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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]
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enricarchivell: #stage #design #play #teatro #teatropavon #teatroclasico #teatrelliure #elcaballerodeolmedo
nstallation at the Residency Schauspiel Leipzig
size: 9 m x 5 m x 3m
material : cellular plastic sheets / Kapa
the Installation „Skeleton“ was produced as a stage design for the dance-performance „Spacekraft“ at the Residency Schauspiel Leipzig . The focus of thiss culpture is the investigation of unique movable structures by the arrangement of several splitter and square or polygonal edged shapes. The interdisciplinary cast of Spacekraft explores a hyper-real world drawn from futuristic fantasies of our architectural environment.
„Spacekraft“ a collaboration between Choreographer Melanie Lane / Musician Chris Clark / Me.
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.
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
Stage design, costume, interactive media design, and print design for the Steinfuß Theatre. The play staged the critical text “Geschichte meiner Einschätzung am Anfang des Dritten Jahrtausends” by German musician and poet PeterLicht. The concept is about three different boxes, through which the audience moves from scenery to scenery. We set up a pool made of styrodur, a cardboard structure, and a site fence with woven paper strips. Then there was a video projection and a remote controlled moon.
With Aline Otte, Yakub Yayla, Bianca Barabas, Duy An Tran, and others.
Director: Adelheid Schulz
17.-24.5. 2012, Stuttgart
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!
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!
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!
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!
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!
East-German postcard by VEB Progress Film-Vertrieb, Berlin, no. 710, 1958. Photo: Günther Ost.
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.
Mercedes SLS AMG Coupe Electric Drive
With the new Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive, Mercedes-AMG is entering a new era: the locally emission-free super sports car featuring advanced technology from the world of Formula 1 is the most exclusive and dynamic way in which to drive an electric car. The most powerful AMG high-performance vehicle of all time has four electric motors producing a total output of 552 kW and a maximum torque of 1000 Nm. As a result, the gullwing model has become the world's fastest electrically-powered series production vehicle: the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive accelerates from zero to 100 km/h in 3.9 seconds.
A new dimension of driving performance - a convincing synonym for the AMG brand promise are the outstanding driving dynamics which come courtesy of AMG Torque Dynamics as well as torque distribution to individual wheels, which is made possible by means of wheel-selective all-wheel drive. The most "electrifying" gullwing model ever has been developed in-house by Mercedes-AMG GmbH. The high-voltage battery for the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is the result of cooperation between Mercedes-AMG and Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains in Brixworth (GB). This is an area in which the British Formula 1 experts were able to contribute their extensive know-how with KERS hybrid concepts.
"The SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is setting new standards for cars with electric drives. As the most powerful gullwing model ever, it is also representative of the enduring innovational strength of Mercedes-AMG. Our vision of the most dynamic electric vehicle has become a reality. With the help of our colleagues at Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains in Brixworth, we are bringing exciting advanced technology from the world of Formula 1 to the road", according to Ola Källenius, Chairman of the Board of Management of Mercedes-AMG GmbH.
Mercedes SLS AMG Coupe Electric Drive (2014)
2014 Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupe Electric Drive
Pioneering, visionary, electrifying: the powerful and locally emission-free super sports car with electric drive also embodies the development competence of Mercedes-AMG GmbH. With this innovative and unique drive solution, AMG - as the performance brand of Mercedes-Benz - is demonstrating its technological leadership in this segment. The Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is aimed at technology-minded super sports car fans who are open to new ideas and enthusiastic about ambitious high-tech solutions for the future of motoring.
Enormous thrust thanks to 1000 Nm of torque
The pioneering drive package in the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is impressive and guarantees a completely innovative and electrifying driving experience: enormous thrust comes courtesy of four synchronous electric motors providing a combined maximum output of 552 kW and maximum torque of 1000 Nm. The very special gullwing model accelerates from zero to 100 km/h in 3.9 seconds, and can reach a top speed of 250 km/h (electronically limited). The agile response to accelerator pedal input and the linear power output provide pure excitement: unlike with a combustion engine, the build-up of torque is instantaneous with electric motors - maximum torque is effectively available from a standstill. The spontaneous build-up of torque and the forceful power delivery without any interruption of tractive power are combined with completely vibration-free engine running characteristics.
The four compact permanent-magnet synchronous electric motors, each weighing 45 kg, achieve a maximum individual speed of 13,000 rpm and in each case drive the 4 wheels selectively via a axially-arranged transmission design. This enables the unique distribution of torque to individual wheels, which would normally only be possible with wheel hub motors which have the disadvantage of generating considerable unsprung masses.
Powerful, voluminous, dynamic, emotional and authentic: the characteristic sound of the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive embodies the sound of the 21st century. After an elaborate series of tests as well as numerous test drives, the AMG experts have created a sound which captures the exceptional dynamism of this unique super sports car with electric drive. Starting with a characteristic start-up sound, which rings out on pressing the "Power" button on the AMG DRIVE UNIT, the occupants can experience a tailor-made driving sound for each driving situation: incredibly dynamic when accelerating, subdued when cruising and as equally characteristic during recuperation. The sound is not only dependent on road speed, engine speed and load conditions, but also reflects the driving situation and the vehicle's operating state with a suitable driving noise. Perfect feedback for the driver is guaranteed thanks to a combination of the composed sound, the use of the vehicle's existing inherent noises and the elimination of background noise - this is referred to by the experts as "sound cleaning". The impressive sound comes courtesy of the standard sound system with eleven loudspeakers.
Advanced Formula 1 technology: high-voltage lithium-ion battery
Battery efficiency, performance and weight: in all three areas Mercedes-AMG is setting new standards. The high-voltage battery in the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive boasts an energy content of 60 kWh, an electric load potential of 600 kW and weighs 548 kg - all of which are absolute best values in the automotive sector. The liquid-cooled lithium-ion high-voltage battery features a modular design and a maximum voltage of 400 V.
Advanced technology and know-how from the world of Formula 1 have been called on during both the development and production stages: the battery is the first result of the cooperation between Mercedes-AMG GmbH in Affalterbach and Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains Ltd. Headquartered in Brixworth in England, the company has been working closely with Mercedes-AMG for a number of years. F1 engine experts have benefited from its extensive expertise with the KERS hybrid concept, which made its debut in the 2009 Formula 1 season. At the Hungarian Grand Prix in 2009, Lewis Hamilton achieved the first historic victory for a Formula 1 vehicle featuring KERS hybrid technology in the form of the Mercedes-Benz KER System. Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains supplies the Formula 1 teams MERCEDES AMG PETRONAS, Vodafone McLaren Mercedes and Sahara Force India with Mercedes V8 engines and the KERS.
The high-voltage battery consists of 12 modules each comprising 72 lithium-ion cells. This optimised arrangement of a total of 864 cells has benefits not only in terms of best use of the installation space, but also in terms of performance. One technical feature is the intelligent parallel circuit of the individual battery modules - this helps to maximise the safety, reliability and service life of the battery. As in Formula 1, the battery is charged by means of targeted recuperation during deceleration whilst the car is being driven.
High-performance control as well as effective cooling of all components
A high-performance electronic control system converts the direct current from the high-voltage battery into the three-phase alternating current which is required for the synchronous motors and regulates the energy flow for all operating conditions. Two low-temperature cooling circuits ensure that the four electric motors and the power electronics are maintained at an even operating temperature. A separate low-temperature circuit is responsible for cooling the high-voltage lithium-ion battery. In low external temperatures, the battery is quickly brought up to optimum operating temperature with the aid of an electric heating element. In extremely high external temperatures, the cooling circuit for the battery can be additionally boosted with the aid of the air conditioning. This also helps to preserve the overall service life of the battery system.
Quick charge function via special wall box
Ideally the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is charged with the aid of a so-called wall box. Installed in a home garage, this technology provides a 22 kW quick-charge function, which is the same as the charging performance available at a public charging station. A high-voltage power cable is used to connect the vehicle to the wall box, and enables charging to take place in around three hours. Without the wall box, charging takes around 20 hours. The wall box is provided as an optional extra from Mercedes-AMG in cooperation with SPX and KEBA, two suppliers of innovative electric charging infrastructures for the automotive industry.
Eight-stage design for maximum safety
To ensure maximum safety, the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive makes use of an eight-stage safety design. This comprises the following features:
•all high-voltage cables are colour-coded in orange to prevent confusion
•comprehensive contact protection for the entire high-voltage system
•the lithium-ion battery is liquid-cooled and accommodated in a high-strength aluminium housing within the carbon-fibre zero-intrusion cell
•conductive separation of the high-voltage and low-voltage networks within the vehicle and integration of an interlock switch
•active and passive discharging of the high-voltage system when the ignition is switched to "off"
•in the event of an accident, the high-voltage system is switched off within fractions of a second
•continuous monitoring of the high-voltage system for short circuits with potential compensation and insulation monitors
•redundant monitoring function for the all-wheel drive system with torque control for individual wheels, via several control units using a variety of software
By using this design, Mercedes-AMG ensures maximum safety during production of the vehicle and also during maintenance and repair work. Of course the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive also meets all of the statutory and internal Mercedes crash test requirements.
All-wheel drive with AMG Torque Dynamics enables new levels of freedom
Four motors, four wheels - the intelligent and permanent all-wheel drive of the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive guarantees driving dynamics at the highest level, while at the same time providing the best possible active safety. Optimum traction of the four driven wheels is therefore ensured, whatever the weather conditions. According to the developers, the term "Torque Dynamics" refers to individual control of the electric motors, something which enables completely new levels of freedom to be achieved. The AMG Torque Dynamics feature is permanently active and allows for selective distribution of forces for each individual wheel. The intelligent distribution of drive torque greatly benefits driving dynamics, handling, driving safety and ride comfort. Each individual wheel can be both electrically driven and electrically braked, depending on the driving conditions, thus helping to
•optimise the vehicle's cornering properties,
•reduce the tendency to oversteer/understeer,
•increase the yaw damping of the basic vehicle,
•reduce the steering effort and steering angle required,
•increase traction,
•and minimise ESP® and ASR intervention.
The AMG Torque Dynamics feature boasts a great deal of variability and individuality by offering three different transmission modes:
•Comfort (C): comfortable, forgiving driving characteristics
•Sport (S): sporty, balanced driving characteristics
•Sport plus (S+): sporty, agile driving characteristics
AMG Torque Dynamics enables optimum use of the adhesion potential between the tyres and the road surface in all driving conditions. The technology allows maximum levels of freedom and as such optimum use of the critical limits of the vehicle's driving dynamics. Outstanding handling safety is always assured thanks to the two-stage Electronic Stability Program ESP®.
"AMG Lightweight Performance" design strategy
The trailblazing body shell structure of the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is part of the ambitious "AMG Lightweight Performance" design strategy. The battery is located within a carbon-fibre monocoque which forms an integral part of the gullwing model and acts as its "spine". The monocoque housing is firmly bolted and bonded to the aluminium spaceframe body. The fibre composite materials have their roots in the world of Formula 1, among other areas. The advantages of CFRP (carbon-fibre reinforced plastic) were exploited by the Mercedes-AMG engineers in the design of the monocoque. These include their high strength, which makes it possible to create extremely rigid structures in terms of torsion and bending, excellent crash performance and low weight. Carbon-fibre components are up to 50 percent lighter than comparable steel ones, yet retain the same level of stability. Compared with aluminium, the weight saving is still around 30 percent, while the material is considerably thinner. The weight advantages achieved through the carbon-fibre battery monocoque are reflected in the agility of the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive and, in conjunction with the wheel-selective four-wheel drive system, ensure true driving enjoyment. The carbon-fibre battery monocoque is, in addition, conceived as a "zero intrusion cell" in order to meet the very highest expectations in terms of crash safety. It protects the battery modules inside the vehicle from deformation or damage in the event of a crash.
The basis for CFRP construction is provided by fine carbon fibres, ten times thinner than a human hair. A length of this innovative fibre reaching from here to the moon would weigh a mere 25 grams. Between 1000 and 24,000 of these fibres are used to form individual strands. Machines then weave and sew them into fibre mats several layers thick, which can be moulded into three-dimensional shapes. When injected with liquid synthetic resin, this hardens to give the desired structure its final shape and stability.
Optimum weight distribution and low centre of gravity
The purely electric drive system was factored into the equation as early as the concept phase when the super sports car was being developed. It is ideally packaged for the integration of the high-performance, zero-emission technology: by way of example, the four electric motors and the two transmissions can be positioned as close to the four wheels as possible and very low down in the vehicle. The same applies to the modular high-voltage battery. Advantages of this solution include the vehicle's low centre of gravity and balanced weight distribution - ideal conditions for optimum handling, which the electrically-powered gullwing model shares with its petrol-driven sister model.
New front axle design with pushrod damper struts
The additional front-wheel drive called for a newly designed front axle: unlike the series production vehicle with AMG V8 engine, which has a double wishbone axle, the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive features an independent multi-link suspension with pushrod damper struts. This is because the vertically-arranged damper struts had to make way for the additional drive shafts. As is usual in a wide variety of racing vehicles, horizontal damper struts are now used, which are operated via separate push rods and transfer levers. Thanks to this sophisticated front-axle design, which has already been tried and tested in the world of motorsport, the agility and driving dynamics of the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive attain the same high levels as the V8 variant. Another distinguishing feature is the speed-sensitive power steering with rack-and-pinion steering gear: the power assistance is implemented electrohydraulically rather than just hydraulically.
AMG ceramic composite brakes for perfect deceleration
The SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is slowed with the aid of AMG high-performance ceramic composite brakes, which boast direct brake response, a precise actuation point and outstanding fade resistance, even in extreme operating conditions. The over-sized discs - measuring 402 x 39 mm at the front and 360 x 32 mm at the rear - are made of carbon fibre-strengthened ceramic, feature an integral design all round and are connected to an aluminium bowl in a radially floating arrangement.
The ceramic brake discs are 40 percent lighter in weight than the conventional, grey cast iron brake discs. The reduction in unsprung masses not only improves handling dynamics and agility, but also ride comfort and tyre grip. The lower rotating masses at the front axle also ensure a more direct steering response - which is particularly noticeable when taking motorway bends at high speed.
Exclusive, high-quality design and appointments
Visually, the multi-award-winning design of the SLS AMG is combined with a number of specific features which are exclusive to the Electric Drive variant. The front apron has a striking carbon-look CFRP front splitter which generates downforce on the front axle. The radiator grille and adjacent air intakes adorn special areas painted in the vehicle colour and with bionic honeycomb-shaped openings. They are not only a visual highlight but, thanks to their aerodynamically optimised design, also improve air flow over the cooling modules mounted behind them. Darkened headlamps also impart a sense of independence to the front section. Viewed from the side, the "Electric Drive" lettering stands out on the vehicle side, as do the AMG 5-twin-spoke light-alloy wheels with their specific paint design. The SLS AMG Electric Drive comes as standard with 265/35 R 19 tyres on the front and 295/30 R 20 tyres on the rear. The overall look is rounded off to dynamic effect by the new diffuser-look rear apron, and the darkened rear lamps. One feature reserved exclusively for the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is the "AMG electricbeam magno" matt paint finish. A choice of five other colours is available at no extra cost.
When the exterior colour AMG electricbeam magno is chosen, the high-quality, sporty interior makes use of this body colour for the contrasting stitching - the stitching co-ordinates perfectly with designo black Exclusive leather appointments. AMG sports seats and numerous carbon-fibre trim elements in the interior underscore the exclusive and dynamic character of what is currently the fastest electric car. Behind the new AMG Performance steering wheel there is a newly designed AMG instrument cluster: instead of a rev counter, there is a power display providing information on the power requirements, recuperation status, transmission modes and battery charge.
AMG Performance Media as standard
The AMG DRIVE UNIT comprises the electronic rotary switch for selecting the three transmission modes of "C" (Controlled Efficiency), "S" (Sport) and "S+" (Sport plus), which the driver can use to specify different performance levels from the electric motors, which in turn also changes the top speed and accelerator pedal response. Behind the buttons for "power" and "ESP On/Off", there are also buttons for AMG Torque Dynamics and AMG Setup.
In addition to carbon-fibre exterior mirrors, AMG carbon-fibre engine compartment cover, COMAND APS, Media Interface, Blind Spot Assist and reversing camera, the standard equipment also includes the AMG Performance Media system. Besides full high-speed mobile internet access, the system provides information on engine performance, lateral and longitudinal acceleration, tyre pressure, vehicle setup and lap times, as well displaying a variety of additional information such as:
•vehicle energy flow
•battery charge status
•burrent range
•AMG Torque Dynamics
•temperatures of the battery and motors
•energy consumption kWh/100 km
The Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive will be celebrating its market launch in 2013. The price in Germany (incl. 19% VAT) will be 416,500 EUR.
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Mercedes SLS AMG Coupe Electric Drive
With the new Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive, Mercedes-AMG is entering a new era: the locally emission-free super sports car featuring advanced technology from the world of Formula 1 is the most exclusive and dynamic way in which to drive an electric car. The most powerful AMG high-performance vehicle of all time has four electric motors producing a total output of 552 kW and a maximum torque of 1000 Nm. As a result, the gullwing model has become the world's fastest electrically-powered series production vehicle: the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive accelerates from zero to 100 km/h in 3.9 seconds.
A new dimension of driving performance - a convincing synonym for the AMG brand promise are the outstanding driving dynamics which come courtesy of AMG Torque Dynamics as well as torque distribution to individual wheels, which is made possible by means of wheel-selective all-wheel drive. The most "electrifying" gullwing model ever has been developed in-house by Mercedes-AMG GmbH. The high-voltage battery for the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is the result of cooperation between Mercedes-AMG and Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains in Brixworth (GB). This is an area in which the British Formula 1 experts were able to contribute their extensive know-how with KERS hybrid concepts.
"The SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is setting new standards for cars with electric drives. As the most powerful gullwing model ever, it is also representative of the enduring innovational strength of Mercedes-AMG. Our vision of the most dynamic electric vehicle has become a reality. With the help of our colleagues at Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains in Brixworth, we are bringing exciting advanced technology from the world of Formula 1 to the road", according to Ola Källenius, Chairman of the Board of Management of Mercedes-AMG GmbH.
Mercedes SLS AMG Coupe Electric Drive (2014)
2014 Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupe Electric Drive
Pioneering, visionary, electrifying: the powerful and locally emission-free super sports car with electric drive also embodies the development competence of Mercedes-AMG GmbH. With this innovative and unique drive solution, AMG - as the performance brand of Mercedes-Benz - is demonstrating its technological leadership in this segment. The Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is aimed at technology-minded super sports car fans who are open to new ideas and enthusiastic about ambitious high-tech solutions for the future of motoring.
Enormous thrust thanks to 1000 Nm of torque
The pioneering drive package in the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is impressive and guarantees a completely innovative and electrifying driving experience: enormous thrust comes courtesy of four synchronous electric motors providing a combined maximum output of 552 kW and maximum torque of 1000 Nm. The very special gullwing model accelerates from zero to 100 km/h in 3.9 seconds, and can reach a top speed of 250 km/h (electronically limited). The agile response to accelerator pedal input and the linear power output provide pure excitement: unlike with a combustion engine, the build-up of torque is instantaneous with electric motors - maximum torque is effectively available from a standstill. The spontaneous build-up of torque and the forceful power delivery without any interruption of tractive power are combined with completely vibration-free engine running characteristics.
The four compact permanent-magnet synchronous electric motors, each weighing 45 kg, achieve a maximum individual speed of 13,000 rpm and in each case drive the 4 wheels selectively via a axially-arranged transmission design. This enables the unique distribution of torque to individual wheels, which would normally only be possible with wheel hub motors which have the disadvantage of generating considerable unsprung masses.
Powerful, voluminous, dynamic, emotional and authentic: the characteristic sound of the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive embodies the sound of the 21st century. After an elaborate series of tests as well as numerous test drives, the AMG experts have created a sound which captures the exceptional dynamism of this unique super sports car with electric drive. Starting with a characteristic start-up sound, which rings out on pressing the "Power" button on the AMG DRIVE UNIT, the occupants can experience a tailor-made driving sound for each driving situation: incredibly dynamic when accelerating, subdued when cruising and as equally characteristic during recuperation. The sound is not only dependent on road speed, engine speed and load conditions, but also reflects the driving situation and the vehicle's operating state with a suitable driving noise. Perfect feedback for the driver is guaranteed thanks to a combination of the composed sound, the use of the vehicle's existing inherent noises and the elimination of background noise - this is referred to by the experts as "sound cleaning". The impressive sound comes courtesy of the standard sound system with eleven loudspeakers.
Advanced Formula 1 technology: high-voltage lithium-ion battery
Battery efficiency, performance and weight: in all three areas Mercedes-AMG is setting new standards. The high-voltage battery in the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive boasts an energy content of 60 kWh, an electric load potential of 600 kW and weighs 548 kg - all of which are absolute best values in the automotive sector. The liquid-cooled lithium-ion high-voltage battery features a modular design and a maximum voltage of 400 V.
Advanced technology and know-how from the world of Formula 1 have been called on during both the development and production stages: the battery is the first result of the cooperation between Mercedes-AMG GmbH in Affalterbach and Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains Ltd. Headquartered in Brixworth in England, the company has been working closely with Mercedes-AMG for a number of years. F1 engine experts have benefited from its extensive expertise with the KERS hybrid concept, which made its debut in the 2009 Formula 1 season. At the Hungarian Grand Prix in 2009, Lewis Hamilton achieved the first historic victory for a Formula 1 vehicle featuring KERS hybrid technology in the form of the Mercedes-Benz KER System. Mercedes AMG High Performance Powertrains supplies the Formula 1 teams MERCEDES AMG PETRONAS, Vodafone McLaren Mercedes and Sahara Force India with Mercedes V8 engines and the KERS.
The high-voltage battery consists of 12 modules each comprising 72 lithium-ion cells. This optimised arrangement of a total of 864 cells has benefits not only in terms of best use of the installation space, but also in terms of performance. One technical feature is the intelligent parallel circuit of the individual battery modules - this helps to maximise the safety, reliability and service life of the battery. As in Formula 1, the battery is charged by means of targeted recuperation during deceleration whilst the car is being driven.
High-performance control as well as effective cooling of all components
A high-performance electronic control system converts the direct current from the high-voltage battery into the three-phase alternating current which is required for the synchronous motors and regulates the energy flow for all operating conditions. Two low-temperature cooling circuits ensure that the four electric motors and the power electronics are maintained at an even operating temperature. A separate low-temperature circuit is responsible for cooling the high-voltage lithium-ion battery. In low external temperatures, the battery is quickly brought up to optimum operating temperature with the aid of an electric heating element. In extremely high external temperatures, the cooling circuit for the battery can be additionally boosted with the aid of the air conditioning. This also helps to preserve the overall service life of the battery system.
Quick charge function via special wall box
Ideally the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is charged with the aid of a so-called wall box. Installed in a home garage, this technology provides a 22 kW quick-charge function, which is the same as the charging performance available at a public charging station. A high-voltage power cable is used to connect the vehicle to the wall box, and enables charging to take place in around three hours. Without the wall box, charging takes around 20 hours. The wall box is provided as an optional extra from Mercedes-AMG in cooperation with SPX and KEBA, two suppliers of innovative electric charging infrastructures for the automotive industry.
Eight-stage design for maximum safety
To ensure maximum safety, the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive makes use of an eight-stage safety design. This comprises the following features:
•all high-voltage cables are colour-coded in orange to prevent confusion
•comprehensive contact protection for the entire high-voltage system
•the lithium-ion battery is liquid-cooled and accommodated in a high-strength aluminium housing within the carbon-fibre zero-intrusion cell
•conductive separation of the high-voltage and low-voltage networks within the vehicle and integration of an interlock switch
•active and passive discharging of the high-voltage system when the ignition is switched to "off"
•in the event of an accident, the high-voltage system is switched off within fractions of a second
•continuous monitoring of the high-voltage system for short circuits with potential compensation and insulation monitors
•redundant monitoring function for the all-wheel drive system with torque control for individual wheels, via several control units using a variety of software
By using this design, Mercedes-AMG ensures maximum safety during production of the vehicle and also during maintenance and repair work. Of course the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive also meets all of the statutory and internal Mercedes crash test requirements.
All-wheel drive with AMG Torque Dynamics enables new levels of freedom
Four motors, four wheels - the intelligent and permanent all-wheel drive of the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive guarantees driving dynamics at the highest level, while at the same time providing the best possible active safety. Optimum traction of the four driven wheels is therefore ensured, whatever the weather conditions. According to the developers, the term "Torque Dynamics" refers to individual control of the electric motors, something which enables completely new levels of freedom to be achieved. The AMG Torque Dynamics feature is permanently active and allows for selective distribution of forces for each individual wheel. The intelligent distribution of drive torque greatly benefits driving dynamics, handling, driving safety and ride comfort. Each individual wheel can be both electrically driven and electrically braked, depending on the driving conditions, thus helping to
•optimise the vehicle's cornering properties,
•reduce the tendency to oversteer/understeer,
•increase the yaw damping of the basic vehicle,
•reduce the steering effort and steering angle required,
•increase traction,
•and minimise ESP® and ASR intervention.
The AMG Torque Dynamics feature boasts a great deal of variability and individuality by offering three different transmission modes:
•Comfort (C): comfortable, forgiving driving characteristics
•Sport (S): sporty, balanced driving characteristics
•Sport plus (S+): sporty, agile driving characteristics
AMG Torque Dynamics enables optimum use of the adhesion potential between the tyres and the road surface in all driving conditions. The technology allows maximum levels of freedom and as such optimum use of the critical limits of the vehicle's driving dynamics. Outstanding handling safety is always assured thanks to the two-stage Electronic Stability Program ESP®.
"AMG Lightweight Performance" design strategy
The trailblazing body shell structure of the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is part of the ambitious "AMG Lightweight Performance" design strategy. The battery is located within a carbon-fibre monocoque which forms an integral part of the gullwing model and acts as its "spine". The monocoque housing is firmly bolted and bonded to the aluminium spaceframe body. The fibre composite materials have their roots in the world of Formula 1, among other areas. The advantages of CFRP (carbon-fibre reinforced plastic) were exploited by the Mercedes-AMG engineers in the design of the monocoque. These include their high strength, which makes it possible to create extremely rigid structures in terms of torsion and bending, excellent crash performance and low weight. Carbon-fibre components are up to 50 percent lighter than comparable steel ones, yet retain the same level of stability. Compared with aluminium, the weight saving is still around 30 percent, while the material is considerably thinner. The weight advantages achieved through the carbon-fibre battery monocoque are reflected in the agility of the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive and, in conjunction with the wheel-selective four-wheel drive system, ensure true driving enjoyment. The carbon-fibre battery monocoque is, in addition, conceived as a "zero intrusion cell" in order to meet the very highest expectations in terms of crash safety. It protects the battery modules inside the vehicle from deformation or damage in the event of a crash.
The basis for CFRP construction is provided by fine carbon fibres, ten times thinner than a human hair. A length of this innovative fibre reaching from here to the moon would weigh a mere 25 grams. Between 1000 and 24,000 of these fibres are used to form individual strands. Machines then weave and sew them into fibre mats several layers thick, which can be moulded into three-dimensional shapes. When injected with liquid synthetic resin, this hardens to give the desired structure its final shape and stability.
Optimum weight distribution and low centre of gravity
The purely electric drive system was factored into the equation as early as the concept phase when the super sports car was being developed. It is ideally packaged for the integration of the high-performance, zero-emission technology: by way of example, the four electric motors and the two transmissions can be positioned as close to the four wheels as possible and very low down in the vehicle. The same applies to the modular high-voltage battery. Advantages of this solution include the vehicle's low centre of gravity and balanced weight distribution - ideal conditions for optimum handling, which the electrically-powered gullwing model shares with its petrol-driven sister model.
New front axle design with pushrod damper struts
The additional front-wheel drive called for a newly designed front axle: unlike the series production vehicle with AMG V8 engine, which has a double wishbone axle, the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive features an independent multi-link suspension with pushrod damper struts. This is because the vertically-arranged damper struts had to make way for the additional drive shafts. As is usual in a wide variety of racing vehicles, horizontal damper struts are now used, which are operated via separate push rods and transfer levers. Thanks to this sophisticated front-axle design, which has already been tried and tested in the world of motorsport, the agility and driving dynamics of the Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive attain the same high levels as the V8 variant. Another distinguishing feature is the speed-sensitive power steering with rack-and-pinion steering gear: the power assistance is implemented electrohydraulically rather than just hydraulically.
AMG ceramic composite brakes for perfect deceleration
The SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is slowed with the aid of AMG high-performance ceramic composite brakes, which boast direct brake response, a precise actuation point and outstanding fade resistance, even in extreme operating conditions. The over-sized discs - measuring 402 x 39 mm at the front and 360 x 32 mm at the rear - are made of carbon fibre-strengthened ceramic, feature an integral design all round and are connected to an aluminium bowl in a radially floating arrangement.
The ceramic brake discs are 40 percent lighter in weight than the conventional, grey cast iron brake discs. The reduction in unsprung masses not only improves handling dynamics and agility, but also ride comfort and tyre grip. The lower rotating masses at the front axle also ensure a more direct steering response - which is particularly noticeable when taking motorway bends at high speed.
Exclusive, high-quality design and appointments
Visually, the multi-award-winning design of the SLS AMG is combined with a number of specific features which are exclusive to the Electric Drive variant. The front apron has a striking carbon-look CFRP front splitter which generates downforce on the front axle. The radiator grille and adjacent air intakes adorn special areas painted in the vehicle colour and with bionic honeycomb-shaped openings. They are not only a visual highlight but, thanks to their aerodynamically optimised design, also improve air flow over the cooling modules mounted behind them. Darkened headlamps also impart a sense of independence to the front section. Viewed from the side, the "Electric Drive" lettering stands out on the vehicle side, as do the AMG 5-twin-spoke light-alloy wheels with their specific paint design. The SLS AMG Electric Drive comes as standard with 265/35 R 19 tyres on the front and 295/30 R 20 tyres on the rear. The overall look is rounded off to dynamic effect by the new diffuser-look rear apron, and the darkened rear lamps. One feature reserved exclusively for the SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive is the "AMG electricbeam magno" matt paint finish. A choice of five other colours is available at no extra cost.
When the exterior colour AMG electricbeam magno is chosen, the high-quality, sporty interior makes use of this body colour for the contrasting stitching - the stitching co-ordinates perfectly with designo black Exclusive leather appointments. AMG sports seats and numerous carbon-fibre trim elements in the interior underscore the exclusive and dynamic character of what is currently the fastest electric car. Behind the new AMG Performance steering wheel there is a newly designed AMG instrument cluster: instead of a rev counter, there is a power display providing information on the power requirements, recuperation status, transmission modes and battery charge.
AMG Performance Media as standard
The AMG DRIVE UNIT comprises the electronic rotary switch for selecting the three transmission modes of "C" (Controlled Efficiency), "S" (Sport) and "S+" (Sport plus), which the driver can use to specify different performance levels from the electric motors, which in turn also changes the top speed and accelerator pedal response. Behind the buttons for "power" and "ESP On/Off", there are also buttons for AMG Torque Dynamics and AMG Setup.
In addition to carbon-fibre exterior mirrors, AMG carbon-fibre engine compartment cover, COMAND APS, Media Interface, Blind Spot Assist and reversing camera, the standard equipment also includes the AMG Performance Media system. Besides full high-speed mobile internet access, the system provides information on engine performance, lateral and longitudinal acceleration, tyre pressure, vehicle setup and lap times, as well displaying a variety of additional information such as:
•vehicle energy flow
•battery charge status
•burrent range
•AMG Torque Dynamics
•temperatures of the battery and motors
•energy consumption kWh/100 km
The Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Coupé Electric Drive will be celebrating its market launch in 2013. The price in Germany (incl. 19% VAT) will be 416,500 EUR.
East-German postcard by VEB Progress Film-Vertrieb, Berlin, no. 2.313, 1965. Photo: DEFA / Bergmann.
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.
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.
Here's a look at our April '09 "The Vineyard" Series stage design. We've been milking our big stage riser on stage for several months now. This design cost approximately $250 for the poles to make the side structures wrapped in spandex. We'll be able to use these structures for many things in the future! Vines were painted by hand onto spandex. For additional info, see www.productionmusings.com
Sixteen years ago I designed the sets and costumes for this "chamber opera". Now the same team has resumed it, some of the sets have survived, I painted new portraits, and tomorrow is the first night of this revival.
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.
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...
The load measurement system on ATK's test stand which is attached to the thrust block.
The solid rocket is armed, the countdown is in its final minutes as NASA and ATK prepare to ignite Ares I five-segment first stage designed to take humans out of Earth's gravitational pull -- this time; however, the rocket isn’t going anywhere.
The Ares I development motor, or DM-1, will be tested at Alliant Techsystem's (ATK) test stand in Promontory, Utah on August 27. With a magnificent flash of light the 154-foot solid rocket motor will come to life, producing heat two-thirds the temperature of the sun and 3.6 million pounds of thrust from its 12-foot diameter cylinder.
Spectators will first see the flame of the motor, so bright the majority will wear sunglasses, then a few seconds later the sound wave will be heard, followed by the ground shaking. Those in attendance will gain a true understanding of the power produced by this motor. Called by some an "engineering masterpiece," the first stage is capable of producing 22 million horsepower which is equivalent to the energy produced by 25,882 race cars.
Image credit: ATK
Read the blog post:
blogs.nasa.gov/cm/newui/blog/editpost.jsp?blogname=Conste...
Read more about NASA's Ares Rockets:
p.s. You can see all of the Ares photos in the Ares Group in Flickr at: www.flickr.com/groups/ares/ We'd love to have you as a member!
The first serie of shots made during a walk with Joanna Orzechowska, author of the book about "Courtyards of Piotrkowska Street".
La primera tanda de fotos hecha durante un paseo con Joanna Orzechowska, la autora del libro sobre " Los patios de calle Piotrkowska"
Pierwsza część zdjęć zrobiona podczas spaceru z Joanną Orzechowską, autorką książki o "Podwórkach Piotrkowskiej"
Those clowns were performing with this music ( from one of best Polish comedy - "Vabank" by Juliusz Machulski : www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UrqI2e36e0
Estos clowns actuaba con esta musica ( de una de las mejores comedias polacas - "Vabank" de Juliusz Machulski : www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UrqI2e36e0
Ci klowni występowali przy muzyce z filmu "Vabank" Juliusza Machulskiego : www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UrqI2e36e0
Rachel Maddow, Mother Jones co-editors Clara Jeffery and Monika Bauerlein; stage design by Arkitektura
San Francisco, March 28, 2009
Directors of Cave, one of the oldest experimental art spaces and artist collectives in Brooklyn, New York, artists Shige Moriya and Ximena Garnica brought butoh dance to the Asian Art Museum.
Photos by Deborah Clearwaters.
2011, "Der Gesang vom glücklichen Leben", stage design & mask building for: www.hoerundschaubuehne.de
October 2004, Manchester Opera House from the stage. Designed by Farquharson, Richardson & Gill in 1912, opened as the New Theatre, became the New Queens Theatre 1915, and the Opera House in 1920. Closed for bingo in 1979 but reopened as a theatre in 1984. Grade 2 listed.
City of Manchester, Greater Manchester, UK - Opera House, Quay Street
October 2004 (image reworked 2020)