GAUCHE ~

   

 

What You Get for ... $5,000,000

 (that's 5 million)

Of course we don't have to look at these ads, articles, nonsense (whatever they are), but there they are each week, or far too often, in the New York Times. Not so glaring in the print edition as the screen display of the newspaper, but glaring like one more reminder of the 1% royalty that do now run the world — 'here's what you can have for, say, 4 million dollars: a trophy house smack-dab built in the Tetons of Wyoming, and the land will cost you a million and half on top of that. That's dollars.'

Joe Starrett once lived in the shadow of the Tetons with his little family — son Joey and wife Marian. It was a log home they built by hand with woodsmoke always drifting out of its roof top pipe day or night. Joe could be seen part of each day whaling away on an ornery stump five times larger than he was and made of the best mother earth steel. His axe blade went dull after an hour of beating on the stump, but he was making progress. Wood chips flew. Marian had a kitchen garden and Joey was meant to keep the few cows that kept the family in milk out of the garden. Deer came close, almost tame. And the sunshine baked the treeless plain.

The above paragraph is all fantasy. Alan Ladd is about to stroll his handsome horse into the picture and the 1953 movie Shane is about to really get rolling. But wouldn't you rather live in this picture? than some boom frickered nightmare of get rich builders and realtors playing with the jet set?

Things would change mightily for these Shane period homesteaders by 1980 in films. Heaven's Gate, directed by Michael Cimino, would reveal what would happen to Joe Starrett and his little family when bruts, hired by the then 1% during the Johnson County War of Wyoming, executed, flash shotgun style, small settling ranchers in the way of big daddy development. It's still being done today by depriving, thievery and big money. Dreams cut down to size. To the size of embitterment.

George Stevens was the director of Shane — maybe the finest full-blown western ever made, complete with starstruck dazzle and a remarkably grim center plot of prejudice and fighting for justice with a lawman no closer than "100 miles away." The showdown between Ladd and Jack Palance, in a saloon, Clint Eastwood would attempt to reoccur in his classic Unforgiven, and while Eastwood's version is riveting, nothing tops the two hour build-up in Shane. George Stevens may have been the most subtle and physical director then in the business. Few could come even close to the sound and fury in very small doses that both Ladd and Palance portray in this film. In Stevens' earlier film, the classic drama A Place in the Sun, with Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor, Stevens has Clift's character meeting a lawman looking for him while attempting to escape through a woodlot. It's a moment on screen of hollowed out, wintering patience. We rarely see this any longer in American cinema.

Or real estate.  

For one of the links below, the taxes yearly on the home and land will cost anyone $14,000-$15,000, which is the total annual income for some people I know. That's just the taxes. I didn't even bother  to look at the taxes for the Wyoming wingding. Don't come around snooping or even dreaming about buying this property, buster, if you don't have the dough. And let's face it, even the majority of the New York Times readers no longer have this kind of dough to splash around.

It's a disturbing contribution to a way of life that hurts to see, to even think someone is preparing these "dream destinations" at the New York Times each week — without the money to purchase much more than their already sky rocketed city apartment rent — to appease a gentry that are basically moving to a personal Shangri-La that's out of their element.

It's all about attempting to tame the land, bring it around, make it recognizable to us. End the wilderness.

Drop the ads, the articles, the gauche, whatever they are Mr. and Mrs. New York Times.

Work the stump. 

  [ BA ]

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/13/greathomesanddestinations/what-you-get-for-1850000.html?hp

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/13/greathomesanddestinations/roll-out-the-snow-carpet.html?hpw&rref=garden&_r=0 


flip side of the coin on the 1% ~ the possible good:

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/16/science/billionaires-with-big-ideas-are-privatizing-american-science.html?hp

photo: ny times

MARCH BREEZE ~

drawing © bob arnold 

THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY THOREAU ~

Yet one more biography and survey of the young man born old out of his beloved Concord, Massachusetts. The story hasn't grown old, only richer, as it has with Thoreau's neighbor to the west Emily Dickinson. The further we go, and the further we lose touch with the earth, these two earth angels sparkle. Michael Sims has taken the gnarly usual story of HDT and made for us a jaunty easy gait portrait. We go to Harvard with Thoreau, on travels, to the rivers, and of course get ourselves planted for two years at Walden Pond with the author. You'll be surprised just how little time Thoreau spent during his legendary 'life in the woods'. But what's time? 
The depth of the heart is another matter.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/books/book-world-review-the-adventures-of-henry-thoreau-by-michael-sims/2014/03/03/ceaed3b6-9e42-11e3-b8d8-94577ff66b28_story.html

The Adventures of Henry Thoreau

Michael Sims

Bloomsbury, 2014

SAINT KNOTT ~

Bill Knott
(1940 b. Carson City. MI. ~ 2014) 



There's a photograph of Charles Olson akin to this one of Bill Knott — nearly the same glasses, leaning into his step, hulk of torso, glasses case in the shirt pocket, and the eyes searching ahead. It's just a similarity I noticed as I started to write a few words about this poet's passing.

As I wrote to J.D. earlier today, it's a shame about the passing of Bill Knott, a poet I started to read at age 15 when I discovered his poems on my lonesome. That lonesome period took on authors that were my very best friends, for life, whether they knew it or not.

So many decades later Knott started to send me his earliest self-published books with strict orders to "just give them away!" Which was like instructing P.T. Barnum about a chair and a whip and a lion, I had to laugh. But he made a fool of himself as he barked further orders and then calmed down as he did his homework, read the Birdhouse, and then my appreciation to him on said blog, shut his mouth and put the Birdhouse as a link onto his own feisty blog that I will miss. 

 Bill Knott was a brilliant young poet as we all well know. Robert Bly knew, too. Published him in his Sixties and Seventies journals. And the poet's oeuvre always stayed at least invigorating, while the Knott-man appeared a wee bit troubled, and probably for good reason.  There were few first books that really blew the tops of the heads off of us youngsters like Knott's The Naomi Poems: Corpse and Beans. Eerie, resonant, concise, playful, dark with laughter all at once. That's pretty much magic.

[ BA ]




Some Books by Bill Knott

_________________________ 

    The Naomi Poems: Book One: Corpse and Beans (1968), Follett, 
(under the pseudonym    'St. Geraud')
    Aurealism: A Study (1969), Salt Mound Press (chapbook)
    Auto-Necrophilia; Book 2 (1971), Big Table
    Nights of Naomi (1972), Big Table (chapbook)
    Love Poems to Myself (1974), Barn Dream Press, Boston (chapbook)
    Rome in Rome (1976), Release Press
    Selected and Collected Poems (1977), SUN
    Becos (1983), Random House
    Outremer (1989), University of Iowa Press
    Poems 1963-1988 (1989), University of Pittsburgh Press
    Collected Political Poems 1965-1993 (1993) Self-published chapbook
    Sixty Poems of Love and Homage (1994) Self-published chapbook
    The Quicken Tree (1995), Boa Editions
    Laugh at the End of the World: Collected Comic Poems 1969-1999 (2000), Boa Editions
    The Unsubscriber (2004), Farrar, Straus and Giroux
    Stigmata Errata Etcetera (2007), Saturnalia Books

BRONK-TO-CORMAN ~

william bronk

More correspondence (all Bronk) that has come my way on a typical circuitous route from some place in the US to someplace overseas and bounced back to Vermont. I don't mind, it gets here. The letters are one more essential back-feeder into the workings of William Bronk, a poet crucially still unknown to many readers.

As I wrote to my Cid Corman drug supplier (remember to chuckle people, laughter is good for you): 

Here, to my mind, via Bronk (who did write me a very brief letter once upon a time relating to Cid) is his core thinking at least on his poetry (1961): " I am after "the weight, the texture, the strength," not of words but of statements, something initially more static than you are, the shape of the rocks as they lie against each other not the sound they make as they tumble over together. What was breath in your metaphor becomes rocks in mine to your great disadvantage but this is my letter and I'll make the metaphors." I think of two poets — you and Joe Massey, who may, just may, over time be thought of two poets after Cid and Bronk who distilled both their mannerisms from their poetry into your own. A fine blend. . .

. . .Of course since early 1974 I went through with Cid his dismissal by Bronk. I can well understand why both men did what they did since they essentially acted on their own personalities, and these were largely different, but complimentary with intent. It's curious what we become. Bronk was a Dartmouth man (we took you to the town, remember the rocking chairs on the porch?) and Cid was anything but. Bronk was small town a wee bit west of New England but still very much of old New England stock. Once upon a time Susan and I went to Bronk's town, he was still alive, and walked down his street, found his large Victorian home, attractive front yard, wide berth porch, winding to disappear behind the house driveway, and looked around at the surroundings. In these letters when he gets up off the porch to take a walk, I know, somewhat, where he was walking. There was one used bookstore in town, a pretty good one, Bronk sold books from his personal library to the store and I found some of these and bought what I could find, they also interested me. In the back of the store was tucked away a magic shop. It was ideal for our purposes because it kept Carson enthralled for hours. Like my father, Bronk was involved in lumber and coal, which he mentions very little in his letters or writing. Cid was the champion of inclusion and thinking he knew best about people and for people (and he was often right), but when he was wrong (as he mishandled some of Bronk, certainly not all) he hit his thumb with his own hammer. Bronk admits that without Cid his poetry may never have been seen. Cid brought it by his persistence and desire to the eyes of Jim Weil and James Laughlin and other publishers watching the pulse of Origin.

[ BA ]

http://archive.emilydickinson.org/titanic/material/archive/bronkintro.html

http://archive.emilydickinson.org/titanic/material/archive/bronkletters.html

http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Bronk.php


http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Corman.php

photo by Lisa Mahoney

cid corman


Cid Corman passed away ten years ago, yesterday, March 12.
 Instead of recognizing the day, I thought to pay attention to the next day, and the next.

Career

WMEX Radio, Boston, poetry broadcaster, 1949-51; Origin magazine and Origin Press, Ashland, MA, and Kyoto, Japan, editor, beginning 1951. Private teacher, Bari/Matera, Italy, 1956-57, Kyoto Joshidai, Japan, 1958-60, Kyoto, Japan, 1962-66, 1974-79. Sister City Tea House, Boston, owner, operator, teacher of poetry: forever.

To come out
after a
long day's work

into snow —
the latest
version of

nothingness
and all so
light
and crisp —

as if we're
the candles
on the cake.

CC

FINN WILCOX & BILL PORTER ~

Finn Wilcox

Hard To Believe

Tangram  2014

Finn Wilcox is an old friend to Longhouse — poet, treeplanter and fellow islander on the Olympic Peninsula with other mover & shakers like Bill Porter, Mike O' Connor, Tim McNulty, Norman Schaefer, Jim Tolpin, Karma Tenzing Wangchuk and others. Bill's book Road To Heaven: encounters with Chinese hermits (Counterpoint) is one to seek out and own, share, gift, beseech.

If you wish to dig deeper, the Longhouse catalog has many publications by these authors.

POSTCARD 30 ~

traditional crafts

men building dry stone wall in the U.K.

photo by Foto-Bank

TSERING WANGMO DHOMPA ~

Tsering Wangmo Dhompa’s parents fled Tibet in 1959. Raised by her mother in Tibetan communities in Dharamsala, India, and Kathmandu, Nepal, Tsering earned a BA and an MA from Lady Shri Ram College in New Delhi, an MA from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, and an MFA in creative writing from San Francisco State University. 

A friend of Longhouse, we published one of Tsering's earliest booklet of poems.

Bardo 
Tsering Wangmo Dhompa




A hundred and one butter lamps are offered to my uncle who
is no more.

Distraction proves fatal in death. A curtain of butter imprints
in air.

After the burning of bones, ashes are sent on pilgrimage. You are
dead, go into life, we pray. My uncle was a man given to giggles
in solemn moments.

Memory springs like crocuses in bloom. Self conscious and
precise.

Without blurring the cornea, details are resuscitated. Dried yak
meat between teeth. Semblance of what is.

Do not be distracted, Uncle who is no more.

He does not see his reflection in the river. The arching of speech
over  s as he is becoming.

Curvature of spine as it cracked on a misty morning. A shadow
evades the wall.

You are no more, Uncle who is no more.

Every seven days he must relive his moment of expiration.
The living pray frequently amid burning juniper.

Communication efforts require the right initiative.

Somewhere along the line matters of motion and rest are resolved.

Crows pick the last offerings. You are someone else, uncle no
more.


______________________

Tsering Wangmo Dhompa
from Rules of the House  2003
Apogee Press

http://14hills.net/node/108



Books ~

    A Home in Tibet, Penquin India, Delhi 2013
    My Rice Tastes Like the Lake, Apogee Press, Berkeley 2011
    In the Absent Everyday, Apogee Press, Berkeley 2005
    Rules of the House, Apogee Press, Berkeley 2002
    Recurring Gestures, Tangram Press,
    In Writing the Names, A.bacus, 2000

POSTCARD 29 ~

 

Animal Rescue League 1940

Photographer unknown

WALT MCLAUGHLIN ~

click on image to enlarge

HIROAKI SATO ~

click onto the image to increase your reading pleasure

http://www.japantimes.co.jp/author/int-hiroaki_sato/

Hiroaki Sato has been writing for The Japan Times since 2000. It's not to be beat. I'm showcasing here an article two years old this month, but being the US military and expenditures, it remains timely.

On the Spring Equinox Longhouse will issue a two booklet set of Hiroaki Sato's translations of Miyazawa Kenji. He has been called by Gary Snyder, "perhaps the finest translator of contemporary Japanese poetry into American English."




Selected Works

_____________________

Shikishi. Poems of Princess Shikishi. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Bluefish, 1973
Translated by Hiroaki Sato.Ten Japanese Poets. Hanover, New Hampshire: Granite, 1973.
Minoru, Yoshika. Lilac Garden. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Chicago Review, 1975
Takahashi, Mutsuo. Poems of a Penisist. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Chicago Review, 1975
Miyazawa, Kenji. Spring and Asura. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Chicago Review, 1975
Takahashi, Mutsuo. Winter Haiku: 25 Haiku by Mutsuo Takahashi. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Manchester, NH: First Haiku Press, 1980.

Takamura, K Mtar M. Chieko and Other Poems of Takamura K Mtar M. 
Translated by Hiroaki Sato. University of Hawaii, 1980
From the Country of Eight Islands: An Anthology of Japanese Poetry. Edited and translated by Hiroaki Sato and Burton Watson. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, 1981.
Winner of the American PEN translation prize in 1983.
Sato, Hiroaki. One Hundred Frogs: From Renga to Haiku to English. New York, NY: Weatherhill, 1983.

Yagyu, Munenori. Sword and the Mind. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Woodstock, N.Y.: Overlook Press, 1986
Haiku in English: A Poetic Form Expands. Tokyo, Japan: Simul Press, 1987.
That First Time: Six Renga on Love, and Other Poems. Laurinburg, NC: St. Andrews Press, 1988.
Miyazawa, Kenji. Future of Ice: Poems and Stories of a Japanese Buddhist. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1989

Takahashi, Mutsuo. Sleeping Sinning Falling. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. City Lights Books, 1992
Takamura, Kotaro. A Brief History of Imbecility: Poetry and Prose of Takamura Kotaro. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. University of Hawaii, 1992
Ozaki, Hosai. Right under the big sky, I don't wear a hat: the haiku and prose of Hosai Ozaki. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Berkeley, CA: Stone Bridge Press, 1993
Shikishi. String of Beads: Complete Poems of Princess Shikishi. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. University of Hawaii Press, 1993
Sato, Hiroaki. One Hundred Frogs. New York, NY: Weatherhill, 1995.

Sato, Hiroaki. Legends of the Samurai. Woodstock, N.Y.: Overlook Press, 1995.
Matsuo, Basho. Basho's Narrow road: spring & autumn passages. Translated from the Japanese, with annotations by Hiroaki Sato. Berkeley, CA: Stone Bridge Press, 1996
Saiko, Ema: Breeze through Bamboo: Selected Kanshi of Ema Saiko. Translated from the Japanese by Hiroaki Sato. Columbia University Press, 1997. (Winner of the 1999 Japan United States Friendship Commission Japanese Literary Translation Prize)
Mishima, Yukio. Silk and Insight. Translated from the Japanese by Hiroaki Sato. Armonk, N.Y.: M. E. Sharpe, 1998.

Hagiwara, Sakutaro. Howling at the Moon and Blue. Translated from the Japanese by Hiroaki Sato. Green Integer, 2001
Taneda, Santoka. Grass and Tree Cairn. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Winchester, VA: Red Moon Press, 2002
Mishima, Yukio. My Friend Hitler: and Other Plays. Translated by Hiroaki Sato. Columbia University Press, 2002
Yagyu, Munenori. The Sword and the Mind: The Classic Japanese Treatise on Swordsmanship and Tactics. Translated from the Japanese by Hiroaki Sato. Fall River Press, 2004.

Sato, Hiroaki. Erotic Haiku. Yohan Shuppan, 2005
Miyazawa, Kenji. Miyazawa Kenji: Selections. Translated from the Japanese by Hiroaki Sato. University of California, 2007
Sato, Hiroaki. Japanese Women Poets: An Anthology. Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe, 2007.
Inose, Naoki w/ Hiroaki Sato. Persona: A Biography of Yukio Mishima. Stone Bridge Press.
Sato, Hiroaki. Snow in a Silver Bowl: A Quest for the World of Yugen. Red Moon Press, 2013.

MARK WUNDERLICH ~

Coyote, with Mange


 
Oh, Unreadable One, why  
have you done this to your dumb creature?  
Why have you chosen to punish the coyote  

rummaging for chicken bones in the dung heap,  
shucked the fur from his tail  
and fashioned it into a scabby cane?  

Why have you denuded his face,  
tufted it, so that when he turns he looks  
like a slow child unhinging his face in a smile?  

The coyote shambles, crow-hops, keeps his head low,  
and without fur, his now visible pizzle  
is a sad red protuberance,  

his hind legs the backward image  
of a bandy-legged grandfather, stripped.  
Why have you unhoused this wretch  

from his one aesthetic virtue,  
taken from him that which kept him  
from burning in the sun like a man?  

Why have you pushed him from his world into mine,  
stopped him there and turned his ear  
toward my warning shout?




________________________

MARK WUNDERLICH

    author of ~
    The Earth Avails,  Graywolf Press
    Voluntary Servitude, Graywolf Press, 2004
    The Anchorage, University of Massachusetts Press, 1999

ELIZABETH SPENCER ~

Elizabeth Spencer

Starting Over

Liveright 2014

http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/2417/the-art-of-fiction-no-110-elizabeth-spencer

______________

Novels

 Fire in the Morning (1948)
    This Crooked Way (1952)
    The Voice at the Back Door (1956)
    The Light in the Piazza (1960)
    Knights and Dragons (1965)
    No Place for an Angel (1967)
    The Snare (1972)
    The Salt Line (1984)
    The Night Travellers (1991)

Short story collections

    Ship Island and Other Stories (1968)
    The Stories of Elizabeth Spencer (1981)
    Marilee (1981)
    Jack of Diamonds and Other Stories (1988)
    On the Gulf (1991)
    The Light in the Piazza and Other Italian Tales (1996)
    The Southern Woman (2001)

Other

Landscapes of the Heart (1998, a memoir)

 (For Lease or Sale (1989, a play)

 The Light in the Piazza (1960, a novella)

GARY BRIECHLE ~

My idea here with a camera and a book is not to showcase the whole book for the viewer, or even in order — it's to allow 'a look'. After all, I'm a writer, reader, publisher of books and bookseller, so my plan forever has been the life of the book. I want you to seek out this fine book, this fine photographer, and to have the book in your lap looking it through and to put it up onto a shelf. To keep it, or give it to someone else. Hand to hand. Face to face. Eye to eye. The elemental earth stuff.

Maine is an interesting corner state on the US map. When we talk to our local post office they tell us of all the boxes they use as files to ship mail out from Vermont, little goes to Maine.

Many of Gary Briechle's photographs come out of Maine.

~ BA

http://theonlinephotographer.typepad.com/the_online_photographer/2013/01/gary-briechle-photographs.html

KEVIN BARRY ~

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2011/apr/10/1



 There Are Little Kingdoms (2007)  short stories
  
 City of Bohane (2011) novel

Dark Lies the Island (2012)  short stories



 http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2013/11/12/jumping-off-a-cliff-an-interview-with-kevin-barry/

MANIFEST ~

Dear —


Another hard wired week in frigid cold. Sweetheart bouncing back after the flu. I'm almost 100%. It takes 10 days we hear but we push by day 5.

I spoke with a logger friend this morning, he's weary. Getting in and out of the woods is four times the work with all this cold and snow. It's taking a toll on every one. Sugaring wants to start, too cold for sugaring to start, it's at a standstill. Stuck in ice. Rhythms are all askew.

You must see The Great Beauty, and it almost deserved the Oscar last night. Like I say, it has too limited of an audience appeal, while marvelous. The Act of Killing is the greater film but too courageous and edgy and independent for the Oscar mentality. The Great Beauty holds all of that old Italian verve and foolishness minced with a Roman appeal. It isn't Fellini though, no one is.

I'm with J — much to be depressed about the Oscars and even angry, starting with a film like Gravity winning hand over fist — it's a sham, relying on pyrotechnics (which work for the most part) but the story line and acting remains ridiculous and trying. And to double the frustration — the director is a long time skilled cinema master, who of course knows better, but is selling out.

Another friend found the ending of Nebraska "manifest" when I find every inch of the film that way, except the ending. Every single character in that film comes through except the sulking and spoiled Bruce Dern. . .who is starting to appear this way now in public. Yes, he looked depressed at the Oscars but not for the same reason I was. I've been following his career a long time, and have taken lots of time to watch and listen to him through every talk show and the IFC Spirit Awards last Saturday night — the same sulking, fragile, tempered old hipster from good family stock. On screen and off.
He's one more true American Boy who believed in the Dream, then played wicked ones and "bastards" (as he says) and somehow can't get why he didn't make it. He was used. If they can, they use up all us Dreamers.

In Nebraska each character is well-etched and they hold true: the two sons make a rounded appearance; June Squibb as the wife does her part, nagging and all, and manifests by lifting her dress over the gravestone to a former skirt chaser, giving a wiggle. Stacy Keach plays his swarmy "right and wrong" theme onto Will Forte, and finally, Forte, smashes the 250 pound feed bag Keach into the bar stools (hurts his hand). The gorgeous choreography of the old farm couple not at home, who come home, catch the wily family in their car in the dooryard and wander over to see what is up. Beautifully handled. Manifest. All the brothers, reticent and pure, come through in the living room and dining room scenes, and all along the way we have to tolerate the sulking Dern. Barely lifts an eye. Even slightly more unkempt than I believe he would have been. A little exaggerated. After Forte buys his father (Dern) the used truck, the new air compressor, Dern lifts his head and gives his son a side-long glance in the cab of the truck, but he quickly drops his head so it isn't quite seen except by us. . .and that's why I believe the character missed out, and so did the director, in that final far away silhouette shot. . . The Grapes of Wrath distance (Tom Joad on the road). . . I believe the story and both characters needed certainly not a hug (that would be exaggerated), but a hand from the father onto the shoulder of his son as he passed him by changing seat positions in the truck. A sureness. Without it, the film remains a little too dry, austere, and even bruised with cynicism.

The young Kenyan woman, Lupita Nyong’o, winning was all I wanted to see happen at the Oscars last night. 12 Years A Slave receiving its recognition. The rest was shalmtz. It's crushing how low it's been pitched.

To build a fire.

I'm off to snowshoe the woodlot trail. It's been so cold so long the deer have driven deeper into the wood and are bedded down not moving a muscle. I get a vole or bird tracks at best on my trail. At the window: cardinals, bluejays, nuthatch, chickadees, and two burly gray squirrels who like to talk back.

 

                      

Man With A Movie Camera ~

Russian 1929 silent documentary by "Dziga Vertov" 
who was actually born David Abelevich Kaufman in 1896.

POSTCARD 28 ~

In Lassen Volcanic National Park, California

A typical scene long remembered by travelers along the Loop Highway

during the spring and early summer months.

published by eastman's studio, susanville, ca.

TABU LEY ROCHEREAU ~

http://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/dec/11/tabu-ley-rochereau

FAKING IT ~

Room with Eye (1930)

Maurice Tabard, French, 1897-1984

"Maurice Tabard, like other Surrealist photographers, practiced darkroom sleight of hand to produce bizarre and dreamlike effects, using photography as a means of uncovering the hidden recesses of the mind. Working as an assistant to Man Ray in Paris, Tabard began to incorporate into his own photographs his mentor's experimental techniques: multiple exposure, solarization, negative printing, and photomontage. He often combined several techniques in a single image, deliberately and elaborately manipulating his negatives to confound and disorient viewers. 

. . .In the photomontage of 1930, a woman's eye peers into a small, empty room furnished only with a radiator and a door at the far end. Whether a reference to the inner life of the mind, to the soul, or even to the camera obscura — literally, a dark room fitted with a lens at one end — the image reads as a metaphor for photography itself."

— Emily Ackerman

Faking It

Manipulated Photography 

Before Photoshop
by Mia Fineman

(The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

2012

JOSEPH CORNELL ~

 

Joseph Cornell's Manual of Marvels
103 illustrations

Thames and Hudson
(2012)