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One of the most surreal but expansive work of art I have ever come across is in the small Tennessee town of Brownsville. This metal behemoth is the work of one man, Billy Tripp and he has named it his Mindfield.
The Mindfield is located in a narrow but deep strip of land between the Sunrise Inn and a strip mall along Main St. (old US70/79), just a couple of blocks east of the town square. Started in 1989, he plans on adding to it until the day he dies. He is always on the lookout for scrap metal, such as the abandoned water tower he found once when he was on a trip. If you visit, you might get lucky and find a free copy of his book The Mindfield Years, Vol. 1 which is a stream-of-consciousness for 725 pages which he describes as a difficult read.
There's a whole lot more I'd like to say but these sites say it better:
I have a coworker who came from Brownsville, and she thought it was cool how it brings attention to the city.
I had a suspicion these bodies wouldn't quite match up, but I tracked one down to be certain.
Spoiler: Lies.
Full writeup on the blog, www.RequiemArt.com
As always, any kind of constructive criticism is highly appreciated.
See strobist info in first comment.
Stranger 100, what shall I say? Where shall I start?
Maybe with the encounter, just because that's the shortest to start with. The light was fading, and I headed to the more illuminated areas of the market to find my last stranger (I wanted someone special, and I don't get to go to Camden that often). I've already enjoyed the lighting earlier, but stayed outside because it was so crowded. Not long and I spotted this girl. She allowed me to take two shots, but all my attempts at further conversation failed. Tried to give her my card, but she wasn't interested, so I thanked her and let her be on her way...
It's in colour!
Starting with my stranger n# 90, I decided to try myself on some consistency and to take the remaining 10 shots in B&W, landscape format. But with this one I just couldn't bear to remove the colour, and while I was at it I also went for a square format drop to get rid of some distracting guy in the background. I still think I should investigate B&W photography a bit further to develop my eye for textures and differences in brightness, but I'm pretty sure that I will not restrain myself to B&W should I go for another round...
What have I learned about photography?
That there's always oh so much more to learn? Definitely! But I think my photography has also made some progress during the course of the last year, not only but in a large part due to the friendly help and feedback from the great fellow at the 100 strangers group. Thank you guys!
What have I learned about human interaction?
Quite a lot. Most importantly that people are normally much more friendly and welcoming than I would have initially expected. Many of them are actually happy when somebody tells them that they want to take a photo of them because they look good, and I had some wonderful chats with quite of the few of them. The project would have been worth it for that realization alone...
Some statistics:
They have become completely irrelevant for me a while ago already, but I decided to finish them anyways. The numbers for my last 25 strangers are more like rough estimates though, might have forgotten some or marked some twice. Anyway, here they are:
Men agreed: 20 out of 28 (71 %)
Women agreed: 9 out of 14 (64 %)
I think they have not changed much during my journey (see strangers n# 25, n# 50, and n# 75). Yes, they add up to 28.
In total:
Men: 74 out of 110 (67 %)
Women: 39 out of 64 (61 %)
Also, off all the strangers I approached, 63 % were men, and I ended up with 65 men in my final set (if I counted correctly).
There have been some discussions about short writeups lately. This one is probably more a case of tl;dr ("too long; didn't read"). For all of you who made it to the end: Thanks for reading ;)
This picture is #100 in my 100 strangers project.
You can view the whole set here.
Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the 100 Strangers Flickr Group page.
Crosshair from G1 Transformers Cartoon Series transforms into a futuristic buggy.
For more photos and writeups on this LEGO creations:
alanyuppie.blogspot.com/2018/03/lego-transformer-crosshai...
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I shot Patryk's lowered and clean Civic recently for a feature blog post for the auto club I'm an admin for. Check out the full writeup and more pictures here: nwautocrew.wordpress.com/2013/03/02/patryks-clean-civic/
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Strobist info:
The show is a composite of many flash exposures put together in Photoshop so I could get specular highlights I was happy with.
Key: Walked around car with LP160 into Softliter II umbrella
Rim: LP160 to back camera left (cloned out) w/ 1/2 CTO
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Catching up on the ol' backlog. This batch from January when we visited Ōsaki Hachimangu Shrine for the New Year festival, Donto-Sai.
Full writeup at this this blog post.
ちょっと先に取った写真の山を片付けていま〜す。これは１月に大崎八幡宮でのどんと祭の束です。
詳しくはブログの投稿でご覧になてください。
Slick to Full Loadout: Building a Scaleable and Modular Armor System
Check out the full writeup on ITS Tactical: itstac.tc/1b54VRV
From Neon Genesis Evangelion. Sort of an appropriate weekend to be carrying around the Lance of Longinus, come to think of it.
Saturday at WonderCon 2015. Writeup of the con.
Slick to Full Loadout: Building a Scaleable and Modular Armor System
Check out the full writeup on ITS Tactical: itstac.tc/1b54VRV
I'm pretty sure it's a canyon wren, though the bill is a little lighter than some I've seen. Captured at Boyce Thompson Arboretum.
Check out all my Species a Day posts, with writeups, here.
Quote by Stephan Grellet
கோலம்/Rangoli is form of sandpainting decoration done by female members of Indian families in front of their home, daily. These days it's done using limestone or red brick powder. But the proper, age old, traditional way of doing it, is with fine-grained rice powder, so that miniscule creatures like ant, insects, etc. can feed on it. This colourful tradition that dates back to the Indus Valley Civilization (2500 B.C) was started not for it's beauty but for the humanity, for the consideration that other living beings too are worthy lives. I hope some day it will come back to it's original form.
This koolam (as called in Tamil) I saw some 5 to 8 women draw, for around 4 hours with sheer dedication, at the night with very poor lighting, for the next day ceremony of the deity's procession, from the Pillayarpatti temple (can be seen in the background) around their village.
Rome, 27th June 2016. Konica C35 and Fomapan 400 Action film. Probably shot something about 5000 times better on my iPhone but this is what happened with this camera, this film and the judgement of the developing lab. I did crop it slightly though for some symmetry.
Here's the local LA Times writeup for the Inaugural Event held in Dec 1924.
The 1924 AAA Season saw the last race (Feb) to be held at the wonderful Beverly Hills Track and the first at its replacement. Benny Hill won the inaugural in the former Miller House Car built in the Fall of 1923 for Argentinian playboy Martin de Alzaga who ran out of cash and rich American socialites and so Miller put Benny Hill in the seat with great success. (Michael Ferner) After a good finish in the car at Indy 1924 Miller decided to give in and installed the first ever SC in a Miller 122 in the car (Mark Dees) Hill went out and immediately won the Culver City Inaugural. On a sad side note the Hill win sealed the deal for the deceased Jimmy Murphy who was posthumously awarded the 1924 AAA Driving Championship.
Feel free to use this image. Just link to SolarDave.com www.solardave.com/
www.solardave.com/index.php/diy-solar-install-photos-and-...
This is a late submission for our church's Decade on Purpose project. I'm not entirely happy with this writeup yet, but it adequately describes my thought process here. This one is cropped to a 16x20 ratio, but there's more empty desk available on each side if we need a wider print.
Born in 1884, Thomas Russell Hollingsworth became a Presbyterian minister in southeastern Nebraska, most notably in the town of Adams. More importantly than teaching his flock, he taught his two children to love God. His son Robert learned that lesson well and passed it on to his three boys. John followed suit, passing his father's and grandfather's faithfulness on to his own four boys. This wonderful heritage continues today, as Ben attempts to model this to his three children. Our prayer is that Micah and the others will be intentional about continuing this heritage for future generations.
This writing desk is the one on which T.R. prepared many of his sermon notes like the ones pictured here lying on his Bible. The Bibles shown here belong to each of the five generations mentioned. Photos illustrate the link between the generations and the importance of intentionally teaching the next generation of God's love and faithfulness.
The reference on the small sermon note is from the parable of the prodigal son -- a poignant reminder of the consequences of failing to teach the next generation. The remainder of the sheet contains a number of God's attributes, including, "So God is a Father (Jesus loved this title)." God himself models our role as parents, and we are never more like him than when we care for our children.
There are a few details in this picture that would be visible in a large print, but aren't on Flickr:
* Names embossed on three of the Bibles identify the most recent three generations: John, Ben, and Micah. Incidentally, all three of us are pre-school Sunday School teachers at Berean because we understand the value of teaching the next generation about Christ.
* The four lower photos have dates printed along the borders. From left to right, they are APR 61, NOV 72, 1898, and JAN 2010. The old photo on the right is T.R. as a youth, circa 1898. The top (undated) photo is my grandpa Robert, taken around 1980. The far left photo is Robert and his three boys standing in front of T.R.'s house in 1961. Robert is 2nd from left and my 15-yr-old dad (John) is far right in the yellow vest. Next to that photo is my dad holding me at 21 months, standing in front of First Baptist church. The lower right photo is my 10-yr-old son Micah and me building his Cub Scout Pinewood Derby car in our garage this past January.
* The article underneath the front Bible identifies T.R. as pastor of the Adams Presbyterian Church.
* The lower of the papers sitting atop his Bible is the schedule for a church service. The topmost paper contains notes from a sermon.
I need to thank my mom for all her work in tracking down the two older Bibles, Pappy's sermon notes, and the older photos. I also want to thank my dad and brother Casey for their help in coming up with the layout of the objects that you see here. This is a "family photo" in a somewhat unconventional sense.
Shot through my old, manual Nikon Micro-Nikkor 55/2.8 AIS @ f/11
Facebook...'Like' this for future shoots and content
Check out www.alexDPhotography.com for writeups from my shoots, high-def wallpapers, videos and other content.
While in Tokyo last year, I retraced the steps I took during my first vacation there, almost 20 years ago. I tried to recreate some of the photos I took to see how things had changed.
I made a full writeup in this blog post, which will also include more photos than I'll be posting here on Flickr.
去年、東京にいる間に、ほぼ20年前の初めて東京へ行った旅行の行った道を戻りました。景色はどうやて変わったのかと思いました。それで、昔に撮った写真と比べるために、出来るだけ同じように現代版を撮りました。
もっと詳しくは このブログの投稿をご覧になってください。
Day 56 of Gratitude
Vulnerability
I'm trying to stick with being honest but it's really hard. I've had a rough day - emotionally. I'm just not happy and I'm pretty angry at everything. I just couldn't get passed it tonight. Luckily I've found a way to be thankful through the anger. Today I am thankful for vulnerability. To represent this I chose to take a photo with me in it - kind of - because I'm not a fan of me in photos and I'm not good at taking photos of myself. Talking about or showing something not happy is also vulnerable for me because I tend to try and be happy in the public eye. This is definitely a sloppy post with a sloppy writeup but it will do.
Have you ever wanted to just jump? To climb something and fall. To simply test what you believe in. To see if someone would catch you. The thrill of the fall would be incredible. Your heart in your throat, your stomach feeling disconnected from your body. Free falling. Completely giving in to gravity as it pulls you towards the ground. Your arms and legs floating slightly higher than your body due to their near weightlessness in midair. The question truly is whether or not you hit the ground or get swooped up by the heroes in life. Who are the masked heroes? Perhaps they are family members or friends. It could be your faith or even a stranger who just wanted to help. The cynic in me wonders if there are no heroes. If we are all simply left to our own demise. We as humans long for something to believe in. Religious figures, spiderman, good willed people. Are these all characters from some made up story? Where are our heroes? Our saviours that will take us away from the scary back streets of our lives?
I want to jump. Leave me sprawling on the concrete in messy broken pieces if need be. But I want to know if what I believe in is real.
Photo taken in light rain and storm light
The plight of the city is understated in the Wikipedia writeup:
This house is on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places. It is supposedly perched on the highest point between Weldon, NC and Raleigh NC. It daces the railroad and is across the street from a large abandoned factory I am trying to identify to post pix of. It received the name Mistletoe Villa because back in the day Mistletoe hung thick in the surrounding trees. It is the second huse on the foundation and appears to be under restoration. See the link below for a old picture and also the wiki writeup.
Picture of house in bygone times:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mistletoe_Villa_circa_1895.jpg
Additional information:
Vintage Riley at the 2011 GNSF.
For more images and a writeup of the event visit the Beamish Transport Blog.
As part of the activities of the 2013 Railfest at the Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum in Chattanooga, Southern Railway's EMD FP7 #6133 made a visit. This Diesel locomotive built in 1950 was used to pull their excursion, the Missionary Ridge Local throughout the weekend. It is normally on display at the North Carolina Transportation Museum which offers this writeup:
"Southern Railway #6133: The locomotive was built by the Electro-Motive Division of General Motors in 1950. This FP-7, operated by the Southern Railway, was the property of the CNO&TP (Cincinnati, New Orleans & Texas Pacific). The FP designation meant the locomotive could be used for passenger or freight trains, using a 567-B 16 cylinder prime mover, generating 1500 horsepower. These were F-7 freight locomotives with a steam generator placed at the rear of the locomotive, increasing body length by four feet. FP-7 locomotives were used on small branch-line passenger trains throughout the Southern Railway System. By the late 1970s, there were very few FP-7s left on the roster due to Southern eliminating many passenger trains. The 5-8 left were used for excursion trains as part of the Steam Program begun in 1966. The 6133 was donated to the NCTHC in 1980, and restored by the volunteers to its original green/ imitation aluminum paint scheme. It is used to pull the train ride around the property when needed."
I took more photos of #6133 than I have posted to flickr. You can also see quite a thorough collection of photos of the highlighted steam locomotive Southern #630, the Missionary Ridge Local with #6133, and other rolling stock on the grounds. This gallery is on my website here:
seemidtn.com/gallery3/index.php?album=chattanooga%2Frailfe...
Also, I took video and put it on youtube: All the steam footage, plus the Missionary Ridge local: youtu.be/AhCCpvO41iM
We did a panel with the faculty and students.
Just another surprise from Myriad 2018. Writeup by Business News Australia and promo video
A little crazy Mayan flash flavor experience
full writeup on: www.flashflavor.com/2007/11/26/165/for-the-next-time-you-...
Temporary home automation gateway using RaspberryPi, Moteino, ATXRaspi
Writeup:
lowpowerlab.com/blog/2013/10/07/raspberrypi-home-automati...
Demo of implementation:
lowpowerlab.com/blog/2013/10/11/raspberrypi-home-automati...
"How fair do you want the elections to be Sir" The question came from senior civil servant G. Muenuddin then working as Chief Election Commissioner. It was posed to the all powerful President of Pakistan Field Marshal Mohammad Ayub Khan, N.Pk., H.J., in 1964. Ayub had not yet fallen out with the powers that be nor was there any major or visible internal dissent. Nor yet had be suffered from pulmonary embolism till then. What he therefore said was the law. "As fair as practicable" came the cryptic reply. The Field Marshal had a formidable opponent. It was no less a person than the Founder of Pakistan's sister Ms. Fatima Jinnah. The orders had been issued nevertheless. Mueenuddin was a senior member of the Indian Civil Service whose name appeared third in the gradation list of ICS turned CSP officers, appearing immediately after Justice A. R. Cornelius and Justice S. A. Rehman. Ayub Khan ruled Pakistan exclusively through his civil servants. His reliance on them was indeed so great that Yahya Khan erroneously believing that the civil service was responsible for Ayub's downfall, tried to cow them down and fell on his face. Anyway to cut a long story short, the elections could and would only be that much fair as was consistent with Ayub Khan winning them. He won - although Ms. Jinnah swept Karachi, Dacca and Chittagong!
But let us go a little back in time before this uncanny conversation. It is 1947 and the Indian sub-continent is about to be divided. A fierce argument is in process between two men. One is not only the Viceroy and Governor General of India but also the cousin of the British monarch, Lord Mountbatten. The other is a polished and brilliant lawyer in the old Anglo-Saxon tradition who liked to be called plain Mr. Jinnah. Mountbatten was trying to force and intimidating Jinnah to accept him as first Governor General of Pakistan just the way Nehru had accepted him in India. Jinnah wanted to be Governor General himself and had an intense dislike and distrust of Mountbatten who mentioned, "But Mr. Jinnah, all the powers will be with the Prime Minister". Mr. Jinnah firmly replied, "In Pakistan I will be Governor General and the Prime Minister will do what I tell him to do." The argument was over. Some opine that this decision led to the inclusion of Gurdaspur in India giving it a clear route to Jammu and Kashmir, as Mountbatten tampered with the Radcliffe Award.
But let us move on. Pakistan came into being - Jinnah was revered and the governance of Pakistan proceeded as planned by him without even an inkling of dissent from any corner. The Secretary General Cabinet Chaudhry Muhammad Ali of the Indian Audits and Accounts Service was also made head of the Planning Committee (not to be confused with the Planning Commission) to determine what decisions could be made by the Prime Minister and his cabinet and which needed to be made by the Governor General. Things proceeded seemingly well but something was amiss. Jinnah remarked to Sindh Premier M. A. Khuhro, "The Prime Minister is average and most of his cabinet is below average." It was true that there was a huge gap in the stature of the Quaid-i-Azam and the men who constituted the new Government in Pakistan. Yet the absolute parting of the ways came with the inauguration of the State Bank of Pakistan on July 1, 1948. After that no one saw Mr. Jinnah until the Secretary General Cabinet called a physician weeks later to tell him to proceed to Ziarat. When asked who the patient was, the reply was significant, "the Quaid-i-Azam". The rest of the story is rather murky and need not be repeated here. Mr. Jinnah returned to Karachi but only to die within 3-4 hours, two of which were spent in an ambulance devoid of fuel. The Prime Minister arrived at Government House Karachi weeping bitterly only after Mr. Jinnah's soul had left his body.
As the Government of Pakistan gradually came out of mourning, the pious and ineffective Khwaja Nazimuddin was installed as the Governor General and the Prime Minister soon emerged as one of the most powerful in the history of Pakistan. As with Mr. Jinnah, there was virtually no dissent against Prime Minister Liaquat Ali Khan - at least - not then - except from one source. That was Ms. Fatima Jinnah, the sister of the Founder of Pakistan who lived on to tell her tales. In 1949 two pages of her book My Brother, specifically directed against the Prime Minister and Secretary General Cabinet, were censored out. Much later they were published in Q. U. Shahab's memoirs Shahabnaama by the time Liaquat Ali Khan had been assassinated, half a dozen more prime ministers changed through palace intrigues and two martial laws had been imposed. Naturally by that time Ms. Jinnah's assertions could neither harm nor benefit anyone of the worldly wise people running Pakistan and Shahab could publish the two pages. Ms. Jinnah had died by then of - mysterious causes, to say the least.
Then came the early nineties. Lady Sughra Ghulam Hussain Hidayatullah asserted that Ms. Jinnah had actually been assassinated. The news got a one column heading in the Dawn. Lady Hidayatullah couldn't have chosen a worse timing for her disclosures.
Pakistan was then caught up in an unfortunate controversy at that time. It had been pointed out in the Supreme Court that while after the death of Gen Ziaul Haq, the court was just about to announce its judgment reverting Muhammad Khan Junejo as Prime Minister and indeed even his security escort had arrived, a courier came in the way of all that. The courier was a Law Minister and future Senate Chairman, the message was from the most powerful man of Pakistan (not to be confused with President Ishaq Khan) to the Chief Justice to let the will of the people prevail. It was one of those things that should not have happened but had happened yet could not be admitted by anyone under any pretext and hence tempers were running loose. During the process, the Chief Justice remarked that even God could not stop him from reaching the truth, immediately provoking a blasphemy charge against him. It was in these conditions that the good Lady Hidayatullah said what she said.
After around a decade came Ms. Jinnah's centenary in 2003 happened with one of her bodyguards in the Muslim League Zafrullah Khan Jamali in the saddle as Prime Minister. Ms. Jinnah had even condoled the death of the then prime minister's uncle Mir Jaffer Khan Jamali exactly three months before her own death. However, there were the same rituals with wreaths of flowers oh her grave and all the politically correct statements delivered.
As the centenary fervour seemed to die down, I sent a widely distributed email maintaining that, “It is high time that the nation attains a level of maturity whereby it can come to terms with certain realities and attempt to address certain unanswered questions relating to her (Miss Jinnah’s) life... The lady was ostracized, persecuted and marginalized to a point that people had even forgotten about her existence when she decided to take on Field Marshal Ayub Khan in the 1964 presidential elections. The manner in which the elections were conducted and their unfortunate aftermath are known to all”. I went on to ask, “What is the real truth? Will the teeming millions of Pakistan ever be considered worthy enough of being taken into confidence about these pranks played by a few chosen ones? And those naïve people amongst us who think that our press is free should reconsider their opinion. The real truth is simply not for consumption of the ordinary mortals in Pakistan”.
And lo and behold - a couple of days later celebrated lawyer Sharifuddin Pirzada came up with the revelation that Ms. Jinnah had actually been murdered. This was President Ayub Khan's Attorney General talking and he immediately came within the mischief of 5-6 articles of the Pakistan Penal Code for not disclosing something which was in his knowledge relating to a heinous crime. And so the matter was again hushed up.
Let us again go back in time. Mr. (later Justice) Javed Iqbal narrates in his memoirs that he was told during the late fifties or early sixties that he would make a good Law Minister of West Pakistan and advised by a friend to meet the Central Law Minister. The gentleman in question, Mr. Khursheed expresses surprise and remarks, "but you are a decent person" adding hastily "we are looking for a rogue!". The powers that be's eyes fell on Ghulam Nabi Memon who was appointed to that position. Any matter relating to Ms. Jinnah death ends up with mention of Ghulam Nabi Memon, Hon'ble Law Minister of West Pakistan and the not so honourable Commissioner of Karachi Syed Darbar Ali Shah, who was later dismissed by Yahya Khan.
Going through her apolitical activities, I find that she was chief patron of the National TB Association as it was then called for decades and took an active part in TB prevention and control. She donated 100,000 rupees in 1962 to the Sindh Madressah Board allowing it to prosper as per her brother's desire. She went about performing inaugural ceremonies of colleges and universities, with a keen focus on women's issue. The 1964 elections (actually January 1, 1965) demonstrated that had she come in power, she could have served as an indispensable bridge between East and West Pakistan and perhaps reversed the tide set in motion to the contrary almost immediately after the creation of Pakistan.
Ms. Jinnah was found dead in her bed on July 9, 1967 indicating that close to 52 years have gone by. Will someone ever tell what happened after she slept the earlier night? It is clear that those governing Pakistan had seen one Jinnah and dreaded the prospect of another ruling Pakistan. Ayub Khan would not even allow her brother's tomb to be completed and it remained a dome of mud for over 2 decades. Then as Khaled Ahmed noted in 2003 the lady "revealed too much too soon in our history". Writing in the Daily Times in 2003 , Sir Cam questioned: And who strangled Miss Jinnah? Even if not physically throttled, she was strangled by the ‘system’. Like millions of ordinary people every day.
So be it - this country didn't deserve the Jinnahs, it deserved charlatans or worse! May her soul rest in eternal peace.
Copyright: Dr Ghulam Nabi kazi
Dogwood week 10: Perspective
This perspective challenge was pretty hard. I feel the story in here is pretty weak. Or at least not the one I wanted to tell.
Longer writeup and some other images for this challenge: renku.smugmug.com/2017Dogwood52/Week-10
CC very much welcomed.
Slick to Full Loadout: Building a Scaleable and Modular Armor System
Check out the full writeup on ITS Tactical: itstac.tc/1b54VRV
Goddess Durga (துர்கை), who is the fierce form of Goddess Devi, shows the duality inherent in all mothers. Devi is a loving, caring woman for her children, while Durga protects them from evil or corrects them when they go awry.
Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow--
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky--
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
~ William Ross Wallace
This poem (of the photo's title) praises motherhood as the preeminent force for change in the world. The poem was first published in 1865 under the title "What Rules The World".
rejectedprincesses: Khutulun: the Wrestler Princess (1260-1306) So that was a hell of a first week for this site. First, a small announcement: yes, I am working on an RP book. Don’t know when, don’t know how, but someday! Want to know more, sign up on this mailing list - no spam, I promise. (also I tweaked all the text throughout the entire signup process to be as amusing as possible) Second: I had several mistakes in the writeups when I launched this — some big, some small. More details at the end of this post, but for now: go back and re-read Nzinga Mbande’s entry, please. Other ones were tweaked, expanded, qualified, but hers was outright corrected. Now on to the newest Rejected Princess: Khutulun, Khan princess of 10,000 horses. Quickly, a bit of background on the Khans’ Mongol Empire, in case you don’t know much - bottom line, it was a big deal. At its height, it was the largest contiguous empire in human history, stretching from China to Europe and the Middle East. The whole thing was started by Genghis Khan (maybe you’ve heard of him), who unified a number of nomadic tribes under a single banner. While he did bring many advances to the regions he conquered (religious tolerance, increased trade, meritocracy — all good things), you probably know him more for his reputation for brutality. Certainly he was known for it back in the day, too. And it was not undeserved. Here’s an example: buddy once conquered a nation called the Khwarezmid Empire. Right after taking control, he decided to erase it from existence, burning towns to the ground and killing everyone in its government. He went so far as to divert a river through the deposed emperor’s birthplace, wiping it off the map. This sort of thing was what he was known for, and it was those warlike traits that he passed down to his descendants. Khutulun was his great-great-granddaughter. By 1260, the year Khutulun was born, the Mongol Empire was starting to fray at the seams, and civil war was imminent. Basically, some of the Khans — Khutulun’s father Kaidu among them — favored the old ways of riding, shooting, and other trappings of the nomadic lifestyle, while Kublai Khan — Kaidu’s uncle — was more into politics, governing well, and other things that no doubt bored the average Mongol to tears. Eventually Kaidu and Kublai began outright warring against each other, in a conflict that would last thirty years. Throughout this, Kaidu relied on one person above all others when it came to military expertise, and, spoiler alert, it was not any of his 14 sons — it was Khutulun. So, Khutulun: as you could imagine, growing up with 14 brothers in an old-school nomadic Mongolian household, she had no shortage of testosterone around her at any given time. She grew up to be incredibly skilled with riding horses and shooting bows — Marco Polo, history’s greatest tourist, described her thusly: "Sometimes she would quit her father’s side, and make a dash at the host of the enemy, and seize some man thereout, as deftly as a hawk pounces on a bird, and carry him to her father; and this she did many a time." I mean, picture that. You’re up against a horde of Mongolian warriors riding into battle. You’re tracking the movements of this huge chunk of stolid soldiers, trying to read which way they’re going. Suddenly, one of them — a woman, no less — darts out from the group, picks off a random person in your group, and runs back, before you even know what’s happened. That’s intimidating as fuck. But all of this paled in comparison next to her skill with wrestling. The Mongols of Kaidu Khan’s clan valued physical ability above all things. They bet on matches constantly, and if you won, people thought you were literally gifted by the gods. Now, these weren’t your modern day matches, separated out by things like weight class and gender — anyone could and did wrestle anyone else, and they’d keep going until one of them hit the floor. This was the environment in which Khutulun competed. Against men. Of all shapes and sizes. She was undefeated. Now, okay, back up. How can we be sure of that? Well, according to Marco Polo (and this is corroborated by other historians of the time, including Rashid al-Din), papa Kaidu desperately wanted to see his daughter Khutulun married, but she refused to do so unless her potential suitor was able to beat her in wrestling. So she set up a standing offer, available to all comers: beat her and she’d marry you. Lose, and you give her 100 horses. She ended up with 10,000 horses and no husband. Now, in these sorts of texts, 10,000 is like saying “a million.” It’s shorthand for “so many I can’t count them all” — you may also remember that Mai Bhago also fought 10,000 Mughals at Khidrana. While 10,000 may have been hyperbolic, suffice to say, it was a truly ludicrous amount of horses, supposedly rivaling the size of the emperor’s herds. She remained this stubborn about marriage even as she got older and pressure mounted on her to marry. Marco Polo tells of a time where a cockier-than-average suitor challenged her. This dude was so confident that he bet 1,000 horses instead of the usual hundred. Apparently he was a decent fella, too, because Kaidu and his wife really dug him. Khutulun’s parents approached her privately and begged her to just throw the match. Just lose intentionally, they said, so you can marry this totally decent guy. She walked away from that match 1,000 horses richer. Unfortunately, due to her stubborn refusal to take a husband, people began to talk. Rumors began to spread around the empire that she was having an incestuous affair with her father (these sorts of slanderous rumors, you may begin to note, are a recurrent problem for historical Rejected Princesses). Realizing the problems her refusal to marry was causing for her family, she did finally apparently settle down with someone — although who, exactly, is subject to some debate. Whoever it was never beat her at wrestling, though. Near the end of his life, Kaidu attempted to install Khutulun as the next Khan leader, only to meet stiff resistance from others — particularly Khutulun’s many brothers. Instead, a rival named Duwa was appointed to be Great Khan, and Khutulun’s story here begins to slide into obscurity. Five years after Kaidu’s death, Khutulun died under unknown circumstances, at the age of forty-six. Afterwards, the Mongol Empire, particularly the more nomadic factions, began to crumble. Khutulun could be considered one of the last great nomadic warrior princesses. After her death, she was forgotten for centuries. She only began her comeback to historical prominence starting in 1710 when a Frenchman named Francois Petis de La Croix, while putting together his biography of Genghis Khan, wrote a story based on Khutulun. This story was called Turandot (“Turkish Daughter”), but it was greatly changed from the facts of her life. In it, Turandot challenged her suitors with riddles instead of wrestling matches, and if they failed her challenge, they were killed. Centuries later, in the early 1900s, the story of Turandot was turned into an Italian opera — except, getting even farther from Khutulun’s actual history, the opera became about a take-no-nonsense woman finally giving in to love. Ugh. But while the West may have totally rewritten history with its recasting of Khutulun into Turandot, Mongolia continues to honor Khutulun’s actual story to this day. The traditional outfit worn by Mongolian wrestlers is conspicuously open-chest — the reason being to show that the wrestler is not a woman, in deference to the undefeated Khutulun. ART NOTES: The scene is set at night as a reference to Khutulun’s Turkish name of Aijaruc (used by Marco Polo), meaning “moonlight”. She wears a silver medal around her neck — this is a gergee (also known as paiza), a medallion given by the Great Khan that signifies the power of the holder. It was usually reserved for men. Most women instead used seals to signifiy their status — Khutulun is the only woman ever mentioned as owning a gergee. Her outfit is not a wrestling outfit by any stretch, but Mongolian fashion is so bright, colorful, and interesting, that I wanted to show that off. The outfit I chose is mostly based off of a man’s outfit, but given that she had many masculine qualities, I thought that was okay. For alternate takes on how she might have looked, check out “additional information,” below. She was described by Marco Polo as being broad and powerfully-built. This obviously doesn’t square very well with the standard aesthetic of animated princesses, so I tried to meet in the middle on it. She’s noticeably broader than everyone else I’ve drawn, but she’s also angled in such a way that it’s a bit hard to tell. The idea for her pose was inspired by portraits of noblewomen sitting demurely with their hands in their laps. The background is filled with horses and yurts — the Mongols of Kaidu’s tribe almost certainly slept in yurts. Well, technically, the Mongolians called them gers (thanks theredfolio!), but I just love the word yurt (which is Russian, a group whom the Mongolians hated). I’m sorry, ancient Mongola. I can’t help saying it. Yurt. Yurt yurt yurt. Kaidu (seen in the background laughing his ass off) was actually a smaller, thinner man, supposedly with only 9 hairs on his entire head. That isn’t what I portrayed, but the point of him being in the image was to have him laugh, so I went for a more bowl-full-of-jelly kind of design instead. They are, of course, on the Mongolian steppe. The wrestling match described by Marco Polo actually happened in a palace, but I wanted to capture her nomadic nature. Also, moonlight. FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION This article is probably the most in-depth overview of her life that I’ve found yet. It’s written by Jack Weatherford, who wrote an entire book on female Mongols. This short comic about her life (by the inimitable Molly Ostertag, whose webcomic Strong Female Protagonist just finished a successful Kickstarter campaign) is pretty great. The Book of Sir Marco Polo the Venetian: Concerning the Kingdoms (volume 2) - my primary source. Only talks about Khutulun for a few pages, but the whole thing is pretty great. Marco Polo is just a trip to read. A handful of people wrote in to suggest her, but the first was my brother, so credit goes to him. He wants to remain anonymous, and I have seven brothers in all (a lot, but nowhere near Khutulun levels), so hopefully that should be a decent smokescreen. BOOKKEEPING (I know, this entry is never ending) Like I’d said earlier, I’ve made corrections to almost all of the entries since initially launching this last Wednesday. I highly recommend going back to read, at bare minimum, the entries for Nzinga, Fredegund, and Sita. Many thanks to those who wrote in with additional information. A word specifically on Nzinga. No other way to put it, I fucked up her writeup. I knew a fair bit of the more outlandish claims should be treated as rumor, and thought I’d indicated as such on the page. It was not until it had been up for maybe 3 or 4 days that I realized the language didn’t indicate that at all. It took me that long because nobody wrote me about it — maybe you reblogged me, but I’m new to tumblr, and trying to keep up with stuff here is like drinking from a firehose. I found out about this by stumbling upon communities of people (understandably) angrily talking about it, and about me, which was a bummer. I fixed it once I realized that and am trying to get to the bottom of the historical source of those rumors for future edits to her entry. If you take one thing from this, it’s that, if you see inaccuracies, let me know. If you take another thing from it, it’s that history’s hard to get right. I cover a bit of this in an interview here. This site was originally just some cute doodles I did for my friends about some stories I’d read about online and poked around with at the library. I put it on tumblr so my friends could share with their friends, and suddenly it’s on Huffington Post and I’m being held up to a professional standards. I’m doing my best to meet them (I hope that shows in the incredibly long post about Khutulun). However, I should have done better from the get-go. From the bottom of my heart, I apologize for getting her entry wrong. I want this to be a place where people can trust the information portrayed, and get interested in history themselves. From here out, I’m going to try and provide sources wherever possible. I hope that you’ll forgive me this inaccuracy and keep reading in the future. And as a gift for reading this far, here’s a daily affirmation. Tune in next week for another princess. Here’s a hint: fight for Pedro! I’ve posted about Khutulun before, and talked about her at the Once and Future Badass panel at WisCon! I think she would make an amazing princess for a movie…more about women of color in history here.
[View this panorama Large on Black]
This is the famous Cauvery/Ponni river in South India, which is also called as the Ganges of the South here. Rivers are treated as Mother Goddess in India for wherever she flows flourishes by her blessings. Based on Ponni, there is a legendary historical novel in Tamil named Ponniyin Selvan, by Kalki R. Krishnamurthy. Meaning 'The Son of Ponni'. This novel is very unique in lot of aspects.
The novel is based on Raja Raja Chola the great Tamil king, of Chola Dynasty, who is still known for building the first ever complete granite temple, The Brihadeeswarar Temple in Thanjavur, India built in the 11th century AD, now a well maintained UNESCO world heritage site by the name The Great Living Chola Temples. This Shiva temple has a Nandhi (sacred bull) monolithic granite statue of about 16 feet long and 13 feet high. The entire temple structure is made out of hard granite stones, a material sparsely available currently in Thanjavur area where the temple is located, meaning it was ported to Thanjavur from some place.
This temple has tablets that speak of the important happenings during Raja Raja Chola's times. The reasons this story is nail-biting is that, him being the last son of his father, and a person who hates the idea of kingship and likes to be a part of vox populi, had almost no chance of getting the throne. A succession of events including betrayal, love, loyalty, friendship and a lot of fate, eventually forced him to become King. And he turned out to be one of the most known, accomplished and successful King in Indian History. These event logs in the temple were researched by Krishnamurthy, the novel's author. He made a fiction based on those events I.e. the key resultant events stay unaltered in his novel, while the dialogues, in-between happenings which could have led to the actual result was weaved by him.
Krishnamurthy was a freedom fighter who started a weekly named Kalki, which later became his pen-name. In this weekly he wrote this historical novel. Before it was published as a 5 volume complete novel, originally it was as a weekly serialised novel written in the pre-independent India. This is the longest ever serialised weekly novel, running a period of 3.5 years. My grandma still recounts how she fights with her brother when she was 12, to grab the subscription copy first :) After the last episode, many wrote letters to him on why did he stop the story. He rightly replies that "mine is not a complete fiction novel to go on writing on pipe dreams, but this is a portrayal of an age, and I don't wanna kill it by overdoing it". This reply of his, came a week after the last episode, as an epilogue.
Almost all of my family members, including me have read it, and yes its my most favourite novel ever. Due to its success, it was translated and published in English by McMillan publishers. This novel has almost 4 sequels written, and still a lot of budding new novelists in Tamil quote this as an inspiration.
Btw, this is my first attempt on a stitch/panorama. Shot freehand using Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ18 (which doesn't have a stitch assist/panorama mode). Pardom me, if it was too descriptive, couldn't cut out any line.
I had to post this one because I wanted to do a writeup. I had to write about this because I found it too damn funny not to.
I overheard a lil conversation between these two yesterday and it went like this:
Sydney: I wish I could be daddy.
Jessie: I don't. Because he's gonna die before us.
Nice huh? :D lol
This is an excerpt of a much longer writeup in Popular Photography around the launch of the Canon AE-1. Clearly the editors recognize what a groundbreaking SLR this is, using electronics and simplified manufacturing to offer most of the Canon EF's functionality in a much cheaper and lighter package. Canon's statement that they reduced the parts-count of this model by 300 pieces is rather astonishing.
Also notable is the way the Olympus OM-1 has already become the reference standard for camera size. Comparing the size of the AE-1 to Canon's own FTb is an indication of how influential this downsizing trend had become. Even just-introduced Pentax models would rather quickly be replaced by smaller alternatives.
The AE-1 became one of Canon's all-time sales hits, produced in the millions. As an affordable autoexposure model, it became the starter camera for countless amateurs; and it is the subject of great affectionate nostalgia in some quarters. It must be acknowledged that the cost-reduced manufacturing did not result in the the most robust construction, and other cameras might represent a better choice for a film newbie today.
All the books I finished reading in 2014. I did a giant writeup about them over at my site:
Strange Relation: A Memoir of Marriage, Dementia, and Poetry - Rachel Hadas • Download our podcast
Searching for Zion: The Quest for Home in the African Diaspora - Emily Raboteau • Download our podcast
Comics Art - Paul Gravett • Download our podcast
Black Cracker - Josh Alan Friedman • Download our podcast
Stern - Bruce Jay Friedman • Download our podcast
About Harry Towns - Bruce Jay Friedman • Download our podcast
The Current Climate - Bruce Jay Friedman • Download our podcast
Lucky Bruce: A Literary Memoir - Bruce Jay Friedman (r) • Download our podcast
A Mother's Kisses - Bruce Jay Friedman • Download our podcast
The World of Yesterday - Stefan Zweig (tr. Anthea Bell)
Visible City - Tova Mirvis • Download our podcast
The Elephants Teach: Creative Writing Since 1880 - D.G. Myers • Download our podcast
Hyde - Daniel Levine • Download our podcast
Not pictured: The Bookshop - Penelope Fitzgerald
The Cold Song - Linn Ullmann • Download our podcast: part 1 & part 2
Mortality - Christopher Hitchens
Not pictured: This Is Where We Came In: Intimate Glimpses - Lynne Sharon Schwartz • Download our podcast
All That Is - James Salter
The Divine Comedy, Vol. 1: Inferno - Dante Alighieri (tr. Durling)
The Divine Comedy, Vol. 2: Purgatorio - Dante Alighieri (tr. Durling)
The Impossible Exile: Stefan Zweig at the End of the World - George Prochnik • Download our podcast
Secrecy - Rupert Thomson • Download our podcast
The Divine Comedy, Vol. 3: Paradiso - Dante Alighieri (tr. Durling)
Not pictured: Solaris - Stanislaw Lem (r)
Nose Down, Eyes Up - Merrill Markoe • Download our podcast
Bleeding Edge - Thomas Pynchon
Never Mind - Edward St. Aubyn
The Incentive of the Maggot: Poems - Ron Slate • Download our podcast
Bad News - Edward St. Aubyn
The Great Wave: Poems - Ron Slate • Download our podcast
Some Hope - Edward St. Aubyn
Mother's Milk - Edward St. Aubyn
At Last - Edward St. Aubyn
My Face for the World to See - Alfred Hayes
The Horned Man - James Lasdun • podcast coming soonish!
The Literary Churchill: Author, Reader, Actor - Jonathan Rose • Download our podcast
Doll Palace - Sara Lippmann • Download our podcast
Last Night - James Salter
Where To?: A Hack Memoir - Dmitry Samarov • Download our podcast
The Wife - Meg Wolitzer
The House of Mirth - Edith Wharton
Backing Into Forward: A Memoir - Jules Feiffer • Download our podcast
I Only Read It for the Cartoons: The New Yorker's Most Brilliantly Twisted Artists - Richard Gehr • Download our podcast
Not pictured: Mr. Wicker - Maria Alexander • Download our podcast
The Getaway Car: A Donald Westlake Nonfiction Miscellany - Donald Westlake (ed. Levi Stahl)
Give + Take - Stona Fitch • podcast coming soon!
Senseless - Stona Fitch • podcast coming soon!
All Those Vanished Engines - Paul Park • podcast coming soon!
Blood Will Out: The True Story of a Murder, a Mystery, and a Masquerade - Walter Kirn • podcast maybe sorta coming soonish?
Not pictured: A Princess of Roumania - Paul Park • podcast coming soon!
Death Comes for the Archbishop - Willa Cather
The fourth incarnation of the tiny collection of games and components I tend to carry around, an Emergency Games Kit that fits in a pocket instead of a toolbox. Updated in August 2015 to include Welcome to the Dungeon, R, Top Secret Spies and two-player Haggis, and a few more subsequently. As of August 2016 the kit stands at 24 modern games playable with the card deck, and 77 generic classics, for a total of 101 games.
Full writeup at kevan.org/games/emergency
Visit www.speedexposure.com and follow me @joedfoto on Twitter
To see her writeup go to joedantone.com/?p=474
These are my favourites from my shoot with my grandfather, Olaf, yesterday.
Strobist:
Profoto ProB-head with 46" Softlighter high camera left. I used a Profoto B2r pack set at minimum power that I triggerd with a PocketWizard Plus II.
Apparently doesn't want to display these in the order I wanted to. Oh well..
Full writeup of how I shot these
More photographs from this shoot can be found on my blog.
Taking in beautiful weather on my 27th birthday, I made lunch plans with a friend. As I was walking towards to meet said friend, I stopped at the crosswalk waiting for traffic to clear as to pass safely. When suddenly a voice spoke to me, asking me in I was getting any good photos. A common question, especially given away by the fact that I had the camera around my neck. I smiled, looking over at the man next to me: cane in one hand and paperwork tucked underneath the other.
I expressed that I had only just began the days adventure, hoping to find the usual subject matter (places, things, and most importantly PEOPLE) that represent Madison to me. I introduced myself as Chris, a local photographer of all things Madison. Extending a free hand while keeping all his belongings in order, the man told me his name was Leon. Recently transplanted to Madison from Chicago, he came to the isthmus to better himself and help others. Unfortunately, being homeless upon arrival (as well as when he left Chicago) doesn't help his cause in the search for work. In his younger days he worked as a professional seamster (male seamstress). But as many jobs are taken overseas that line of work folded, and so did his source of income.
After he told me that he was born in Mississippi I became curious, as a man of his age (not 100% sure on it exactly) growing up during the civil rights movements. I asked if he still saw segregation in today's age, as a positive person he informed me that he tries to not pay attention to such things. "Treat others the way you wish to be treated." he told me and obvious we all can get along. After this I asked him I would be so honored to snap his photo for my project of 100 more strangers, at first he was shy asking if I was going to give the photo to the police dept. While I couldn't give a promise that the police may stumble upon his photo, I gave him my word there was nothing to fear to the extent of me giving the photo away.
Still a little hesitant, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through at least a dozen images that I've saved to my phone as a real time portfolio. Once he saw the photos, his eyes lit up and he was more then happy to let me take his photo. Quickly adjusting my settings to work with the harsh sun overhead, we moved to the front of a pile of mattresses. While it's not the most fitting background, after I clicked a few shots and shared them with Leon a smile grew on his face. He expressed to me that he felt he looked "distinguished," as in my opinion I agreed kindheartedly. I knew then that I had my photo to include in the 100 Strangers group as well as my strangers project. I gave Leon $2.00 so that he could hop on the bus and head to Fitchburg to hopefully line up work. I wished him the best, and told him not to be a stranger anymore.
058/100
The website The Judgment of Paris did a nice writeup on my recent shoot with the gorgeous Maxey Greene. (+7 more photos).
I don't see a lot of ИН-2 based clocks. I tried to make mine as compact as possible. Unlike Patashnik, it multiplexes the tubes so there's only one ИД1 and ATmega8 has enough pins plus a few more to spare.
IN-2's are not very suitable for clocks, perhaps, because of their tunnel vision. View angles for the "deep" digits are very narrow. The tubes are small, but it's impossible to make very compact displays with them because their cylindrical shape doesn't allow for rational use of space.
Project writeup: sensi.org/~svo/satashnik