Maybe it wasn't quite -35

The weather, again

Last night, it was -50 degrees in Big Black River, Maine. It was not only a record for the date, but of all time here in the state.

And I thought it was cold where I live.

Dick just said, "This is good for the trees, though. It kills the pine beetles." I just googled pine beetles and they don't appear to be a problem in Maine.

I told him this and he said something about some bug that is killing the spruce trees. Its the Eastern Spruce Gall Adelgid, to be precise. Some say that the warmer winters are not killing these bugs, which are a type of aphid.

So, did you need this information?

Photo note: Snow on spruce, found at this site, where you can read about the ecology of snow and global warming.

Material lust

A few years back, I started using Publishers Clearinghouse Search & Win as my home page. It uses Google and a bunch of other search engines and if I'm not searching for anything obscure, it does a fairly good job. But I figured it was a scam, for I'd used it for almost a year, and every day I'd see the names of those who'd won prize after prize, and it seemed, with all the searches I'd done, at least I'd have won something, a 5 dollar Amazon gift certificate at least, within a full year. In my memory, it was the exact day I was going to quit using it, for the search engine isn't all that hot, when I won two hundred dollars.

I still thought it was a scam when the screen came up that announced I was a winner. I filled out a form and figured I'd never see my prize money. The next morning, I told Dick I'd won two hundred dollars and he said, "I'll believe it when I see the check." Well, I got the check. Within the next few weeks, I won fifty dollars in Amazon gift certificates.

Google opted out and the search engine became fairly useless. So, that was the end of that and the small daily rush I'd get thinking I might win another prize. So, I started spending ten minutes a day entering the Better Homes and Garden instant win game. I've never won a thing playing this game, and I'd say it hasn't made much of a dent on my consciousness, because I can't even think of the name of it.

A couple of weeks ago, I did a search for sweepstakes on Google. I had no idea how huge a "hobby" entering sweepstakes are. There are hundreds of sweepstakes websites, with pages and pages of lists. There are special sweepstakes toolbars you can download so one can enter sweepstakes faster. I've installed one.

My favorites button has become heavy with links. I've bookmarked "pay down your mortgage" sweepstakes, beauty product giveaways, product essay contests. . .

I've entered to win five foot wide plasma television sets and a thin gold bangle bracelet worth five thousand dollars. In the real world, I have no need or desire for either of these things. But if I won either of them, I'd take them, thank you very much.

I feel as if I'm admitting to a deep dark secret. It is neither deep or dark, but there's something nefarious about it, for it has opened up a yearning in me for material goods. The $250,000 shopping spree sweepstakes on Cosmopolitan magazine's website was looking better and better to me each day.

This afternoon I wrote an essay about why I'd like to win a trip to Paris. Of course, I mentioned that I'd like to visit perfume shops. But no, I wouldn't just like to visit. I'd like to buy, buy and buy some more. I want every Serge Lutens non-export scent I can get my greedy little hands on, and I want them in bell jars, not the ordinary rectangular spray bottles.

I find it interesting that in the midst of the worst economic crisis in my lifetime, both for the entire country and in my personal life, I'm thinking about winning overpriced luxury goods that I've never wanted before. I surely don't want or need a silk pillow with a baroque design on the front. It's baby blue and doesn't match anything in my home. But, I filled in the form to win that pillow, not once, but twice.

There are things I need, practical things, that are expensive. I need a new pair of glasses, for instance. I've looked at hundreds of contests in the last few days and not one of them offers a chance to win a pair of prescription glasses. One can win a consultation with a psychic or plastic surgeon, but nowhere did I see an offer to see a good primary care doctor.

Of course, contests are fantasies. Winning the things of ordinary life would take some of the fun out it, but the truth is, for me, and I suspect for a good many people who enter contests, that I could use many everyday things.

So far, this week, I've won one music download and fifteen dollars worth of Kraft products (which I suspect are all going to be junk food).

I did enter one contest today that had a fairly practical prize: glue. I'm not kidding. It was on a scrapbooking site. The winner of this contest wins $265 in various types of glue products for scrapbooking. I didn't look at the details of this contest, but just how much glue is that? It must be enough for life, unless some of it is made of gold. For all I know, some of it might be.

I wonder how long this weird little obsession of mine is going to last. I don't know what to make of it. And I suspect I'm going to win that glue. It'll serve me right.

Painting note: Elizabeth-Louise Vigee-Le Brun "Queen Marie Antoinette of France" 1778
I'm imagining myself in that outfit,saying, "Let them eat Kraft macaroni and cheese."

Off with my head!

Sometimes the weather is a legitimate topic

I looked at our outdoor thermometer before I went to bed and couldn't really believe what I saw. It was -28 degrees. The last time I saw a reading that low was in the winter of 1993, when I was raising sheep. I've written about that before, and I'm too lazy to find what post it is, but if you're interested, poke around.

This morning I awoke to Dick telling me that it had gotten even colder. It was -35 degrees. Again, I found it hard to take in that it was that cold outside. Dick's truck was in the garage and he was able to start it, but my car was not, and the engine wouldn't turn over. No matter. I still have a head cold, and wasn't planning on going out in this weather. 'Tis rather a shame though, for experiencing weather that extreme is quite the experience. But I do know what -28 feels like, and somehow I doubt the body can discriminate between -28 and -35. Now I will probably never know if my theory is correct, for it's gotten up to a steamy 0. I'm still staying inside. I'm sitting on a bedwarmer with a heating pad behind my back.

The birds at the feeder were sluggish this morning. I'm so glad Dick put more seed out. The birds need it in this weather. I can see them sitting in the bushes, all fluffed up. Thankfully, there has been little wind. It's amazing that they can withstand this cold at all. Some of them will not make it, however. This makes me sad.

I've noticed that I feel more sadness about the welfare of animals than I do about human beings. I'm hesitating over the delete key, seeing that sentence sitting there. What kind of horrible human being am I?

The truth is, I think this feeling is quite common. Whenever there's a horror story involving animals in the local news, people respond with intense emotion. There's a horror story involving human beings every single day. Maybe we're become inured to the horrors of our fellow humans. Perhaps we also see animals (and babies) as helpless. This is a false belief, for there is an abundance of adults who are indeed helpless in the face of war, starvation, ethnic cleansing, domestic abuse. . .the list, sadly, is very long. We all know it. Maybe we are the ones who feel helpless in the face of all this horror. No wonder we grow numb.

I remember once when I was a child, I saw a violent Western at the movie theater. People were being shot left and right. Then someone kicked a chicken and I started to cry. The other factor, I'm guessing, is that we know full well that the deaths of people in movies are fake, but have a harder time seeing harm to animals as such. To prove my point, think about the fact that we see the disclaimer "no animals were harmed in the making of this film" but we do not see the same disclaimer regarding humans.

So, maybe I'm not a horrible human being. I'm just another regular human being; only somewhat awful.

One last thought (or two) - It seems as if the amount of violent television shows increase every season and the ones which are already violent become more gruesome. Why, with all the real atrocities that are going on, do "we" seem to have a need to watch fake violence? And is my perception that fake violence is on the rise a real one? I think it is. I watch a few violent television shows on a regular basis. I really enjoy Criminals Minds and The Mentalist. The characters are entertaining and the stories are engaging. But why on earth do I subject myself to material of this nature? Last night's episode of CSI (which I watch on occasion) was filled with images of a woman being tortured. The details were gratuitous and I wondered just what I was getting out of watching such stuff.

I do watch documentaries. Again, I'm surprised by my lack of emotional response, but I do feel a sense of outrage. If you haven't seen it, you can view the PBS documentary, "Torturing Democracy", online. If you have any questions about whether Bush and company are war criminals, this is a must-watch.

I started out writing about the weather and wound up writing about torture. From thinking about freezing chickadees to freezing detainees in Guantanamo isn't much of a stretch, now that I give it some thought. I'm sorry if you expected a light post about pretty birds in the snow. You should know by now that you should never assume anything when you start reading one of my blog entries!

More on hats

In the last entry, I posted Jaime's answer to the hat question. I wondered why, of all things, I picked that response to post. Then I saw I had written about hats in the entry previous to it. I don't know where my hats are. And it's very cold outside. I need a hat!

I've got a Tibetan hat quite similar to the one in the photograph somewhere in my house. How could one mislay something as bright as that? I had put it on a shelf right in front of the door to my house and I suppose it might still be there, but I have stopped seeing it. I'm curious if that is the case. Hold on. . .

No, it is not there. However, there is a straw hat with a black band. There is also a pink and white striped straw hat and a mesh head and face cover. None of these items is season appropriate. This only goes to show that I have been in denial about what time of year it is or am quite lazy (or both). I'm really wondering where that Tibetan hat went to.

I've only worn it once, on New Year's eve, about six or seven years ago. It is certainly a hat that draws a lot of attention here in Maine. People wear hats with furry ear flaps, but I've never seen one with brocade on it. But the truly odd thing about Maine is that most people do not wear hats. It's cold up here!

I noticed when I first moved here that teenagers regularly wear shorts in the dead of winter. I'm guessing some kid somewhere in this state wore shorts today and I'm hoping that kid does not have frostbitten knees.

My taste in hats tends to be outlandish, though I don't often wear hats. I used to, back when I lived in New York. I thought I looked great in a hat, which reminds me that I actually did think I looked good once in a while.

I used to work in the same office as a friend of mine, in the middle of New York's biggest shopping district. During our lunch hour, we'd walk through Lord & Taylor department store instead of walking on the sidewalk. I often would try on hats, and she pointed out to me, much to my embarassment, that I would suck in my cheeks and purse my lips when I looked in the mirror. In retrospect, I think, "so?", but at the time I was mortified. I tried hard to stop doing this, but it's pretty hard to stop doing something one doesn't know one is doing in the first place. I fear I still make this face when I look in the mirror, with or without a hat.

When I lived in Hoboken, New Jersey (before it became gentrified), I lived in one of the worst slum apartments imaginable. I was financially struggling at the time, trying to begin a career as a commercial artist. Yet, I wore fancy hats. I might have worn raggedly clothes, but I always put a nice hat on my head when I went out (and a woolen cap on my head inside the barely heated apartment). The librarian once said she thought of me as the "hat girl." I remember one hat in particular - a very dramatic huge brimmed black hat with an attached black scarf. I would wrap it around my neck and drape it quite dramatically. I probably was wearing black Converses on my feet. I'm sure I looked absurd.

As to absurdity, I mentioned there was a pink and white striped straw hat in my entryway. It's squashed and crumpled, which is a shame. It was a very nice hat. When I purchased it, I also purchased a pair of striped linen pants and striped jacket. None of these striped items matched in the least. The woman at the store said "They're all nice, but I wouldn't wear them together." I thought, "I can't wait to wear them together." And I did. I wore them all on Martha's Vineyard and I wonder if the folks with me weren't a bit embarassed. Dick wasn't. I know that. He was with me when I bought the Tibetan hat and when I asked him if it wasn't a bit much, he said "Go for it!" (or something to that affect). Dick likes a bit of silliness. It's one thing I love about the guy.

Unfortunately, both of my straw hats are a bit tight and I hate that feeling. The straw hat with the black ribbon around it is a classic, but every time I've worn it I got a bit of headache.

I was looking for some shoes the other day and I noticed all these beautiful, sleek black boots with high heels. I own a pair suede black foots with stiletto heels that are oh-so-sexy and the last time I wore them I was miserable. Just walking across a room was hellacious and I thought to myself that my days of high heels were over and done with. It's not that I used to find them comfortable. I most certainly did not. I can remember clearly many a night of misery in my overly high heels. I finally figured out one could buy cushions to put inside of them, but that never really seemed to help. For one thing, that would make them tighter, for I hadn't bought any of these shoes in a size that would accomodate three layers of inserts. Speaking of inserts, those gel things that are supposed to be some kind of breakthrough in foot comfort technology are just hopeless. Sorry, Scholl's (and all the rest), good old fashioned foam is far superior.

One thing about getting older, for me, is that comfort is becoming my number one consideration. I'm not going to start wearing white sneakers, pastel sweats and ear muffs, but my days of fashion fun coupled with suffering are over with. One wouldn't think hats would be a part of this, but they are. No more tight headbands for me.

Now, that Tibetan hat was way too big for me, so I'm going to find it. It's got to be in this house somewhere, unless someone snuck in and stole it. But I don't think that happened. If someone had, they would have been caught right away, for I doubt there's another one like it in the state of Maine. I haven't seen anyone pumping gas at the general store with a Tibetan hat on. Caps, yes.

When I said noone wears a hat in the state of Maine, I forgot about caps. Caps are another story. So many people wear caps that they've become invisible to my eyes. Dick has one that says "CIA" on it, and it's funny, because many people actually believe he's in the CIA because of it. That's the last thing a spy would do, don't you think? Uh oh. Maybe he is in the CIA. I mean, I think he can't be because of the cap. What a fantastic ruse!

Interview, Part 3

Before I post another installment of Jaime's interview answers, I'd like to point out that noone else asked to be interviewed. What's up with that, folks?

Here's what Jaime has to say about the subject of hats:

"I love hats! They’re my favorite accessory. If I could, I would own dozens of different styles of men’s hats – top hats, fedoras,bowlers, newsboys, pork pies … you name it. I love costume hats, too … piratey tri-corner hats, sailor caps, pith helmets, wizard hats, coolie hats, fezzes … wow, I’m salivating just thinking about the variety. Unfortunately, in addition to not having unlimited income, I don’t think I usually look that good in them. The one exception is a cotton Red Sox cap Ibought for $5 at Wal-Mart (I know … I know …) when we first moved to Maine. As much as I don’t look good in most hats, in general, I usually look especially silly in baseball caps. On top of that, I don’t even really like baseball caps; I’m not very sporty, and not much of a baseball fan (it’s my second favorite sport, after hockey, and I do like the Red Sox, but I only watch during the playoffs, and even then, only half-heartedly). But, for some reason, that cheap cap looks like it was made for my head, and I find myself wearing it much of the time, when I’m not working. In the three years since I bought it, the cotton has softened, and the navy blue has begun to fade so that there are patches along the ridges where it is gray. I see guys in old Red Sox caps that are so faded they look lavender, and I know this is the eventual fate of mine. I understand, too, what makes them keep them that long. There’s just something about a good cap. I do own a top hat. I bought it for my wedding. Melissa wouldn’t let me wear it during the ceremony, but there are pictures of me wearing it during the reception. Very cute. Black tie suits me (even though I was wearing an ivory tie, not a black one). I also used to own a bowler hat. When I lived in England, I spent way too much time searching all of the second-hand shops for a good used bowler. I never found one that fit (apparently middle class British men of the late 19th Century had tiny heads). I found an inexpensive new one a few years later, though, while shopping with my goth (now ex-) girlfriend in, of all places, Hot Topic. I think she stole that hat when she moved out. I know she stole some of my boxer shorts and my favorite pint glass, which had made it home with me all the way from England. Women …"

Photo note: I was going to post a picture of a Red Sox cap, because it seemed the most relevant image to accompany her answer to my silly question "What do you think of hats?" Instead, I googled "bowler hats" out of curiosity, wondering if I could find an old picture of 19th century British men with tiny heads or whether the bowlers were worn higher up on the head back then. Now, I found no evidence of either hypothesis, but, I did find many photographs of Bolivian women, who do wear bowlers, and they most certainly are worn on top of the head, as you can see.

Mid month update

So far, January has been a month of fewer than normal blog entries. When I have posted, it's mostly been a painting and a bit of music. Is 2009 going to be the year that I become terse?

Somehow, I doubt it. I'm just going through a dry spell. I haven't tried any new scents I'd like to write about. There's no issues I've felt passionate enough to sit down and mull over, though there is an abundance of topics to discuss at the moment.*

I've got a very bad head cold today. The odd thing about this is that it's been so long since I had the common cold that I didn't even recognize it at first. Luckily for me, with all my physical problems, my immune system has been fairly rugged. When I was in my twenties, I seemed to have a cold all the time. Ugh! Now that it's been many years since I've felt this way, I can't imagine it being a regular thing. The common cold may be common, but it feels like crap.

It's no big deal, of course. I'm just surprised by it. I am not leaving my house today for any reason, though I had many appointments. I cancelled them all. It was -20 this morning when I woke up. It'd take an emergency to make me go outside in this weather, considering the way I'm feeling. Honestly, even if I was feeling great, I'd be hesitant. I have no idea where any of my hats, mittens or gloves have disappeared to. Sure, it's been cold out, but until it gets this cold, I usually don't wear those accessories. I suppose this proves I've been living in Maine for a long time. Once, twenty degrees would have sent me searching for some gloves, at least. Now, that seems almost balmy.

I'm writing about such minor things. I feel an obligation to post an entry.

I'm bored by it. And if I'm bored by this, well, I'm guessing you are, too.

Suggestions for topics to blog about are most welcome. I think I need a kick in the pants.

*A confession: I've been spending a lot of time entering online contests. That may be eating up quite a bit of time otherwise spent in meaningful pursuits. When this cold abates, maybe I'll write about this new obsession. I've entered 50 contests a day or thereabouts. So far, what have I won? One free $1.00 music download. Wow.

Painting note: Tamara de Lempicka "Middle of Summer" 1928
I need a new hat, but this one will not do. I've been meaning to post a de Lempicka for ages, and so I am doing so today, rather at random. In a way, I looked a bit like this stylized woman when I was quite young. I had a incredible complexion, a face about the same shape, and a little mouth, upon which I frequently applied the reddest of red lipsticks. And, I wore hats at every opportunity.

Chypre Rouge: the mystery continues

Last week, I e-mailed Serge Lutens in Paris about the Chypre Rouge mystery. Why did my sample bottle smell completely unlike the Chypre Rouge sample I had from some years ago? Did they change the formulation? Is the export scent different than the scent sold in Europe?

I received a reply to my question within an hour of sending it. There was no reply, actually, but an offer to send me a new sample.

When I got home today, my neighbor stopped by with a package that had the wrong address on it and had needed a signature. Thank goodness she was home, for it would have been sent back! I was stumped as to what the package was. It was sent overnight mail and the return address was JFK airport. When I opened it, there was another padded envelope inside. And inside that, was a beautiful velvet pouch containing 15ml of Chypre Rouge, a regular sample of Chypre Rouge, and a holiday card from the Serge Lutens shop in France.

Well, the sample and the decant both smell like the Chypre Rouge I remember; rich, sweet and complex. So, the mystery still remains. Why did the other sample smell so different?

I'm glad I asked, for I've now got a lovely small bottle of Chypre Rouge. And I must commend their customer service for sending me not just one sample, but two, so I can compare. They are both the same. Thank you, Ms. Ardant, and thank you to Maria, who suggested I contact the company directly.

As for the tassel, I'm not sure why, but when I asked myself "what image do I want to use for this post?" I thought "tassels!" I wish I had found a more complex tassel to display, but I gave up after a few minutes. The art of tassel making is a wonderful one. If you like tassels, I recommend The Tassels Book. You can buy it on Amazon for only $4.95. I tried my hand at making small tassels some years back. It was a lot of fun, but when I started to want to make some really big ones, the price of supplies seemed exorbitant, especially when one can find some truly baroque and beautiful ones at TJ Maxx for under ten bucks.

The rich have always liked their little dogs

At least she's not carrying it in her purse.

Painting note:Lucas Cranach the Elder Portrait of Katharina von Mecklenburg, wife of Henry IV of Saxony (1514).

Musical note: The pavane was a slow processional dance common during the 16th century. The author of this piece is unknown.

Thursday's offering

What do you imagine she was thinking about?
And some music:

Read about Guilliame Dufay here.
Jan van Eyk's portrait of his wife, Margarete van Eyck (1439)

Inconsistent

For about a year, I've been playing this online game called Eight Letters in Search of a Word. I put it in the sidebar, but I hadn't announced. Consider it announced.

It's a competitive anagrams game. If you do play, here's a hint - type the words in. Don't use your mouse. You'll be way too slow to get a decent score if you do. It took me a while to figure that out. Of course, I hadn't read the directions. They're on the site somewhere.

You may be wondering what the point of this entry is. It's not just to suggest that you play this game.

It's to talk about me, of course.

I'm pretty good at word games. However, I never win Eight Letters in Search of a Word. There's some other players on that site who are unbeatable. At first, I thought these people must be cheating and getting their computers to play, but I got an insanely high score a few times and realized it was possible. Now, that doesn't mean that there aren't folks who are cheating, for I find it hard to believe that some of these people always get such impossibly high scores. But then again, they just may be consistently brilliant at playing. Unlike me.

When I play, I'm consistently inconsistent. Here's the game: there's eight letters that always make an eight letter word. You type in as many words as you can in the allotted time (one minute?) and hope that you find that eight letter word in the process. I'm amazed at how sometimes I'll think I've exhausted all the possibilities, have found the eight letter word, and then discover that another player has a score twice as high as mine. Take the word "generals", for instance. Can you think of two other eight letter words that you can make out of its letters?*

Well, I couldn't think of the two others in one minute. I was too busy typing in four letter words. Sometimes I'll play this game and feel golden, finding the eight letter word right away. It just hits me intuitively. Other times I can't see a thing. I'll stare and stare at the words and they mean nothing.

This seems to be the way I am at most everything. Sometimes I excel and other times I'm terrible. There's usually no middle ground.

I used to play pool almost every night. I tried and tried and never became consistent. This almost got me killed one late night. Seriously.

I was hanging out at an after-hours club in New York City. I'll admit that this was a dangerous place to hang out, even if you do absolutely nothing but sit at the bar. The place was filled with drug dealers. It was on the corner of the street that I lived on, and opened at 4:00am in the morning. There was some sort of secret way to knock on the door to get in, and I have no idea what it was. I have no idea how I knew was it was, come to think of it.

It was the kind of place where you didn't want to look at anyone the wrong way. I sometimes played pool there, but I always played with someone I knew. I was playing a game, quite terribly, one night, when another couple asked if we wanted to play for money. My friend said, "Sure." The game was for fifty bucks. I have no idea why he agreed, but he was a good pool player.

So, we started to play. Every shot I made was a terrible. Everyone was laughing at me. They had already seen I was a terrible at pool, so it wasn't any kind of surprise. But my partner was playing well, and the last shot came down to me. What a shot it was. There were two balls left, sitting near the corner pocket, with the eight ball slightly closer.

I wasn't sure my friend even had fifty bucks on him and I hadn't gotten one shot in the whole game, so I was determined to get these shots. They were hard, and the likelihood of my making them was low, especially the way I had been playing. But I got 'em. This wound up being a big mistake.

The fellow we were playing against picked up my friend by his shirt and starting yelling at him that I was a shark. He wanted to beat the crap out of someone. He was yelling about us all stepping outside. Then he started to say something about killing us. All over a game of pool.

The odd thing is that I have no memory of how this resolved itself. Obviously, I'm still alive. My friend is still alive, too. I do know that I never went back to that club. I never had any business hanging out there in the first place. I wasn't a good pool player, a drug dealer, a prostitute (or any other kind of criminal). I just happened to be up at odd hours.

Anyway, noone threatens to beat me up for playing a great round of Eight Letters in Search of a Word after I play a lousy round. And that's how I play. I'm not a word game shark, just an inconsistent thinker and game player.

Image notes: These images are both of East 14th Street in New York City. I found them embedded in an excerpt from the book, "The "New Woman" Revised
Painting and Gender Politics on Fourteenth Street", by Ellen Wiley Todd, which can be found here. I used to play pool at Julian's Billiard Hall on 14th Street, which was on the second floor. For all I know, it's the same pool hall that's advertised in both the photograph and the drawing.

*enlarges and gleaners

Oceanic offering

Today's musical offering is from 2002! It's from Isis's Oceanic:

Image note: "Oceanic" You can purchase this image, created by using bleach and velvet, here.

Interview, Part 2

Jaime said "interview me!" She gave me such good answers, I'm going to post them one at a time.
1. If you were given one million dollars to do one charitable thing, what would it be?
Wow, this is the kind of question I hate. One thing? There is so much suffering and injustice in the world. One thing seems so cold, so exclusionary. There are so many causes about which I feel strongly, it would be hard to single out just one of them. And really, so many of the organizations and non-profits I support probably do bring in a million dollars or more each year, so how could I be sure that my money was doing the most good? So hard … I think that it would make the most sense to give it to individuals, rather than a possibly bloated organization. I guess I would start a grant foundation and give money to anyone who could demonstrate a real need and prove that the money would make a real difference over time, and not just act as a Band-Aid. I’d want to see concrete results, and I’d want those results to have a long-term benefit. Maybe I’d give $50,000 (for instance) to an organization that wants to build a water sanitation facility in some African village somewhere, and another $50,000 to provide schooling for teenage prostitutes in Bangladesh (or wherever) ... Whoever comes forward. Show me a need. Show me a plan to meet that need in a specific long-term way, and I’ll write you a check. I hope that’s not a cop-out answer. . .That’s the best I can do right now to limit my response.

Today's offering

Another one of my favorite portraits - Giovanni Bellini's Portrait of Doge Leonardo Loredan (1501).

And some music to accompany this:

Josquin: De Profundis Clamavi - Hilliard Ensemble
Find out more about Josquin here.

Interview

TMC of Return to Rural sent me this. I added the bit about non-bloggers:

If you'd like to play along, here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. If I don't have your e-mail, please send it to me. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.If you don't have a blog, I will post your responses on my blog. Hey, you non-bloggers, here's your chance to be heard! C'mon, just do it!
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the
same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Now, TMC says these are "silly questions", but some of them are rather serious, at least to me! I wish they were silly.

1. How did you come to live in Maine?
I used to live in New York. I had a dream of raising sheep, which is pretty hard to do in the city (though I have seen some sheep running around the building on Letterman)! Between my ex-husband and myself, we had four jobs and were barely getting by. One summer, we spent two weeks up here in Maine and on our way home, we decided that it was time to leave the rat race. I'd spent summers in Maine when I was a kid and had a deep love for the place and the people. Neither of us knew a soul here. In the fall of 1991, we moved up here and rented a log cabin on 220 acres. Pretty soon I was raising sheep and growing my own vegetables. I tried to make a living weaving linen and tartans and if the Web was as it is now, this may have succeeded financially, but the whole venture (sheep, weaving, processing wool) was like owning a big, expensive boat. This was also before the big crafts and knitting boom (oh well). Anyway, I'm still here, though I neither have sheep nor weave and my ex-husband went back to the city.
2. A tailored vest is a sharp,attractive garment for men and women of all ages,
sizes and shapes. True or False?
My first reaction was a definate "No!" But, on second thought, I do like vests. I like traditional knitted pullover vests and menswear vests worn by women. But it seems that I see vests worn in ways I don't like more often. I don't like black leather biker vests or ones that are part of cheap three piece suits. Nor do I like ones made out of unusual fabrics, especially South American weaves. Hey, it's all personal taste, isn't it?
3. You've received a grant for $1 million to do something good internationally for
the poorest of the poor. The grant stipulates that you must live with the community you aim to help for at least 1 year. Where in the (3rd) world would you go, and what would you do?
I'd ask Dick what he thinks. Seriously. Dick has a patent on a new way of making geodesic domes. He is dedicated to sheltering the homeless and displaced people of the world.
4. What is your go-to comfort food or treat?
I love a good apple pie, warmed up, with vanilla iced cream. My neighbor made the ultimate apple pie last month and I'm glad I don't have it around often. It was a regular apple pie, not too sweet, with an apple crisp topping. Heavenly! I love pie crust and I love shortbread. Maybe what I really like is butter.
5. If you could pick a new name for yourself what would it be and why?
I have never been good at naming anything. I once needed a stage name and couldn't come up with one. If I were to have a new name, I hope it'll be one given to me by a Zen teacher, and so, I have no idea what that would be. It would be Japanese. That's all I can tell you.

Photo note: Looks like two poor kids, doesn't it? Surprise! It's Alfred (1844–1900), later Duke of Edinburgh, and his elder brother Bertie, later king Edward VII. of Great Britain and Ireland, 1855. I was going to post a splendid old painting of a man in a vest. There are thousands to choose from. Old vests (waistcoats) are wonderful. I approve of them all.

A question for the perfumistas:

This is the fourth time I've received a Lutens sample that's smelled significantly different than previous ones (of the same scent). What's up?

Passion, Art

Caravaggio paints Bacchus (1593-1594). Reading about Caravaggio makes present day celebrity gossip (with a few exceptions) seem tame. He was a drunk and a murderer. But just look at some of his paintings, here. The passion is extraordinary. "Bacchus" is one of his quietest paintings.

Unlike many, he was famous and extremely influential during his lifetime, and almost entirely forgotten in the centuries after his death.

I re-read the opening verse of Petrarch's Canzioniere, below, a few times after I posted it. Thinking about the poetry, music and art of the past and comparing it, say, to a sitcom of life today, well. . .are our lives that pallid? I don't know who those people on television are, to tell you the truth, so I can't answer this question well. At random, I chose CBS's Gary Unmarried from their line-up as a comparison. Do you think this Gary character would write 366 sonnet verses to his girlfriend or wear a wreath of flowers around his head (without drinking a case of beer first)?

I certainly wouldn't want to live in the 15th century. I wouldn't have lived to the age of 12, due to my health, and as a woman, my life would have been more hellacious than the average man's. So, no, I'm not romanticizing the past. I'm just wondering why most of the arts have been so devoid of passion.

Wait just a minute. There's plenty of passion in music. Not in the "high arts", no, but I could go on for an hour listing the musicians who have poured out their souls. I do forget, as I go for long periods without listening to anything newer than the 17th century. . .and yesterday I was listening to a sample of latest from Trent Reznor and thinking he was maybe worth listening to again.

Awe

Roger van der Weyden's "Portrait of a Lady" (c.1455) has always been one of my favorite portraits.

I realize that not everyone appreciates painting of this sort. Though, I have to admit, I find it difficult to understand. Just the sheer workmanship is awe inspiring. But that's me.

I wish I could hop over to London right now, for there's an exhibition at the National Gallery of Art entitled Renaissance Faces.

In 1994, I purchased the book, "Giotto to Durer: Early Renaissance Painting in the National Gallery", a book that is now pretty dog-eared. It is one of the few art history books that has in-depth analysis of technique. The National Gallery in London was restoring a significant portion of their collection, which is reflected in this book. They used high-tech methods to unravel the mysteries of what mediums and methods these artists used.

In 2000, I went to London with another tattoo artist to work at a tattoo convention. We had a few days free to explore the city. I realized that the hotel we were at was only a few blocks from the National Gallery and I was excited to visit. I asked her if she'd like to come along. She had no interest. I found it astounding. Wasn't she an artist? I presume she found it equally astounding, judging from her reaction ("how boring!"), that I found anything of interest in such old art. She went to the Imax theater. I went to the National Gallery. I found myself sitting next to a woman from Japan, who was having the same response as I was - awe that brought tears to our eyes, and gratitude for the opportunity to see such glorious art in person.

As they say, to each his own.

Thank you to the people who voted for me to "keep on doing what I'm doing" in my poll.

Love in the 14th century

I found this portrait at this wonderful website. It is always a surprise to me when I discover a portrait that I haven't encountered before, as this is the genre that I have always found the most compelling. When I was young, I spent many hours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, looking at portraits, wondering just who these people were. I've also spent many an hour copying old portraits, trying to get into the mindset of the old masters, a tried and true learning technique that is probably scoffed at in art schools today.

In this painting, Agnolo Bronzino's "Laura Battiferri" (1555-60), Laura, herself a poet, holds open a page of Petrarch's Sonnets. From 1342-1347, Petrarch wrote 366 verses of the Canzioniere, dedicated to yet another Laura, Laura DeNoyes.

You who hear the sound, in scattered rhymes,
of those sighs on which I fed my heart,
in my first vagrant youthfulness,
when I was partly other than I am,

I hope to find pity, and forgiveness,
for all the modes in which I talk and weep,
between vain hope and vain sadness,
in those who understand love through its trials.

Yet I see clearly now I have become
an old tale amongst all these people, so that
it often makes me ashamed of myself;

and shame is the fruit of my vanities,
and remorse, and the clearest knowledge
of how the world's delight is a brief dream.

You can read and listen to all 366 sonnets here. I suspect they are infinitely more beautiful in Italian.

Luca Marenzio: Cruda amarilli (madrigal)

Luca Marenzio set poem #322 from the Canzioniere to music. To listen, go here.

It's 2009 and I've nothing to say about it

It's been a while since I've posted an entry. After seven months of blogging at least once a day, I seem to be devoid of any thoughts. I expect that will end in due time. Meanwhile, I'll leave you with three simple things; 16th century music and art, and the fact that Hanae Mori Pink Butterfly has been making me feel happy. I've been teasing myself for falling in love with this fragrance. It's sweet and if it weren't so good, I'd say this type of scent could be purchased at Bath and Body Works. But no, it's sweet without being cloying. It smells of vanilla, though it hasn't a bit of vanilla in it.

Lorenzo Lotto Portrait of Messer Marsilio and His Wife 1523

Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina

Palestrina : Motets, Book 5 : Salve Regina Chanticleer

Addendum: I do wish all of you a Happy New Year!