Aha!

Pretty lady in a library.

Saw this and thought about your future spiritual trip...

Helmut Newton's Polaroids

by June Newton, web exclusive of Vanity Fair, July 2011

Helmut has already written about the importance of Polaroids for his work.

But this exhibition proves that they were not always necessary, as often one can’t tell the difference between the Polaroid and the actual photograph. I used many of them as place cards for dinner parties. Some were sold to people who saw the value of them; some ended up in auctions. Many are still out there. So this is the reason I’ve exhibited them, for they have a life of their own. They always did, but they were meant as guides for him before the actual shoot took place.

He never used a motor drive. Chance was taken when an unexpected element presented itself. Otherwise, he went out on every job, prepared. But he loved the little Polaroid camera. It told him what he wanted to know, and it allowed him to correct whatever had to be corrected before he used whatever camera he was using.

On real film, his average was three rolls: one or two for him, the third in case something went wrong in the lab for one or two. He often brought home the day’s work of Polaroids to me, threw them down, and said, “What do you think?” As I have written, he was like Othello coming home with the spoils of war to his Desdemona.

I decided to enlarge the Polaroids, because, as the wolf said to Red Riding Hood, “all the better to see you with, my dear.”

Meteora...

First published by the BBC July 2011, by Theopi Skarlatos

Above the town of Kalambaka, on the north-western edge of Greece’s Plain of Thessaly, giant rock formations reach nearly 400m into the sky, like something out of a science fiction movie. Balanced across 24 pillars are monasteries, visible through the clouds.

Numerous geologists and historians have tried to fathom how the giant rock pedestals were created an estimated 60 million years ago, but no theory has been fully proven. Today, the enormous fingers pointing to the heavens are a protected Unesco World Heritage Site and go by the name Meteora – which literally means “suspended in the air”.

It is said that the first people to inhabit Meteora arrived in the 9th Century. In a bid to escape everyday life, they braved fierce storms and climbed up the cliffs with their bare hands. Grabbing at trees as they went, they eventually settled in small caves and crevices and embarked on a life of solitude, meeting occasionally to worship and pray. For hundreds of years the only way to bring anything up or down the rocks was with nets or baskets attached to rope. As time progressed the cave dwellers grew into a small community focused around the growing number of monasteries, which by the 14th Century served as shelter from Turkish invaders.

The journey to Meteora (a 4- to 5-hour drive from Athens) is full of steep, winding roads. Once you are standing on top of the rocks, staring at nature in its grandest form, you will most likely feel small and irrelevant in comparison. Six of the monasteries are still in operation, and it is a trip worth taking for the views alone.

The Monastery of the Great Meteoron, (right, image by Xalkida) founded in the 14th Century by Saint Athanasios, is the highest, largest and oldest of the six. If there is only time to visit one monastery, this is the one to choose. Do not miss the well preserved frescoes depicting scenes from the life of Christ. The kitchen is still black with smoke and contains the original bread oven and soup hearth. You can also meet the former monks of the monastery at the sacristy, where their skulls and bones are neatly stacked on shelves.

The Holy Monastery of Varlaam is the second largest. Two rich monks took over the site in the 16th Century and it took more than 20 years to hoist all of the building materials to the top. You can still see the old rope basket that lifted the supplies.

Compared to the others, the Holy Monastery of Rousanou is lower in elevation, making it more accessible. It was founded around 1545 but was damaged by the Germans during World War II. Since 1988 it has been occupied by nuns.

The Holy Monastery of St Nicholas houses a single-nave church with a small dome, decorated by the 16th-century Cretan painter, Theophanes the Monk. Each monastery houses an impressive collection of Byzantine art – some of the most beautiful in all of Greece.

The Holy Monastery of St Stephanos was founded around 1400 and is now a convent with wonderful views of the Pinios River. If you ask them, the nuns will take the time to tell you about their daily routine and the history of their home.

Painting icons is a skill that many of the monks and nuns continue to practice and you will probably see them perfecting their latest piece of art. It is a painstakingly slow process, with an icon taking many months to complete. The old katholikon (chapel) at St Stephanos, which was rebuilt in 1545, is still standing, but was heavily damaged during WWII and the civil war throughout the 1940s, so many of the icons contain bullet holes.

The Monastery of the Holy Trinity (left) is accessible by climbing 140 steep steps, making it one of the least visited. It was used in the final scenes of the James Bond film For Your Eyes Only.

It is an energetic climb up to any of the monasteries, the most difficult to reach being the Great Meteoron. But once you arrive, it is easy to understand why the first hermits were so determined to reach Meteora’s peaks though and why the monks and nuns who now reside there say they would not dream of living anywhere else. Sister Charitini Karanasio grew up nearby, and she fell in love with the area as a little girl. She now lives in St Stephanos.

“This is a place where lots of saints have lived and I have always been in awe of the area,” Sister Charitini Karanasio said. “Somehow being up here makes me think my prayers will reach God much more quickly.”

How to
In the centre of Kalambaka, Hotel REX is perfect for exploring the town and relaxing after a trip to Meteora.

At the foot of the rocks, Panorama offers good food right from the oven. The kolokithokeftethes (zucchini fritters), souvlaki and mushrooms are delicious.

16th...

When devising my 16th blogpost to you, I looked through all of the many images and ideas that I have amassed since my last post. As a result, I find myself in difficulty; simply put, too much reminds me of you.

There're the 'beautiful lady' photos:




The images I associate with our old-lady life:



Of course, there are the strange humour ones:


Bizarrely, there are the you're-not-a-hipster-you're-just-cool ones:


Inevitably there are ones about books...



And then there's the hope that I can find the perfect 16th picture, I've yet to find it. When I do it will be posted below to replace the words;

I love you.

Yours, etc.

K

For you,

Some pictures for you, my love, of other strong women. Hope your day is a good one.

Yours, etc.

K

Saw this and thought of you...

Why bookshops smell good:

Lingin — the stuff that prevents all trees from adopting the weeping habit— is a polymer made up of units that are closely related to vanilla. When made into paper and stored for years, it breaks down and smells good, which is how divine providence has arranged for secondhand bookshops to smell like good quality vanilla absolute, subliminally stoking a hunger for knowledge in all of us.

Oktapodi (2007) - Oscar 2009 Animated Short Film

Take a nap...

You by Carol Ann Duffy.

You

Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head,

so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,

like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of it bright syllables

like a charm, like a spell.

Falling in love

is glamorous hell; the crouched, parched heart

like a tiger ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.

Into my life, larger than life, beautiful, you strolled in.

I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,

in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,

staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud,

from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me

as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are

on the bed, like a gift, like a touchable dream.

(Belated, but happy 16th. I love you)

Bit mad...

Michael Palin on Diary Keeping.

From vanityfair.com — current at time of posting.

Don’t try and make your life interesting when it isn’t. Diaries must be brutally honest. If you had only one egg for breakfast, write “Had egg for breakfast.” Don’t feel you have to have had 12 eggs for breakfast just to get in the diary. And leave celebrity diaries to the celebrities. If you don’t know anyone famous, don’t try and pretend you do. “At the airport that Bruce Springsteen’s drummer once used” isn’t good enough. Similarly, “At the hairdresser’s. Saw someone reading about Bruce Springsteen’s drummer” just sounds desperate. On the other hand, “Bruce Springsteen’s drummer is the father of three of my children” is perfectly legitimate.

Even if you are famous, don’t brag about it. There’s nothing worse than a diarist trying too hard to impress. So, avoid “I was the one they were all looking at, but Obama seemed cool with that” or anything like “If I see Angelina Jolie outside the house again I’m going to call the police.” On the other hand, something like “I like goats and they like me” is nice and kooky and quite permissible.

Even if you did babysit for Chuck Berry or neuter one of the Queen’s corgis, it’s much better to just drop it in as a throwaway. As in: “Got up late, made some jam, called the chiropractor, neutered the Queen’s corgi, painted the bathroom.”

Don’t be too obscure. British upper-class diaries are prime examples of this fault, as in Sir Arthur Fforbes-Ffinch’s account of London life in the 1920s: “January 4th: Bo-Bo, Tiggy, Spaff, Flatto, Gin-Gin, Mobbles, and Goofy came round and we all drank Brown Monkeys and played Sham-Sham until we’d crocked Bonzie’s and had to rumble.” Completely inexplicable if you didn’t know it was a Cabinet meeting.

Don’t write anything you might regret. This was an occupational hazard for the great English diarists of the 1930s. “Met Hitler. Rather liked him.” “The Nuremberg Rally could have gone on longer.” “He [Stalin] could go far if he weren’t so pitifully shy.”

Write every day. Diaries are all about habit. They should become a regular part of your day, like cleaning your teeth or going to the lavatory. And, if possible, just as interesting.

Apart from that, the world’s your oyster. As Mae West said: “Keep a diary and it’ll keep you.”

Stalin loved that.

Worryingly true...

When I am old...

'When I am old I shall wear purple' by Jenny Joseph

When I am old I shall wear purple,
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Also: http://www.nowness.com/day/2011/3/23/advanced-style-fashion-film.

As promised.

Fats Waller - Ain't Misbehavin'

Tar ar ais, a pháiste...

Predicition.

Sometimes you and I worry about where we're going to end up —if we'll be together, if we'll be "successful" if we'll fall in love with other people— and so on. It's obviously difficult not to think about it and when thinking about it it's difficult not to imagine the worst-case scenarios.

I was trying to find a way to put your mind (and mine) at ease about this and when I came across the picture below while stumbling, I knew it was perfect.

A crystal clear example of how bad we are at predictions. So don't worry, it might never happen.

Yours, etc.

K

Dracula.

Look what I found:

Our Library (Part 11)

"It's the blue book. You know, the one featured on Oprah..."

Who to trust?

Bed...

Why do we get out of bed? Is there any feeling better than being in bed? What could possibly feel better than this? What is going to happen in the course of my day that will be an improvement over lying on something very soft, underneath something very warm, wearing only underwear, doing absolutely nothing, all by myself?

Chuck Klosterman, Downtown Owl.

Favourite Children's Books (Part Eleven)

The Redwall Series by Brian Jacques. Wow. Ali was given a few of these books from Liz one summer and we've never looked back. How could we? A typical extract:

"Furlo Stump the cellar-keeper poured himself a beaker of October Ale. 'Be you not careful, marm, an' Martin'll sit on yore knee agin an' scoff all that bread'n'cheese, I'll wager!' he chortled.

"Rolle put aside a platter which had contained chestnut and blackberry flan and banged the tabletop with a soup ladle. 'Come on, you young 'uns, how's about a bit of song and dance for your poor elders before we fall asleep from boredom!' "

And yes, I did type that from the book I am currently reading...


Yours, etc.

K

Favourite Children's Books (Part 10)

I hate to call anything a 'favourite' (apart from you, you are my favourite) but this book was just my favourite book for enough of time that it warrants the f-word. It's crazy but still brillinant and now the title reminds me of you. I give you: Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH.

Yours, etc.

K

Favourite Children's Books (Part 8)

I've been holding off writing about this one a bit. Largely because I'm not sure I could deal with the mocking I might be subject to. This is the book that I read after I was forced to watch the remake of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I have no regrets about that and I've decided that I should consequently have no shame. So here we go: one of my very favourite books as a teenager was an American novel about horse-riding youths who solved crime.

I know, doesn't sound like my kind of book at all...

Yours, etc.
K

My day...

I was stumbling today, looking for something to put up here for you. I came across a blog I hurt, I am in fashion. (ihurtiaminfashion.com) I'm not sure how I feel about it, I think it's an interesting idea. The blogger takes fashion photos and adds captions that highlight the surreality of the industry. Some are good, some are weird, some aren't great. I like sharing my day with you though, and this has affected it so, for you:

Our Library (Part 7)

There will be ladders in our library, I assume.

Favourite Children's Books (Part 7)

Dear N,

I know this may be considered cheating, after all I've already put up a post about Enid Blyton's books, but I can't leave them out. Malory Towers are brilliant books! Perhaps too jolly hockey-sticks and Protestant for your taste, my love, I adored them. Can I remember a single plot line? No. Do I care? Quite the opposite, it will only make the books more enjoyable when I read them again!

Yours, etc.

K

Favourite Children's Book (part 6)

Dear N,

I wanted there to be something on the blog for you to find. So I was thinking about what you might like to find, then I remembered trying to find the duck in the Usborne Farmyard Tales, good times!

I hope you know what I'm talking about.

K

Favourite Children's Book (Part 5)

In deference to International Women's Day:

The Paper Bag Princess
story by Robert N. Munsch
art by Michael Martchenko.

When Elizabeth was a beautiful princess, she lived in a castle and had expensive princess clothes. She was going to marry a prince named Ronald.

Unfortunately, a dragon smashed her castle, burnt all her clothes with his fiery breath, and carried off Prince Ronald.

Elizabeth decided to chase the dragon and get Ronald back. She looked all over for something to wear, but the only thing she could find that was not burnt was a paper bag. So she put on the paper bag and followed the dragon. He was easy to follow because he left a trail of burnt forests and horses' teeth.

Finally, Elizabeth came to a cave with a large door that had a huge knocker on it. She took hold of the knocker and banged on the door. The dragon stuck his nose out the door and said, "Well, a princess! I love to eat princesses but I have already eaten a whole castle today. I am a very busy dragon. Come back tomorrow."

He slammed the door so fast that Elizabeth almost got her nose caught.

Elizabeth grabbed the knocker and banged on the door again. The dragon stuck his nose out the door and said, "Go away. I love to eat princesses, but I have already eaten a whole castle today. I am a very busy dragon. Come back tomorrow."

"Wait!" shouted Elizabeth. "Is it true that you are the smartest and fiercest dragon in the whole world?"

"Yes," said the dragon.

"Is it true," said Elizabeth, "that you can burn up ten forests with your fiery breath?"

"Oh, yes," said the dragon, and he took a huge breath and breathed otu so much fire that he burnt up fifty forests.

"Fantastic," said Elizabeth, and the dragon took another huge breath and breathed out so much fire that he burned up one hundred forests.

"Magnificent," said Elizabeth, and the dragon took another huge breath, but this time nothing came out. The dragon didn't even have enough fire left to cook a meatball.

Elizabeth said, "Dragon, is it true that you can fly around the world in just ten seconds?"

"Why, yes," said the dragon, and jumped up and flew all the way around the world in ten seconds. He was very tired when he got back but Elizabeth shouted, "Fantastic, do it again!"

So the dragon jumped up and flew around the whole world in just twenty seconds. When he got back he was too tired to talk, and he lay down and went right to sleep.

Elizabeth whispered very softly, "Hey, dragon,"

The dragon didn't move at all.

She lifted up the dragon's ear and put her head right inside. She shouted as loud as she could, "Hey, dragon!"

The dragon was so tired that he didn't even move.

Elizabeth walked right over the dragon and opened the door to the cave. There was Prince Ronald.

He looked at her and said, "Boy, you are a mess! You smell like ashes, your hair is all tangled, and you are wearing a dirty old paper bag. Come back when you're dressed like a real princess."

"Ronald," said Elizabeth, "your clothes are really pretty and your hair is all neat. You look like a real prince, but you are a bum."

They didn't get married after all.

Favourite Children's Books (Part 4)

Mr. Men have to be mentioned. This is my favourite, as you know.

Favourite Children's Books (Part 3)

Did you read these in your house? My Naughty Little Sister... by Dorothy Edwards