in eastern Australia; magpies will raise cuckoo young, which eventually outcompete the magpie nestlings.

 

The Australian magpie produces a clutch of two to five light blue or greenish eggs, which are oval in shape and about 30 by 40 mm (1.2 by 1.6 in). The chicks hatch synchronously around 20 days after incubation begins; like all passerines, the chicks are altricial—they are born pink, naked, and blind with large feet, a short broad beak and a bright red throat. Their eyes are fully open at around 10 days. Chicks develop fine downy feathers on their head, back and wings in the first week, and pinfeathers in the second week. The black and white colouration is noticeable from an early stage. Nestlings are fed exclusively by the female, though the male magpie will feed his partner. The Australian magpie is known to engage in cooperative breeding, and helper birds will assist in feeding and raising young. This does vary from region to region, and with the size of the group—the behaviour is rare or nonexistent in pairs or small groups.

 

Juvenile magpies begin foraging on their own three weeks after leaving the nest, and mostly feeding themselves by six months old. Some birds continue begging for food until eight or nine months of age, but are usually ignored. Birds reach adult size by their first year. The age at which young birds disperse varies across the country, and depends on the aggressiveness of the dominant adult of the corresponding sex; males are usually evicted at a younger age. Many leave at around a year old, but the age of departure may range from eight months to four years.

 

Feeding

 

The Australian magpie is omnivorous, eating various items located at or near ground level including invertebrates such as earthworms, millipedes, snails, spiders and scorpions as well as a wide variety of insects—cockroaches, ants, beetles, cicadas, moths and caterpillars and other larvae. Insects, including large adult grasshoppers, may be seized mid-flight. Skinks, frogs, mice and other small animals as well as grain, tubers, figs and walnuts have also been noted as components of their diet. It has even learnt to safely eat the poisonous cane toadby flipping it over and consuming the underparts. Predominantly a ground feeder, the Australian magpie paces open areas methodically searching for insects and their larvae. One study showed birds were able to find scarab beetle larvae by sound or vibration. Birds use their bills to probe into the earth or otherwise overturn debris in search of food. Smaller prey are swallowed whole, although magpies rub off the stingers of bees and wasps before swallowing.

 

Relationship with humans

 

Swooping

 

Magpies are ubiquitous in urban areas all over Australia, and have become accustomed to people. A small percentage of birds become highly aggressive during breeding season from late August to early - mid October, and will swoop and sometimes attack passersby. Attacks begin as the eggs hatch, increase in frequency and severity as the chicks grow, and tail off as the chicks leave the nest.

 

The percentage has been difficult to estimate but is significantly less than 9%. Almost all attacking birds (around 99%) are male, and they are generally known to attack pedestrians at around 50 m (160 ft) from their nest, and cyclists at around 100 m (330 ft). There appears to be some specificity in choice of attack targets, with the majority of individuals specializing on either pedestrians or cyclists.Smaller - especially younger - people, lone people, and people travelling quickly (i.e., runners and cyclists) appear to be targeted most often by swooping magpies. Anecdotal evidence suggests that if a magpie sees a human trying to rescue a chick that has fallen from its nest, the bird will view this help as predation, and will become more aggressive to humans from then on.

 

Magpies may engage in an escalating series of behaviours to drive off intruders. Least threatening are alarm calls and distant swoops, where birds fly within several metres from behind and perch nearby. Next in intensity are close swoops, where a magpie will swoop in from behind or the side and audibly "snap" their beaks or even peck or bite at the face, neck, ears or eyes. More rarely, a bird may dive-bomb and strike the intruder's (usually a cyclist's) head with its chest. A magpie may rarely attack by landing on the ground in front of a person and lurching up and landing on the victim's chest and pecking at the face and eyes.

 

Magpie attacks can cause injuries, typically wounds to the head, and being unexpectedly swooped while cycling can result in loss of control of the bicycle, which may cause injury.

 

If it is necessary to walk near the nest, wearing a broad-brimmed or legionnaire's hat or using an umbrella will deter attacking birds, but beanies and bicycle helmets are of little value as birds attack the sides of the head and neck.

 

Magpies prefer to swoop at the back of the head; therefore, keeping the magpie in sight at all times can discourage the bird. A basic disguise such as sunglasses worn on the back of the head may fool the magpie as to where a person is looking. Eyes painted on hats or helmets will deter attacks on pedestrians but not cyclists.

 

Cyclists can deter attack by attaching a long pole with a flag to a bike, and the use of cable ties on helmets has become common and appears to be effective.

 

Magpies are a protected native species in Australia, so it is illegal to kill or harm them. However, this protection is removed in some Australian states if a magpie attacks a human, allowing for the bird to be killed if it is considered particularly aggressive (such a provision is made, for example, in section 54 of the South Australian National Parks and Wildlife Act).[ More commonly, an aggressive bird will be caught and relocated to an unpopulated area. Magpies have to be moved some distance as almost all are able to find their way home from distances of less than 25 km (16 mi). Removing the nest is of no use as birds will breed again and possibly be more aggressive the second time around.

 

Some claim that swooping can be prevented by hand-feeding magpies. Magpies will become accustomed to being fed by humans, and although they are wild, will return to the same place looking for handouts. The idea is that humans thereby appear less of a threat to the nesting birds. Although this has not been studied systematically, there are reports of its success.

  

Cultural references

 

The Australian magpie featured in aboriginal folklore around Australia. The Yindjibarndi people of the Pilbara in the northwest of the country used the bird as a signal for sunrise, frightening them awake with its call. They were also familiar with its highly territorial nature, and it features in a song in their Burndud, or songs of customs. It was a totem bird of the people of the Illawarra region south of Sydney.

 

Under the name piping shrike, the white-backed magpie was declared the official emblem of the Government of South Australia in 1901 by Governor Tennyson, and has featured on the South Australian flag since 1904. The magpie is a commonly used emblem of sporting teams in Australia, and its brash, cocky attitude has been likened to the Australian psyche. Such teams tend to wear uniforms with black and white stripes. The Collingwood Football Club adopted the magpie from a visiting South Australian representative team in 1892. The Port Adelaide Magpies would similarly adopt the black and white colours and Magpie name in 1902. Other examples include Brisbane's Souths Logan Magpies, and Sydney's Western Suburbs Magpies. Disputes over who has been the first club to adopt the magpie emblem have been heated at times. Another club, Glenorchy Football Club of Tasmania, was forced to change uniform design when placed in the same league as another club (Claremont Magpies) with the same emblem.

 

In New Zealand, the Hawke's Bay Rugby Union team, from Napier, New Zealand, is also known as the magpies. One of the best-known New Zealand poems is "The Magpies" by Denis Glover, with its refrain "Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle", imitating the sound of the bird – and the popular New Zealand comic Footrot Flats features a magpie character by the name of Pew.

 

An online poll conducted by Guardian Australia and BirdLife Australia was held in late 2017 to choose the "Australian Bird of the Year". The Australian magpie won the contest with 19,926 votes (13.3%), narrowly ahead of the Australian white ibis.

 

[Credit: en.wikipedia.org]

(behind the railway bridge)

seen from Yuma Territorial Prison State Historic Park

 

(hinter der Eisenbahnbrücke)

gesehen vom Yuma Territorial Prison State Historic Park

 

The Ocean To Ocean Bridge is a through truss bridge spanning the Colorado River in Yuma, Arizona. Built in 1915, it was the first highway crossing of the lower Colorado and is the earliest example of a through truss bridge in Arizona. It is also the only example of a Pennsylvania truss within Arizona. Originally the bridge carried the transcontinental Ocean-to-Ocean Highway and later carried its successor, US 80 until a new bridge was built to the west in 1956. Between 1988 and 2001, the bridge was closed to vehicular traffic and only traversable by pedestrians and bicyclists. After a major restoration, the bridge was rehabilitated and reopened to vehicular traffic in 2002, with a re-dedication by the Quechan nation and Yuma Crossing National Heritage Area. The bridge became part of Historic US 80 in 2018.

 

In 1913, following massive pressure against Arizona Congressman Carl Hayden by the citizens of Yuma, Hayden lobbied Congress, proposing federal aid be used for construction of a permanent highway crossing spanning the lower Colorado River. Congress authorized the construction of the bridge under the pretense that it was to be used in connecting Yuma to the Fort Yuma Indian Reservation located on the opposing bank of the river. It was therefore, the federal funding would be provided through the Office of Indian Affairs (OIA). Further capital was raised and provided by the State of Arizona and Imperial County, California; each providing $25,000. OIA engineers in Washington D.C. were tasked with designing the new bridge. The new bridge design was to be a steel, Pennsylvania through truss design complemented by a Warren deck truss second span, both resting upon concrete piers and abutments above the river. The location of the bridge was to be upstream from an existing ferry crossing at Prison Hill Road.

 

The Omaha Structural Steel Works was awarded the construction contract by the OIA in June 1914, at a cost of $73,800. Construction on the bridge began in September 1914. Between October and February, problems arose constructing the bridge, as both Omaha Steel and the OIA were unfamiliar with the currents and flood patterns of the lower Colorado. Falsework erected to aid in the bridge's construction were twice washed downstream by floods. Omaha Steel decided to approach construction of the twin span bridge by a different method; constructing the spans on barges and floating each span down river into position. The 336 ft (102 m) span was floated down river and swung into place carefully and methodically on March 3, 1915, followed by local praise and celebration. Following completion, the Ocean To Ocean Bridge was ceremoniously opened to the public on May 22, 1915. The bridge became a crucial link in the nationwide transcontinental Ocean-to-Ocean Highway and was also the first highway bridge across the lower Colorado River.

 

On November 11, 1926, the bridge became part of U.S. Route 80. The successor to the earlier Ocean-to-Ocean Highway, US 80 became the primary east to west transcontinental highway in Arizona and between the 1920s and 1930s, carried the majority of the state's auto traffic. During the Great Depression in the 1930s, the Ocean to Ocean Bridge was used by California state police officers to deny entry refugees of the dust bowl hailing from Oklahoma intending to find work in California. Often called "Okies", these people found work instead around Yuma, County between Yuma and Wellton. The refugees soon provided critically needed assistance to local farmers. In 1956, US 80 was re-routed off the Ocean To Ocean Bridge and onto a newer bridge built downstream at the foot of Fourth Avenue. Following construction of the Fourth Avenue Bridge and the construction of Interstate 8 in the early 1970s, vehicular traffic and importance of the Ocean To Ocean Bridge steadily declined. Similarly, the historic transcontinental highway which the bridge had once carried, US 80, declined and was removed from San Diego to Benson between 1964 and 1977, no longer running through Yuma. In 1978, the bridge was added to the National Register of Historic Places. Despite the newly gained honor, vehicular traffic was no longer allowed to use the bridge after 1988. In 2001, a $3 million restoration and rehabilitation project was begun, temporarily closing the bridge to pedestrians as well. Following the extensive restoration and a re-dedication ceremony, the bridge was re-opened to traffic in 2002 and now carries Penitentiary Avenue. The Ocean-to-Ocean bridge was designated as part of Historic U.S. Route 80 by the Arizona Department of Transportation on September 21, 2018.

 

(Wikipedia)

With spotmeter.

 

Pentax 67, 45mm f4, Kodak Tri-X 320 (320TX), developed in T-Max. Drumscanned.

 

...::: 4nalog :::...

Since 9/11 the number of crimes committed daily by America's corporations & politicians has increased so dramatically that no one - & no single agency - is able to feel adequately informed. During this era of runaway mob scheming & proliferation I've read 25 & usually more serious news articles daily, which is the minimum number that must be examined & absorbed to enable more than a glimmer of the magnitude & scope of the criminality.

 

In the early months of George W. Bush's institutionalization of Federal Government as Mob Operation it was apparent that the people of the nation were under the spell of a psychopathic cult leader who, unlike the usual religious con men - say, Jim Jones, David Koresh, L. Ron Hubbard, Ayn Rand or the convicted felon, Joseph Smith - had at his disposal & command the whole vast apparatus of the empire's instruments for social control, including the police, army, legal system, churches, news press & television media. And of course the oligarchs & their executives (Bush's peers by birthright) were anxious to steal all that they could while the taking was easy ... & very easy it became, & very easy it still is.

 

Habeas corpus was taken away from us, as was posse comitatus. The Watergate criminal, ex-Admiral John Poindexter, was appointed to create Total Information Awareness, a DARPA program designed to spy on all citizens at all hours, which when public outcries arose against it was disbanded but instantly replaced here & there in various other government agencies, such as the CIA & NSA, in which agencies it grew like flies multiplying in a dung heap, as indeed it continues to do, most recently with drones supplied to local police forces, able to identify & track a milk carton from 60,000 feet above the earth. Again, under Mob Boss Bush, the capitalists joined in, & we became & are still spied upon by our telephone & internet servers, & banks, which collect & dispense the history of our once private individual activities & behaviors from birth to our death. Cameras serving police record our passage from Starbuck's to Sears. Like all people caught up in cults, we came to believe that all of this is as it must & should be, & we silently conform to it, as do trained dogs to their masters.

 

The deep function of what has happened is this: The wages we receive & the taxes we pay must all be instantly given up to the superrich. Our physical health is a commodity owned by the superrich, not us. Likewise, our welfare is owned by the aristocrats, not by us. In a few short years, for instance, student debt was made to exceed the nation's credit card debt - our children, in other words, were sold into debt peonage, & this is enforced by new law that says the children must pay it even after filing bankruptcy, & even in old age by garnishment from Social Security income. And of course there has been & will be no let up in the quest of the superrich to own Social Security, which surely they will in the near future unless a people's government is somehow - repeat, somehow - created.

 

As Thomas Frank has explained, a college graduate can no longer pursue his or her intellectual dream, such as becoming a teacher, artist or journalist committed to discovering & telling the truth, because student debt & laws enforcing payment compel immediate entrance into the empire's mainstream occupations, where the objectives to be pursued are the properties of others, not of oneself. Thus our children are now born into bonded servitude, for which on the whole wages are pitiful & increasingly buy little more than necessities.

 

All great institutions in the empire assure us that all of this criminality is necessary for two reasons: One, immensely determined evil external & internal personages are out to destroy our country, & we must surrender all of our civil rights & wealth in order to survive; & Two, alas alas, our nation has no money, & so must sell all of the people's assets & public services to the superrich. Well ... please, the first reason does not survive the briefest review of its merit, & let me not bother anyone with further words about it. And the second reason is equally preposterous, because the United States prints its own money, & under Obama did so to the tune of two trillion dollars given by the Federal Reserve to its clients, the big banks (which naturally did not, have not & will not do anything socially responsible with it). No economist who is committed to an understanding not of capitalist dogma, but rather to the truth of what was very well learned during & consequent to previous severe economic demand crises, such as the one we are now in, believes that 'shrinking government' is anything other than a vicious, irresponsible policy devised by & for the sole benefit of aristocrat thieves & their sociopathic politicians. Economics, after all, is a science, & as such its method & conclusions are dependent upon the collection & interpretation of empirical data, not any of which does in fact or in the least support shrinking government during a demand crisis. Indeed, the only agency known to be capable of or potentially possessed of the will to end such crises is a nation's government.

 

But all good sense is lost upon cultists, who will do anything to secure life in death, a clear clear E-meter reading, a galaxy to be an eternal god of with one's dead wife, morality in selfishness, up in down, straight in crooked, or - now - an American in Washington, DC (or in Dallas or Tombstone or any other city or town).

 

-----------

 

Hope Burning

 

Posted on May 30, 2012

 

By Robert Scheer

 

EXCERPTS: Obama as the cool triggerman is an image useful to White House operatives as they buff the president’s persona for the coming election. But what it reveals is the mindset of a political cynic whose seductive words cloak the moral indifference of a methodical executioner. Forget Harry Truman, who obliterated the civilian populations of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, or Lyndon Johnson, who carpet-bombed millions in Vietnam. The Democrats have got themselves another killer, one whose techniques are as devastatingly effective, but brilliantly refined.

The story obviously was planted in The New York Times to benefit the Obama political campaign.

 

.... Pfc. Bradley Manning was held for many months in solitary confinement for allegedly disclosing information of far lower security classification. The difference is that the top secrets in the news article are ones the president wants leaked in the expectation they will burnish his “tough on terrorism” credentials. This is clearly not the Obama whom many voted for in the hope that he would stick by his word, including the pledge he made on his second day in office to ban brutal interrogation and close the prison at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. “What the new president did not say was that the orders contained a few subtle loopholes,” the Times now reports concerning the early promises by Obama. “They reflected a still unfamiliar Barack Obama, a realist who, unlike some of his fervent supporters, was never carried away by his own rhetoric.”

Parse that sentence carefully to learn much of what is morally decrepit in our journalism as well as politics. The word “realist” is now identical to “hypocrite,” and the condemnation of immoral behavior addresses nothing more than “rhetoric” that only the “fervent” would take seriously. The Times writers all but thrill to the lying, as in recounting the new president’s response to advisers who warned him against sticking to his campaign promises on Guantanamo prisoners: “The deft insertion of some wiggle words in the president’s order showed that the advice was followed.”

 

Please Continue to Full Text: www.truthdig.com/report/item/hope_burning_20120531/

 

###

Gandhara is the name given to an ancient region or province invaded in 326 B.C. by Alexander the Great, who took Charsadda (ancient Puskalavati) near present-day Peshawar (ancient Purusapura) and then marched eastward across the Indus into the Punjab as far as the Beas river (ancient Vipasa). Gandhara constituted the undulating plains, irrigated by the Kabul River from the Khyber Pass area, the contemporary boundary between Pakistan and Afganistan, down to the Indus River and southward towards the Murree hills and Taxila (ancient Taksasila), near Pakistan"s present capital, Islamabad. Its art, however, during the first centuries of the Christian era, had adopted a substantially larger area, together with the upper stretches of the Kabul River, the valley of Kabul itself, and ancient Kapisa, as well as Swat and Buner towards the north.

   

A great deal of Gandhara sculptures has survived dating from the first to probably as late as the sixth or even the seventh century but in a remarkably homogeneous style. Most of the arts were almost always in a blue-gray mica schist, though sometimes in a green phyllite or in stucco, or very rarely in terracotta. Because of the appeal of its Western classical aesthetic for the British rulers of India, schooled to admire all things Greek and Roman, a great deal found its way into private hands or the shelter of museums.

  

Gandhara sculpture primarily comprised Buddhist monastic establishments. These monasteries provided a never-ending gallery for sculptured reliefs of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas. The Gandhara stupas were comparatively magnified and more intricate, but the most remarkable feature, which distinguished the Gandhara stupas from the pervious styles were hugely tiered umbrellas at its peak, almost soaring over the total structure. The abundance of Gandharan sculpture was an art, which originated with foreign artisans.

  

In the excavation among the varied miscellany of small bronze figures, though not often like Alexandrian imports, four or five Buddhist bronzes are very late in date. These further illustrate the aura of the Gandhara art. Relics of mural paintings though have been discovered, yet the only substantial body of painting, in Bamiyan, is moderately late, and much of it belongs to an Iranian or central Asian rather than an Indian context. Non-narrative themes and architectural ornament were omnipresent at that time. Mythical figures and animals such as atlantes, tritons, dragons, and sea serpents derive from the same source, although there is the occasional high-backed, stylized creature associated with the Central Asian animal style. Moldings and cornices are decorated mostly with acanthus, laurel, and vine, though sometimes with motifs of Indian, and occasionally ultimately western Asian, origin: stepped merlons, lion heads, vedikas, and lotus petals. It is worth noting that architectural elements such as pillars, gable ends, and domes as represented in the reliefs tend to follow the Indian forms

.

 

Gandhara became roughly a Holy Land of Buddhism and excluding a handful of Hindu images, sculpture took the form either of Buddhist sect objects, Buddha and Bodhisattvas, or of architectural embellishment for Buddhist monasteries. The more metaphorical kinds are demonstrated by small votive stupas, and bases teeming with stucco images and figurines that have lasted at Jaulian and Mora Moradu, outpost monasteries in the hills around Taxila. Hadda, near the present town of Jalalabad, has created some groups in stucco of an almost rococo while more latest works of art in baked clay, with strong Hellenistic influence, have been revealed there, in what sums up as tiny chapels. It is not known exactly why stucco, an imported Alexandrian modus operandi, was used. It is true that grey schist is not found near Taxila, however other stones are available, and in opposition to the ease of operating with stucco, predominantly the artistic effects which can be achieved, must be set with its impermanence- fresh deposits frequently had to be applied. Excluding possibly at Taxila, its use emerges to have been a late expansion.

  

Architectural fundamentals of the Gandhara art, like pillars, gable ends and domes as showcased in the reliefs, were inclined to follow Indian outlines, but the pilaster with capital of Corinthian type, abounds and in one-palace scene Persepolitan columns go along with Roman coffered ceilings. The so-called Shrine of the Double-Headed Eagle at Sirkap, in actuality a stupa pedestal, well demonstrates this enlightening eclecticism- the double-headed bird on top of the chaitya arch is an insignia of Scythian origin, which appears as a Byzantine motif and materialises much later in South India as the ga1J.qa-bheru1J.qa in addition to atop European armorial bearings.

 

In Gandhara art the descriptive friezes were all but invariably Buddhist, and hence Indian in substance- one depicted a horse on wheels nearing a doorway, which might have represented the Trojan horse affair, but this is under scan. The Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, familiar from the previous Greek-based coinage of the region, appeared once or twice as standing figurines, presumably because as a pair, they tallied an Indian mithuna couple. There were also female statuettes, corresponding to city goddesses. Though figures from Butkara, near Saidan Sharif in Swat, were noticeably more Indian in physical type, and Indian motifs were in abundance there. Sculpture was, in the main, Hellenistic or Roman, and the art of Gandhara was indeed "the easternmost appearance of the art of the Roman Empire, especially in its late and provincial manifestations". Furthermore, naturalistic portrait heads, one of the high-points of Roman sculpture, were all but missing in Gandhara, in spite of the episodic separated head, probably that of a donor, with a discernible feeling of uniqueness. Some constitutions and poses matched those from western Asia and the Roman world; like the manner in which a figure in a recurrently instanced scene from the Dipankara jataka had prostrated himself before the future Buddha, is reverberated in the pose of the defeated before the defeater on a Trojanic frieze on the Arch of Constantine and in later illustrations of the admiration of the divinised emperor. One singular recurrently occurring muscular male figure, hand on sword, witnessed in three-quarters view from the backside, has been adopted from western classical sculpture. On occasions standing figures, even the Buddha, deceived the elusive stylistic actions of the Roman sculptor, seeking to express majestas. The drapery was fundamentally Western- the folds and volume of dangling garments were carved with realness and gusto- but it was mainly the persistent endeavours at illusionism, though frequently obscured by unrefined carving, which earmarked the Gandhara sculpture as based on a western classical visual impact.

  

The distinguishing Gandhara sculpture, of which hundreds if not thousands of instances have outlived, is the standing or seated Buddha. This flawlessly reproduces the necessary nature of Gandhara art, in which a religious and an artistic constituent, drawn from widely varied cultures have been bonded. The iconography is purely Indian. The seated Buddha is mostly cross-legged in the established Indian manner. However, forthcoming generations, habituated to think of the Buddha as a monk, and unable to picture him ever possessing long hair or donning a turban, came to deduce the chigon as a "cranial protuberance", singular to Buddha. But Buddha is never depicted with a shaved head, as are the Sangha, the monks; his short hair is clothed either in waves or in taut curls over his whole head. The extended ears are merely due to the downward thrust of the heavy ear-rings worn by a prince or magnate; the distortion of the ear-lobes is especially visible in Buddha, who, in Gandhara, never wore ear-rings or ornaments of any kind. As Foucher puts it, the Gandhara Buddha is at a time a monk without shaving and a prince stripped off jewellery.

  

The western classical factor rests in the style, in the handling of the robe, and in the physiognomy of Buddha. The cloak, which covers all but the appendages (though the right shoulder is often bared), is dealt like in Greek and Roman sculptures; the heavy folds are given a plastic flair of their own, and only in poorer or later works do they deteriorate into indented lines, fairly a return to standard Indian practice. The "western" treatment has caused Buddha"s garment to be misidentified for a toga; but a toga is semicircular, while, Buddha wore a basic, rectangular piece of cloth, i.e., the samghiifi, a monk"s upper garment. The head gradually swerves towards a hieratic stylisation, but at its best, it is naturalistic and almost positively based on the Greek Apollo, undoubtedly in Hellenistic or Roman copies.

 

Gandhara art also had developed at least two species of image, i.e. not part of the frieze, in which Buddha is the fundamental figure of an event in his life, distinguished by accompanying figures and a detailed mise-en-scene. Perhaps the most remarkable amongst these is the Visit to the Indrasala Cave, of which the supreme example is dated in the year 89, almost unquestionably of the Kanishka period. Indra and his harpist are depicted on their visit in it. The small statuettes of the visitors emerge below, an elephant describing Indra. The more general among these detailed images, of which approximately 30 instances are known, is presumably related with the Great Miracle of Sravasti. In one such example, one of the adjoining Bodhisattvas is distinguished as Avalokiteshwara by the tiny seated Buddha in his headgear. Other features of these images include the unreal species of tree above Buddha, the spiky lotus upon which he sits, and the effortlessly identifiable figurines of Indra and Brahma on both sides.

  

Another important aspect of the Gandhara art was the coins of the Graeco-Bactrians. The coins of the Graeco-Bactrians - on the Greek metrological standard, equals the finest Attic examples and of the Indo-Greek kings, which have until lately served as the only instances of Greek art found in the subcontinent. The legendary silver double decadrachmas of Amyntas, possibly a remembrance issue, are the biggest "Greek" coins ever minted, the largest cast in gold, is the exceptional decadrachma of the same king in the Bibliotheque Nationale, with the Dioscuri on the inverse. Otherwise, there was scanty evidence until recently of Greek or Hellenistic influences in Gandhara. A manifestation of Greek metropolitan planning is furnished by the rectilinear layouts of two cities of the 1st centuries B.C./A.D.--Sirkap at Taxila and Shaikhan Pheri at Charsadda. Remains of the temple at Jandial, also at Taxila and presumably dating back to 1st century B.C., also includes Greek characteristics- remarkably the huge base mouldings and the Ionic capitals of the colossal portico and antechamber columns. In contrast, the columns or pilasters on the immeasurable Gandhara friezes (when they are not in a Indian style), are consistently coronated by Indo-Corinthian capitals, the local version of the Corinthian capital- a certain sign of a comparatively later date.

 

The notable Begram hoard confirms articulately to the number and multiplicity of origin of the foreign artefacts imported into Gandhara. This further illustrates the foreign influence in the Gandhara art. Parallel hoards have been found in peninsular India, especially in Kolhapur in Maharashtra, but the imported wares are sternly from the Roman world. At Begram the ancient Kapisa, near Kabul, there are bronzes, possibly of Alexandrian manufacture, in close proximity with emblemata (plaster discs, certainly meant as moulds for local silversmiths), bearing reliefs in the purest classical vein, Chinese lacquers and Roman glass. The hoard was possibly sealed in mid-3rd century, when some of the subjects may have been approximately 200 years old "antiques", frequently themselves replicates of classical Greek objects. The plentiful ivories, consisting in the central of chest and throne facings, engraved in a number of varied relief techniques, were credibly developed somewhere between Mathura and coastal Andhra. Some are of unrivalled beauty. Even though a few secluded instances of early Indian ivory carving have outlived, including the legendary mirror handle from Pompeii, the Begram ivories are the only substantial collection known until moderately in present times of what must always have been a widespread craft. Other sites, particularly Taxila, have generated great many instances of such imports, some from India, some, like the appealing tiny bronze figure of Harpocrates, undoubtedly from Alexandria. Further cultural influences are authenticated by the Scytho Sarmatian jewellery, with its characteristic high-backed carnivores, and by a statue of St. Peter. But all this should not cloud the all-important truth that the immediately identifiable Gandhara style was the prevailing form of artistic manifestation throughout the expanse for several centuries, and the magnitude of its influence on the art of central Asia and China and as far as Japan, allows no doubt about its integrity and vitality.

 

In the Gandhara art early Buddhist iconography drew heavily on traditional sources, incorporating Hindu gods and goddesses into a Buddhist pantheon and adapting old folk tales to Buddhist religious purposes. Kubera and Harm are probably the best-known examples of this process.

  

Five dated idols from Gandhara art though exist, however the hitch remains that the era is never distinguished. The dates are in figures under 100 or else in 300s. Moreover one of the higher numbers are debatable, besides, the image upon which it is engraved is not in the conventional Andhra style. The two low-number-dated idols are the most sophisticated and the least injured. Their pattern is classical Gandhara. The most undemanding rendition of their dates relates them to Kanishka and 78 A.D. is assumed as the commencement of his era. They both fall in the second half of the 2nd century A.D. and equally later, if a later date is necessitated for the beginning of Kanishka`s time. This calculation nearly parallels numismatics and archaeological evidences. The application of other eras, like the Vikrama (base date- 58 B.C.) and the Saka (base date- 78 A.D.), would place them much later. The badly battered figurines portray standing Buddhas, without a head of its own, but both on original figured plinths. They come to view as depicting the classical Gandhara style; decision regarding where to place these two dated Buddhas, both standing, must remain knotty till more evidence comes out as to how late the classical Gandhara panache had continued.

   

Methodical study of the Gandhara art, and specifically about its origins and expansion, is befuddled with numerous problems, not at least of which is the inordinately complex history and culture of the province. It is one of the great ethnical crossroads of the world simultaneously being in the path of all the intrusions of India for over three millennia. Bussagli has rightly remarked, `More than any other Indian region, Gandhara was a participant in the political and cultural events that concerned the rest of the Asian continent`.

   

However, Systematic study of the art of Gandhara, and particularly of its origins and development, is bedeviled by many problems, not the least of which is the extraordinarily complex history and culture of the region.

   

In spite of the labours of many scholars over the past hundred and fifty years, the answers to some of the most important questions, such as the number of centuries spanned by the art of Gandhara, still await, fresh archaeological, inscriptional, or numismatic evidence.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandhara

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautama_Buddha

A 1.6 sec exposure that I got handheld whilst trying out the Image Stabilisation in the 18-55mm kit lens. I can't say I did a series of methodical tests but given the number of blurry shots, this may have been a complete fluke!

Bigger and better On Black

Wanted to playfully conceptualize a literal interpretation of a digital portrait with an early model computer/bit format style feeling for the overall image. Original photo was edited generously and methodically coated with layer-after-layer-upon-layer, (so much in fact total count is genuinely unknown and file required compressing to keep manageable), to receive final effect.

Gandhara is the name given to an ancient region or province invaded in 326 B.C. by Alexander the Great, who took Charsadda (ancient Puskalavati) near present-day Peshawar (ancient Purusapura) and then marched eastward across the Indus into the Punjab as far as the Beas river (ancient Vipasa). Gandhara constituted the undulating plains, irrigated by the Kabul River from the Khyber Pass area, the contemporary boundary between Pakistan and Afganistan, down to the Indus River and southward towards the Murree hills and Taxila (ancient Taksasila), near Pakistan"s present capital, Islamabad. Its art, however, during the first centuries of the Christian era, had adopted a substantially larger area, together with the upper stretches of the Kabul River, the valley of Kabul itself, and ancient Kapisa, as well as Swat and Buner towards the north.

   

A great deal of Gandhara sculptures has survived dating from the first to probably as late as the sixth or even the seventh century but in a remarkably homogeneous style. Most of the arts were almost always in a blue-gray mica schist, though sometimes in a green phyllite or in stucco, or very rarely in terracotta. Because of the appeal of its Western classical aesthetic for the British rulers of India, schooled to admire all things Greek and Roman, a great deal found its way into private hands or the shelter of museums.

  

Gandhara sculpture primarily comprised Buddhist monastic establishments. These monasteries provided a never-ending gallery for sculptured reliefs of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas. The Gandhara stupas were comparatively magnified and more intricate, but the most remarkable feature, which distinguished the Gandhara stupas from the pervious styles were hugely tiered umbrellas at its peak, almost soaring over the total structure. The abundance of Gandharan sculpture was an art, which originated with foreign artisans.

  

In the excavation among the varied miscellany of small bronze figures, though not often like Alexandrian imports, four or five Buddhist bronzes are very late in date. These further illustrate the aura of the Gandhara art. Relics of mural paintings though have been discovered, yet the only substantial body of painting, in Bamiyan, is moderately late, and much of it belongs to an Iranian or central Asian rather than an Indian context. Non-narrative themes and architectural ornament were omnipresent at that time. Mythical figures and animals such as atlantes, tritons, dragons, and sea serpents derive from the same source, although there is the occasional high-backed, stylized creature associated with the Central Asian animal style. Moldings and cornices are decorated mostly with acanthus, laurel, and vine, though sometimes with motifs of Indian, and occasionally ultimately western Asian, origin: stepped merlons, lion heads, vedikas, and lotus petals. It is worth noting that architectural elements such as pillars, gable ends, and domes as represented in the reliefs tend to follow the Indian forms

.

 

Gandhara became roughly a Holy Land of Buddhism and excluding a handful of Hindu images, sculpture took the form either of Buddhist sect objects, Buddha and Bodhisattvas, or of architectural embellishment for Buddhist monasteries. The more metaphorical kinds are demonstrated by small votive stupas, and bases teeming with stucco images and figurines that have lasted at Jaulian and Mora Moradu, outpost monasteries in the hills around Taxila. Hadda, near the present town of Jalalabad, has created some groups in stucco of an almost rococo while more latest works of art in baked clay, with strong Hellenistic influence, have been revealed there, in what sums up as tiny chapels. It is not known exactly why stucco, an imported Alexandrian modus operandi, was used. It is true that grey schist is not found near Taxila, however other stones are available, and in opposition to the ease of operating with stucco, predominantly the artistic effects which can be achieved, must be set with its impermanence- fresh deposits frequently had to be applied. Excluding possibly at Taxila, its use emerges to have been a late expansion.

  

Architectural fundamentals of the Gandhara art, like pillars, gable ends and domes as showcased in the reliefs, were inclined to follow Indian outlines, but the pilaster with capital of Corinthian type, abounds and in one-palace scene Persepolitan columns go along with Roman coffered ceilings. The so-called Shrine of the Double-Headed Eagle at Sirkap, in actuality a stupa pedestal, well demonstrates this enlightening eclecticism- the double-headed bird on top of the chaitya arch is an insignia of Scythian origin, which appears as a Byzantine motif and materialises much later in South India as the ga1J.qa-bheru1J.qa in addition to atop European armorial bearings.

 

In Gandhara art the descriptive friezes were all but invariably Buddhist, and hence Indian in substance- one depicted a horse on wheels nearing a doorway, which might have represented the Trojan horse affair, but this is under scan. The Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, familiar from the previous Greek-based coinage of the region, appeared once or twice as standing figurines, presumably because as a pair, they tallied an Indian mithuna couple. There were also female statuettes, corresponding to city goddesses. Though figures from Butkara, near Saidan Sharif in Swat, were noticeably more Indian in physical type, and Indian motifs were in abundance there. Sculpture was, in the main, Hellenistic or Roman, and the art of Gandhara was indeed "the easternmost appearance of the art of the Roman Empire, especially in its late and provincial manifestations". Furthermore, naturalistic portrait heads, one of the high-points of Roman sculpture, were all but missing in Gandhara, in spite of the episodic separated head, probably that of a donor, with a discernible feeling of uniqueness. Some constitutions and poses matched those from western Asia and the Roman world; like the manner in which a figure in a recurrently instanced scene from the Dipankara jataka had prostrated himself before the future Buddha, is reverberated in the pose of the defeated before the defeater on a Trojanic frieze on the Arch of Constantine and in later illustrations of the admiration of the divinised emperor. One singular recurrently occurring muscular male figure, hand on sword, witnessed in three-quarters view from the backside, has been adopted from western classical sculpture. On occasions standing figures, even the Buddha, deceived the elusive stylistic actions of the Roman sculptor, seeking to express majestas. The drapery was fundamentally Western- the folds and volume of dangling garments were carved with realness and gusto- but it was mainly the persistent endeavours at illusionism, though frequently obscured by unrefined carving, which earmarked the Gandhara sculpture as based on a western classical visual impact.

  

The distinguishing Gandhara sculpture, of which hundreds if not thousands of instances have outlived, is the standing or seated Buddha. This flawlessly reproduces the necessary nature of Gandhara art, in which a religious and an artistic constituent, drawn from widely varied cultures have been bonded. The iconography is purely Indian. The seated Buddha is mostly cross-legged in the established Indian manner. However, forthcoming generations, habituated to think of the Buddha as a monk, and unable to picture him ever possessing long hair or donning a turban, came to deduce the chigon as a "cranial protuberance", singular to Buddha. But Buddha is never depicted with a shaved head, as are the Sangha, the monks; his short hair is clothed either in waves or in taut curls over his whole head. The extended ears are merely due to the downward thrust of the heavy ear-rings worn by a prince or magnate; the distortion of the ear-lobes is especially visible in Buddha, who, in Gandhara, never wore ear-rings or ornaments of any kind. As Foucher puts it, the Gandhara Buddha is at a time a monk without shaving and a prince stripped off jewellery.

  

The western classical factor rests in the style, in the handling of the robe, and in the physiognomy of Buddha. The cloak, which covers all but the appendages (though the right shoulder is often bared), is dealt like in Greek and Roman sculptures; the heavy folds are given a plastic flair of their own, and only in poorer or later works do they deteriorate into indented lines, fairly a return to standard Indian practice. The "western" treatment has caused Buddha"s garment to be misidentified for a toga; but a toga is semicircular, while, Buddha wore a basic, rectangular piece of cloth, i.e., the samghiifi, a monk"s upper garment. The head gradually swerves towards a hieratic stylisation, but at its best, it is naturalistic and almost positively based on the Greek Apollo, undoubtedly in Hellenistic or Roman copies.

 

Gandhara art also had developed at least two species of image, i.e. not part of the frieze, in which Buddha is the fundamental figure of an event in his life, distinguished by accompanying figures and a detailed mise-en-scene. Perhaps the most remarkable amongst these is the Visit to the Indrasala Cave, of which the supreme example is dated in the year 89, almost unquestionably of the Kanishka period. Indra and his harpist are depicted on their visit in it. The small statuettes of the visitors emerge below, an elephant describing Indra. The more general among these detailed images, of which approximately 30 instances are known, is presumably related with the Great Miracle of Sravasti. In one such example, one of the adjoining Bodhisattvas is distinguished as Avalokiteshwara by the tiny seated Buddha in his headgear. Other features of these images include the unreal species of tree above Buddha, the spiky lotus upon which he sits, and the effortlessly identifiable figurines of Indra and Brahma on both sides.

  

Another important aspect of the Gandhara art was the coins of the Graeco-Bactrians. The coins of the Graeco-Bactrians - on the Greek metrological standard, equals the finest Attic examples and of the Indo-Greek kings, which have until lately served as the only instances of Greek art found in the subcontinent. The legendary silver double decadrachmas of Amyntas, possibly a remembrance issue, are the biggest "Greek" coins ever minted, the largest cast in gold, is the exceptional decadrachma of the same king in the Bibliotheque Nationale, with the Dioscuri on the inverse. Otherwise, there was scanty evidence until recently of Greek or Hellenistic influences in Gandhara. A manifestation of Greek metropolitan planning is furnished by the rectilinear layouts of two cities of the 1st centuries B.C./A.D.--Sirkap at Taxila and Shaikhan Pheri at Charsadda. Remains of the temple at Jandial, also at Taxila and presumably dating back to 1st century B.C., also includes Greek characteristics- remarkably the huge base mouldings and the Ionic capitals of the colossal portico and antechamber columns. In contrast, the columns or pilasters on the immeasurable Gandhara friezes (when they are not in a Indian style), are consistently coronated by Indo-Corinthian capitals, the local version of the Corinthian capital- a certain sign of a comparatively later date.

 

The notable Begram hoard confirms articulately to the number and multiplicity of origin of the foreign artefacts imported into Gandhara. This further illustrates the foreign influence in the Gandhara art. Parallel hoards have been found in peninsular India, especially in Kolhapur in Maharashtra, but the imported wares are sternly from the Roman world. At Begram the ancient Kapisa, near Kabul, there are bronzes, possibly of Alexandrian manufacture, in close proximity with emblemata (plaster discs, certainly meant as moulds for local silversmiths), bearing reliefs in the purest classical vein, Chinese lacquers and Roman glass. The hoard was possibly sealed in mid-3rd century, when some of the subjects may have been approximately 200 years old "antiques", frequently themselves replicates of classical Greek objects. The plentiful ivories, consisting in the central of chest and throne facings, engraved in a number of varied relief techniques, were credibly developed somewhere between Mathura and coastal Andhra. Some are of unrivalled beauty. Even though a few secluded instances of early Indian ivory carving have outlived, including the legendary mirror handle from Pompeii, the Begram ivories are the only substantial collection known until moderately in present times of what must always have been a widespread craft. Other sites, particularly Taxila, have generated great many instances of such imports, some from India, some, like the appealing tiny bronze figure of Harpocrates, undoubtedly from Alexandria. Further cultural influences are authenticated by the Scytho Sarmatian jewellery, with its characteristic high-backed carnivores, and by a statue of St. Peter. But all this should not cloud the all-important truth that the immediately identifiable Gandhara style was the prevailing form of artistic manifestation throughout the expanse for several centuries, and the magnitude of its influence on the art of central Asia and China and as far as Japan, allows no doubt about its integrity and vitality.

 

In the Gandhara art early Buddhist iconography drew heavily on traditional sources, incorporating Hindu gods and goddesses into a Buddhist pantheon and adapting old folk tales to Buddhist religious purposes. Kubera and Harm are probably the best-known examples of this process.

  

Five dated idols from Gandhara art though exist, however the hitch remains that the era is never distinguished. The dates are in figures under 100 or else in 300s. Moreover one of the higher numbers are debatable, besides, the image upon which it is engraved is not in the conventional Andhra style. The two low-number-dated idols are the most sophisticated and the least injured. Their pattern is classical Gandhara. The most undemanding rendition of their dates relates them to Kanishka and 78 A.D. is assumed as the commencement of his era. They both fall in the second half of the 2nd century A.D. and equally later, if a later date is necessitated for the beginning of Kanishka`s time. This calculation nearly parallels numismatics and archaeological evidences. The application of other eras, like the Vikrama (base date- 58 B.C.) and the Saka (base date- 78 A.D.), would place them much later. The badly battered figurines portray standing Buddhas, without a head of its own, but both on original figured plinths. They come to view as depicting the classical Gandhara style; decision regarding where to place these two dated Buddhas, both standing, must remain knotty till more evidence comes out as to how late the classical Gandhara panache had continued.

   

Methodical study of the Gandhara art, and specifically about its origins and expansion, is befuddled with numerous problems, not at least of which is the inordinately complex history and culture of the province. It is one of the great ethnical crossroads of the world simultaneously being in the path of all the intrusions of India for over three millennia. Bussagli has rightly remarked, `More than any other Indian region, Gandhara was a participant in the political and cultural events that concerned the rest of the Asian continent`.

   

However, Systematic study of the art of Gandhara, and particularly of its origins and development, is bedeviled by many problems, not the least of which is the extraordinarily complex history and culture of the region.

   

In spite of the labours of many scholars over the past hundred and fifty years, the answers to some of the most important questions, such as the number of centuries spanned by the art of Gandhara, still await, fresh archaeological, inscriptional, or numismatic evidence.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandhara

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautama_Buddha

Well, here's something to warm the cockles of any anorak's heart ...or whatever it is we have where our hearts should be. Neatly creased from being folded and placed in the wallets of methodical passengers, or thumbed and wrinkled in the hands of the less fastidious, I probably picked up most of these from the floors of parked buses on various omnibological expeditions during the second half of the seventies. As you'll know, these are all Setright tickets. How pleasing is the colouration, ranging from buff to eau-de-Nil by way of seagull and salmon. The two fourpenny tickets, second and third in on the top row, whose company names are lost to sight, came from Merthyr Tydfil Corporation Omnibus Department (there's glory for you) and Brighton Corporation Transport. The antecedents of the "blank" pink ticket in the second row must now forever remain a mystery; nor can I account for the Jersey Motor Transport Co. Ltd ticket, as I have never visited the eponymous offshore banking paradise. Second in, third row, is a ticket issued by myself. I can't remember the circumstances in which I came to retain it, but ...note the "W'KMAN" classification... it is a "Day Out" ticket, extruded from the machine at fare stage 01 ...Bristol bus station. Other points of interest are the "transitional" Western Welsh/Red & White ticket, dating from after the merger of the two companies but before their reconstitution as National Welsh, and a 1/10d ticket of the "BHAM & MID. MOTOR OMN. CO. LTD." (as M is the final letter of Birmingham, the lack of a full stop is correct). Now where on earth did I get that? Further down, the company makes another appearance, from prosaic decimal days, as "MIDLAND RED OMNIBUS CO. LTD." Two independents, both Scottish, make an appearance, but I'm not sure about A. A. MOTOR SERVICES LTD. Weren't they up in the north-east somewhere?

Day 56/366: On a walk around the marina, I took a lot of backlit shots, none of which worked very well! The subjects are too dark and the background is blown, rather than soft. Thank you for your comments on previous images; I think I need to be more methodical in my practicing, to learn more about the capabilities and limitations of the camera. Is there anything you can suggest about backlighting? I really appreciate all your feedback and constructive criticism - thank you again

 

I remembered hearing a talk a few years ago from Indiana bee expert Robert Jean, and was fortunate to find his business card that I picked up at that meeting. I sent him photos and asked if he knew this bee. He says it is "a fairly recent addition to the Indiana bee fauna." It is native to Japan and China. I did not ask if he knew anything about how it got to the U.S.

 

This bee is quite large, being every bit as large as an average bumblebee. However, compared to a bumblebee, its shape is less compactly stout, and more elongate. The head appears large compared to the thorax and abdomen when compared to most typical hymenoptera.

 

In my prairie/meadow planting right now, the available flowering plants are mostly Culver’s root (Veronicastrum virginicum), yellow coneflower (Ratibida pinnata) and rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium). This bee was working over only the Culver’s root. Although I don’t remember seeing this bee in previous years, there were quite a few of them. Their behavior was quite interesting in that they very slowly and methodically worked their way around the entire flowering head of the Culver’s root, seeming to be in no hurry at all related to the duty at hand. I noticed that many other species of bees and bumblebees visiting the flowers had noticeably full pollen baskets, but this bee was carrying no visible pollen.

 

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***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on April 30th 2015

  

CREATIVE RF gty.im/552123677 MOMENT OPEN COLLECTION**

  

This photograph became my 590th image to be selected for inclusion and sale in the Getty Images 'Moment' collection, and I am very grateful to them for such an amazing opportunity.

  

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COFFEE TASTING KISSES

 

Caffè Artigiano, Hornby Street, just off of Robson. Early in the AM and I'm in need of my caffeine fix. I'm here for a reason, not simply by chance or else any corporate coffee house offering overpriced grinds and yesterdays cake would suffice.

 

The joint is relatively quiet right now, just a handful of early birds revelling in the delicious aromas of freshly ground coffee beans or grabbing a bite to eat to start the day before the rush sets in. Commuter zone in the big city, bored faces, blank expressions, dashed aspirations crushed on the rocks of a world of tedium and conformity.

 

Damn this modern day life and the frenetic pace that we lead like sheep, following the pack, never questioning why we do what we do, never stopping to smell the roses and take some time out to enjoy what we actually have. Not the commercialism nor Rolex around our wrists, but the purity of life, the wonder of our existence, the simple things that fall prey to the darkness all around us, victim of our need and greed.

 

I clear the table of all debris and distractions, every trace of the people who sat here before me. I like clean lines, a lack of clutter, room to think and move, nothing invading my personal space as I brush aside some sugar granules and a cellophane wrapper to an oatmeal cookie that offends my eyes as it covets the beautiful antique styled wooden table at which I sit.

 

My left hand rises slowly to reveal the Omega chrome bezel of my wrist watch flashing beneath the overhead strip lighting which tells me that it's just turned eight. The coffee parked up in front of me, teasing my senses is a work of art, I ask you, how can a simple coffee look so God damned appealing for a couple of measly bucks?

 

That old Omega reminds me of my own mortality. A parting gift from the only woman I ever truly loved and the only person to get close enough to me to scare me witless at the very prospect of giving up the only life that I have known ever since I was a rebellious and wayward kid. The soldier within me still yearns for leadership, like a scruffy mutt I await my orders before I commit to action.

 

Times change, people bend the truth, lips lie but memories stay as true and fresh as the day that they formed in your pathetic little mind. I'm the same man yet different from the one back then. Older and wiser, more resigned and bitter at life's misfortunes and twists of fate, I believe in always looking to the future, though a nod to the past sometimes keeps us from insanity.

 

The rich dark roasted beans seduce my taste buds as I take a sip, carefully placing lips to porcelain, cautious not to burn my flesh and take layers off the roof of my mouth in the process. But I needn't worry. Corporate poppycock, health and safety gone mad, rules and regulations regarding the safe operating temperatures of tea urns and coffee machines to safeguard against customer claims of injury and the subsequent backlash of claims and counter claims in the Canadian court rooms.

 

It's civilisation gone mad as newspapers daily tell us of fat heads playing the system and winning millions in damages for the grape that they slipped over on in Walmart whilst browsing for some breakfast fruit, the burns received from the hot apple pies that are served in MacDonald's or the Winnebago that crashed on cruise control when the driver left the drivers seat to go to the porta-loo thinking that the vehicle would just follow the road on it's own volition.

 

There is a dumbing down of society, a wiseing up to the intricacies of playing the system, screwing your fellow man and taking them for everything you can get. I could weep. Still, the Java tastes good as I completely destroy the delicate and ornate patterning that now swirls around like a tsunami in my neatly monikered cup, eyes subtly surveying the room as the people sit in their own little worlds.

 

To my right at a two seater table sits Miss Prissy knickers, Librarian looks, mousy hair that could do with a little TLC, glasses that could kill a man's passion at twenty yards and eyes glued to the pages of this weeks new Stephen King best selling paperback. She's a speed reader, well practised in the art of darting through those written words at a rate of knots, taking in the impactive detail, digesting the characterisation without a hint of emotion in her face. Not a twitch nor flicker of the eyebrows, not a muscle moved in the mouth, jeez, she'd make the perfect assassin with that poker face.

 

She's blissfully unaware of anything around her, devoted to the storyline, immersed. No hint of a wedding ring on her fingers, she's married to her job, resolutely single and has probably never had a decent lay in her entire life.

A guy passes by her table, emerging from the tight and compact dimensions of the wash-room at the rear of the coffee-house, discreetly placed and merging into the décor with an elegant simplicity. His hands are still slightly wet, beads of water tumbling from his flesh to the ground like jumpers from a blazing sky scraper.

 

He walks to the table and gathers up his belongings, checking his inner jacket pocket for his cell phone which he flicks open and checks, eyes registering a degree of disdain at not receiving whatever message he had hoped. A lovers words, a secret rendezvous, work details and directions, whatever, he's none too pleased as he pulls a set of car keys from his pocket, I catch a brief glimpse of yet another manufacturers corporate logo as he winks at the pretty young thing behind the bar who served him as she has each morning this week at the same time, same beverage, same price. People and habits, you just gotta love 'em.

 

" Have a good one Ray ", she says as he reaches the door and throws a smile back her way. I drain my cup of it's final liquid droplets and rise to my feet, pushing the wooden chair back a way before turning and making my exit through the door. The sunlight is bright and brilliant, piercing my retinas as I place my Ray bans on walk down the road about thirty five paces behind Ray. An unremarkable man of five feet ten inches in height, thirty six years old, married with two children. Samantha aged fourteen and David aged twelve. A picture of bliss with a neat condo on Beacon Avenue near the waterfront in Sidney, BC, two cars, a dog and two cats. The details from his file are fresh in my mind as I increase my pace to within twelve paces of the mark as he winds his way unwittingly towards the end of his life.

 

A gambling man by any standards, neatly attired, respectable and clean, though up to his neck in debt thanks to a dead cert bet that he obtained through a friend of a friend who just happened to hear a couple of guys in the know talking daydreams near the race track. I hate gamblers more than any other form of low life scum. The thin veneer of honesty and integrity whilst all the while they would sell their own grandma down the line if they thought it would fund their next certainty.

 

I learned long ago in life that there is no such thing as a certainty, other than the the ones of birth and death, and any fool who lives with that lie and hope deserves what's coming to him. In Ray's case it's a head full of nine millimetre full metal jacket for defaulting on his twenty five thousand dollar stake money that he borrowed form some very unsavoury dudes.

 

These are the sort of guys that would kill your family right out in front of you just to prove a point, not that that ever crossed Rays stupid head when the moment came to place the bet that he could never honour should the worse scenario play out, which it surely did.

He is striding casually, oblivious to my presence, unaware that he is now about a minute from his own death and that his wife and two children have already been taken care of by the men who shall remain nameless. You see, in this game, nothing is sacrosanct, not the solemn vows of marriage nor the bonds of love from a husband to a wife, a mother to her daughter, a father to his son.

 

You take the risk, you make the bet, you borrow the money and if you fail to deliver what's owed on time, well then let's just say that all hell breaks loose until the beneficiaries, who in this sad situation in fact benefited from a big fast zero in monetary gain terms, deem that the punishment has indeed been made to fit the crime.

 

My eyes are surveying the scene, looking ahead, my brain calculating angles and degrees, seconds and minutes of escapes routes from the scene of the crime before it has been committed. Lucky for me, Ray turns Eastwards and moves into a skinny alley between two buildings, like a set from a motion picture as I hone in on his footsteps and reach inside my coat pocket for the cold steel of the weapon. In a way I'm helping the hapless fool out, he has no idea that his family home is now a bloodbath resembling a shoot out scene from a Quentin Tarantino flick, everything he loved wiped out in an instant.

 

Well, I say everything, but of course that is not counting the blonde floozy twenty two year old from work that he has been enjoying after hours horizontal naked dancing with in the week that I have tailed and watched his every move. Me, I'm methodical if nothing else. I like to study the mark, learn their traits and characteristics, those little things that define who they are, daily details lost amidst the city lights and hubbub of noise and people. And what a sweet little thing his mistress is. I can almost hear her tears and see the droplets flood from the beautiful eyes when she discovers the awful truth that will hit the newspaper stands by the morning.

 

My hand emerges wit the silenced gun, the metal texture glistening under the sunlight as I come to a standstill right next to Ray who has stopped by the wall to pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. We exchange a glance as he suddenly sees the weapon and realizes that for him, there is no hiding now, no turning back the clocks.

 

" Please, whatever they are paying you, I can match it, double it.... name your price "

 

Quite understandably, the man is shaking with fear as he drops the unlit cigarette from his hand, those eyes begging my approval and acceptance like a scolded child looking to his fathers face. I'm just not the forgiving type sadly for Raymond Jacobs as I raise the silencer to within just a few inches from his right temple and reply.

 

" Really Ray. See, from where I am standing, you have little more than the pants you're now peeing and debts from the money you lost at the race track. Oh and by the way, Mr Stokes and Mr Reynolds both send you their warmest regards, and wish you to know that your wife and two children will be waiting for you somewhere in the afterlife. Hey, what's it to be, head or heart? "

 

Ray looks momentarily bemused as tears form in his eyes, " What? ", he says, stalling for time, an effort wasted on a cold hearted son of a bitch such as I. And after the silence comes the pain and as he begins to beg like an animal for his life, a mouth off all at a tangent spouting all manner of gibberish that is beyond my comprehension. Now me, I'm a tolerant man, I can suck it in with the very best of them, I can stand most anything in life except maybe the sight of a man crying like a baby. I hate it when a mark does that, I mean, come on fella, at least face your plight like a grown man and die with a little semblance of dignity would ya!

 

" Okey-dokey, head it is then my friend ", I calmly announce as I pump a single round round straight into his skull. A spurt of blood splatters across the cement wall behind, leaving a pattern like a map of Africa as the bullet pushes out with a mixture of bone fragment and brain matter. The shell embeds itself in the wall as the casing hits the floor with a glorious ping of metal on pavement. His body rocks upwards and back, falling to the ground like a sack of the proverbial, eyes registering the shock and pain of that moment of impact before I pump two further rounds into his heart. His ribcage rises one last time, the expellation of air from his lungs is loud and forced, followed by silence as the life bleeds out of his eyes. I holster my gun, checking the vicinity for unwelcome attention, though mercifully the coast is clear. I retrieve the shell casing from the ground, placing it into my pocket, and also the slug from the wall which comes out with a couple of prods of my bony fingers.

 

I hate clutter, I don't like debris and remnants left at the scene, it's just plain sloppy work.

 

The job is done, my work is finished, and my bank balance will be swollen by twenty large ones no sooner than I have contacted my keeper with confirmation of the kill. Time to vacate the scene before the cops come tumbling down upon me. The coffee is still on my mind and lips, staining my teeth and overwhelming my senses with the delirium of that Java buzz as I make good my exit. Coffee kisses from the bosses, Ray. At least you are reunited with your family now

 

As I begin walking along the corridor between the two buildings, ears prick up to the sound of coughing. Dust allergy perhaps, muted tone, stifled by a closed hand across the convulsing lips. Eyes hone in on the doorway slightly ajar to my immediate left where I stand. Dusty layers formed like a blanket through non use, finger prints and a palm fresh and staring me right in the face. I place my right hand onto the wooden textures of the old lock less door, perhaps once a storage room to one of the nearby shops, and press firmly as it creaks under protest and leaves a shadow across the floor that dances a tango of delight to the woman cowering in the shadows. Eyes meet for the first time and form a deep and abiding dislike for one another.

 

She darts past me like a frightened mouse and heads towards the network of quaint shops with faux period façades and cobbled stones. I cannot allow her to escape.

 

The hunt is on.......

.

 

Written June 8th 2011

 

Photograph taken at 08:25am inside the Caffe Artigiano coffee house in Hornby Street, just off Robson Street in down town Vancouver, Canada on April 5th 2010.

 

Nikon D90 15mm 1/60s f/4.0 iso450

 

Tamron 10-24mm f/3.5-4.5 Di LC II. UV filter

   

Note how this bee is methodically working its way around the circles without missing one pollen clump!

Thank you very much for the visit, faves and comments. Cheers.

 

Intermediate Egret

Scientific name: Ardea intermedia

The intermediate egret, median egret, smaller egret, or yellow-billed egret (Mesophoyx intermedia) is a medium-sized heron. Some taxonomists put the species in the genus Egretta or Ardea. It is a resident breeder from east Africa across the Indian subcontinent to Southeast Asia and Australia.

Description: This species, as its scientific name implies, is intermediate in size between the great egret and smaller white egrets like the little egret and cattle egret, though nearer to little than great. It is about 56â72 cm (22â28 in) long with a 105â115 cm (41â45 in) wingspan and weighs c.400g (14 oz), with all-white plumage, generally dark legs and a thickish yellow bill. Breeding birds may have a reddish or black bill, greenish yellow gape skin, loose filamentous plumes on their breast and back, and dull yellow or pink on their upper legs (regional variations). The sexes are similar.

Differences from great egret: The non-breeding colours are similar, but the intermediate is smaller, with neck length a little less than body length, a slightly domed head, and a shorter, thicker bill. The great egret has a noticeable kink near the middle of its neck, and the top of its longer bill nearly aligns with the flat top of its head. Close up, the bare skin of the great egret's gape line extends in a dagger shape behind the eye, while the Intermediate's is less pointed and ends below the eye. The intermediate tends to stalk upright with neck extended forward. The great is more patient, often adopting a sideways-leaning "one-eyed" stance.

Differences from little egret: Little egrets have yellow-soled feet and black bills. They often run after fish in shallow water. Breeding birds have long nuptial plumes on the back of their heads.

Behaviour: The intermediate egret stalks its prey methodically in shallow coastal or fresh water, including flooded fields. It eats fish, frogs, crustaceans and insects. It often nests in colonies with other herons, usually on platforms of sticks in trees or shrubs. Two to five eggs are laid, the clutch size varying with region. (Source: Wikipedia)

 

© Chris Burns 2014

__________________________________________

 

All rights reserved.

This image may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed, posted or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying and recording without my written consent.

While sitting in my front yard, I watched this Cooper's Hawk fly out of my neighbors 'spooky tree' (that's what she calls it) fly into her bottle brush bush snagging a House Sparrow. It flew back into the 'spooky tree' and methodically plucked it's feathers for about 15 minutes before beginning it's meal. I had my camera in my lap at the time and immediately ran into the street looking up in the tree to capture this!

 

Member of the Nature’s Spirit

Good Stewards of Nature

The Shemanovsky Museum-Exhibition Complex

 

The history of the museum started in 1906, when Father Irinarkh (I.S. Shemanovsky), a senior priest of the Obdorsk Orthodox mission, founded the Ethnographic Collection of Indigenous Peoples in Tobolsk North at the library of Saint Guria brotherhood in the village of Obdorsk (now Salekhard). The collection grew into the regional natural history museum, which received the name from its founder in 1996. In 2002 the museum was succeeded by the newly established Shemanovsky Museum-Exhibition Complex and celebrated its 110th birthday in 2016.

 

Today it is a large museum with numerous employees involved in research, methodical work, fund accounting, restoration, exhibition and publishing. The museum has its own research library and is actively developing education activities.

 

The museum is aimed mainly at children and teenagers by engaging them into activities of the Children’s Center, the Military History Club, and the Einstein Museum of Entertaining Sciences. Families are invited to join various city and museum tours via the project called New Tour. Adult visitors are welcome to attend the MUZART Creative Studio.

 

The museum’s total area is about 10 000 m2, with the exhibition area of 3 890 m2. The complex includes a museum with storage facilities and exhibition areas, an exhibition center with an exhibition hall of 700 m2, and an administrative center with a conference hall accommodating 195 people. Another part of the museum is the Laptsuy Memorial Flatdevoted to the life and works of the well-known Nenets writer L.V. Laptsuy and local literary life.

 

The Shemanovsky Museum-Exhibition Complex

 

Address: 38 Chubynina st., Salekhard

Tel./Fax: 7 3492230519;

mvk.yanao.ru

e-mail: mvk@dk.yanao.ru

---

37,000 Year Old Baby Mammoth

by mtnspirit

 

Secrets of 37,000 year old baby mammoth revealed

By Paul Rincon – BBC

 

Perfectly preserved, the baby mammoth looks like she has been asleep only for a moment – not for the 37,000 years she has spent locked in the rock hard permafrost of the Arctic tundra. Clumps of brown hair still cling to the three foot tall body, hinting at the coarse coat that would have once covered the infant. Even her eylasahes are intact. These extraordinary images show why scientists are so excited by the discovery of Lyuba – the most complete body of a woolly mammoth ever found

 

Discovered at the side of a river by reindeer herders on the Yamal Peninsula in northwest Siberia, the bone month old female is helping scientists to unravel how the extinct ice age giants once lived. The contents of her stomach have provided scientists with valuable clues about what she and her fellow mammoths ate. The baby’s layers of fat and minerals in her teeth have provided an unprecedented insight into her health and the health of her herd. Palaeontologists now believe the information they have gleaned from the remains can help them understand what led to the woolly mammoths’ ultimate extinction around 10,000 years ago.

 

It is thought that mammoths died out as they were unable to adapt to the changing world around them as temperatures soared at the end of the last ice age, although some experts believe they may have been hunted to extinction by humans.

The findings have shown that the baby mammoth was in good health and well fed before its death, suggesting that its herd was able to find plenty of food at the time it was alive.

“Mammoths were the largest and most widespread of the many animals that went extinct near the end of the last ice age,” said Dr Dan Fisher, a palaeontologist at the University of Michigan’s Museum of Palaeontology who helped to study the baby mammoth.

“This is the first time we have been able to do a detailed comparison of a mammoth’s tusk and tooth data with soft tissues from the rest of its body.

“Though she is not large, no other specimen preserves this much of the original anatomy. That makes her a remarkable scientific resource.”

After spending 30 years studying mammoths, being able to see and touch one that so closely resembled how it would have looked when it was alive was an overwhelming experience for Dr Fisher. He said: “When I saw her, my first thought was ‘Oh my goodness, she’s perfect. It looked like she’d just drifted off to sleep. Suddenly what I’d been struggling to visualise for so long was lying right there for me to touch.”

 

The frozen remains of the baby mammoth were discovered on a sandbar beside the Yuribey River in May 2007 by a Nenets reindeer herder Yuri Khudi and three of his sons as they tended their herd. When they told the director of a local museum about their discovery it caused a worldwide sensation and officials named the calf Lyuba after Khudi’s wife.

Over the past two years palaeontologists from the US, Russia and Japan have been painstakingly examining the baby mammoth’s body. Their work will be revealed tonight in a National Geographic Channel documentary. While around a dozen other frozen woolly mammoth carcases have been found in Siberia since the first in 1806, none of them have been as complete or as well preserved as this one.

Using the latest medical scanning technology, scientists at Jikei University School of Medicine in Tokyo, Japan, were able to produce the first ever three dimensional scan of a woolly mammoth. It provided new insights into mammoth’s anatomy and also gave clues about the baby’s death. Sediment was found packed inside the baby mammoth’s trunk, blocking the nasal passages, and also in the mouth and windpipe. The experts believe that it may have suffocated to death after becoming trapped in the thick mud that eventually encased the body, where it had gradually pickled and was preserved.

They found the baby mammoth had recently fed, drinking its mothers milk. They also discovered dung inside the baby’s stomach, suggesting an origin of behaviour that is seen in modern elephants today. Baby elephants eat the dung from adults in their herd to provide them with bacteria they will need in their stomachs to digest the grass they will eat in later life. Comparisons with other mammoth specimens have also revealed how the mammoth calves changed as they matured.

The soles of the baby’s feet would have cracked as she aged to provide traction in the snow while fleshy pads behind her toes would have cushioned her steps, essential as fully grown mammoths weighed more than six tons.

Analysis on the milk tusks – the mammoth equivalent milk teeth which provide an almost daily record of the animal’s life history, like rings of a tree – will also help scientists find out what the climate was like at the time and if the mammoths underwent long migrations.

 

Palaeontologists also hope that by comparing the baby mammoth’s DNA with genetic information taken from other mammoth remains, it may be possible to understand what led to the mammoths’ ultimate extinction around 10,000 years ago. The discovery of such a well preserved carcase has also raised hopes that scientists may one day be able to use DNA from the remains to clone a woolly mammoth by inserting genetic information from the frozen body into the egg of a modern elephant.

 

Alexei Tikhonov, from the Russian Academy of Science who also helped to study the baby mammoth, added: “Lyuba is a creature straight out of a fairy tale. When you look at her, it’s hard to understand how she could have stayed in such good condition for nearly 40,000 years.” A baby mammoth unearthed in the permafrost of north-west Siberia could be the best preserved specimen of its type, scientists have said.

The frozen carcass is to be sent to Japan for detailed study.

The six-month-old female calf was discovered on the Yamal peninsula of Russia and is thought to have died 10,000 years ago.

 

The animal’s trunk and eyes are still intact and some of its fur remains on the body. In terms of its state of preservation, this is the world’s most valuable discovery

Alexei Tikhonov, Russian Academy of Sciences

Mammoths are an extinct member of the elephant family. Adults often possessed long, curved tusks and a coat of long hair.

 

The 130cm (4ft 3ins) tall, 50kg Siberian specimen dates to the end of the last Ice Age, when the great beasts were vanishing from the planet.

  

Missing tail

 

Last week, an international delegation of experts convened in the town of Salekhard, near the discovery site, to carry out a preliminary examination of the animal.

 

“The mammoth has no defects except that its tail was bit off,” said Alexei Tikhonov, deputy director of the Zoological Institute of the Russian Academy of Sciences and a member of the delegation.

 

Map, BBC

“In terms of its state of preservation, this is the world’s most valuable discovery,” he said.

 

Larry Agenbroad, director of the Mammoth Site of Hot Springs research centre in South Dakota, US, said: “To find a juvenile mammoth in any condition is extremely rare.” Dr Agenbroad added that he knew of only three other examples.

Some scientists hold out hope that well preserved sperm or other cells containing viable DNA could be used to resurrect the mammoth lineage. Despite the inherent difficulties, Dr Agenbroad remains optimistic about the potential for cloning.

 

“When we got the Jarkov mammoth [found frozen in Taimyr, Siberia, in 1997], the geneticists told me: ‘if you can get us good DNA, we’ll have a baby mammoth for you in 22 months’,” he told BBC News.

 

Lucrative trade

 

That specimen failed to yield DNA of sufficient quality, but some researchers believe it may only be a matter of time until the right find emerges from Siberia.

 

Bringing mammoths back from the dead could take the form of injecting sperm into the egg of a relative, such as the Asian elephant, to try to create a hybrid.

 

Alternatively, scientists could attempt to clone a pure mammoth by fusing the nucleus of a mammoth cell with an elephant egg cell stripped of its DNA. But Dr Agenbroad warned that scientifically valuable Siberian mammoth specimens were being lost to a lucrative trade in ivory, skin, hair and other body parts. The city of Yakutsk in Russia’s far east forms the hub for this trade. Local people are scouring the Siberian permafrost for remains to sell on, and, according to Dr Agenbroad, more carcasses could be falling into the hands of dealers than are finding their way to scientists.

 

Japan transfer

 

“These products are primarily for collectors and it is usually illicit,” he explained.

 

“Originally it was for ivory, now it is everything. You can now go on almost any fossil marketing website and find mammoth hair for $50 an inch. It has grown beyond anyone’s imagination.”

 

Dr Agenbroad added: “Russia says that any mammoth remains are the property of the Russian government, but nobody really pays attention to that.” The Yamal mammoth is expected to be transferred to Jikei University in Tokyo, Japan, later this year.

A team led by Professor Naoki Suzuki will carry out an extensive study of the carcass, including CT scans of its internal organs.

 

Mammoths first appeared in the Pliocene Epoch, 4.8 million years ago.

 

What caused their widespread disappearance at the end of the last Ice Age remains unclear; but climate change, overkill by human hunters, or a combination of both could have been to blame.

 

One population of mammoths lived on in isolation on Russia’s remote Wrangel Island until about 5,000 years ago.

 

Paul.Rincon-INTERNET@bbc.co.uk

---

www.offtheunbeatentrack.com/country-guides/russia/yamal/

 

The lack of roads

 

North of Salekhard there is only tundra, a vast swampy wilderness, and a small number of tiny settlements. The only things capable of year-round travel north up the Yamal Peninsula to these settlements are all-terrain vehicles and helicopters. In summer boats also go up the coast, stopping at Yar-Sale and Novy Port. In winter all-terrain vehicles drive on frozen river surfaces and in summer they go straight through the tundra. They generally do not go further north than Yar-Sale, unless you want to pay a driver to take you somewhere specially. The ones going to Yar-Sale offer seats to passengers but do not run according to a timetable and leave from different places in Salekhard or Yar-Sale. Check the airports in Salekhard or Yar-Sale for notices with all-terrain vehicle drivers’ phone numbers. Public transport helicopters also link Salekhard and the Yamal Peninsula villages a few times a week. To Yar-Sale as of 2012 they run on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. They leave Salekhard at 10:50 and the return journey leaves Yar Sale at 12:45.

 

There is also a freight train running daily up the west coast of the Yamal Peninsula to the Bovanenkovo gas field in the north. It takes 24 hours to get there. They accept passengers too, but there are no villages along this route and reindeer herders obviously stay as far from the gas field as possible. If you knew the exact location of a reindeer-herding encampment it might be possible to get off the train somewhere along its route to meet up with them, but to be honest trekking through the tundra on your own to them is not recommended as in winter it’s cold and in summer it’s full of bears and swamps! Another problem with the freight railway is that to be accepted as a passenger you musr submit copies of your documents to them a month in advance. You need to submit them your passport and border zone permit (see below). To obtain your border zone permit you will have had to submit your visa a minimum of two months in advance. That means you will have had to have your visa ready more than 3 months before your actual trip, which unfortunately some Russian embassies don’t allow.

 

The need for a border zone permit

 

To come to Labytnangi, Salekhard or the Yamal Peninsula you need a special permit completely separate from your Russian visa and invitation letter. You can click this link to use my services to obtain a Yamal permit or, if you speak good Russian, go through the laborious process described below and obtain the permit yourself. If you opt to obtain it yourself be prepared to phone up to check up on them every few weeks and then hassle them to find it when they say they’ve lost your application.

 

To get the Yamal permit yourself you need to phone the Salekhard Border Division on +7 349 224 1553 and get them to send you an application form by fax. They will only send it to a Russian number. Then you need to fill it out in Russian and send it back by fax along with a scanned copy of your passport..

 

When filling out the form you must mention every settlement and region you plan to visit. Saying just Yamalo-Nenets Autonomous Okrug is not enough – you have to mention the individual regions and settlements within the okrug.

 

Sometimes the person receiving your application wants certain parts to be completed in English, such as your address, but other times different people want you to translate every word and name into Russian for some reason, so phone them up to make sure everything is to their liking after you send in your application form.

Strobist info: full power shoot-through umbrella from the left and bare flash from the right at half power

Scientists who study the extinct creatures that once roamed the Earth are called paleontologists. If you were to watch a paleontologist at work, you would probably see him on his hands and knees, methodically and painstakingly examining the surface of the ground. This is because he is looking for fossils, or else he has lost a contact lens.

Extract from the book "Science Made Stupid" by Tom Weller

 

2015 04 08 074002 Cyprus The Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates

Looking northwest in front of the rathaus.

 

"Karlstadt is a town in the Main-Spessart in the Regierungsbezirk of Lower Franconia (Unterfranken) in Bavaria, Germany. It is the administrative centre of Main-Spessart (Kreisstadt), and has a population of around 15,000.

 

Karlstadt lies on the River Main in the district (Landkreis) of Main-Spessart, roughly 25 km north of the city of Würzburg. It belongs to the Main-Franconian wine-growing region. The town itself is located on the right bank of the river, but the municipal territory extends to the left bank.

 

Since the amalgamations in 1978, Karlstadt's Stadtteile have been Gambach, Heßlar, Karlburg, Karlstadt, Laudenbach, Mühlbach, Rohrbach, Stadelhofen, Stetten, and Wiesenfeld.

 

From the late 6th to the mid-13th century, the settlement of Karlburg with its monastery and harbor was located on the west bank of the Main. It grew up around the Karlsburg, a castle perched high over the community, that was destroyed in the German Peasants' War in 1525.

 

In 1202, Karlstadt itself was founded by Konrad von Querfurt, Bishop of Würzburg. The town was methodically laid out with a nearly rectangular plan to defend Würzburg territory against the Counts of Rieneck. The plan is still well preserved today. The streets in the old town are laid out much like a chessboard, but for military reasons they are not quite straight.

 

In 1225, Karlstadt had its first documentary mention. In 1236, the castle and the village of Karlburg were destroyed in the Rieneck Feud. In 1244, winegrowing in Karlstadt was mentioned for the first time. From 1277 comes the earliest evidence of the town seal. In 1304, the town fortifications were finished. The parish of Karlstadt was first named in 1339. In 1369 a hospital was founded. Between 1370 and 1515, remodelling work was being done on the first, Romanesque parish church to turn it into a Gothic hall church. About 1400, Karlstadt became for a short time the seat of an episcopal mint. The former Oberamt of the Princely Electorate (Hochstift) of Würzburg was, after Secularization, in Bavaria's favour, passed in 1805 to Grand Duke Ferdinando III of Tuscany to form the Grand Duchy of Würzburg, and passed with this to the Kingdom of Bavaria.

 

The Jewish residents of the town had a synagogue as early as the Middle Ages. The town's synagogue was destroyed on Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass, 9 November 1938) by Nazi SA men, SS, and Hitler Youth, as well as other local residents. Its destruction is recalled by a plaque at the synagogue's former site. The homes of Jewish residents were attacked as well, the possessions therein were looted or brought to the square in front of the town hall where they were burned, and the Jews living in the town were beaten.

 

Lower Franconia (German: Unterfranken) is one of seven districts of Bavaria, Germany. The districts of Lower, Middle and Upper Franconia make up the region of Franconia. It consists of nine districts and 308 municipalities (including three cities).

 

After the founding of the Kingdom of Bavaria the state was totally reorganised and, in 1808, divided into 15 administrative government regions (German: Regierungsbezirke, singular Regierungsbezirk), in Bavaria called Kreise (singular: Kreis). They were created in the fashion of the French departements, quite even in size and population, and named after their main rivers.

 

In the following years, due to territorial changes (e. g. loss of Tyrol, addition of the Palatinate), the number of Kreise was reduced to 8. One of these was the Untermainkreis (Lower Main District). In 1837 king Ludwig I of Bavaria renamed the Kreise after historical territorial names and tribes of the area. This also involved some border changes or territorial swaps. Thus the name Untermainkreis changed to Lower Franconia and Aschaffenburg, but the city name was dropped in the middle of the 20th century, leaving just Lower Franconia.

 

From 1933, the regional Nazi Gauleiter, Otto Hellmuth, (who had renamed his party Gau "Mainfranken") insisted on renaming the government district Mainfranken as well. He encountered resistance from Bavarian state authorities but finally succeeded in having the name of the district changed, effective 1 June 1938. After 1945 the name Unterfranken was restored.

 

Franconia (German: Franken, pronounced [ˈfʁaŋkŋ̍]; Franconian: Franggn [ˈfrɑŋɡŋ̍]; Bavarian: Frankn) is a region of Germany, characterised by its culture and Franconian dialect (German: Fränkisch).

 

Franconia is made up of the three Regierungsbezirke of Lower, Middle and Upper Franconia in Bavaria, the adjacent, Franconian-speaking, South Thuringia, south of the Thuringian Forest—which constitutes the language boundary between Franconian and Thuringian— and the eastern parts of Heilbronn-Franconia in Baden-Württemberg.

 

Those parts of the Vogtland lying in Saxony (largest city: Plauen) are sometimes regarded as Franconian as well, because the Vogtlandian dialects are mostly East Franconian. The inhabitants of Saxon Vogtland, however, mostly do not consider themselves as Franconian. On the other hand, the inhabitants of the Hessian-speaking parts of Lower Franconia west of the Spessart (largest city: Aschaffenburg) do consider themselves as Franconian, although not speaking the dialect. Heilbronn-Franconia's largest city of Heilbronn and its surrounding areas are South Franconian-speaking, and therefore only sometimes regarded as Franconian. In Hesse, the east of the Fulda District is Franconian-speaking, and parts of the Oden Forest District are sometimes regarded as Franconian for historical reasons, but a Franconian identity did not develop there.

 

Franconia's largest city and unofficial capital is Nuremberg, which is contiguous with Erlangen and Fürth, with which it forms the Franconian conurbation with around 1.3 million inhabitants. Other important Franconian cities are Würzburg, Bamberg, Bayreuth, Ansbach and Coburg in Bavaria, Suhl and Meiningen in Thuringia, and Schwäbisch Hall in Baden-Württemberg.

 

The German word Franken—Franconians—also refers to the ethnic group, which is mainly to be found in this region. They are to be distinguished from the Germanic people of the Franks, and historically formed their easternmost settlement area. The origins of Franconia lie in the settlement of the Franks from the 6th century in the area probably populated until then mainly by the Elbe Germanic people in the Main river area, known from the 9th century as East Francia (Francia Orientalis). In the Middle Ages the region formed much of the eastern part of the Duchy of Franconia and, from 1500, the Franconian Circle. The restructuring of the south German states by Napoleon, after the demise of the Holy Roman Empire, saw most of Franconia awarded to Bavaria." - info from Wikipedia.

 

Summer 2019 I did a solo cycling tour across Europe through 12 countries over the course of 3 months. I began my adventure in Edinburgh, Scotland and finished in Florence, Italy cycling 8,816 km. During my trip I took 47,000 photos.

 

Now on Instagram.

 

Become a patron to my photography on Patreon or donate.

thegoldensieve.com

 

A good thing continues

 

Some six months ago, I posted almost 100 images and a few thoughts I felt were missing from the many existing RX1 reviews. The outpouring of support and interest in that article was very gratifying. When I published, I had used the camera for six full months, enough time to come to a view of its strengths and weaknesses and to produce a small portfolio of good images, but not enough time to see the full picture (pun intended). In the following six months, I have used the camera at least as frequently as in the first six and have produced another small set of good images. It should be noted that my usage of the RX1 in the last six (and especially in the last 3) months has involved less travel and more time with the family and around the house; I will share relatively few of these images but will spend some time sharing my impressions of its functionality for family snapshots as I am sure there is some interest. And let it be said here: one of the primary motivations to purchase the camera was to take more photos with the family, and after one full year I can confidently say: money well spent.

The A7/r game-changer?

 

In the past six months, Sony have announced and released two full-frame, interchangeable lens cameras that clearly take design cues from the RX1: the A7 and the A7r. These cameras are innovative and highly capable and, as such, are in the midst of taking the photography world by storm. I think they are compelling enough cameras that I wonder whether Sony is wasting its energy continuing to develop further A-mount cameras. Sony deserve credit for a bold strategy—many companies would have been content to allow the success of the the RX1 (and RX1R) generate further sales before pushing further into the white space left unexplored by camera makers with less ambition.This is not the place to detail the relative advantages and disadvantages of the RX1 versus the A7/r except to make the following point. I currently use a Nikon D800 and an RX1: were I to sell both and purchase the A7r + 35mm f/2.8 I would in many ways lose nothing by way of imaging capability or lens compatibility but would pocket the surplus $1250-1750. Indeed this loyal Nikon owner thought long and hard about doing so, which speaks to the strategic importance of these cameras for a company trying to make inroads into a highly concentrated market.Ultimately, I opted to hang onto the two cameras I have (although this decision is one that I revisit time and time again) and continue to use them as I have for the past year. Let me give you a quick flavor of why.

The RX1 is smaller and more discrete

 

This is a small a point, but my gut reaction to the A7/r was: much smaller than the D800, not as small as the RX1. The EVF atop the A7/r and the larger profile of interchangeable mount lenses means that I would not be able to slip the A7/r into a pocket the way I can the RX1. Further, by virtue of using the EVF and its loud mechanical shutter, the A7/r just isn’t as stealthy as the RX1. Finally, f/2 beats the pants off of f/2.8 at the same or smaller size.At this point, some of you may be saying, “Future Sony releases will allow you to get a body without an EVF and get an f/2 lens that has a slimmer profile, etc, etc.” And that’s just the point: to oversimplify things, the reason I am keeping my RX1 is that Sony currently offers something close to an A7 body without a built-in EVF and with a slimmer profile 35mm f/2.

The D800 has important functional advantages

 

On the other side of the spectrum, the AF speed of the A7/r just isn’t going to match the D800, especially when the former is equipped with a Nikon lens and F-mount adapter. EVFs cannot yet match the experience of looking through the prism and the lens (I expect they will match soon, but aren’t there yet). What’s more, I have made such an investment in Nikon glass that I can’t yet justify purchasing an adapter for a Sony mount or selling them all for Sony’s offerings (many of which aren’t to market yet).Now, all of these are minor points and I think all of them disappear with an A8r, but they add up to something major: I have two cameras very well suited to two different types of shooting, and I ask myself if I gain or lose by getting something in between—something that wasn’t quite a pocket shooter and something that was quite a DSLR? You can imagine, however, that if I were coming to the market without a D800 and an RX1, that my decision would be far different: dollar for dollar, the A7/r would be a no-brainer.During the moments when I consider selling to grab an A7r, I keep coming back to a thought I had a month or so before the RX1 was announced. At that time I was considering something like the NEX cameras with a ZM 21mm f/2.8 and I said in my head, “I wish someone would make a carry-around camera with a full frame sensor and a fixed 35mm f/2.8 or f/2.” Now you understand how attractive the RX1 is to me and what a ridiculously high bar exists for another camera system to reach.

Okay, so what is different from the last review?

 

For one, I had an issue with the camera’s AF motor failing to engage and giving me an E61:00 error. I had to send it out to Sony for repairs (via extended warranty and service plan). I detailed my experience with Sony Service here [insert link] and I write to you as a very satisfied customer. That is to say, I have 3 years left on a 4 year + accidental damage warranty and I feel confident enough in that coverage to say that I will have this beauty in working order for at least another 3 years.For two, I’ve spent significantly less time thinking of this camera as a DSLR replacement and have instead started to develop a very different way of shooting with it. The activation barrier to taking a shot with my D800 is quite high. Beyond having to bring a large camera wherever you go and have it in hand, a proper camera takes two hands and full attention to produce an image. I shoot slowly and methodically and often from a tripod with the D800. In contrast, I can pull the RX1 out, pop off the lens cap, line up and take a shot with one hand (often with a toddler in the other). This fosters a totally different type of photography.

My “be-there” camera

 

The have-everywhere camera that gives DSLR type controls to one-handed shooting lets me pursue images that happen very quickly or images that might not normally meet the standards of “drag-the-DSLR-out-of-the-bag.” Many of those images you’ll see on this post. A full year of shooting and I can say this with great confidence: the RX1 is a terrific mash-up of point-and-shoot and DSLR not just in image quality and features, but primarily in the product it helps me create. To take this thinking a bit further: I find myself even processing images from the RX1 differently than I would from my DSLR. So much so that I have strongly considered starting a tumblr and posting JPEGs directly from the RX1 via my phone or an iPad rather than running the bulk of them through Lightroom, onto Flickr and then on the blog (really this is just a matter of time, stay tuned, and those readers who have experience with tumblr, cloud image storage and editing, etc, etc, please contact me, I want to pick your brain).Put simply, I capture more spontaneous and beautiful “moments” than I might have otherwise. Photography is very much an exercise in “f/8 and be there,” and the RX1 is my go-to “be there” camera.

The family camera

 

I mentioned earlier that I justified the purchase of the RX1 partly as a camera to be used to document the family moments into which a DSLR doesn’t neatly fit. Over the past year I’ve collected thousands and thousands of family images with the RX1. The cold hard truth is that many of those photos could be better if I’d taken a full DSLR kit with me to the park or the beach or the grocery store each time. The RX1 is a difficult camera to use on a toddler (or any moving subject for that matter); autofocus isn’t as fast as a professional DSLR, it’s difficult to perfectly compose via an LCD (especially in bright sunlight), but despite these shortcomings, it’s been an incredibly useful family camera. There are simply so many beautiful moments where I had the RX1 over my shoulder, ready to go that whatever difficulties exist relative to a DSLR, those pale in comparison to the power of it’s convenience. The best camera is the one in your hand.

Where to go from here.

 

So what is the value of these RX1 going forward, especially in a world of the A7/r and it’s yet-to-be-born siblings without an EVF and a pancake lens? Frankly, at its current price (which is quite fair when you consider the value of the the body and the lens) I see precious little room for an independent offering versus a mirrorless, interchangeable lens system with the same image quality in a package just as small. That doesn’t mean Sony won’t make an RX2 or an RX1 Mark II (have a look at it’s other product lines to see how many SKUs are maintained despite low demand). Instead, I see the RX1 as a bridge that needed to exist for engineers, managers, and the market to make it to the A7/r and it’s descendants.A Facebook friend recently paid me a great compliment; he said something like, “Justin, via your blog, you’ve sold a ton of RX1 cameras.” Indeed, despite my efforts not to be a salesman, I think he’s right: I have and would continue to recommend this camera.The true value of the RX1 going forward is for those of us who have the thing on our shoulders; and yes, if you have an investment in and a love for a DSLR system, there’s still tremendous value in getting one, slinging it over your shoulder, and heading out into the wide, bright world; A7/r or no, this is just an unbelievably capable camera.

thegoldensieve.com

 

A good thing continues

 

Some six months ago, I posted almost 100 images and a few thoughts I felt were missing from the many existing RX1 reviews. The outpouring of support and interest in that article was very gratifying. When I published, I had used the camera for six full months, enough time to come to a view of its strengths and weaknesses and to produce a small portfolio of good images, but not enough time to see the full picture (pun intended). In the following six months, I have used the camera at least as frequently as in the first six and have produced another small set of good images. It should be noted that my usage of the RX1 in the last six (and especially in the last 3) months has involved less travel and more time with the family and around the house; I will share relatively few of these images but will spend some time sharing my impressions of its functionality for family snapshots as I am sure there is some interest. And let it be said here: one of the primary motivations to purchase the camera was to take more photos with the family, and after one full year I can confidently say: money well spent.

The A7/r game-changer?

 

In the past six months, Sony have announced and released two full-frame, interchangeable lens cameras that clearly take design cues from the RX1: the A7 and the A7r. These cameras are innovative and highly capable and, as such, are in the midst of taking the photography world by storm. I think they are compelling enough cameras that I wonder whether Sony is wasting its energy continuing to develop further A-mount cameras. Sony deserve credit for a bold strategy—many companies would have been content to allow the success of the the RX1 (and RX1R) generate further sales before pushing further into the white space left unexplored by camera makers with less ambition.This is not the place to detail the relative advantages and disadvantages of the RX1 versus the A7/r except to make the following point. I currently use a Nikon D800 and an RX1: were I to sell both and purchase the A7r + 35mm f/2.8 I would in many ways lose nothing by way of imaging capability or lens compatibility but would pocket the surplus $1250-1750. Indeed this loyal Nikon owner thought long and hard about doing so, which speaks to the strategic importance of these cameras for a company trying to make inroads into a highly concentrated market.Ultimately, I opted to hang onto the two cameras I have (although this decision is one that I revisit time and time again) and continue to use them as I have for the past year. Let me give you a quick flavor of why.

The RX1 is smaller and more discrete

 

This is a small a point, but my gut reaction to the A7/r was: much smaller than the D800, not as small as the RX1. The EVF atop the A7/r and the larger profile of interchangeable mount lenses means that I would not be able to slip the A7/r into a pocket the way I can the RX1. Further, by virtue of using the EVF and its loud mechanical shutter, the A7/r just isn’t as stealthy as the RX1. Finally, f/2 beats the pants off of f/2.8 at the same or smaller size.At this point, some of you may be saying, “Future Sony releases will allow you to get a body without an EVF and get an f/2 lens that has a slimmer profile, etc, etc.” And that’s just the point: to oversimplify things, the reason I am keeping my RX1 is that Sony currently offers something close to an A7 body without a built-in EVF and with a slimmer profile 35mm f/2.

The D800 has important functional advantages

 

On the other side of the spectrum, the AF speed of the A7/r just isn’t going to match the D800, especially when the former is equipped with a Nikon lens and F-mount adapter. EVFs cannot yet match the experience of looking through the prism and the lens (I expect they will match soon, but aren’t there yet). What’s more, I have made such an investment in Nikon glass that I can’t yet justify purchasing an adapter for a Sony mount or selling them all for Sony’s offerings (many of which aren’t to market yet).Now, all of these are minor points and I think all of them disappear with an A8r, but they add up to something major: I have two cameras very well suited to two different types of shooting, and I ask myself if I gain or lose by getting something in between—something that wasn’t quite a pocket shooter and something that was quite a DSLR? You can imagine, however, that if I were coming to the market without a D800 and an RX1, that my decision would be far different: dollar for dollar, the A7/r would be a no-brainer.During the moments when I consider selling to grab an A7r, I keep coming back to a thought I had a month or so before the RX1 was announced. At that time I was considering something like the NEX cameras with a ZM 21mm f/2.8 and I said in my head, “I wish someone would make a carry-around camera with a full frame sensor and a fixed 35mm f/2.8 or f/2.” Now you understand how attractive the RX1 is to me and what a ridiculously high bar exists for another camera system to reach.

Okay, so what is different from the last review?

 

For one, I had an issue with the camera’s AF motor failing to engage and giving me an E61:00 error. I had to send it out to Sony for repairs (via extended warranty and service plan). I detailed my experience with Sony Service here [insert link] and I write to you as a very satisfied customer. That is to say, I have 3 years left on a 4 year + accidental damage warranty and I feel confident enough in that coverage to say that I will have this beauty in working order for at least another 3 years.For two, I’ve spent significantly less time thinking of this camera as a DSLR replacement and have instead started to develop a very different way of shooting with it. The activation barrier to taking a shot with my D800 is quite high. Beyond having to bring a large camera wherever you go and have it in hand, a proper camera takes two hands and full attention to produce an image. I shoot slowly and methodically and often from a tripod with the D800. In contrast, I can pull the RX1 out, pop off the lens cap, line up and take a shot with one hand (often with a toddler in the other). This fosters a totally different type of photography.

My “be-there” camera

 

The have-everywhere camera that gives DSLR type controls to one-handed shooting lets me pursue images that happen very quickly or images that might not normally meet the standards of “drag-the-DSLR-out-of-the-bag.” Many of those images you’ll see on this post. A full year of shooting and I can say this with great confidence: the RX1 is a terrific mash-up of point-and-shoot and DSLR not just in image quality and features, but primarily in the product it helps me create. To take this thinking a bit further: I find myself even processing images from the RX1 differently than I would from my DSLR. So much so that I have strongly considered starting a tumblr and posting JPEGs directly from the RX1 via my phone or an iPad rather than running the bulk of them through Lightroom, onto Flickr and then on the blog (really this is just a matter of time, stay tuned, and those readers who have experience with tumblr, cloud image storage and editing, etc, etc, please contact me, I want to pick your brain).Put simply, I capture more spontaneous and beautiful “moments” than I might have otherwise. Photography is very much an exercise in “f/8 and be there,” and the RX1 is my go-to “be there” camera.

The family camera

 

I mentioned earlier that I justified the purchase of the RX1 partly as a camera to be used to document the family moments into which a DSLR doesn’t neatly fit. Over the past year I’ve collected thousands and thousands of family images with the RX1. The cold hard truth is that many of those photos could be better if I’d taken a full DSLR kit with me to the park or the beach or the grocery store each time. The RX1 is a difficult camera to use on a toddler (or any moving subject for that matter); autofocus isn’t as fast as a professional DSLR, it’s difficult to perfectly compose via an LCD (especially in bright sunlight), but despite these shortcomings, it’s been an incredibly useful family camera. There are simply so many beautiful moments where I had the RX1 over my shoulder, ready to go that whatever difficulties exist relative to a DSLR, those pale in comparison to the power of it’s convenience. The best camera is the one in your hand.

Where to go from here.

 

So what is the value of these RX1 going forward, especially in a world of the A7/r and it’s yet-to-be-born siblings without an EVF and a pancake lens? Frankly, at its current price (which is quite fair when you consider the value of the the body and the lens) I see precious little room for an independent offering versus a mirrorless, interchangeable lens system with the same image quality in a package just as small. That doesn’t mean Sony won’t make an RX2 or an RX1 Mark II (have a look at it’s other product lines to see how many SKUs are maintained despite low demand). Instead, I see the RX1 as a bridge that needed to exist for engineers, managers, and the market to make it to the A7/r and it’s descendants.A Facebook friend recently paid me a great compliment; he said something like, “Justin, via your blog, you’ve sold a ton of RX1 cameras.” Indeed, despite my efforts not to be a salesman, I think he’s right: I have and would continue to recommend this camera.The true value of the RX1 going forward is for those of us who have the thing on our shoulders; and yes, if you have an investment in and a love for a DSLR system, there’s still tremendous value in getting one, slinging it over your shoulder, and heading out into the wide, bright world; A7/r or no, this is just an unbelievably capable camera.

Sinar P

210mm

kodak portra 160 (expired)

 

I've lost count how many films I have processed using the BelliniFoto Monopart C41 kit (actually that's mistake #27/b) It has most certainly gone sour. I noticed a magenta cast to the rolls of film I did last and that should of been a warning sign (#27/c). This and a few other sheets were so thin I could barely see anything.

#28 - don't pull the holder out of the box by the slide as it slips out and exposes the edge to light.

I'm slowly and methodically working my way through these, please bare with me :)

Primer testimonio de Teotihuacán cuando ya estaba abandonado:

 

Cuando aún era de noche,

cuando aún no había día,

cuando aún no había luz,

se reunieron,

se convocaron los dioses

allá en Teotihuacán.

Dijeron,

hablaron entre sí:

― «¡Venid acá, oh, dioses!

«¿Quién tomará sobre sí,

«quién se hará cargo

«de que haya día,

«de que haya luz?»

 

HISTORY AS A MANIFESTO

While Olmec civilization was headed for extinction, in central Mexico Teotihuacan was growing. It's power was trade. It had access to obsidian, a dark green volcanic glass found on mountains – a material that could be cut and pierced. And Teotihuacan produced and traded highly polished ceramic figures. With no horses or wheeled transport, it took traders months of walking to cross Teotihuacan's area of influence. It tied together its trading region with relay points and regional distributors, and these settlements became cities. Teotihuacan's culture spread with its goods, north into what is now the United States and south into what today is Guatemala.

 

In becoming a state power, Teotihuacan formalized its religion. It had numerous temples, and two pyramids faced with stone dedicated to the sun and moon. Its main god was Quetzalcoatl, a feathered snake god of fertility. Amid its religious monuments it had stone carvings depicting people in song and at play amid gardens, streams and fountains.

(Source: www.fsmitha.com/h1/ch29am.htm)

 

It is clear then that Teotihuacan was great culture and though it has been said that it disappeared because an invasion “it is now known that the destruction was centered on major civic structures along the Avenue of the Dead. Some statues seem to have been destroyed in a methodical way, with their fragments dispersed.” (Source: Wikipedia)

 

Therefore the duty of historians is to know what was the real cause because this is the only way to understand human nature and if we are to work for a better world this implies to reach a full and deep knowledge of how mankind adapts to every new human phase. Today we do not grasp what is coming in any facet, say, technology, religion, water nd so on, so to make a better world for all is a must.

 

Give peace a chance

 

What can I say I was arrested by the F.B.I (Flickr Bureau of Investigation) and thrown in prison for a week.

I was charged with

● Impersonating a proper photographer

● Posting pictures of myself on flickr, which caused distress to others

● Being an obstruction to low flying aircraft due to my height

The FBI have been watching me for a while apparently and using 600mm lenses to stay hidden.

They grew suspicious after looking at my pictures 199,000 times but wondered how I reached over 200,000 views.

Anyway I was interrogated at Flickr headquarters in San Francisco, they wanted to know how I got into Explore without using pictures of nails and nail varnishes, teddies, dolls with button eyes, dolls with large breasts, pictures with bokeh and oof shots.

I didn't crack even after 20 hours of lamps in my face down in the basement so they transferred me to flickr Penitentiary.

They chloroformed me for the 10 minute journey across the road, I woke up a few hours later in my cell but damn that chloroform stuff really makes your bottom hurt.

Flickr Penitentiary was one hell of a scary experience especially as I shared a cell with Mr Big.

Mr Big was great for getting stuff, and I mean the hard stuff, I'm talking about class 10 cards none of this class 4 crap, the read and write times of the class 10 stuff sent me dizzy and on a high helping me to get through this horrible experience.

The Penitentiary was separated into groups I was in the Nikon group called the Nikon Bad boys then there was the Canon group called the 'L' class maulers and it was these two groups who ruled the place.

Another group was formed of smaller groups to make them stronger, they contained Sony, Pentax and Fuji and thanks to their combined numbers they where 10 strong.

Then you had the bridge camera and compact camera group, everyone just felt sorry for them, at night when it was really quiet you could hear them crying themselves to sleep, only if they spent a bit more on a proper camera.

The last group was the film users who were lifers, they had been in there forever.

The film users walked around like mindless zombies talking to pigeons and the walls telling them how digital is the work of the Devil and how you can't beat breathing in the fumes of film chemicals. They also ran the library bringing photography books to our cells on a trolley.

You are probably wondering how I got the scar on my face well I was mopping the corridor along the cells when three Canon users came round the corner and grabbed me.

Two held me down whilst the other one threatened me, he must have been a 5D MKIII owner as he looked like the boss and was very confident, the two apes looked like 550d owners to me, just following orders as they lacked the proper equipment.

Boss man told me to stay out of Explore if I knew what was good for me then slashed my face with what looked like a sharpened class 10 sdhc card attached to a toothbrush.

I was in the infirmary for the rest of the day with a nasty scar for my troubles.

Not long after I was released on bail thanks to my lawer a very famous landscape photographer who really knows what he's talking about, very knowledgeable and methodical.

Thanks to my lawer I also got the the set up used by the FBI for my police mugshot.

 

Taken With

►Nikon D300s

►Nikon 16-85 @45mm

►Tripod + Cable Release

►Elemental Ultra Pro 600 studio lamp with 42 inch Beauty Dish + Honeycomb cover

►2x Jessops 360 AFD flashguns

►Yongnuo RF-602 trigger + receivers

 

I was really impressed with their equipment and how they used it.

The elemental lamp was to the side of the camera and pointing down at my face and set at 1/2 power, the honeycomb cover helped to channel the light at my face.

1x flashgun was placed behind me pointing at the wall and set at 1/4 power.

1X flashgun was placed in the same position as the main lamp but lower down and set at 1/8 power to add light to the mugshot board.

All fired off camera using Yongnuo RF-602 trigger + receivers.

 

Thanks for reading about my experience and press 'L' on your keyboard to view this prisoner on black.

Now I'm out I will try and pop past your streams soon.

 

P.s anyone who reads this, leaves a comment, adds this as a fav, is a contact or just visits out of curiosity is now an accessory to the charges and will be subject to investigation by the FBI.

Perhaps I should have told you that at the begining Doh !

“The intensely dramatic novel of the American Southwest, from which the David O. Selznick technicolor film was made, starring Jennifer Jones, Gregory Peck & Joseph Cotton. A Forum Motion Picture Edition.”

 

From the blurb on the dust jacket:

 

“When the stage coach deposited the shabby, barefooted girl at Paradise Flats, no one saw anything about Pearl Chavez to indicate that she was to become a legend. She was just a waif whom rich, old Senator McCanles was befriending.

 

“The McCanles were a strange clan. There was the Senator, only five foot two, fantastically rich, a political power in the new state. There were his four tall sons: calm Jesse, a lawyer in spite of his father; Lewt, spoiled, handsome, reckless; methodical Gill; and Ruck, whose mind had never grown up to his huge body. And there was Laura Belle, the Senator’s wife – twenty years of ranching could not make her forget her gentle upbringing in pre-Civil War Texas.

 

“This powerful story is built from conflicts – Pearl’s fight for security vs. Lewt’s desire for freedom mirror in miniature the struggle between the civilized ways of the town and the railroad, and the old, wild ways of the rancher. Here is a poignantly unforgettable love story laid against a richly varied, authentic Western background.

 

“‘Duel in the Sun’ has been made into a brilliant technicolor film by David O. Selznick, starring Jennifer Jones (as Pearl Chavez), Gregory Peck (as Lewton ‘Lewt’ McCanles) and Joseph Cotton (as Jesse McCanles).”

 

Movie trailer: www.youtube.com/watch?v=OrP_CtoeO9E

Here is a very calm and methodical predator. I'm glad that this Praying Mantis is small relative to us humans.

Gandhara is the name given to an ancient region or province invaded in 326 B.C. by Alexander the Great, who took Charsadda (ancient Puskalavati) near present-day Peshawar (ancient Purusapura) and then marched eastward across the Indus into the Punjab as far as the Beas river (ancient Vipasa). Gandhara constituted the undulating plains, irrigated by the Kabul River from the Khyber Pass area, the contemporary boundary between Pakistan and Afganistan, down to the Indus River and southward towards the Murree hills and Taxila (ancient Taksasila), near Pakistan"s present capital, Islamabad. Its art, however, during the first centuries of the Christian era, had adopted a substantially larger area, together with the upper stretches of the Kabul River, the valley of Kabul itself, and ancient Kapisa, as well as Swat and Buner towards the north.

   

A great deal of Gandhara sculptures has survived dating from the first to probably as late as the sixth or even the seventh century but in a remarkably homogeneous style. Most of the arts were almost always in a blue-gray mica schist, though sometimes in a green phyllite or in stucco, or very rarely in terracotta. Because of the appeal of its Western classical aesthetic for the British rulers of India, schooled to admire all things Greek and Roman, a great deal found its way into private hands or the shelter of museums.

  

Gandhara sculpture primarily comprised Buddhist monastic establishments. These monasteries provided a never-ending gallery for sculptured reliefs of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas. The Gandhara stupas were comparatively magnified and more intricate, but the most remarkable feature, which distinguished the Gandhara stupas from the pervious styles were hugely tiered umbrellas at its peak, almost soaring over the total structure. The abundance of Gandharan sculpture was an art, which originated with foreign artisans.

  

In the excavation among the varied miscellany of small bronze figures, though not often like Alexandrian imports, four or five Buddhist bronzes are very late in date. These further illustrate the aura of the Gandhara art. Relics of mural paintings though have been discovered, yet the only substantial body of painting, in Bamiyan, is moderately late, and much of it belongs to an Iranian or central Asian rather than an Indian context. Non-narrative themes and architectural ornament were omnipresent at that time. Mythical figures and animals such as atlantes, tritons, dragons, and sea serpents derive from the same source, although there is the occasional high-backed, stylized creature associated with the Central Asian animal style. Moldings and cornices are decorated mostly with acanthus, laurel, and vine, though sometimes with motifs of Indian, and occasionally ultimately western Asian, origin: stepped merlons, lion heads, vedikas, and lotus petals. It is worth noting that architectural elements such as pillars, gable ends, and domes as represented in the reliefs tend to follow the Indian forms

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Gandhara became roughly a Holy Land of Buddhism and excluding a handful of Hindu images, sculpture took the form either of Buddhist sect objects, Buddha and Bodhisattvas, or of architectural embellishment for Buddhist monasteries. The more metaphorical kinds are demonstrated by small votive stupas, and bases teeming with stucco images and figurines that have lasted at Jaulian and Mora Moradu, outpost monasteries in the hills around Taxila. Hadda, near the present town of Jalalabad, has created some groups in stucco of an almost rococo while more latest works of art in baked clay, with strong Hellenistic influence, have been revealed there, in what sums up as tiny chapels. It is not known exactly why stucco, an imported Alexandrian modus operandi, was used. It is true that grey schist is not found near Taxila, however other stones are available, and in opposition to the ease of operating with stucco, predominantly the artistic effects which can be achieved, must be set with its impermanence- fresh deposits frequently had to be applied. Excluding possibly at Taxila, its use emerges to have been a late expansion.

  

Architectural fundamentals of the Gandhara art, like pillars, gable ends and domes as showcased in the reliefs, were inclined to follow Indian outlines, but the pilaster with capital of Corinthian type, abounds and in one-palace scene Persepolitan columns go along with Roman coffered ceilings. The so-called Shrine of the Double-Headed Eagle at Sirkap, in actuality a stupa pedestal, well demonstrates this enlightening eclecticism- the double-headed bird on top of the chaitya arch is an insignia of Scythian origin, which appears as a Byzantine motif and materialises much later in South India as the ga1J.qa-bheru1J.qa in addition to atop European armorial bearings.

 

In Gandhara art the descriptive friezes were all but invariably Buddhist, and hence Indian in substance- one depicted a horse on wheels nearing a doorway, which might have represented the Trojan horse affair, but this is under scan. The Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, familiar from the previous Greek-based coinage of the region, appeared once or twice as standing figurines, presumably because as a pair, they tallied an Indian mithuna couple. There were also female statuettes, corresponding to city goddesses. Though figures from Butkara, near Saidan Sharif in Swat, were noticeably more Indian in physical type, and Indian motifs were in abundance there. Sculpture was, in the main, Hellenistic or Roman, and the art of Gandhara was indeed "the easternmost appearance of the art of the Roman Empire, especially in its late and provincial manifestations". Furthermore, naturalistic portrait heads, one of the high-points of Roman sculpture, were all but missing in Gandhara, in spite of the episodic separated head, probably that of a donor, with a discernible feeling of uniqueness. Some constitutions and poses matched those from western Asia and the Roman world; like the manner in which a figure in a recurrently instanced scene from the Dipankara jataka had prostrated himself before the future Buddha, is reverberated in the pose of the defeated before the defeater on a Trojanic frieze on the Arch of Constantine and in later illustrations of the admiration of the divinised emperor. One singular recurrently occurring muscular male figure, hand on sword, witnessed in three-quarters view from the backside, has been adopted from western classical sculpture. On occasions standing figures, even the Buddha, deceived the elusive stylistic actions of the Roman sculptor, seeking to express majestas. The drapery was fundamentally Western- the folds and volume of dangling garments were carved with realness and gusto- but it was mainly the persistent endeavours at illusionism, though frequently obscured by unrefined carving, which earmarked the Gandhara sculpture as based on a western classical visual impact.

  

The distinguishing Gandhara sculpture, of which hundreds if not thousands of instances have outlived, is the standing or seated Buddha. This flawlessly reproduces the necessary nature of Gandhara art, in which a religious and an artistic constituent, drawn from widely varied cultures have been bonded. The iconography is purely Indian. The seated Buddha is mostly cross-legged in the established Indian manner. However, forthcoming generations, habituated to think of the Buddha as a monk, and unable to picture him ever possessing long hair or donning a turban, came to deduce the chigon as a "cranial protuberance", singular to Buddha. But Buddha is never depicted with a shaved head, as are the Sangha, the monks; his short hair is clothed either in waves or in taut curls over his whole head. The extended ears are merely due to the downward thrust of the heavy ear-rings worn by a prince or magnate; the distortion of the ear-lobes is especially visible in Buddha, who, in Gandhara, never wore ear-rings or ornaments of any kind. As Foucher puts it, the Gandhara Buddha is at a time a monk without shaving and a prince stripped off jewellery.

  

The western classical factor rests in the style, in the handling of the robe, and in the physiognomy of Buddha. The cloak, which covers all but the appendages (though the right shoulder is often bared), is dealt like in Greek and Roman sculptures; the heavy folds are given a plastic flair of their own, and only in poorer or later works do they deteriorate into indented lines, fairly a return to standard Indian practice. The "western" treatment has caused Buddha"s garment to be misidentified for a toga; but a toga is semicircular, while, Buddha wore a basic, rectangular piece of cloth, i.e., the samghiifi, a monk"s upper garment. The head gradually swerves towards a hieratic stylisation, but at its best, it is naturalistic and almost positively based on the Greek Apollo, undoubtedly in Hellenistic or Roman copies.

 

Gandhara art also had developed at least two species of image, i.e. not part of the frieze, in which Buddha is the fundamental figure of an event in his life, distinguished by accompanying figures and a detailed mise-en-scene. Perhaps the most remarkable amongst these is the Visit to the Indrasala Cave, of which the supreme example is dated in the year 89, almost unquestionably of the Kanishka period. Indra and his harpist are depicted on their visit in it. The small statuettes of the visitors emerge below, an elephant describing Indra. The more general among these detailed images, of which approximately 30 instances are known, is presumably related with the Great Miracle of Sravasti. In one such example, one of the adjoining Bodhisattvas is distinguished as Avalokiteshwara by the tiny seated Buddha in his headgear. Other features of these images include the unreal species of tree above Buddha, the spiky lotus upon which he sits, and the effortlessly identifiable figurines of Indra and Brahma on both sides.

  

Another important aspect of the Gandhara art was the coins of the Graeco-Bactrians. The coins of the Graeco-Bactrians - on the Greek metrological standard, equals the finest Attic examples and of the Indo-Greek kings, which have until lately served as the only instances of Greek art found in the subcontinent. The legendary silver double decadrachmas of Amyntas, possibly a remembrance issue, are the biggest "Greek" coins ever minted, the largest cast in gold, is the exceptional decadrachma of the same king in the Bibliotheque Nationale, with the Dioscuri on the inverse. Otherwise, there was scanty evidence until recently of Greek or Hellenistic influences in Gandhara. A manifestation of Greek metropolitan planning is furnished by the rectilinear layouts of two cities of the 1st centuries B.C./A.D.--Sirkap at Taxila and Shaikhan Pheri at Charsadda. Remains of the temple at Jandial, also at Taxila and presumably dating back to 1st century B.C., also includes Greek characteristics- remarkably the huge base mouldings and the Ionic capitals of the colossal portico and antechamber columns. In contrast, the columns or pilasters on the immeasurable Gandhara friezes (when they are not in a Indian style), are consistently coronated by Indo-Corinthian capitals, the local version of the Corinthian capital- a certain sign of a comparatively later date.

 

The notable Begram hoard confirms articulately to the number and multiplicity of origin of the foreign artefacts imported into Gandhara. This further illustrates the foreign influence in the Gandhara art. Parallel hoards have been found in peninsular India, especially in Kolhapur in Maharashtra, but the imported wares are sternly from the Roman world. At Begram the ancient Kapisa, near Kabul, there are bronzes, possibly of Alexandrian manufacture, in close proximity with emblemata (plaster discs, certainly meant as moulds for local silversmiths), bearing reliefs in the purest classical vein, Chinese lacquers and Roman glass. The hoard was possibly sealed in mid-3rd century, when some of the subjects may have been approximately 200 years old "antiques", frequently themselves replicates of classical Greek objects. The plentiful ivories, consisting in the central of chest and throne facings, engraved in a number of varied relief techniques, were credibly developed somewhere between Mathura and coastal Andhra. Some are of unrivalled beauty. Even though a few secluded instances of early Indian ivory carving have outlived, including the legendary mirror handle from Pompeii, the Begram ivories are the only substantial collection known until moderately in present times of what must always have been a widespread craft. Other sites, particularly Taxila, have generated great many instances of such imports, some from India, some, like the appealing tiny bronze figure of Harpocrates, undoubtedly from Alexandria. Further cultural influences are authenticated by the Scytho Sarmatian jewellery, with its characteristic high-backed carnivores, and by a statue of St. Peter. But all this should not cloud the all-important truth that the immediately identifiable Gandhara style was the prevailing form of artistic manifestation throughout the expanse for several centuries, and the magnitude of its influence on the art of central Asia and China and as far as Japan, allows no doubt about its integrity and vitality.

 

In the Gandhara art early Buddhist iconography drew heavily on traditional sources, incorporating Hindu gods and goddesses into a Buddhist pantheon and adapting old folk tales to Buddhist religious purposes. Kubera and Harm are probably the best-known examples of this process.

  

Five dated idols from Gandhara art though exist, however the hitch remains that the era is never distinguished. The dates are in figures under 100 or else in 300s. Moreover one of the higher numbers are debatable, besides, the image upon which it is engraved is not in the conventional Andhra style. The two low-number-dated idols are the most sophisticated and the least injured. Their pattern is classical Gandhara. The most undemanding rendition of their dates relates them to Kanishka and 78 A.D. is assumed as the commencement of his era. They both fall in the second half of the 2nd century A.D. and equally later, if a later date is necessitated for the beginning of Kanishka`s time. This calculation nearly parallels numismatics and archaeological evidences. The application of other eras, like the Vikrama (base date- 58 B.C.) and the Saka (base date- 78 A.D.), would place them much later. The badly battered figurines portray standing Buddhas, without a head of its own, but both on original figured plinths. They come to view as depicting the classical Gandhara style; decision regarding where to place these two dated Buddhas, both standing, must remain knotty till more evidence comes out as to how late the classical Gandhara panache had continued.

   

Methodical study of the Gandhara art, and specifically about its origins and expansion, is befuddled with numerous problems, not at least of which is the inordinately complex history and culture of the province. It is one of the great ethnical crossroads of the world simultaneously being in the path of all the intrusions of India for over three millennia. Bussagli has rightly remarked, `More than any other Indian region, Gandhara was a participant in the political and cultural events that concerned the rest of the Asian continent`.

   

However, Systematic study of the art of Gandhara, and particularly of its origins and development, is bedeviled by many problems, not the least of which is the extraordinarily complex history and culture of the region.

   

In spite of the labours of many scholars over the past hundred and fifty years, the answers to some of the most important questions, such as the number of centuries spanned by the art of Gandhara, still await, fresh archaeological, inscriptional, or numismatic evidence.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandhara

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautama_Buddha

One of Munn’s decisive contributions to Canadian art was her fervent fusion od Christian symbolism in Cubist form. In the late 1920s she began a methodical practice of drawing scenes from the Passion of Christ, resulting in a fresh and radical update to one of European art history’s most traditional themes – an unusual subject for a Canadian modernist. This is one of the final drawings in the series, which included more than a thousand works on paper.

To the 10,000 people who viewed this progress shot (including the one mean guy who actually took the time to post "if this is interesting, I am the Pope" -- he doesn't know what's what): well, I am sorry, but Rachel's beautiful Sewing Room Swap package migrated its way to me, of all people! I really am considering buying a lottery ticket tomorrow:)

 

I was having fun in the SRS, round 2 group, but when Rachel posted this earlier progress shot, I really was completely smitten by it. I recall being overcome by admiration for Rachel's fabric and colour selection skills (I could never have pulled these fabrics together myself), her obvious ability to sew thin strips together without them going all wonky (see also her latest project, Irish chain quilt a la Denyse), and her clearly methodical work process. But most of all, I remember feeling greedy, and I remember thinking about how badly I wanted this for myself! In my head, I started wondering who my "competition" was (basically everyone) and what I could do to get this mini from them (basically nothing). But lo and behold, it's here! I can't say that I deserve it, with all the "me me me" feelings that I experienced over the past few weeks, but I sure am thrilled. I've been on a pretty good karma kick lately and just about ready to pay it forward, and I'll remember to do that every time I look at these two beauties.

 

Thank you so much again, Rachel, and Linda, Sue, and Rachel (again)! I can't stop smiling:)

 

PS: special thanks to Deb for the "fancy interfacing" and advice on sewing the social tote together! Teamwork is the best:)

I started assembling the frame of the tool cart today. The right side will have five drawers in the front and five drawers in the back, and the left side will have a drawer at the top on both sides and a cabinet in the front and the back. The front cabinet will be deep for the air compressor while the back will be shallow for accessories for the compressor.

 

It's a slow-moving project, but I prefer the slow, methodical, and careful approach. My father taught me to measure twice and cut once, but equally as important I learned to build One board at a time. I know the dimensions of the remaining parts, but I wanted the cabinet to be assembled before cutting and finishing anything else.

 

Now, onto the next part!

 

Theme: Re-Creation

Year Nine Of My 365 Project

 

09/08/09

 

This is markfieldingpic's older brother and his fiancée, they're getting married in a a couple of weeks and Mark and I have been asked to take the photos at the wedding.

They wanted to do a little session before the wedding but and as Mark resides in Japan (and isn't back yet), it was more convenient for me to pop round than him.

 

This is one of the shots from that session. It was very interesting doing my first "real" photo session where there are given objectives to be achieved within a reasonable time-scale. I tend to fiddle about with my self portraits and other shots, flitting from one idea to another without any structure. Within a couple of minutes it became apparent that this "couple portrait malarkey" is a whole different ball game... and my disorganised eccentricity needs to be replaced with a confident methodical calm.

 

I'm fairly happy with the output and I hope they will be too! I chose this picture for my 365 as more of a reminder to make sure take more care in future. This picture could have been one of the better shots. their expressions are relaxed and natural, and basically they, as subjects, have done their part perfectly. On the other hand I'm still shooting at 200mm@f2.8, at this distance (2.5m/ 8feet) this gives me a depth of field of about 1.5cm (circa 1/2") Which means that as her head is slightly in front of his, her face is slightly out of focus. Not a problem on the web at these resolutions, but printed at A3 size (the size one of these shots will be printed out at) its going to fairly obvious that I've not got it right!

 

The main objective of my 365 was "to become a better photographer" and whilst I realise what's wrong with this shot, I need to apply that knowledge before I press the shutter, not in post processing. I'm probably being very harsh, but I find that I need to be my biggest critic. Plus most people on Flickr are genuinely nice people and tend to refrain from pointing out mistakes like this for fear of offending. So if anyone else feels like diving in with some more critique please feel free ;)

 

Fortunately a good chunk of the other shots came out "ok" so it wasn't a disaster of epic proportions! The moral here is whilst I might have spent a chunk of hard earned cash on a fast lens I sometimes need to stop it down a bit more!

 

Lightroom: start with direct positive preset then lots of tweaking, use the brush tool to give their eyes a little more sparkle, crop to square (probably not the best crop for this pic but I have a square thing going on at the moment and I didn't want to break the trend!) sharpen (aggressively to try and cover up the focus...doh!) save to JPG

He had just caught a mouse or a rat...at first it gave me a couple of dirty looks, but after making sure i was not going to take his food away, he proceeded very methodically ... not even the fur was left...

Catacombs, Montparnasse, Paris

 

I decided that today was a day for going underground, and I set off to Montparnasse to visit the catacombs. These are a vast maze of tunnels under Paris originally used for quarrying the stone out of which the city's main buildings are constructed. In the late 18th Century, the state of the city's churchyards had become so disgusting that the city removed the bones from all of them. They were brought here at night, the carts coming from the centre of the city accompanied by torch-bearing acolytes and priests chanting the requiem Mass. A skull count showed that almost six million corpses were removed in this way. They were buried deep underground, but these people being Parisians the skulls and bones were arranged in a neat and methodical way, a meaningful chaos. Layers of tibia and femurs are crowned by a layer of pelvises and skulls, and so on. Each churchyard was grouped together, and a plaque shows which parish provided the skeletons.

 

The work was interrupted by the French Revolution,which provided plenty more corpses for when the work was resumed. Altogether about a kilometre and a half of tunnels were filled with the remains of dead Parisians, and you can walk through them on a winding route under the streets around Montparnasse station. In fact, this is just a tiny fraction of the tunnels. The catacombs extend for hundreds of kilometres under the city, many of them rarely explored and difficult of access. Because of this, they are regularly broken into by intrepid adventurers, and many legends have grown up about parts of the network. However, my favourite story is one which is true.

 

In 2004, a group of police cadets on a training exercise were given the task of tracking an imaginary criminal in a part of the network which was little known. They got into the system through a manhole, and when they were about a hundred feet underground something rather odd happened. They triggered a motion sensor which set off the sound of barking dogs. Thinking that it was part of the exercise, they headed onwards only to come out into a vast cavern which had been fully equipped as a cinema. An anteroom had been equipped and fully stocked as a bar, and there was also a film storage room. When the cadets reported what they had seen, the electricity board were sent in to work out where the invaders were getting their electricity from. Instead, they found the wires all cut, the equipment removed, and a sign saying 'Don't try to follow us. You'll never find us.'

 

Perhaps the cineastes had got fed up with waiting to get into the system officially, because this was the only place all week that I encountered a serious queue. Worse, I was just in front of a small group of people who talked constantly in very loud voices. She was an American who obviously lived in Paris, and they appeared to be young relatives who'd come to stay. She was taking them down the catacombs, and the price to be paid for this by the poor kids was to suffer her pretentious nonsense. She went on about spirituality, and homeopathy, and psychoanalysis, and the inner energy, and so on. Fair play to the kids, they responded enthusiastically enough.

 

And then she got out some of her stream of consciousness poetry, and started reading it in a loud voice. Well, goodness me. I was put in mind of something the graphic artist Alan Moore said when he was in Hollywood helping turn his 'V for Vendetta' into a film, and he was asked at a director's lunch why he lived in Northampton, England. "Because it keeps me grounded", he replied, and I thought that this was exactly right. It was like the opposite of this pompous woman, although to be fair to her I expect that if I went to live in Paris I would also disappear up my own backside.

 

The catacombs are brilliant, worth every minute of the queuing time, worth every insufferable stream of consciousness adjective. And then I went and did some shopping.

 

You can read my account of my travels at pariswander.blogspot.co.uk.

 

atelier ying, nyc

 

Wodehouse like Ozu was a methodical, hard working reviser and editor of his own work. Like Ian Fleming he also started out working at a bank. Both were also avid golfers. Like Furtwangler and Edward the Duke of Winsor, politics was not his thing and in fact, his downfall. And like Ozu and Fleming, Wodehouse has created his own world to inhabit.

 

An unfortunate bitterness occurred between Wodehouse and A. A. Milne over Wodehouse's imprisonment during WWII. This design is meant to symbolically reconcile the feud between Wodehouse and Milne and the great conflict of his life.

 

Wodehouse the avid golfer has humorously referred to his mailing address as the 6th bunker at the Addington Golf course. The golf bunker is an apt metaphor not only as a trap for any golfer who has overdone his game but also a metaphor for the depths of life's sorrows as well as the dark depths of a camera's interior (Particularly on Scottish golf courses) This 6th bunker with a bridge is detailed in the camera viewfinder as a 3-D internal view.

 

The architecture of heights is the polar opposite. It is an architecture of pleasure. For this we site the camera-as-architectural-structure (a leaning obelisk) high up in the air, a metaphor of surmounting life's problems, by locating it high up in Milne's legendary Hundred-Acre Woods.

 

A large gnarly olive tree (a symbol of forgiveness) offers the enclosure for the camera which is itself made from Jerusalem wood. Wodehouse's Jeeves brings along accoutrements to serve the animals in Pooh's world. The club-conscious Bertie Wooster fits well with the animal community.

Surrounded by the tranquility of the woods, Jeeves and Bertie help maintain it as forest rangers or gardeners via the lookout of this camera treehouse which is oriented to focus on some of the Hundred-Acte Wood's more prominent "Kodak Moments" such as Owl's tree, Kanga's house, the Bee tree, Piglet's house with its famous wooden sign, Eeyore's gloomy place and of course, Pooh bear's treehouse. In reciprocation, the pair are allowed to use the woods as a 9-hole executive golf course, this extending the golf theme to this end of the camera.

 

Technically speaking, three vintage cameras are hidden the tree sculpture which itself is installed in the ant hill-like structure (the obelisk, or just a rocky eagle's nest).

 

The sheathed antique cameras peer onto their subjects (by virtue of their three different focal lengths) within relative anonymity (a muted metaphor for the humble nature of A.A. Milne's animal characters) while the photographer is given a full unhidden birds-eye view of the forest by climbing a stairs which begin in the dark ground level and gradually opens as one reaches the top where the contrast (of hiddenness and openness) is experienced the most. My design notes are still partial but this is the basic thematic layout.

 

In the wonderful book, "Origins of Architectural Pleasure" the author uses the term 'prospect' to gauge the quality of siting that brings the scene to the viewer. He further employs the term refuge to fall back to seclusion. Much of my viewfinder designs certainly agree with this author's concepts. Finally, my Wodehouse design is a sunny idyllic one. Wodehouse himself mentioned that there are two kinds of novels to write: Ones that are very real to life and those in which you throw all caution to the winds, heeding no one's advice and following no one else's trends, and creating a world that is only idyllic. Fortunately, camera designs can veer in either direction, but for this design we stay idyllic.

 

Design, text and drawing are copyright 2013 by David Lo.

 

Going on a “Snipe hunt” is a well-known practical joke where an unsuspecting dupe is given a pillow case and led outdoors in the middle of the night and tricked to go on a hunt for an imaginary creature called a “Snipe.” However, the joke may really be on the jokesters, because Snipes are not imaginary.

 

This is a Wilson’s Snipe. One of about 26 types of Snipes, the Wilson’s Snipe is commonly found wading in and around the edges of swamps, bogs and wetlands, using its long narrow bill to methodically probe into the mud in search of insect larvae, worms, and other invertebrate prey. The bill has a flexible tip which allows the Wilson’s Snipe to grasp food while keeping the base of its bill closed, and allowing them to actually “slurp” their prey from the mud without having to remove their bill from the soil. Their eyes are set far back on their head, allowing them to see behind as well as in front and to the sides, making it difficult for predators (or photographers) to sneak up on them. Wilson’s Snipe have massive flight muscles and can reach speeds of 60 M.P.H.

 

So next time someone laughs about taking someone on an imaginary Snipe hunt, you can have the last laugh and tell them that they are actually real.

 

Taken March 28, 2020, at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area in Boone County, Missouri.

 

© All rights reserved - - No Usage Allowed in Any Form Without the Written Consent of the photographer, Mark S. Schuver.

 

The best way to view my photostream is on Flickriver: Nikon66's photos on Flickriver

   

FINDING ALPHA FRANCES JARVIS...

For the most recent information about Alpha Frances Jarvis go to www.flickr.com/photos/man_is_like_unto_a_tree/sets/721576...

 

This image is not of Alpha Frances Jarvis. This image is one of two images that were in my grandmothers large family photographic collection whose identity still eludes me. I use this image to start this Family Tree story as a reminder of how little information I started out with on this quest in 2005.

 

To commence walking down the path and collecting each shattered branch of my Family Tree which eventually led me to discover the identity and the life travels of my great Aunt Alpha Frances Jarvis but still do not know who this family member is.

 

The names Alpha and Omega where spoken of many times throughout my childhood. Only their names where spoken, that their father was Spanish and he was a prominent School teacher in South Australia, Australia, nothing else.

 

This mystery around who these souls were, where did they live, what happened to them, did they have families I might just meet one day? My parents would often say they were all very beautiful women which used to invoke so many images in my child's mind. The photographs of my mother and my grandmother, when they were young women are testimonials to that being a true fact at least.

 

Add to those imaginary constructs in my child's mind of a family I had never met other than my mother, her mother and stepfather, one or two short visits with a couple of my grandmothers brothers family homes and my own father and three brothers left me with a very large empty space to be filled with made up imagined people that were my extended family that I would like to meet one day.

 

When I heard the names Alpha and Omega spoken about it became a history lesson that left me always amazed, inspired and very intrigued about the wide world that existed somewhere out there, way beyond my wonderful isolated environment of growing up in the foot hills of Rolystone Western Australia in the late 50's to 70's.

 

"Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet and Omega is the last letter" is what I was told through out my life when mums extended family came into a conversation. "The Aleph and the Thaw are the first and last letters of the Hebrew alphabet as the Alpha and Omegain Scripture, are of the Greek." www.newadvent.org/cathen/01332b.htm Such a rich deep history connected to these names that echo down the annuals of time for eternity. I often wondered about the magic of calling children such creative names with such depth of meaning. This would account for one of the main reasons why my two daughters got their Latin names, Regina and Aves.

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NO IMAGES OF ALPHA FRANCES JARVIS...

I have chosen to write about Alpha under this image because I have no images at all that show Alpha. Thanks to my cousin Kay and her wealth of genealogy experiences over the 30 years she has been tracking the Allen family tree I was at least able to date this image to a year it was taken.

 

(Note...I did finally figure out I had a whole lot of images of Alpha that I had assumed were of her sister. Only as I unravelled her story from shattered truths did I finally recognise there was three people in these images and not just two.)

 

Who this image above is is still unknown to me and for that matter everyone else in the family I have been able to share it with so far. After cousin Kay told me I could identify the year this image had been taken from a book in the State Library by its business details stamped on the base. I discovered at least it was taken in 1897 at Rembrant Studio, Boulder City, W.A. This would make this young lady in the image at least 15 to 20 years of age (in my estimation from looking at other images of the female family photographs of this time.) This means that any female family member who would have been born from 1877 through to around 1882 with dark hair and still alive in the Gold fields of Western Australia could be a candidate.

 

Now the fact that there are no images of Alpha in my grandmothers or my mothers extensive photographic collection is an indicator to some important aspect of this ladies story that I have not yet cracked or for that matter may never crack but am driven to see if I can at least understand why.

 

My grandmother had kept all of her photographs so that after her passing in 2005 at the age of 91, my mother then squirrelled them all away like the family treasures but not one of Alpha has serviced. This is in complete contrast to the very large number of images of Alpha’s younger sisters Lulu and Clytie in this photographic collection.

 

My mother grew up with very little family contact. She was an only child and the photographs reflected the major happy events that marked family time together. Snapshots where all that remained of their entire lives other than the physical truth that we did exist. Because my mother and father are real and my brothers are real then we did have to have family ancestors before them. This physical truth that we did exist is all I could hang onto as a bright flashing arrow pointing to where more truth could one day be mined, dug up and brought out into the light of day that would finally form into "my" extended family.

 

The rare times these family images did get brought out into the light of day caused deep longings in me to know these people, to get to know their stories. I so wanted to hold onto these images of my ancestors until they had burned themselves onto my minds surface before they would be stored away for another year or two before I could get to see them again.

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ALPHA FRANCES JARVIS FIRST BORN...

Alpha Frances Jarvis was the first born child to Henry Martin Jarvis (Widower) son of James

married 18 Aug 1877 St Lukes Church Adelaide, South Australia to his second wife Frances Elizabeth White (Single) daughter of George Tyler William and Roseanna Lock.

 

If Henry was born in 1827 he would have been 50 years of age and already retired from the army when he married Frances White in South Australia. Frances White would have been 26 years of age and most likely looking after Henry's youngest children from his first family after his first wife, Clara had died. More about Henry's first family in another chapter.

 

Alpha Frances Jarvis was born 10 months after Henry's second marriage on the 9/7/1878 Southwark South Australia, District Hindmarsh (Book 205 Page 287) to Frances Elizabeth White.

 

Frances Elizabeth White, Alhpa's mother died some time during or just after giving birth to her 6th child, Omega, in 1887 at the age of 33. Alpha would have only been 9 years of age at that time. Here younger brothers and sisters were Lulu Dagma 1880, Frank 1882 -1882, Clytie Grace Darling 1884,

(Gideon Jarvis Jarvis) Gibson Clarence 1885, Omega 1887-1887.

 

The next time Alpha Frances can be tracked in the records is when she is 18 years of age on the goldfields, Western Australia getting married in 1896 to a William George Ashton /Reg 107 COOLGARDIE.

 

Then in 1903 Alpha Frances is in Cottesloe, Western Australia giving birth to her only child,

Elgar Ashton. His father's name that is recorded on the record book was William George Ashton (no. 485). Note how long this is after Alpha was married before giving birth to Elgar and she has no other children that are recorded in Western Australia. This is very unusual for this time in Australian history. Without birth control for these women, back then in the isolation of the Australian European communities, the normal pattern of married women was once they got married they got pregnant every 18 months or so until either they died, usually due to complications during or just after giving birth or their husbands die.

 

The tracks left in the sand of the records world of Alpha's movements that I sieved through the screen of the computer in the State Library of Melbourne, Victoria Australia revealed many new gems. In searching through Electoral roles, Post Office records, Shipping lists and Microfiche and old Newspapers slowly started to build a picture of this great Aunt over the proceeding years from the birth of her first child back in 1903 Western Australia to her arriving here in Melbourne Australia many years later.

 

James Street, Perth Western Australia in 1903 and 1906 Alpha is recorded as living there in the States Electoral Roles. Searching through the same records I could not place her husband living with her or any body else with the last name of Ashton living at this address. But I do find under the name of Alfa Frances Ashton in the 1903 and 1906 (under the title of "Voters at James St), Electoral Roles living at 153 Lake Street, occupation as home duties, again no one else with the name Ashton living there. (note the spelling change to the name Alpha in this record)

 

Departing Brisbane, Queensland Australia 1912 Alpha Ashton, born ABT 1883 (29).

Arriving London England 25th May 1912. Ports on Voyage Sydney, Ship Name; Osterley Shipping Line Orient Steam Navigation company Ltd official No 128287. Further scratching through the records found another entry stating that Elgar Ashton (9) was her son accompanied by his mother and Alpha the wife were leaving Fremantle and arriving in Plymouth, England. It was also recorded that she was not accompanied by a husband. I would like to point out here that in 1912 Alpha would have actually been 34 years of age not 29.

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COUSIN LESLEY'S EMAIL CLUES...

All of the facts I have collected so far about my family have come from research on the internet, library visits in my home town of Western Australia, oral history from my mother, grandmother and very recently my dear cousins I have made contact with only over the past two years. Most of the history that I have collected over the past two years is the reason I went into the State Library of Melbourne to seek out Alpha's whereabouts’ was because of this story shared to me by my cousin Lesley, now living in Germany. This story was told to her from her 92-year-old mother, Shirley, who was on a holiday with her at the end of last year (2010).

 

This is the story emailed to me from cousin Lesley...

 

"Shirley today was somewhat off with the pixies. It does occur on some days and other days she is perfect with her memory so this is what I gleaned from this afternoon’s conversation when she was not concentrating on how she was going to paint a painting of the area here. She was greatly worried over not being able to get the trees right.!!! A typical way-would artist.!!!!!! She said to try again in the morning hours as she can remember better then.

 

So here we go about Aunt Alpha so far from what I know as of this arvo.

Alpha lived for many years in London. I asked Shirley about how long. She told me well over 20 years or much longer. Sorry cousin this is only what she told me this afternoon so I cant be more explicit.

She was very tall with beautiful skin and could sing, whistle, and yodel and was a great cook.

In London they all called her Lilly Langtry as she resembled her so very much. Who was Lilly Langtry??? Will Google her when I finish this note.

 

Alpha was married to someone who worked for the East Indian Tea Company.!!!

Mum can’t remember his name and doesn't know whether he was English or Australian.

They had one son and then her husband died so she returned to Oz and moved to Melbourne for a while. She had a falling out with her son and they broke off contact. She then lived with Vera and Shirley for a while in Sydney until she remarried a man called Caplan or Caplen who lived in Cabramatta also in the Sydney area.

 

He became ill and died and shortly after Alpha died of cancer from which she had been suffering with for some time. I asked Shirley how old she was then at the time and she figured that she was about 12 or 13 at the time so guess the year was about 1931 or thereabouts. Have no idea whether any of this info is correct so please be patient with us now. Shirley tends to switch over from one subject to another and went into her remembrances of her beloved Uncle Gorden who was for her a wonderful brother figure for her. They spent so much time together in Sydney.

Thats about all I can tell you at this stage.

Will certainly get on to Mum when she is not so off.!!!

 

Love and Light to you and all your loved ones,

Your cousin,

Lesley."

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FINDING ALPHA FRANCES CAPLIN...

I had found Alpha Caplin’s death details on line before I went to Melbourne February 2011 because of this wonderful story from cousin Lesley. The on line website for finding births, deaths and marriages for Sydney gave me those details without any real effort. That is what it is like doing genealogy. Once you have enough meat to add to a bone you can find so much out about what it is you are seeking but if you only have a bone it makes your searching very hard indeed.

Death...1941 CAPLIN ALPHA FRANCES, father HENRY MARTIN

mother, FRANCES ELIZABETH place, LIVERPOOL SYDNEY NSW (12470)

 

Well you would think at this stage I should be able to find a marriage certificate for Alpha and Mr Caplin would you not? All my search had revealed so far was that Alpha Frances had been born Jarvis and had got married in Perth Western Australia and became Alpha Frances Ashton. Then had a son Elgar Ashton. These two unattended by the father head off to London, England and as the email from cousin Lesley states they had both returned to Australia through Melbourne, Victoria and Alpha then had gone to Sydney and married a Mr Caplin and herself had died there.

 

So why could I not find a marriage certificate for a Alpha Frances Ashton? When I typed in just Caplin in the marriage section the clue was staring me right in the face at that time but I had missed it completely and it would not be until I had spent quite a few hours in the Melbourne State Library looking for Alhpa Frances Ashton that it became clear why there was no marriage certificate for her to a Mr Caplin. More on that later.

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FINDING ELGAR ASHTON MELBOURNE VICTORIA...

When I was in Melbourne, Victoria this past February, 2011, I met up with my very dear cousin Kay in the Victorian State Library. Kay was down in the city visiting family when she had let me know we could spend a short time together so what better place for us two to hangout in but in the State Library.

 

As I had just come from Sydney after meeting another cousins 91 year old wife, Viva Rodwell who was related to us both through my great grandfathers sisters son. Kay had unearthed this wonderful women and her husband’s family branch on my last trip to Melbourne only that previous November. I had a lot to share with Kay about the stories of Viva’s life and showed her the images on my camera I had taken of the Rodwell families’ photos and newspaper articles. This wonderfully gracious lady, Viva and the Rowell side of the family tree will be shared in another chapter of this book.

 

Kay shared all these amazing stories of her latest family discoveries and how she had found them. Kay has so much capacity in finding truth out of the smallest particles of detail. It is very clear to me that all those Allen ancestors skills and great capacity learned in the gold fields of Australia to hunt out gold over generations have been inherited in this lady for her to be able to find anything if she puts her mind to it.

 

After Kay had showed me around the genealogy section in the Library and showed me how to find people through the electoral roles microfiche we said our good byes until our paths would meet next. Now with all this newfound confidence to tackle the genealogy section I headed back by myself a few days later to hunt out, dig up, reveal the whereabouts of my cousin Elgar Ashton, son of Alpha Frances Ashton (nee Jarvis).

 

This should have been easy to find Elgar's movements there in Melbourne. I had his name, his mothers and fathers names and I was in the Melbourne State Library where all the local details should be right there at my fingertips so why was I finding it all so very hard to track him and for that matter Alpha.

.

All I could find was the death details of Elgar Ashton and a possible whereabouts of his fathers grave also. I had no idea what had happened to Elgar's father, William George Ashton. After finding the details of Alpha's marriage to him in Western Australia he disappears out of the records there so I find it very strange that he turns up now here in Victoria, if this is even his father?

 

Writing down all that I had found so far regardless if it was correct or not was all I could show for hours of work. Details I had at that point were...Died Elgar Ashton, father William George mother Alpha Frances Jarvis, place Fairfield Victoria, age 37, year 1940, Reg. No. 6135.

 

His fathers details, if this is even him were; Death Ashton William George, father Robert, mother Cathrine O'Brian, place Richmond, age 55, year 1931 Reg. No. 3001. I had even found where this person was buried; Ashton William George, cemetery St Kilda General Cemetery, Roman Catholic Monumental Compartment B. grave 335 Buried 14/03/1931. I knew at that point this was either useless or a very important piece to my puzzle and I had better write it down because there was no guarantee I could find it again.

 

The idea of going out to see this grave site at that point in time was not going to be feasible even if I could be sure it was Elgar's father. Time that I had left in Melbourne was short and I needed to find Elgar's grave site at least to see if there had been other names recorded on it. Had Elgar married, did he have children that might still be alive here in Melbourne?

 

With the clock ticking away I returned to the State Library of Victoria the following day and commenced cross referencing, playing around with what I did have and do strange things like type different combinations of names. It was while I was doing this last ditched attempt of finding where Elgar's grave was that I stumbled across this entry on Ancestry.com website (I had only just discovered Ancestry.com was free at our Library's)... Alpha Frances Ashton mother Elgar Jno Evans born 1903 death 1940 Fairfield, Victoria.

 

Evans, they had changed their name to Evans. Elgars name was Elgar Jno Evans, no wonder I could not find records in the microfiche and telephone records and all the other places I had been looking. I had the wrong name.

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NOW FINDING ELGAR JON EVANS...

The name Alpha, that strange and very mysterious name was all I had had to hang onto all throughout my life that had kept calling me to hunt her out. Alpha's name was all I had of my great Aunt and it was that name that I had used to track her and her sons details down. I had finally cracked this. After I found this piece of the jigsaw many other details started to pour out of the web sites and microfiche. I dived back into all those records that I had spent days searching through with the name Ashton and now I was back with the name Evans.

 

What I found...

Australian Electoral Roles for Elgar Evans

1931 South Yarra, Fawkner, Victoria

1936 South Yarra, Fawkner, Victoria

1937 South Yarra, Fawkner, Victoria

 

Australian Electoral Roles for Alpha Frances Evans

1931 at 286 Toorak Rd, home duties. Elgar Evans was at this same address and his occupation was motor mechanic (M.

 

Married, Alpha Frances Evans 1934 New South Wales, reg. place; Liverpool, NSW Husband, Caplin John (Reg.No.2210)

 

When I had looked for Caplin and Ashton getting married back in Perth after cousin Lesley’s email with Shirley’s oral history I had seen this entry but did not think twice. It had not for one second dawned on my very blond brain that Alpha could have remarried.

Marriage...2210/1934 CAPLIN JOHN EVANS ALPHA F LIVERPOOL. I had not even suspected that Alpha had changed her name while overseas. I should have realised the name Alpha was her and at least written it down.

 

Now it all made so much sense, Elgar and Alpha had come back to Australia by the name Evans and where living together until something happens and Alpha goes off to Sydney where her nieces, and sister are living and marries there only 3 years later, 1934. The Electoral Roles for NSW Australia have recorded for the C'wealth: -Werriwa state:-Bankstown for both 1936 and 1937

Caplin AF. Cabramatta Rd, Cabramatta homeduties (F.

Caplin John Cabramatta Rd Cabramatta no occupation (M.

 

Final resting place of my dear dear great Aunt is in New South Wales, Australia and this chapter closes on this part of the mystery for now. There is no time to loose, all energy must go now into tracking down Elgar's movements to see if I can find his grave site before I head back to Western Australia in a few days time. I need to see if he has got married and if I can find anything else out about him.

 

Looking further into the Australian Electoral Roles for Elgar Evans in Victoria, Australia I found the area he was living in was the same electoral boundaries but not the same house addresses. Commonwealth :-Fawkner and State:- Prahran were the same for all three years listed on the Ancestry.com website. His address in 1931 we have already mentioned as being 286 Toorak Rd, and both he and Alpha were listed as living there. Where as for 1936 the address was 3 Portland Place, motor Mechanic (M and in 1937 his address was Fitsgerald Street. motor mechanic (M.

 

At both the Portland and Fitsgerald address there was another person now living with Elgar and that was a Mrs Mary Doreen Evens. Married Ashton Elgar, spouse Family name Davies, spouse mother name?????? Mary Doreen, Reg. Year 1932 Reg. No 5803

 

Elgar had died only a few years after his marriage to Mary in 1940 and there is no other election until 1943 where I find a Mary Doreen Evans C'Wealth:-Maribyrnong. Subdivision of Ascot Vale.

State Flemington. address 18 Bank Street, home duties (F

 

In 1943 I also find a Mary Doreen Evans now living in New South Wales. C'Wealth: New England Sub: Raymond Terrace. State Gloucester at The Snug, Nelson's Bay, home duties (F

Also the same electoral role, state sub. in NSW but another address was recorded for the 1949 elections the address for that year was Victoria Parade, Nelson Bay NSW.

This exact same information is repeated for 1954. But there was a second entry for 1954 and that was for Mary Doreen Evans at 285 Bromide Street, C'Wealth: Darling Sub. Broken Hill West, State: Stuart. As Ancestry.com only goes up to 1954 in there Electoral roles I headed off to explore Melbourne cemetery's seeking where I could find the grave site details for Elgar.

 

After some real hard sifting through microfiche for this information after being guided by a very helpful Librarian showing where to at least start this search I found Elgar's grave at Springfield Victoria. Just to keep me on my toes Elgar’s name on the records was spelt differently.

Elga Evens 6/7/1940 Type B location. Exp.030-23000B0017-0043HKL000/00/0000 7

6 Fitzgerald St. South Yarra, Mrs MD Evans, Church England Monumental Compart. B section 17 grave 43.

 

I was so very, very happy and as I still wanted to come back to that Library I could not yell at the top of my lungs or do my magpie call. I was just over the moon. After a very good friend had agreed to very kindly drive me out to where this cemetery was on the other side of Melbourne and a far way out of town. After getting great maps and directions at the Administrative office my friend and I sent out to finally accomplish what had up until that point just been a wish and hope for me to achieve.

 

My friend and I set out in the mapped area with great energy until we realised none of the graves had numbers and although the map showed very clear and defined grave sites when you actually get there, on the ground, there are no head stones for over half of the graves. To add to the difficulty we faced in finding this exact grave was that none of the pathways between each set of graves was clearly defined either. We headed back to the corner and counted very methodically until I found Elgar’s grave hidden under a very low growing paper bark tree. This tree was sheltering his grave just like a large umbrella. It was so peaceful and a very beautiful place.

 

The grave was in perfect condition and the words on it were very simple and read;

"In loving memory of

Elgar (John) Evans

1903-1940"

And it did not matter how hard I stared at the large space below these words there was nothing else written there. I had accomplished this quest and was happy to return back to Western Australia to continue the next stage of this amazing journey of reconstructing my shattered family Tree.

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ELGAR ASHTON'S FATHER; WILLIAM GEORGE...

As I found pieces of genealogy that may be of interest to my dear cousin Kay I would send them to her when I was still in Melbourne February 2011. On the day before I was heading back to Western Australia she sent me a small email with an image attached that at first I could not open.

 

When I did open this image it was a South Australian newspaper article informing the reader of Alpha's marriage to Ashton back in Nov 1896, the article was published Jan 1987; that super sleuth Kay had done it again. Who would have thought to go look in a South Australian Newspaper for a Wedding in Western Australia two months after? Well it makes sense in hindsight, yes I have learned yet another great Family tree research skill, thank you Kay.

 

I did not really see anything that needed my attention, at that time, so I simply printed the email she had sent me and put it into my folder with my paperwork I took with me to the Library thinking nothing more of it.

 

My last day at the Victorian State Library revealed no new leads and I found nothing extra to add to my quest and as I was about to meet up with my eldest daughter to spend sometime together before we were to meet up with my other daughter and head off to the airport I farewelled the Victorian State Library until my next visit to this beautiful city.

 

As I was sitting in my daughters car waiting for her to finish work I went through my file of notes that I had collected over the days I had been visiting the Library there in Victoria and was very carefully reading them and cross referencing data when I re read the newspaper article that cousin Kay had emailed me the day before. What makes this story even more remarkable was that I had finished reading all the notes and the notes I had scribbled on this email with the article from Kay and only re read it again because I had re read everything else and there was nothing left to read; lol.

 

It was the name of Ashton's father in this newspaper article that kept screaming at me so I went back and re read all my data again from this trips visits to the State Library. It dawned on me that the details I did copy down of the person I thought could at least be Elgar's father turned out to also have recorded in his death details that his father's name was Robert. This was too much of a coincidence not to be the same Ashton married to Alpha all those years before in the goldfield's of Western Australia.

 

Then to add to that the newspaper article said that Ashton had come from Victoria and St Kilda all the same details on this Ashton's death details. On further reading of my notes I found even more notes about this same person. I had actually found several sources of data about this same man that had all converged to being the same person described in this tiny newspaper article sent the night before by my dear cousin Kay.

 

But until I make those final record searches he could still “not” be our Ashton's father.

 

Article from cousin Kay emailed to me the day before I was to return to WA;

MARRIAGE

ASHTON-JARVIS-On the 6th November, 1896,at St. Andrew's Church, Coolgardie, by the Rev.A. Craven, George, eldest son of Robert Ashton, of St. Kilda, Victoria, to Frances (Alpha), third daughter of Henry Martin Jarvis, of Fremantle, W.A. (late of Southwark, SA.)

source;

The Advertiser (Adelaide, SA:1889-1931) Wednesday 27 January 1897 page 4 of 8

 

I did not have time to go to that grave, as I needed to be on a plain heading back to Western Australia in one hour. My dear daughters did agreed to go and find this grave and find out if there is a head stone and see what data is recorded on it.

 

Information I did collected on William George Ashton in the Victorian State Library 2011;

 

Born William George Ashton, 1876, St. Kilda, Victoria, father Robert Ashton,

mother Catherine O'Brian Reg. No.12472

 

WA Electoral Role 1903 Ashton George William, Kanowna Firewood line, Kalgoolie.

Vic Electoral Role 1909 Ashton George William, Balaclava, 18 Nightingale St, St Kilda, Labourer

(M at the same address Annie Ashton home duties (F

Vic Electoral Role 1914 Ashton George William, Fitzroy North, 572 Rae St. North Fitzroy driver (M

at the same address Lilian Rebecca Ashton home duties (F

Vic Electoral Role 1919 Ashton George William, St Kilda 18 Wilgah St driver (M

Vic Electoral Role 1919 Ashton George William, Balaclava, 44 Nightingale St, St Kilda, ???? (M

Vic Electoral Role 1924 Ashton George William, Balaclava, Beach St, East Camberwell, rly. emp.

(M

These went on and I was not sure at that time if this was Elgar's father so I stopped recording them correctly and did not go on to other dates. Something I might get back to when I know for sure this is the right person.

 

Died Ashton William George, father Robert, mother Cathrine O'Brian, place Richmond, age 55, year 1931 Reg. No. 3001.

Buried; Ashton William George, cemetery St Kilda General Cemetery, Roman Catholic Monumental Compartment B. grave 335 Buried 14/03/1931.

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ALPHAS IN BETWEEN MISSING YEARS...

What happened to Alpha after her marriage and being in Cottesloe giving birth to Elgar and then off to England for over 29 years and returning back to Melbourne with another name? I have found a lot out about this great Aunt but now have even more questions. The random information that I have dug up so far that has not been recorded in the rest of this story is;

 

Australian Electoral Role 1903-1954,

1903 and 1906 Alpha Frances Ashton, James St. Perth Western Australia

 

Electoral Role 1903 and 1906 Voters at James Street.

Alfa Frances Ashton, 153 Lake St, home duties (note the spelling change in her first name)

 

mum never did meet Alpha???????

need to check out WA electorial roles to see if an evans name is living in james street Perth WA during the 1903 and 1906 time frame.????

 

what is coming to me on this subject is rather interesting mate and would love your view on it...

 

what I found studying both the records of William Ashton described on the prison records that you found first and the William Ashton described in the army records you found a bit later are NOT THE SAME MAN...

 

the markings and height and the character described in the two sets of documents are absolutely different people...

 

we know the man described in the army records was Alpha’s ex husband... we know the newspaper records of the divorce are real...BUT and A very big BUT is the information in them about which William Ashton they are referring to...

 

I think and this is where I could be wrong BUT as the police officer giving evidence in the divorce case spoke about the William Ashton in the prison records thinking it was Alphas husband when in fact it was one of the aliases used by the criminal one...getting my drift...then when you read the newspaper article a little closer it states that our William Ashton was not in court when all this info was being used to convict him...so even if the police officer did no very well the criminal William Ashton he did not know Alpha’s William Ashton as he is not in court to be seen as a different man...and worse Alpha’s husband William Ashton was not there to plea his innocence...

  

now I do not believe for one minute Alpha’s William was not a bit of a lad and even may have got himself into a lot of hot water and may even have had a jail term but the man who got bravery medals and re enlisted to go back to war after being discharged due to mustered Gas poisoning...no this is not the same character at all...so I think you

and I have a very interesting chapter of injustice of character here...

 

and I would then place a lot of money on that it was this miss representation of character of Elgar’s father that cased the huge rift between Alpha and Elgar...when they returned to Victoria and Elgar either saw his father before he died or met Williams family after his death in 1931 the real story, the truth would have come out and I very strongly believe would have been far tooo much for our dear Alpha to except that the man she thought was a monster was far from it...

 

what do you think mate...?????

 

where did you find the prison info...is it pos to go back to that site and keep looking what else might be there about these two William Ashton’s...????

 

If this William Ashton was such a nasty bit of work he must have then had a lot more prison records...which would prove that this is not Alphas husband...and the policeman was talking about the wrong man...

 

((((((FROM KAY....

Then show them the dates and names for the divorce and ask for help to find the index film and divorce film in the filing drawer, the machine is a buggar to use and to copy from. These should be available as 100 years old. All the info should be there, I am winging these instructions, but to be sure, perhaps a phone call to ask them might help.

 

OK, going by these days poor old Alpha had to put up with an awful husband, I will go back later and find all those court proceedings, I saw one In Kalgoorlie about 1909 and one in Broken Hill and then in New Zealand, hmm, not sure all is he but the Kalgoorlie one will be.

 

I just found another newspaper bit for 1913. I think he committed adultery too, I don't think it was final until then. Wait on will get that one. Oh yes, the same story as the first two files was in Western Mail (Perth, WA : 1885-1954) Saturday 20 April 1912 p 25 Article

from FREE BMD'S thought I might have found them on the London Registers,but in Lambeth.

Marriage Jun 1916 Ashton Frances A Evans Lambeth 1d 767

Evans Graham B Ashton Lambeth 1d 767

 

s the first two files was in Western Mail (Perth, WA : 1885-1954) Saturday 20 April 1912 p 25 Article

from FREE BMD'S thought I might have found them on the London Registers,but in Lambeth.

  

So now we have to find out if Graham B Evans was in the British Military and died. )))))

Died 4th July 1940 Queen's Memorial Infections Diseases Hospital, Fairfield, City of Heidelberg County of Bourke.

 

Residence 6 Fitzgerald street, south Yarra. City Prahram

motor machanic

Elgar John Evans 37 years male

 

cause of death Septic broncho-pneumonia 3 days scarlet fever 10days

 

it stated age of marriage 28 at South Yarra, Victoria

married Mary Doreen Davies

two children...

Louanne, 6years

Lionel Elgar, 2 years

 

YES HE DID HAVE CHILDREN...NOW GUIDE ME ON HOW i FIND THEM OR AT LEAST THE BOY AS WE KNOW HIS COMPLETE NAME...

the boy was born 1938

the girl born 1934

 

and as my electoral roles stated she moved to NSW 1943 and the last one I found was

1954 285 Bromide st,

C"Wealth; Darling

State; Stuart

Sub. Broken Hill West

A construction site - slowly, methodically the building comes down.

 

Oku, Tokyo

Panasonic GX8

Leica Summilux 15mm F1.7

iss070e022098 (Nov. 11, 2023) --- Thrusters on the SpaceX Dragon cargo spacecraft fire automatically while adjusting the vehicle's slow, methodical approach toward the International Space Station for a docking to the Harmony module's forward port.

Took another trip to Heybridge, Maldon, on 7/1/24 (Essex, UK) to get better views of the Northern Waterthrush, and it didn't disappoint. This bird breeds in North America and normally spends the winter in the mangroves of South and Central America. It most likely arrived in the autumn, when there was an unprecedented arrival of Nearctic landbirds in the UK, thanks to the remnants of Hurricane Lee.

It had no trouble finding food, and was feeding on what looked like fly larvae, and would methodically work its way along the margins of the the sluice ditch, and floating vegetation while almost continuously bobbing its tail. And would occasionally give a hard “chink” call, especially in flight.

There have been eight recorded sightings of Northern Waterthrush in the UK between 1958 and 2024.

(Photo taken with Lolly Lace & Cielo Capalini, check out their links through here!!)

 

-- As I lean against the TV that told us we had to murder each other I think about what I've done today. The lives I've taken, the blood I've spilled all in the name of entertainment and selfishness of wanting to go home. My "friends" rest for now, giggling to each other as I flick my knife back and forth just waiting. I wait because I know I am next on their list already a ghost in their eyes because I am not one of the crowd. This moment seems like forever as they methodically take their time laughing as their coldly plan. Heartless girls which I know I will perish at the hands of in this Battle Royale; it's comical though...that they call this a game. --

 

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Body: Maitreya Mesh Body w/ Bento Hands

 

Head: Catwa Mesh Bento HEAD - Sofia

 

Ears: Swallow Skin and Accessory Second Life Shiny Ears

 

Skin: .Atomic. Gacha // Catwa _Blossom - Sugar 5

 

Eyes: {S0NG} :: Toki~ Hazel Eyes

 

Lashes: Nightmare :: Milka Lashes - Plain

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Hair: [monso] My Hair - Ann (M) - Red Pack

 

Tattoo Appliers: #Izzie's - Cheek Scar & Neck Scar

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Outfit: #dami battle rayale gacha B1 maitreya

 

VALE KOER TECHNICAL BACKPACK - Jungle

 

#vaak Butterfly Knife (Scripted, moving)

 

Shoes: Glitzz Melanie Stockings - Solid White - Maitreya

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Props: 3. :BAMSE: Sharpshooter - Military Case (all BAMSE Sharshooter items) @The Arcade Gacha Events

 

14. #BAMSE Sharpshooter - Ammo Box

 

4. :BAMSE: Sharpshooter - Sidearm

 

:BAMSE: Underground HQ - Radio (MP Purchase)

 

DUTY DUFFEL BAG - OLIVE (MP Purchase)