Blogging is new to me.
What I have liked about my entry into this world is discovering that other members of the family blog: Jamie, Anita, Doral, Kelvin and Tonia for example.
This morning I went out to read Doral's A Paladin in Citadel (nameofmyblog[all one word] at gmail dot com). After reading his reference to his early gaming including ideas from Mormon mythology, I thought to myself, this is just great -- like having Doral write me a letter every week -- just like I would get if he were on a mission.
At one point, I found myself going into the Comments Section to contribute to the discussion there, but realized all of Doral's readers have pseudonyms and I would be exposed there with my real name.
Trying to think up a new profile name I came up with "Holy Mother of Paladin" but I need instructions on how to create that profile.
Thank you for any tips you can give me, Doral.
Arta
Friday, May 21, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Penn Portraits at the NPG
I noticed this blue banner advertising Irving Penn Portraits when I was out taking pictures one morning around the National Portrait Gallery.
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Then I noted a special exhibition talk by the exhibition curator Magdalene Kearney to be given today. All I know about Penn is that he is an American photographer, well known for his portrait, still life, and fashion photography.
I left the apartment earlier this afternoon than I needed to, so that I could get a place in the line-up for concessions at the Coliseum for Wyona and Greg. Greg had expressed an interest in seeing the new Tosca tonight. But my final destination was the lecture on the portraits.
When I told the woman behind me in the line-up that I was just holding this place for my sister, who would be here on time to buy the tickets, she looked me in the eye so kindly and said, “I must say, that is noble of you.”
I let her statement go. It would be too embarrassing for me to say that Wyona has stood in similar line-ups for me at least 20 times this month and no one has thought to called her noble.
Other people in the line up were complaining about how slowly the queue was moving forward. I tried to figure out what the rush was, in the first place. I do know that it takes longer to figure out which are the stalls and which is the Royal Circle on the map when the ticket agent asks you if the seats she is offering would be fine. And sometimes the queue has moved so slowly, my mind has to be refreshed about which opera tickets I am buying.
The couple ahead of me on Tuesday purchased their tickets and then took a few minutes to chat about the weather with the ticket seller before they shuffled their way out the door. That held up the speed of the line. Part of the reason the lines moves so slowly is everyone’s ID is checked. I consider it a compliment when the ticket agent asks to see I.D. to make sure that I am over sixty. I think it is easy to tell just by looking at my face.
The woman in the line-up with me, who also sat on the floor to relieve her tired legs, had to get up about 10 minutes before I did. She said it would take her that long to make it up to a standing position.
My free tour of the exhibition was connected with my timed ticket of entry so I had to wait until 7 pm to go in, which was just enough time to take a look at the Alex Katz Portraits. The hour spent walking around the exhibit with the curator was well worth waiting for. She showed how Penn was using thematic devices as early as the 1940’s and how these kept creeping into his work as he moved from full length portraiture to the depth and nuance that comes with his later work where only the face and the shoulders are framed.
I stayed later in the gallery and toured the exhibit again, the catalogue in my hand, looking in detail at what Kearny had only had a little time to draw attention to. To gather this collection together, she had toured all of the famous portrait galleries in America, gathering just the pieces that would show how he photographed the cultural icons of our time -- the artists, musicians, actors and writers.
I love the National Portrait Gallery. Here you can see its initials, NPG written in the floor tile just ouside of its doors.
You can also see me catching the shadows of the gates of the gallery reflected in the floor tile. I also caught shadows I didn't now existed. For example, I even caught my own shadow in this picture.
When I get back home, I am going to borrow the catalogue that was produced for the exhibition from the library.
I thumbed through it in the bookstore and it will make a lovely afternoon's reading.
Arta
.jpg)
Then I noted a special exhibition talk by the exhibition curator Magdalene Kearney to be given today. All I know about Penn is that he is an American photographer, well known for his portrait, still life, and fashion photography. I left the apartment earlier this afternoon than I needed to, so that I could get a place in the line-up for concessions at the Coliseum for Wyona and Greg. Greg had expressed an interest in seeing the new Tosca tonight. But my final destination was the lecture on the portraits.
When I told the woman behind me in the line-up that I was just holding this place for my sister, who would be here on time to buy the tickets, she looked me in the eye so kindly and said, “I must say, that is noble of you.”
I let her statement go. It would be too embarrassing for me to say that Wyona has stood in similar line-ups for me at least 20 times this month and no one has thought to called her noble.
Other people in the line up were complaining about how slowly the queue was moving forward. I tried to figure out what the rush was, in the first place. I do know that it takes longer to figure out which are the stalls and which is the Royal Circle on the map when the ticket agent asks you if the seats she is offering would be fine. And sometimes the queue has moved so slowly, my mind has to be refreshed about which opera tickets I am buying.
The couple ahead of me on Tuesday purchased their tickets and then took a few minutes to chat about the weather with the ticket seller before they shuffled their way out the door. That held up the speed of the line. Part of the reason the lines moves so slowly is everyone’s ID is checked. I consider it a compliment when the ticket agent asks to see I.D. to make sure that I am over sixty. I think it is easy to tell just by looking at my face.
The woman in the line-up with me, who also sat on the floor to relieve her tired legs, had to get up about 10 minutes before I did. She said it would take her that long to make it up to a standing position.
My free tour of the exhibition was connected with my timed ticket of entry so I had to wait until 7 pm to go in, which was just enough time to take a look at the Alex Katz Portraits. The hour spent walking around the exhibit with the curator was well worth waiting for. She showed how Penn was using thematic devices as early as the 1940’s and how these kept creeping into his work as he moved from full length portraiture to the depth and nuance that comes with his later work where only the face and the shoulders are framed. I stayed later in the gallery and toured the exhibit again, the catalogue in my hand, looking in detail at what Kearny had only had a little time to draw attention to. To gather this collection together, she had toured all of the famous portrait galleries in America, gathering just the pieces that would show how he photographed the cultural icons of our time -- the artists, musicians, actors and writers.
I love the National Portrait Gallery. Here you can see its initials, NPG written in the floor tile just ouside of its doors.You can also see me catching the shadows of the gates of the gallery reflected in the floor tile. I also caught shadows I didn't now existed. For example, I even caught my own shadow in this picture.
When I get back home, I am going to borrow the catalogue that was produced for the exhibition from the library.
I thumbed through it in the bookstore and it will make a lovely afternoon's reading.
Arta
Two Grandmothers Plan a Britrail Event
Planning our Day Trips: Luggage
Wyona and I each have a Britrail pass and the will to get on the train and see parts of England, Scotland and Wales for 16 consecutive days of first class train travel.
I thought the passes would come with a travel itinerary and maps. Nothing arrived in the envelope but a pair of train tickets.
Wyona has been printing maps from the web to get a handle on where we should go and what we should do. As well, my sleuthing lead me to Daunt, the most charming of book store on Marylebone High Street where I picked up LaVerne Ferguson-Kosinski’s Britain by Britrail: Touring Britain by Train 20010/2010. That book, coupled with a Lonely Planet edition of Great Britain, should hold enough information for us to get around by train for a couple of weeks.
Wyona’s main in our trip has been getting the environment just right for travelling. In an airport she purchased a carry-on case already having in mind that we would need more than we can carry in the purses slung over our shoulders for the day The case she bought had to be flexible, stand on its own (no falling over when it is propped alone), a top loader, easily unzippered, and have smooth running wheels.
There is an added bonus for us with what she purchased. The case will be quickly identified by us, never stolen because of its garish two-inch turquoise, red, navy and white polk-a dots design on a black background.
“At least there will be no problem finding this on the luggage rack,” I heard her say.
As well, Wyona customized the travelling case this morning with a pair of scissors.
“Useless,” she said of the zippered pockets, around which Velcro strips with D-rings were fashioned for extra protection. “I have cut off the Velcro and torn out the zippers. Now we can get in and out of the front pockets with ease.”
I tucked a sweater into the bag, my camera case and some books to complete our practise-run on loading the carry-on. Would it carry everything Wyona thought it should: a couple of water bottles, some umbrellas, 2 travel books, our tickets, a few sandwiches and a camera case?
Wyona is in now in the intermediate planning stage of making the luggage useful, salvaging the Velcro closures which she moved from the pockets and attaching them to the handle so that we can attach other bags we might think are useful.
I cautioned her. “We have to be careful with this packing. Either we have to pare back on what we are taking,” I said, "or we will have to go get a lesson from some of the bag people we see on the streets as to how they can attached multiple bags, in fact their whole life’s material goods, to just one cart.”
She agreed.
The travel books may be among the first things that get left behind. Wyona brought books back from Gatwick this morning when putting the girls on the plane. Charise’s hand luggage was 5 kilograms overweight.
Among the treasures that didn’t go back to Canada were a beautiful note book with a magnetic closure that Charise bought at the Wallace Museum and Doral Pilling’s life history which Charise brought over from Canada and has been reading. Those two volumes are waiting for empty space in the next person’s suitcase.
I have been reading the two travel books and so has Wyona. Two cautions are making sense to me. One is that England is a more expensive place for travelling than Europe. The second piece of advice is to be sure to take twice the amount of money and half the number of clothes. There was nothing in the books about making major changaes to the travel luggage.
That doesn't mean that we won't be enjoying our designer luggage.
Arta
Wyona and I each have a Britrail pass and the will to get on the train and see parts of England, Scotland and Wales for 16 consecutive days of first class train travel.
I thought the passes would come with a travel itinerary and maps. Nothing arrived in the envelope but a pair of train tickets.
Wyona has been printing maps from the web to get a handle on where we should go and what we should do. As well, my sleuthing lead me to Daunt, the most charming of book store on Marylebone High Street where I picked up LaVerne Ferguson-Kosinski’s Britain by Britrail: Touring Britain by Train 20010/2010. That book, coupled with a Lonely Planet edition of Great Britain, should hold enough information for us to get around by train for a couple of weeks.
Wyona’s main in our trip has been getting the environment just right for travelling. In an airport she purchased a carry-on case already having in mind that we would need more than we can carry in the purses slung over our shoulders for the day The case she bought had to be flexible, stand on its own (no falling over when it is propped alone), a top loader, easily unzippered, and have smooth running wheels.
There is an added bonus for us with what she purchased. The case will be quickly identified by us, never stolen because of its garish two-inch turquoise, red, navy and white polk-a dots design on a black background.
“At least there will be no problem finding this on the luggage rack,” I heard her say.
As well, Wyona customized the travelling case this morning with a pair of scissors.
“Useless,” she said of the zippered pockets, around which Velcro strips with D-rings were fashioned for extra protection. “I have cut off the Velcro and torn out the zippers. Now we can get in and out of the front pockets with ease.”
I tucked a sweater into the bag, my camera case and some books to complete our practise-run on loading the carry-on. Would it carry everything Wyona thought it should: a couple of water bottles, some umbrellas, 2 travel books, our tickets, a few sandwiches and a camera case?
Wyona is in now in the intermediate planning stage of making the luggage useful, salvaging the Velcro closures which she moved from the pockets and attaching them to the handle so that we can attach other bags we might think are useful.
I cautioned her. “We have to be careful with this packing. Either we have to pare back on what we are taking,” I said, "or we will have to go get a lesson from some of the bag people we see on the streets as to how they can attached multiple bags, in fact their whole life’s material goods, to just one cart.”
She agreed.
The travel books may be among the first things that get left behind. Wyona brought books back from Gatwick this morning when putting the girls on the plane. Charise’s hand luggage was 5 kilograms overweight.
Among the treasures that didn’t go back to Canada were a beautiful note book with a magnetic closure that Charise bought at the Wallace Museum and Doral Pilling’s life history which Charise brought over from Canada and has been reading. Those two volumes are waiting for empty space in the next person’s suitcase.
I have been reading the two travel books and so has Wyona. Two cautions are making sense to me. One is that England is a more expensive place for travelling than Europe. The second piece of advice is to be sure to take twice the amount of money and half the number of clothes. There was nothing in the books about making major changaes to the travel luggage.
That doesn't mean that we won't be enjoying our designer luggage.
Arta
Goodbye London
Alicia, Charise and Wyona are headed for the airport this morning.
We have had an amazing few weeks with them here.
At one point there were many guests with sometimes 12 of us at the dining room table.
The hide-a-bed was in use as well as both air mattressess, which were discreetly tucked behind couches during the day.
I clocked into my 70th year to heaven while I was here.
Alicia was the youngest person here -- 10 years old.
Every other decade was covered by someone.
Today Alicia pulled her suitcase out of the apartment, leaving for Medicine Hat.
Our apartment was full of early morning checks.
Check to see you have your ticket.
Check to see you have your passport.
Check you have a scarf for the breeze is cold on the train to Gatwick. .
Check for your Oyster card.
Check that all of the bags or in a row and at the elevator.
Count -- one two three four.
Even when we got to the street, Wyona stopped to make one last check on the ticket confirmation -- that blue plastic file she has in her hands -- before she got on the bus with the early morning travellers.
Now things are back to a regular day in the life of Greg Bates.
The BBC is playing classical music.
He is getting ready for an early morning stroll down the empty Regent Street, then poast Green Park, Hyde Park, Barkley Square and into Gosvenor Place.
Charise gets the last picture goodbye.
She spent yesterday with Alicia doing the last of what they love to do.
Pret a Manger turned out to be their favorite snack spot.
Taking pictures of the hundreds of elephant art objects that decorate the street was where they pointed their cameras.
Greg has never seen Sister Act from anywhere other than the front row, so in honour of the last night, we all accompanied him to the show from a different point of view: front and centre in the premium seats, buying them last minute at cut-rate prices.
The theatre had electrical problems at the matinee and was still experiencing them, so while the stage was lit, the air conditioning was off when it wasn't absolutely necessary, so people were fanning themselves with their programmes at the intermission.
We took the lovely 10:30 pm stroll home, passing by an African street musician who was making an amazing sound with only multiple-sized white plastic paint buckets and a few of his mother's kitchen pots.
A good final evening in London was had by all.
Arta
We have had an amazing few weeks with them here. At one point there were many guests with sometimes 12 of us at the dining room table.
The hide-a-bed was in use as well as both air mattressess, which were discreetly tucked behind couches during the day.
I clocked into my 70th year to heaven while I was here.
Alicia was the youngest person here -- 10 years old.
Every other decade was covered by someone.
Today Alicia pulled her suitcase out of the apartment, leaving for Medicine Hat.
Our apartment was full of early morning checks.Check to see you have your ticket.
Check to see you have your passport.
Check you have a scarf for the breeze is cold on the train to Gatwick. .
Check for your Oyster card.
Check that all of the bags or in a row and at the elevator.
Count -- one two three four.
Even when we got to the street, Wyona stopped to make one last check on the ticket confirmation -- that blue plastic file she has in her hands -- before she got on the bus with the early morning travellers.
Now things are back to a regular day in the life of Greg Bates.
The BBC is playing classical music.
He is getting ready for an early morning stroll down the empty Regent Street, then poast Green Park, Hyde Park, Barkley Square and into Gosvenor Place.
Charise gets the last picture goodbye.She spent yesterday with Alicia doing the last of what they love to do.
Pret a Manger turned out to be their favorite snack spot.
Taking pictures of the hundreds of elephant art objects that decorate the street was where they pointed their cameras.
Greg has never seen Sister Act from anywhere other than the front row, so in honour of the last night, we all accompanied him to the show from a different point of view: front and centre in the premium seats, buying them last minute at cut-rate prices.
The theatre had electrical problems at the matinee and was still experiencing them, so while the stage was lit, the air conditioning was off when it wasn't absolutely necessary, so people were fanning themselves with their programmes at the intermission.
We took the lovely 10:30 pm stroll home, passing by an African street musician who was making an amazing sound with only multiple-sized white plastic paint buckets and a few of his mother's kitchen pots.
A good final evening in London was had by all.
Arta
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Images that Surprize
I don't see the shadows when I am taking pictures, probably a metaphor as well for the way I live my real life, but I will deal with that later. To be specific, I am noticing that I don't see the shadows when I am using my camera. When I check the viewing screen and see a long shadow across one of my pictures, I look back up to see if that shadow is there in real life.
Now when I walk along and don't have my camera in my hand, I am trying to train my eye -- look for those shadows so that I don't have so much trouble spotting them when I get the camera up to my face for a snapshot.
Other images surprize me as I walk along the street. In this picture you can see Glen, Connor and Laynie ahead of me.
I am taking a picture of construction in the middle of the sidewalk, people walking around it, seemingly no worries that the bucket full of gravel could do them any damage.
I don't think I really caught the fact that the brown bucket in the middle of the picture is just swinging there, full of gravel, on its way up to be dumped into a truck and people are just walking by it within arms reaching distance.
Laynie stood still for a moment so I could get a picture of her.
But I don't think I got the image I was looking for.
How does one capture the face of a person who comes to London takes 2 day trips outside of London and sees 17 shows in 21 days while she is in London. And that is knowing the proviso that theatres are dark on Sundays.
She took on the task as homework before she got here -- buying some of the sound tracks and listening to them before she got to the theatres.
I don't think I can name 17 shows, though like her, I might have seen 17 as well.
Hard to know what to take pictures of when there are so many beautiful buildings here. I used to think that I was pointing the lens of my camera upward to capture the height of the buildings, but now I think it is hard not to be after the amazing beauty of the details in the spires, cornices, medallions and pillars that decorate the exteriors of the old buildings.
Love,
Arta
Gender and Academe
So... the latest results from the creation of 19 new Canada Research Chairs. 19 went to men, and ZERO to women.
sigh.
you can read the link here:
http://www.ottawacitizen.com/technology/Female+academics+discouraged+after+women+shut+funding/3045365/story.html
sigh.
you can read the link here:
http://www.ottawacitizen.com/technology/Female+academics+discouraged+after+women+shut+funding/3045365/story.html
Food Brilliance
Here we are, just before we turn a corner to see the Manneken Pis
You can see a chocolate replica of him just behind Charise.
Where ever one turns there is food on the plaza -- at this point strawberries and bananas, skewered and ready to be dipped in chocolate.
Oh, maybe a few waffles covered in whipped cream as well.
Before we even crossed the channel, Wyona slipped some Leonidas brochures in our hands while we were waiting to board the Eurostar.
"Pick out some of the flavours that you like. We will soon be visiting the Leonidas Store to pick our favorite flavours and have them ine a box. One box for you, Charise. One box for you, Alicia."
I was taken with the colour of the marzipans when we got in the store. But the creme fraiche chocolates are ones that we wanted to take away with us.
"Why ever would someone buy a package of chocolates this size", I asked Wyona when I saw a small cellophane bag among the medium and large sizes of boxed chocolates in her bag.
There is a flavour for everyone.
I had forgotten.
This flavour is for Tim.
I don't like the liqueur filled chocolates. There is no way to eat them without either having to wash your hands when you are done, or take whatever you are wearing the dry cleaners.
I think I am an expert at getting soft filling out of chocolates from years of practise when I was a child and sucking the bottom first out of Cherry Blossom chocolate bars during a movie.
And I am not bad now when soft fillings, but I am a novice with the chocolates from the liquered chocolates and so I take a pass on them. No use having to take a whole bath after one chocolate.
Just so you will know that I am not making up the fact that buying chocolates is a full morning's work, especially when every box is filled with only the flavours that you specify, I am including a picture of the coffee table at Wyona's flats.
Everyone trapped in the cholocate factory from our group bought a box of their own, as well.
I notice that Charise and Alicia are treasuring theirs, not opening them until a later date.
Wyona and I don't have that same skill and so between what we eat and what we share, our chocolates are mostly gone.
Love,
Arta
You can see a chocolate replica of him just behind Charise. Where ever one turns there is food on the plaza -- at this point strawberries and bananas, skewered and ready to be dipped in chocolate.
Oh, maybe a few waffles covered in whipped cream as well.
Before we even crossed the channel, Wyona slipped some Leonidas brochures in our hands while we were waiting to board the Eurostar.
"Pick out some of the flavours that you like. We will soon be visiting the Leonidas Store to pick our favorite flavours and have them ine a box. One box for you, Charise. One box for you, Alicia."I was taken with the colour of the marzipans when we got in the store. But the creme fraiche chocolates are ones that we wanted to take away with us.
"Why ever would someone buy a package of chocolates this size", I asked Wyona when I saw a small cellophane bag among the medium and large sizes of boxed chocolates in her bag. There is a flavour for everyone.
I had forgotten.
This flavour is for Tim.
I don't like the liqueur filled chocolates. There is no way to eat them without either having to wash your hands when you are done, or take whatever you are wearing the dry cleaners.
I think I am an expert at getting soft filling out of chocolates from years of practise when I was a child and sucking the bottom first out of Cherry Blossom chocolate bars during a movie.
And I am not bad now when soft fillings, but I am a novice with the chocolates from the liquered chocolates and so I take a pass on them. No use having to take a whole bath after one chocolate.
Just so you will know that I am not making up the fact that buying chocolates is a full morning's work, especially when every box is filled with only the flavours that you specify, I am including a picture of the coffee table at Wyona's flats.Everyone trapped in the cholocate factory from our group bought a box of their own, as well.
I notice that Charise and Alicia are treasuring theirs, not opening them until a later date.
Wyona and I don't have that same skill and so between what we eat and what we share, our chocolates are mostly gone.
Love,
Arta
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