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German autograph card.
Annekathrin Bürger (1937) is a German stage, film, and television actress. Bürger was a prominent actress in East Germany appearing in a number of films made by the state-run DEFA film studios as well as in television series such as Wolf Among Wolves (1965) set in 1920s Berlin. In 1972 she played the female lead in the Ostern Tecumseh (1972).
Annekathrin Bürger was born Annekathrin Rammelt in 1937 in
Berlin-Charlottenburg, Nazi Germany. Her father was the animal draftsman and illustrator Heinz Rammelt. She grew up in Hornhausen, trained as an advertising designer in Bernburg, and worked as a stage design assistant, prop master, and extra at the Carl-Maria-von-Weber-Theater there. She failed the entrance exam for the State Drama School in Berlin. In the summer of 1955, she met Czech film people in Berlin and played her first small role as a pioneer leader in the Czech-German short film Gebirge und Meer/Mountains and sea (Wolfgang Bartsch, Bohumil Vosahlik, 1955). A year later she appeared in the East German neo-realist romantic drama Eine Berliner Romanze/A Berlin Romance (Gerhard Klein, 1956), a film about youth urban life in the divided city of Berlin. It was produced by the DEFA, the state-owned East German studio. Annekathrin Bürger's co-stars were Ulrich Thein and Uwe-Jens Pape. It is still amongst DEFA's best-known films. Bürger studied acting at the Potsdam Film and Television Academy from 1957 to 1960. From 1959 to 1960 she was engaged at the Deutsches Theater in Berlin. She also starred in another youth film, Reportage 57 (János Veiczi, 1959), and the romantic comedy Verwirrung der Liebe/Love's Confusion (Slátan Dudow, 1959), both with Willi Schrade. Love's Confusion was Dudow's last film and the screen debut of Angelica Domröse. Influenced by the relaxed political climate ushered with the Khrushchev Thaw, the picture was unprecedentedly libertine in regards to sexuality. It became a huge hit.
During the early 1960s, Annekathrin Bürger appeared in a series of DEFA productions, such as Septemberliebe/September Love (Kurt Maetzig, 1961) with Doris Abesser and Ulrich Thein. She also starred in the first joint Soviet–East German film, Pyat Dney, Pyat Nochei/Fünf Tage, Fünf Nächte/Five Days, Five Nights ( Lev Arnshtam, Heinz Thiel, 1961) with Wilhelm Koch-Hooge. The picture's plot was inspired by the recovery of the art of the Old Masters Picture Gallery through the hands of Soviet troops in 1945. The art collection was then taken to the USSR, where it was kept until being returned to the Dresden Gallery in 1960. Five Days, Five Nights sold more than two million tickets in the German Democratic Republic. Then she starred in the romantic war drama Königskinder/Star-Crossed Lovers (Frank Beyer, 1962) with Armin Mueller-Stahl, and in the drama Das zweite Gleis/The Second Track (Joachim Kunert, 1962), as the daughter of Albert Hetterle. It is the only DEFA film looking at Nazi Germany history in East Germany. From 1963 to 1965 she was a member of the DFF, from 1965 to 2003 a member of the ensemble of the Volksbühne Berlin. Since 1968 she has only seldom been used in supporting roles in the theatre.
Bürger played numerous roles in DEFA and DFF films including the Ostern (Red Western) Tecumseh (Hans Kratzert, 1972) opposite Gojko Mitić and Rolf Römer. It is part of a popular string of films starring the Yugoslav actor Gojko Mitić which, in line with the policies of Communist East Germany, attempted to present a more critical, but also more realistic, view of American expansion to the West than was characterised by Hollywood. The film, along with others, was also made partly in response to the successful series of Karl May films made in West Germany. The film depicts the life of the Native American leader Tecumseh (1768–1813), including his role in Tecumseh's War and his later death in the War of 1812 while fighting with the British against the United States. On television, she played a supporting role as a laundromat and bar manager in the popular series Tatort Leipzig with Peter Sodann, until 2005. She was also involved in cultural policy and protested against Wolf Biermann's expatriation and was committed to maintaining Charlotte von Mahlsdorf's Wilhelminian-style museum. From 1990 to 1997 Bürger was chairman of the Congress of the National Citizens Movement. In 1993 she and her husband founded the orphans on the Don association. In the same year, the documentary film Children of the Don was made about it. Annekathrin Bürger was first married to the actor and director Ulrich Thein and was married to her colleague Rolf Römer from 1966 until his death in 2000. Annekathrin Bürger lives in Berlin-Köpenick.
Sources: Wikipedia (English and German), and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
Bartabas: Golgota
Acclaimed equestrian theatre artist Bartabas returns to the Sadler’s Wells stage accompanied by contemporary flamenco dancer Andrés Marín, four horses and a donkey, to present the UK Premiere of Golgota. 14-21 March.
Credits:
Creation, stage design, direction: Bartabas
Choreography, performance: Andrés Marín & Bartabas
Horses: Horizonte, Le Tintoret, Soutine, Champagne & Lautrec the donkey
Music: Tomás Luis de Victoria, motets for solo voice
Countertenor: Christophe Baska
Cornet: Adrien Mabire
Lute: Marc Wolff
Actor: William Panza
Costumes: Sophie Manach & Yannick Laisné
Props: Sébastien Puech
Scenery: Les Ateliers Jipanco
Lights: Laurent Matignon
photo - © Foteini Christofilopoulou | All rights reserved | For all usage/licensing enquiries please contact www.foteini.com
Gouache; 40 x 37 cm.
Felice Casorati was an Italian painter, sculptor, and printmaker. The paintings for which he is most noted include figure compositions, portraits and still lifes, which are often distinguished by unusual perspective effects. Born in Novara he showed an early interest in music and art. To please his parents he studied law at the University of Padua until 1906, but his ambition to be a painter was confirmed in 1907 when a painting of his was shown in the Venice Biennale. The works he produced in the early years of his career are naturalistic in style, but after 1910 the influence of the symbolists and particularly of Gustav Klimt turned him toward a more visionary approach. In 1915 he had a solo exhibition at the Rome Secession III, where he showed several paintings and the first of his sculptures. His military service in World War I began that year and lasted until his discharge in 1917.
In 1918, "intrigued by the decadent atmosphere of Turin with its sinister views", he settled there with his mother and two sisters. His works of the next decade typify, in their emphasis on geometry and formal clarity, the "return to order" then prevalent in the arts as a reaction to the war. Although many critics found his work cold, cerebral, and academic, Casorati achieved international recognition as a leading figure in this movement. Often working in tempera, Casorati drew inspiration from his study of Renaissance masters, especially Piero della Francesca, as in his 1922 portrait entitled Silvana Cenni. This symmetrical composition of a seated woman in a white dress is perhaps the best-known of the artist's works. In it, the careful rendering of volumes results paradoxically in a sense of unreality which is characteristic of Casorati's art.
In 1925, Rafaello Giolli summarized the disconcerting aspects of Casorati's art—"The volumes have no weight in them, and the colors no body. Everything is fictitious: even the living lack all nervous vitality. The sun seems to be the moon ... nothing is fixed or definite"—and argued that these very qualities give his work its originality, and connect him to the metaphysical painters. Casorati himself wrote, in 1931: "In taking up, against me, the old polemic of classicism and romanticism, people rail against intellectualized and scholastic order, accuse my art of being insincere, and willfully academic—in a word, of being neoclassical. ... since my art is born, so to speak, from within, and never has its source in changing "impressions", it is quite natural that ... static forms, and not the fluid images of passion, should be reflected in my works".
Briefly arrested in 1923 for his involvement with an anti-Fascist group, Casorati subsequently avoided antagonizing the regime. Beginning in 1923, he opened his studio to the young art students of Turin. One of his famous students was the Italian painter Enrico Accatino. After 1930 the severity of Casorati's earlier style softened somewhat and his palette brightened. He continued to exhibit widely, winning many awards, including the First Prize at the Venice Biennale of 1938. He was also involved in stage design. He died in Turin in 1963.
Rebel custom mic stands gold plated finish. The Shure Super 55 microhone is finished in brushed look chrome so when gold plated it gives this excellent retro/ antique finish.
Circa: The Return, LIMF 2016
The Australian company Circa in The Return at the Barbican Theatre as part of London International Mime Festival. 27-31 Jan.
Created by Yaron Lifschitz with Quincy Grant and the Circa ensemble
Composers: Claudio Monteverdi, Quincy Grant, John Barber, Jakub Jankowski and Cornel Wilczek
Directed by Yaron Lifschitz
Musical supervision by Quincy Grant
Musical direction by Natalie Murray Beale
Technical direction and lighting by Jason Organ
Costumes by Libby McDonnell
Stage design by Jason Organ and Yaron Lifschitz
Circa Ensemble: Nathan Boyle, Daniel O’Brien,
Nicole Faubert, Bridie Hooper, Brittannie Portelli, Duncan West
Tenor: Robert Murray
Mezzo Soprano Kate Howden
photo - © Foteini Christofilopoulou | All rights reserved | For all usage/licensing enquiries please contact www.foteini.com
Once owned by the Pesaro family, this large Gothic palazzo in Campo San Beneto, was transformed by Mariano Fortuny into his own atelier of photography, stage-design, textile-design and painting. The building retains the rooms and structures created by Fortuny, together with tapestries and collections. The working environment of Mariano Fortuny is represented through precious wall-hangings, paintings, and the famous lamps – all objects that testify to the artist’s inspiration and still give count of his eclectic work and of his presence on the intellectual and artistic scene at the turn of the 19th century. The Fortuny Museum was donated to the city in 1956 by Henriette, Mariano’s widow. The collections within the museum comprise an extensive number of pieces and materials which reflect the various fields investigated in the artist’s work. These are organised under certain specific headings: painting, light, photography, textiles and grand garments. This Museum combines ‘full’ spaces – for example, the first floor salone overflowing with paintings, fabrics and Fortuny’s famous lamps – with more open spaces: on the second floor, walls and windows, lighting and space recount the history of the palazzo and the atelier it housed. From here one can see into the wonderfully intact library, a kaleidoscopic ‘work in progress’ that brings together pieces by Fortuny and by contemporary artists from very different backgrounds.
fortuny.visitmuve.it/en/il-museo/museum/building-and-hist...
'Eat Me' was a 360-degree projection created by renowned French artists Antoine + Manuel, which animated the monumental architecture of the Library’s Dome, weaving through references to 'Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland'. Commissioned by the State Library for White Night Melbourne, 'Eat Me' used 3-D mapping techniques, animation and stage design to create a mesmerising work that turned the Dome into a whimsical, abstract dreamscape. Shifts in scale, luscious gardens and vibrant colours were set against a soundtrack created by Melbourne electro-pop artist, Sui Zhen.
Bartabas: Golgota
Acclaimed equestrian theatre artist Bartabas returns to the Sadler’s Wells stage accompanied by contemporary flamenco dancer Andrés Marín, four horses and a donkey, to present the UK Premiere of Golgota. 14-21 March.
Credits:
Creation, stage design, direction: Bartabas
Choreography, performance: Andrés Marín & Bartabas
Horses: Horizonte, Le Tintoret, Soutine, Champagne & Lautrec the donkey
Music: Tomás Luis de Victoria, motets for solo voice
Countertenor: Christophe Baska
Cornet: Adrien Mabire
Lute: Marc Wolff
Actor: William Panza
Costumes: Sophie Manach & Yannick Laisné
Props: Sébastien Puech
Scenery: Les Ateliers Jipanco
Lights: Laurent Matignon
photo - © Foteini Christofilopoulou | All rights reserved | For all usage/licensing enquiries please contact www.foteini.com
Trans*Fluidity im Internationalen Theater, Produktion: Sandra Mann, Projektleitung: Jens Jercke, Audio und Videotechnik: Aleksandar Dojcinovic, Stage Design: Kim-Lotte Stöber, Ela Kaleta Hair & Make up: Lara Schmitt, Costume Design: Maurice Martinez, Hintergrundvisuals: Sandra Mann, Bettina Rheims.
Circa: The Return, LIMF 2016
The Australian company Circa in The Return at the Barbican Theatre as part of London International Mime Festival. 27-31 Jan.
Created by Yaron Lifschitz with Quincy Grant and the Circa ensemble
Composers: Claudio Monteverdi, Quincy Grant, John Barber, Jakub Jankowski and Cornel Wilczek
Directed by Yaron Lifschitz
Musical supervision by Quincy Grant
Musical direction by Natalie Murray Beale
Technical direction and lighting by Jason Organ
Costumes by Libby McDonnell
Stage design by Jason Organ and Yaron Lifschitz
Circa Ensemble: Nathan Boyle, Daniel O’Brien,
Nicole Faubert, Bridie Hooper, Brittannie Portelli, Duncan West
Tenor: Robert Murray
Mezzo Soprano Kate Howden
photo - © Foteini Christofilopoulou | All rights reserved | For all usage/licensing enquiries please contact www.foteini.com
Frank Eugene (19 September 1865 – 16 December 1936) was an American-born photographer who was a founding member of the Photo-Secession and one of the first university-level professors of photography in the world.
Eugene was born in New York City as Frank Eugene Smith. His father was Frederick Smith, a German baker who changed his last name from Schmid after moving to America in the late 1850s. His mother was Hermine Selinger Smith, a singer who performed in local German beer halls and theaters.[1]
About 1880 Eugene began to photograph for amusement, possibly while he was attending the City College of New York.
In 1886 he moved to Munich in order to attends the Bayrische Akademie der Bildenden Künste (Bavarian Academy of Fine Arts). He studied drawing and stage design. After he graduated he started a career as a theatrical portraitist, drawing portraits of actors and actresses. He continued his interest in photography, although little is known of his teachers or influences.
He returned to the United States, and in 1899 he exhibited photographs at the Camera Club in New York under name Frank Eugene. The critic Sadakichi Hartmann wrote a review of the show, saying “It is the first time that a truly artistic temperament, a painter of generally recognized accomplishments and ability asserts itself in American photography.”[2]
A year later he was elected to The Linked Ring, and fourteen of his prints were shown that year in a major London exhibition. Already at this stage in his career he had developed a highly distinctive style that was influenced by his training as a painter. He assertively manipulated his negatives with both scratches and brush strokes, creating prints that had the appearance of a blend between painting and photography. When his prints were shown at the Camera Club in New York, one reviewer commented that his work was "unphotographic photography."[3]
In the summer of 1900 an entire issue of Camera Notes was devoted to his art, an honor accorded only a few other photographers.
In early 1901 he traveled to Egypt. He returned a few months later and met with photographer F. Holland Day in Narragansett, R.I., during the summer.
In late 1902 Eugene becomes a Founder of the Photo-Secession and a member of its governing Council.
In 1904 one gravure published in Camera Work, No. 5 (January).
In 1906 Eugene moved permanently to Germany. He was recognized there both as a painter and a photographer, but initially he worked primarily with prominent painters such as Fritz von Uhde, Hendrik Heyligers, Willi Geiger, and Franz Roh. He photographed many of these and other artists at the same time. He also designed tapestries that he used as backgrounds in his photographs.[4]
A year later he became a lecturer on pictorial photography at Munich’s Lehr-und Versuchs-anstalt fur Photo graphie und Reproduktions-technik (Teaching and Research Institute for Photography and the Reproductive Processes). At this point, photography rather than painting became his primary interest. He experimented with the new color process of Autochromes, and three of his color prints are exhibited at Alfred Stieglitz’s Photo-Secession Galleries in New York.
In 1909 two more of his gravures were published in Camera Work, No. 25 (January).
In 1910 twenty-seven of his photographs were exhibited at a major exhibition in Buffalo, New York. The catalog for this show described Eugene as the first photographer to make successful platinum prints on Japan tissue. Ten more of his gravures published in Camera Work, No.30 (April), and fourteen additional images appear in No.31 (July).
More than any other photographer of the early 20th century, Eugene was recognized as the master of the manipulated image. Photographic historian Weston Naef described his style this way:
"The very boldness with which Eugene manipulated the negative by scratching and painting forced even those with strong sympathy for the purist line of thinking like White, Day and Stieglitz to admire Eugene's particular touch...[he] created a new syntax for the photographic vocabularity, for no one before him had hand-worked negatives with such painterly intentions and a skill unsurpassed by his successors."[4]
In 1913 he was appointed Royal Professor of Pictorial Photography by the Royal Academy of the Graphic Arts of Leipzig. This professorship, created especially for Eugene, is the first chair for pictorial photography anywhere in the world.[4]
Two years later Eugene gave up his American citizenship and became a citizen of Germany. He continued teaching for many years and was head of the photography department at the Royal Academy until it closed in 1927.[1]
Eugene died of heart failure in Munich in 1936.
Circa: The Return, LIMF 2016
The Australian company Circa in The Return at the Barbican Theatre as part of London International Mime Festival. 27-31 Jan.
Created by Yaron Lifschitz with Quincy Grant and the Circa ensemble
Composers: Claudio Monteverdi, Quincy Grant, John Barber, Jakub Jankowski and Cornel Wilczek
Directed by Yaron Lifschitz
Musical supervision by Quincy Grant
Musical direction by Natalie Murray Beale
Technical direction and lighting by Jason Organ
Costumes by Libby McDonnell
Stage design by Jason Organ and Yaron Lifschitz
Circa Ensemble: Nathan Boyle, Daniel O’Brien,
Nicole Faubert, Bridie Hooper, Brittannie Portelli, Duncan West
Tenor: Robert Murray
Mezzo Soprano Kate Howden
photo - © Foteini Christofilopoulou | All rights reserved | For all usage/licensing enquiries please contact www.foteini.com
WIKIPEDIA INFO CUTS: Origins[edit]
The program began in January 1955 and took shape in parallel with the Atlas (SM-65/HGM-16) intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM). The Air Force's goal in launching the Titan program was twofold: one, to serve as a backup should Atlas fail; and two, to develop a large, two-stage missile with a longer range and bigger payload that also could serve as a booster for space flights[citation needed].
The Titan I was initially designated SM-68; it was later redesignated HGM-25A.
Characteristics[edit]
Produced by the Glenn L. Martin Company (which became "The Martin Company" in 1957), Titan I was a two-stage, liquid-fueled missile. The first stage delivered 300,000 pounds (1,330 kN) of thrust, the second stage 80,000 pounds (356 kN). The fact that Titan I, like Atlas, burned RP-1 and LOX meant that the oxidizer had to be loaded onto the missile just before launch from the underground storage tank, and the missile raised above ground on the enormous elevator system, exposing the missile for some time before launch. The complexity of the system combined with its relatively slow reaction time – fifteen minutes to load, raise and launch the first missile, made it a less effective weapon system.
Titan I utilized radio command guidance. The inertial guidance system originally intended for the missile was instead eventually deployed in the Atlas E missile. (The Atlas series was intended to be the first generation of American ICBMs and Titan II (as opposed to Titan I) was to be the second generation deployed). An inertial guidance system would have allowed Titan I, once launched, to guide itself independently to a pre-programmed target. It would not have relied upon continuous radio command signals from a ground location, or upon the ability to receive and react to such signals.
Titan I also was the first true multi-stage (two or more stages) design. Whereas in Atlas, all rocket engines were ignited at launch (including two small thrust vernier engines) due to the unreliable nature of the engines[citation needed], Titan I’s second stage engines were reliable enough to be ignited at altitude, after separation from the first stage booster; and its fuel tanks, engines, launch interface equipment, and launch pad thrust ring. Titan I’s ability to jettison this mass prior to the ignition of the second stage, meant that Titan I had a much greater total range (and a greater range per pound of second stage fuel) than Atlas, even if the total fuel load of Atlas had been greater.[citation needed]
The Titan I had an effective range of 5,500 nautical miles (10,200 km). When the first stage had finished consuming its propellant, it dropped away, thereby decreasing the mass of the vehicle. That made for a more efficient missile, which resulted in increased range and enabled a larger payload.
The warhead of the Titan I was an AVCO Mk 4 re-entry vehicle containing a W38 thermonuclear bomb with a yield of 3.75 megatons which was fuzed for either air burst or contact burst. The Mk 4 RV also deployed penetration aids in the form of mylar balloons which replicated the radar signature of the Mk 4 RV. SCAN AND REMASTERED by Dan Beaumont. www.youtube.com/user/MrDanBeaumont?feature=watch
A minimalist theater set from 1940s Hungary featuring a simple stage design with chairs, framed portraits, and sparse décor.
[KW Pilot Super / Rollei RPX 25 / R09 stand / 4x4cm excerpt of negative / April 2015]
from my aperiodic and sponatenous series of artists/musicians at or after work. :)
Fashion/costume designer Cansu Incesu after premiere of a play at theatre where she created costumes and stage design.
East-German postcard by VEB Progress Film-Vertrieb, Berlin, no. 9/72. Photo: Schütz. Annekathrin Bürger in Tecumseh (Hans Kratzert, 1972).
Annekathrin Bürger (1937) is a German stage, film, and television actress. Bürger was a prominent actress in East Germany appearing in a number of films made by the state-run DEFA film studios as well as in television series such as Wolf Among Wolves (1965) set in 1920s Berlin. In 1972 she played the female lead in the Ostern Tecumseh (1972).
Annekathrin Bürger was born Annekathrin Rammelt in 1937 in
Berlin-Charlottenburg, Nazi Germany. Her father was the animal draftsman and illustrator Heinz Rammelt. She grew up in Hornhausen, trained as an advertising designer in Bernburg, and worked as a stage design assistant, prop master, and extra at the Carl-Maria-von-Weber-Theater there. She failed the entrance exam for the State Drama School in Berlin. In the summer of 1955, she met Czech film people in Berlin and played her first small role as a pioneer leader in the Czech-German short film Gebirge und Meer/Mountains and sea (Wolfgang Bartsch, Bohumil Vosahlik, 1955). A year later she appeared in the East German neo-realist romantic drama Eine Berliner Romanze/A Berlin Romance (Gerhard Klein, 1956), a film about youth urban life in the divided city of Berlin. It was produced by the DEFA, the state-owned East German studio. Annekathrin Bürger's co-stars were Ulrich Thein and Uwe-Jens Pape. It is still amongst DEFA's best-known films. Bürger studied acting at the Potsdam Film and Television Academy from 1957 to 1960. From 1959 to 1960 she was engaged at the Deutsches Theater in Berlin. She also starred in another youth film, Reportage 57 (János Veiczi, 1959), and the romantic comedy Verwirrung der Liebe/Love's Confusion (Slátan Dudow, 1959), both with Willi Schrade. Love's Confusion was Dudow's last film and the screen debut of Angelica Domröse. Influenced by the relaxed political climate ushered with the Khrushchev Thaw, the picture was unprecedentedly libertine in regards to sexuality. It became a huge hit.
During the early 1960s, Annekathrin Bürger appeared in a series of DEFA productions, such as Septemberliebe/September Love (Kurt Maetzig, 1961) with Doris Abesser and Ulrich Thein. She also starred in the first joint Soviet–East German film, Pyat Dney, Pyat Nochei/Fünf Tage, Fünf Nächte/Five Days, Five Nights ( Lev Arnshtam, Heinz Thiel, 1961) with Wilhelm Koch-Hooge. The picture's plot was inspired by the recovery of the art of the Old Masters Picture Gallery through the hands of Soviet troops in 1945. The art collection was then taken to the USSR, where it was kept until being returned to the Dresden Gallery in 1960. Five Days, Five Nights sold more than two million tickets in the German Democratic Republic. Then she starred in the romantic war drama Königskinder/Star-Crossed Lovers (Frank Beyer, 1962) with Armin Mueller-Stahl, and in the drama Das zweite Gleis/The Second Track (Joachim Kunert, 1962), as the daughter of Albert Hetterle. It is the only DEFA film looking at Nazi Germany history in East Germany. From 1963 to 1965 she was a member of the DFF, from 1965 to 2003 a member of the ensemble of the Volksbühne Berlin. Since 1968 she has only seldom been used in supporting roles in the theatre.
Bürger played numerous roles in DEFA and DFF films including the Ostern (Red Western) Tecumseh (Hans Kratzert, 1972) opposite Gojko Mitić and Rolf Römer. It is part of a popular string of films starring the Yugoslav actor Gojko Mitić which, in line with the policies of Communist East Germany, attempted to present a more critical, but also more realistic, view of American expansion to the West than was characterised by Hollywood. The film, along with others, was also made partly in response to the successful series of Karl May films made in West Germany. The film depicts the life of the Native American leader Tecumseh (1768–1813), including his role in Tecumseh's War and his later death in the War of 1812 while fighting with the British against the United States. On television, she played a supporting role as a laundromat and bar manager in the popular series Tatort Leipzig with Peter Sodann, until 2005. She was also involved in cultural policy and protested against Wolf Biermann's expatriation and was committed to maintaining Charlotte von Mahlsdorf's Wilhelminian-style museum. From 1990 to 1997 Bürger was chairman of the Congress of the National Citizens Movement. In 1993 she and her husband founded the orphans on the Don association. In the same year, the documentary film Children of the Don was made about it. Annekathrin Bürger was first married to the actor and director Ulrich Thein and was married to her colleague Rolf Römer from 1966 until his death in 2000. Annekathrin Bürger lives in Berlin-Köpenick.
Sources: Wikipedia (English and German), and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.
Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.
Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.
11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.
Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!
Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.
My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.
I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.
For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.
Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.
The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.
12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!
We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.
I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?
Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.
I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.
My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.
13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.
People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.
I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.
Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.
Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.
I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.
Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.
14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.
Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.
I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.
I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.
Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!
Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!
15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.
On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.
John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.
I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.
There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!
I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.
I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!
Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.
At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.
That's all for England!
Chinese folk dance first appeared over 5000 years ago and is a by-product of long historical development and profound artistic culture. Its origin lies mainly in the movements and dance reflecting people's daily life, festival activities and customs.
Dynamic Yunnan is a grand, original ethnic dance musical. It fuses beauty of Yunnan ethnic minorities dance and songs with the power of modern stage exhibition. Through the artistic director's reorganization and recreation of the essence of traditional songs and dance with the most classic style of folk dance, the richness of the culture of Yunnan minorities is born again on stage with startling effects.
An extraordinary sense of "Impression of Yunnan" (Yunnan Yingxiang) is brought to the audience through the exhibition of the clashed effect between the classic and original ethnic songs and dance and modern dance choreography. This is the first production produced, directed and choreographed by the famous dancer, Yang Liping.
Original characteristics of ethnic folk songs and dances
Real costumes and actual ways of life of the minorities of Yunnan province
Real bullheads, Tibetan praying stones (Mani stone) and Buddhist praying wheels on stage
Performed by 68 drums with the original ethnic beats and rhythms. Decorated with more than 120 unique masks in Yunnan minorities style
Around 100% of the performers are genuine Yunnan ethnic minorities who left their villages to participate in the troupe
Dynamic Yunnan's lighting, music and stage design together created a 3-dimensional, imaginative and surreal stage setting for the audience.
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
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enricarchivell: #teatrelliure #teatre #lliure #stagedesign #javierbeltran
Born: Marcel Hermann Iancu
24 May 1895, Bucharest, Romania
Died 21 April 1984 (aged 88), Ein Hod, Israel
Nationality: Romanian, Israeli
Education Federal Institute of Technology, Zürich
Known for Oil painting, collage, relief, illustration, found object art, linocut, woodcut, watercolor, pastel, costume design, interior design, scenic design, ceramic art, fresco, tapestry'
Marcel Janco common rendition of the Romanian name Marcel Hermann Iancu; (24 May 1895 – 21 April 1984) was a Romanian and Israeli visual artist, architect and art theorist. He was the co-inventor of Dadaism and a leading exponent of Constructivism in Eastern Europe. In the 1910s, he co-edited, with Ion Vinea and Tristan Tzara, the Romanian art magazine Simbolul. Janco was a practitioner of Art Nouveau, Futurism and Expressionism before contributing his painting and stage design to Tzara's literary Dadaism. He parted with Dada in 1919, when he and painter Hans Arp founded a Constructivist circle, Das Neue Leben.
Reunited with Vinea, he founded Contimporanul, the influential tribune of the Romanian avant-garde, advocating a mix of Constructivism, Futurism and Cubism. At Contimporanul, Janco expounded a "revolutionary" vision of urban planning. He designed some of the most innovative landmarks of downtown Bucharest. He worked in many art forms, including illustration, sculpture and oil painting.
Janco was one of the leading Romanian Jewish intellectuals of his generation. Targeted by antisemitic persecution before and during World War II, he emigrated to the British Mandate for Palestine in 1941. He won the Dizengoff Prize and Israel Prize, and was a founder of Ein Hod, a utopian art colony.
Client; Aston Merrygold
incorporating artist logo on base
The Rebel GOLD PLATED range incorporates our made to order Rebel custom mic stands finished in 24ct gold plating, rose gold plating or custom gold colour finishes
We can obtain satin or high polished finishes and include designs and logos into the finish.
An effort to reduce wing loading and increase fatigue life? Or perhaps a multi-stage design to extend range? Naaah, just three Snowbirds being real intimate!
Bartabas: Golgota
Acclaimed equestrian theatre artist Bartabas returns to the Sadler’s Wells stage accompanied by contemporary flamenco dancer Andrés Marín, four horses and a donkey, to present the UK Premiere of Golgota. 14-21 March.
Credits:
Creation, stage design, direction: Bartabas
Choreography, performance: Andrés Marín & Bartabas
Horses: Horizonte, Le Tintoret, Soutine, Champagne & Lautrec the donkey
Music: Tomás Luis de Victoria, motets for solo voice
Countertenor: Christophe Baska
Cornet: Adrien Mabire
Lute: Marc Wolff
Actor: William Panza
Costumes: Sophie Manach & Yannick Laisné
Props: Sébastien Puech
Scenery: Les Ateliers Jipanco
Lights: Laurent Matignon
photo - © Foteini Christofilopoulou | All rights reserved | For all usage/licensing enquiries please contact www.foteini.com
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
Once owned by the Pesaro family, this large Gothic palazzo in Campo San Beneto, was transformed by Mariano Fortuny into his own atelier of photography, stage-design, textile-design and painting. The building retains the rooms and structures created by Fortuny, together with tapestries and collections. The working environment of Mariano Fortuny is represented through precious wall-hangings, paintings, and the famous lamps – all objects that testify to the artist’s inspiration and still give count of his eclectic work and of his presence on the intellectual and artistic scene at the turn of the 19th century. The Fortuny Museum was donated to the city in 1956 by Henriette, Mariano’s widow. The collections within the museum comprise an extensive number of pieces and materials which reflect the various fields investigated in the artist’s work. These are organised under certain specific headings: painting, light, photography, textiles and grand garments. This Museum combines ‘full’ spaces – for example, the first floor salone overflowing with paintings, fabrics and Fortuny’s famous lamps – with more open spaces: on the second floor, walls and windows, lighting and space recount the history of the palazzo and the atelier it housed. From here one can see into the wonderfully intact library, a kaleidoscopic ‘work in progress’ that brings together pieces by Fortuny and by contemporary artists from very different backgrounds.
fortuny.visitmuve.it/en/il-museo/museum/building-and-hist...
From Pilote Magazine (no 391) "Pilotorama". La fusée Europa 1 POSTER.
REMASTERED by Dan Beaumont
Europa rocket WEBSITE INFO: www.hydroretro.net/etudegh/veroniqueariane.pdf
and
www.avas.free.fr/aventure/lrba/europa/66%2068/europa%2019...
and
www.capcomespace.net/dossiers/espace_europeen/ariane/espa...
and
fuseurop.univ-perp.fr/europa_f.htm
and
books.google.ca/books?id=1gV3sSPCFY0C&pg=PA204&lp...
WIKIPEDIA INFO: History[edit]
The British Blue Streak ballistic missile was cancelled in 1960, when it was realised it could not compete with the types of missile that the Americans or Russians were building. As part of deciding how to implement Blue Streak inconspicuously, the British inadvertently arrived at the concept of the missile launch facility (missile silos), although none were actually built in Britain. The difficult storage of liquid oxygen in the rocket stalled the introduction of Blue Streak.
The Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough was given the job of considering how the missile could be adapted as a satellite launching vehicle, in conjunction with other rocket stages. Peter Thorneycroft, Baron Thorneycroft, the Minister of Aviation, in 1961 thought about a joint European project, the main intention being not to waste the (advanced) development of the rocket, and not to leave space exploration to the Americans and Russians. A possible Anglo-French collaboration was looked at, and ELDO was signed on 16 April 1962.
The three-stage design was arrived at, and given the name Eldo A, later named Europa.
In January 1965, the French thought the initial three-stage rocket design would not be sufficiently advanced to carry the size of payloads required, and another rocket - Eldo B - with liquid hydrogen as fuel for the second and third stages to be the better first design, partly due to reduce the cost of the project by eliminating transition test launchers. It would still use the Blue Streak as the first stage. ELDO later disagreed, but the French would get their way, as Eldo B would become Ariane, first launching in 1979.
The programme was initiated by the UK and the first launch was planned for November 1966, but the first two-stage launch occurred in August 1967, with three stages (Europa 1) in November 1968.
By April 1966, estimated costs had increased to £150 million, from an initial estimated of £70 million. Hopes were not high that it would be suitable for the job. The Italians wanted to give up on ELDO and go for a single European space organisation, not divided nationally as ELDO.
Britain was contributing 40% of the costs. In early June 1966, the British government (Fred Mulley) decided it could not afford the cost, and wanted to leave the ELDO organisation - one of the few European organisations in which a lead player. This was also at a time when satellite technology was about to change the world. But satellites would need to be 23,000 miles above earth, not Europa 1's 125 miles altitude. Britain's contribution was reduced to 27%.
In mid-November 1968, a European Space Conference in Bonn decided on a proposal to merge ELDO with ESRO to form a pan-European space authority by early 1970; ESA would not be formed until 1975. Britain was lukewarm to the idea, because it did not believe Europe could launch satellites economically.
By 1970 the French launch base in French Guiana had cost £45 million, and in that year France became the most important partner in the project, then planning to build two-thirds of the rocket as well as owning the launch site. Although only on paper, Britain's involvement in the project was much reduced, after being largely responsible (with an Australian launch site) for getting the entire project going in the first place. However all of the launchers, to the very end, were completely dependent on the British rocket in the first stage.
In 1970 the project was under a perceived economic threat from America's proposed Space Shuttle - Europe knew it could not build (and never has) a similar launcher. However the Space Shuttle would never pose an economic threat due to its immense launch costs.
By 1971, over £250 million had been spent on the project, with Europa 2 costing over £4 million.
Russian painter, mainly in watercolour, art historian and stage designer. Born in St Petersburg of French and Italian descent, son of Nikolai Benois, architect to the Imperial Palaces in Peterhof. Briefly attended a part-time course in stage design at the Academy of Arts 1887, but otherwise self-taught as an artist. Studied law at the University of St Petersburg 1890-4, and while still a student formed a circle with a number of friends, including Diaghilev, Somov and Bakst, for the purpose of studying art. This later developed into the World of Art (Mir Iskusstva), which held exhibitions and published a journal of the same name, 1898-1904. Travelled widely in Europe and was influenced by the art of the eighteenth century. Became very active and influential as a stage designer, including sets and costumes for Le Pavillon d'Armide 1907 and (for Diaghilev) Petrushka 1911 and Le Rossignol 1914. Edited the periodical Khudozhestvennye sokrovishcha Rossii (Art Treasures of Russia) 1901-3, and wrote several books on art and volumes of memoirs. Curator of Painting at the Hermitage 1918-25, then moved in 1926 to Paris, where he continued to paint and design for the theatre. Died in Paris.
Published in:
Ronald Alley, Catalogue of the Tate Gallery's Collection of Modern Art other than Works by British Artists, Tate Gallery and Sotheby Parke-Bernet, London 1981, p.48
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.
Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.
Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.
11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.
Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!
Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.
My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.
I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.
For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.
Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.
The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.
12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!
We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.
I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?
Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.
I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.
My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.
13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.
People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.
I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.
Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.
Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.
I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.
Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.
14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.
Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.
I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.
I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.
Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!
Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!
15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.
On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.
John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.
I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.
There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!
I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.
I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!
Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.
At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.
That's all for England!
A vintage 1940s Hungarian theater set with celestial-themed decor, featuring stars, moons, and ornate structures.
Alexandre Nikolayevich Benois was an influential artist, art critic, historian, preservationist, and founding member of Mir iskusstva. His influence on the modern ballet and stage design is considered seminal. He was born into the artistic and intellectual Benois family. Alexandre's father and brother Leon Benois were noted architects. Alexandre didn't plan to devote his life to art and graduated from the Faculty of Law, St. Petersburg University. Three years later, while in Versailles, he painted a series of watercolors depicting Last Promenades of Louis XIV. When exhibited by Pavel Tretyakov they brought him to attention of Sergei Diaghilev and Leon Bakst. Together they founded the art movement Mir iskusstva which aimed at promoting the Aesthetic Movement and Art Nouveau in Russia.
During the 1910s, Benois continued to edit Mir iskusstva and pursue his scholarly interests. He printed several monographs on 19th-century Russian art. From 1918 to 1926, he ran the gallery of Old Masters in the Hermitage Museum. In 1903, he printed his illustrations to Pushkin's Bronze Horseman which have since been recognized as one of the landmarks in the genre. In 1901, Benois was appointed scenic director of the Mariinsky Theatre. Since then, he devoted most of his time to stage design and decor. Although he worked primarily with Diaghilev for the Ballets Russes, he simultaneously collaborated with the Moscow Art Theatre and other notable theatres of Europe.
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
dance -> fashion -> archiecture experiment with Heidi Wikar and Elpida Orfanidou. A living solution so perfect, so primitive, we have always been refusing it... The placenta as architecture and garment...
September 08 stage design at Blue Ridge Community Church. Series topic: Scripture
Details: 13 36" inch fluorescent work lights, 2 24" fluorescent work lights mounted behind cutouts. Each letter was made from a translucent material I've forgotten the name of. All color was from front lighting from 2 AC Lighting Color Split LED fixtures and 2 High End Studio Beam fixtures. We controlled the fluorescents with a dimming channel from our lighting console and discovered that we could take them down to about 60% before they began to flickr. (We they always had to start from 100%) Also, at 70% the cameras began to pick up several lights cycling between white and yellow - not noticeable to our eyes.
Built in 2 stages for Ruthven Frederick Ruthven-Smith of London, architects Alfred Barham Black & Henry Ernest Fuller, brick with cement dressings, first stage with 16 flats completed Jan 1912, second stage designed by Black opened Nov 1915. When sold 1954 to SA Government, there were 44 flats, 6 shops, 2 small bulk stores, and a two-storey showroom. The building fell into disrepair and by 1976 had lost its balconies, later saved from demolition, renovated & restored to resemble original, now serviced apartments.
“A huge palm was growing in front of the old building in Pulteney-street, which was, demolished recently to make room for the new residential flats which Mr Ruthven Smith is going to erect there. It was planted many years ago by Miss Townsend, the lessee of one of the houses, and she presented it to the Zoological Gardens. Last week the palm, with about 1½ tons of earth in a ball round its roots, was lifted after considerable trouble and placed on one of the drays belonging to the Zoo When the load had been conveyed a little way along North-terrace the vehicle gave way, and the palm had to be left there all night. On the following morning the transfer was completed, and the palm now occupies a position at the north eastern corner of the Gardens, opposite the new wild dog open cages.” [Advertiser 18 Jul 1910]
“Ruthven Mansions. The fine block of residential flats being erected in Pulteney street for Dr. R. F. Ruthven Smith, of London, are now nearing completion. The mansions will contain 16 sets of flats, varying in size from two to six rooms. Each flat will be provided with its own bathroom. Electric light, electric lifts, and hot-water service throughout are a few of the conveniences of this thoroughly modern building. Provision is made for a spacious roof garden, and a restaurant will find a place on the ground floor.” [Register 8 Jun 1911]
“There is in all accommodation for 16 families. The ground floor is devoted to four shops. Two of these, with their respective basements, have been fitted up as the ‘Cafe Rubeo’, complete with a fine kitchen containing a range, bain-marie, griller, cool chamber, &c. The walls and floor of the kitchen are tiled, thus enabling the whole place to be easily kept clean. . . The walls of the dining room are tinted a pale green, with a dark green ‘lincrusta’ dado, copper fittings, and leaded lights in quiet tones. Another shop has been fitted up as a hairdressing saloon.” [Advertiser 15 Feb 1912]
“The main entrance to the mansions is through a handsome pair of cedar and bevelled glass ‘sesame’ doors, the first of their kind to be introduced into Adelaide. These doors open mechanically immediately a visitor steps upon the mat outside, but so ingenious is the device by which they are controlled that they will not open to the force of strong winds.” [Register 15 Feb 1912]
“Some Original Holders. One of the absentees, who is still represented by a descendant, in the ownership of Adelaide city property, was Mr. S. G. Smith, whose nephew, Mr. Ruthven Smith, is the proprietor of those handsome residential flats known as ‘Ruthven Mansions’ in Pulteney-street, which are built on part of the acre which was selected by Mr. S. G. Smith in March, 1837. Mr. Ruthven Smith also owned, until he disposed of them quite recently, several acres in Grote-street.” [Advertiser 2 Aug 1913]
“Pulteney-street Improvements. Mr. C. B. Hardy, as attorney for Mr. Ruthven Frederick Smith, of England, has accepted a tender from Mr. Walter C. Torode to complete the building in Pulteney-street, Adelaide, known as Ruthven Mansions. Mr. A. Barham Black, L.R.I.B.A.. is the architect. The work under notice will be an extension of the present structure up to Austin-street, with basements, shops, residential flats, and chambers, at a cost of about £17,000.” [Advertiser 25 May 1914]
“Additions to Ruthven mansions. . . Some months ago plans were prepared by Mr. A. Barham Black for extensions to the building; and Mr. Walter Torode undertook to materialize the architect's design. . . To allow the occupants of the apartments to obtain an unobstructed view of the city and hills, provision has been made for an elevated look-out or upper flat above the roof.” [Register 7 May 1915]
“The first block of Ruthven Mansions was completed about January, 1912, having taken 18 months to erect. The second block secured attention early the next year. Mr. Ruthven-Smith by then having purchased Mr. David Tweedie's block of land on the north side of the first block, which consisted (apart from ground floor shops and restaurant) of two floors subdivided into uniformly planned six-roomed flats. . . The ground floor was planned as three shops. The whole of the three shops, as well as all the basement; has been let to Messrs. Hosking Bros., ''Craft House," the well-known art furniture firm,” [The Mail 20 Nov 1915]
“His Worship the Mayor of Adelaide (Mr. Allan Simpson) declared the building open, and, in a few appropriate words, proposed the health of Mr. R. F. Ruthven Smith, who is the absent owner of Ruthven Mansions, and Mr. C. B. Hardy suitably responded. As a scheme for supplying to Adelaide what has been a very long-ielt want in most cities, this scheme dates from August, 1909, when Mr. C. B. Hardy, attorney for Mr. R. F. Ruthven-Smith, of London, asked his architect, Mr. A. Barnham Black, for sketch plans adapted to the area of land the owner was able to set apart for the purpose. The first intention was to build what ould have been more "chambers" than residential flats, but the scheme shortly took the latter definite form.” [Critic, Adelaide 24 Nov 1915]
“a water main on the west side of Pulteney-street burst at 12.15 a.m. today, and, rising 60 feet into the air, the water flooded several flats in Ruthven Mansions. . . Many thousands of gallons spurted through a hole in the road about three feet in diameter, and spread across about 50 feet in front of the mansions and sprayed in through windows on the fourth storey. It was not until 1.15 a.m. that the water was turned off.” [Advertiser 16 Oct 1931]
“By a majority decision the High Court dismissed with costs today the appeal of Cox Bros. (Aust.) Ltd., occupiers of premises in Pulteney street, Adelaide, and Ruthven Frederick Ruthven-Smith. owner of the premises, against the South Australian Commissioner of Public Works. Cox Bros, claimed £3,000 for damage done to its stock through the bursting of a water main in the street. Smith claimed £500 damages caused to the premises. Mr. Justice Piper, who heard the action in Adelaide, found that there was no negligence on the part of the Commissioner, and gave judgment in his favor.” [Advertiser 7 Nov 1933]
“Ruthven Mansions. . . Until recently the first floor of the building was occupied as a large showroom, but in view of the constant demand for accommodation in the Mansions, the management decided to reconstruct the whole of that area into additional flats. Messrs. Garlick & Jackman were the architects to whom the work was entrusted. Now that which was once a well-disposed showroom has been transformed into seven delightfully modern flats. . . For demonstration purposes, a full suite has been tastefully furnished by John Martin & Co. Ltd.” [The Mail 29 Jul 1939]
“A well-known four-story city building — Ruthven Mansions in Pulteney street — will be sold at auction soon. . . The property consists of 44 self-contained flats, six shops, two small bulk stores, and a two-story showroom. . . The building, which covers the whole of the land, has frontages to three streets. . . to Pulteney. . . to Austin, and . . . along Porters lane, Residential tenancies have about three years to go. The property is owned by Mrs. D. R. Ashworth, daughter of Mr. R. F. Ruthven-Smith, after whom the building was named.” [News 2 Jul 1954]
“Ruthven Mansions, Pulteney street, which was sold by auction this week to the State Government for £90,000, will be used to accommodate additional staff at the Royal Adelaide Hospital. . . little alteration would be necessary to the building which should be ready In three years. . . at present there was no accommodation for the staff of the large casualty block being planned at the hospital and the mansions had been bought to house this staff. The building, which would accommodate 200 nurses or 100 nursing sisters, would be used as a nurses' home for a number of years, but would ultimately be disposed of when a new nurses' home was built near the hospital.” [Advertiser 13 Aug 1954]