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|Topic Review (Newest First)
|October 13th, 2012 04:58 PM
|Martin Andersen
Hi Pierre
I am of course very tempted to see a connection the between Beshir rug, the Il-Khanied, the cintamani waves and thus for me the Beshir Yilan motif. But I am also a bit uncertain, there are some missing links and the zig-zag pattern is very generic.
But the fact that you have identified a whole group of Il-Khanied rugs with wave pattern and kufic borders is in itself actually totally fascinating These rugs with their almost clash like meting between border and main field in my opinion have a completely different aesthetic than the Timurid rugs.
best Martin
|October 11th, 2012 03:49 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
Hi all,
Could this nineteenth century "Beshir" rug be another rare descendent of the Il-khanid (or Seldjuk-) rugs shown in this tread? It sure features a field of "waves with appendices" too.
FIG. "Beshir khali. XIX. 332X130. U. Jordan. Oriental Rugs. Vol 5. Turkoman.
The ethnic group: Turkik: (Turkoman, Uzbeck, Kirghiz,..), Persian (Tadjik) or even Arab, which wove each of the various types of so-called "Beshir" rugs is a matter of conjecture, but at least we can assume that their region of origin was the former Khanate of Bukhara.
Not that this brings us any further, uuuh?.
|September 22nd, 2012 04:49 PM
|Martin Andersen
Hi Pierre
I was wrong about the zig-zag pattern being carved into the pillars - its a painted black contour. Here a few more photos of the pattern which is not only on the pillars, but also as here a panel (almost rug format) and in smaller versions as borders on f.ex pillar heads.
The Esrefoglu Mosque has just in 2011 been put on Unescos world heritage list because of its unique well preserved wooden structures. Supposedly an interior open pit/well has regulated temperature and humidity up till the 1940's. As seen on these photos there has been some restoration/maintenance going on regarding the painted ornaments (there are a lot of interesting painted ornaments, including kufic ornamentation, I will post them in the kufic tread) There seem to be different layers of painted maintenance, some probably not very old, perhaps 20th some much older, but they all seem rather respectful to the original layout, not introducing new styles (except the central Müezzin Mahfili which has a distinctly Ottoman decoration and an inscribed date 1574/75). It doesnt look like that there has been any over-all restoration, its more like continuous patchlike repairs, the latest repair unfinished. This is only my personal judgment, I haven't found any thorough text regarding the painted ornaments.
best Martin
|September 14th, 2012 07:48 AM
|Martin Andersen
Hi Pierre
Waves and zig-zag are very generic patterns, so unrelated origins is of course a highly likely possibility. But the combination between the zig-zag and the little dot/device at the top of the waves is a bit more specific, so I would agree on an earlier common source.
Totally speculative but one could perhaps suggest a relation to the cintamani motif, which as one of multiply interpretations is often seen as a pearl/jewel floating on the top of the ocean (sorry for yet another tunnelvison topic)
|September 13th, 2012 06:47 AM
|Pierre Galafassi
Hi Martin,
I did not know it was as late as that.
Anyway, I suppose that the Seldjuk style did not disappear everywhere shortly after the Mongol/Il-khanid raids in Anatolia, as destructive as they might have been. Unless I err, several Beylicks (the little states which dotted Anatolia between the end of the Seldjuk of Rum Empire and the Ottoman leadership) were ruled by Seljuk offspring. Besides, the artisans of Konya for example could have kept the style alive for a while, independently of the ethnic origin of the new political power in place, just as french artisans kept making furniture in Louis XIII style even during the following reigns in which each successive king tried to impose his own style.
However the presence of the "waves with hook" on Anatolian Seldjuk monuments and on Il-khanid rugs suggests that this motif was known both in Anatolia and in Persia, perhaps imported by the previous (Oghuz) Turkik waves which swept both regions.
Best regards
|September 12th, 2012 04:42 PM
|Martin Andersen
Hi Pierre
The Eşrefoğlu Mosque is build 1296, so its very late Seljuk, I suppose one could say its contemporary to the rugs on the Il-khanid miniatures.
The wave zig-zag pattern is not only painted but also carved into the pillars, you can see it at the bottom. Personally I think its original, stylistically it fits in for me (as opposed to the brand new terrible wall-to-wall carpeting)
|September 12th, 2012 03:25 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
Hi Martin,
I agree, there is an interesting analogy between this Il-khanid kufic border and the (500-600 years younger) Caucasian / Kuba rug border.
You must have got an eagle eye, indeed the "wave" motif on top of the columns in the mosque is identical, including the odd little hook, with the motif of the Il-khanid rugs shown in this thread. Assuming that the Seldjuk builders of the mosque were also responsible for the painting of the column it would prove that the motif pre-dated the Il-khanid period and that it was used (also) in Anatolia (where, by the way, except for a trail of destructions, the Il-khanid did not stay) .
Enjoy your stay in Anatolia! I am very much looking forward to your pictures.
Best regards
|September 12th, 2012 10:48 AM
|Martin Andersen
Hi Steve and All
I will save the kufic topics for the new essay, i am sure it will be very interesting.
In the mean time here is a photo related to the wave/zig-zag pattern discussed in this tread:
I am generally convinced that the rugs have been an integrated part of a total setting in which the architecture have played a huge role. The pillars in the Seljuk Eşrefoğlu Mosqu still have reminiscences of their original colour in the top. Lots of ornamentation in stucco and paint have been lost during time. And these perhaps less prominent and luxurious ornamentations is probably slightly overlooked in the published material. One could hope that there still may be old survived material away from the touristic main sites. The problem is were to look for it, hopefully there is an increasing awareness of cultural heritage in all of the Islamic world.
I will (inshallah) be in Konya and Beyşehir next week, bringing my camera and tunnel vision regarding the Seljuk ornaments and the kufic border
|September 11th, 2012 12:52 PM
|Steve Price
Hi Martin
I don't want to inhibit discussion of this very interesting subject, but I have inside information that an essay outlining the timeline of development of kufic borders will appear within a few days. For that reason, it might be easier and less awkward to delay following up on this for a short time.
Steve Price
|September 11th, 2012 07:29 AM
|Martin Andersen
Hi All
I am just looking around in this highly interesting series of essays and discussions. And can't escape my narrow tunnel vision on the kufic border. With no intention to highjack this tread, I can't help putting in a note regarding "The guest beats the mouse"-rug. As Pierre has pointed out the border looks kufic, and to me it looks very directly related to how the kufic border ended up in the caucasian versions:
|August 5th, 2012 07:04 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
Hi all,
Eventually, an extant rug has surfaced (FIG 1) with a field featuring «waves» which are identical to the fragment (labelled «Seldjuk» by Kirrcheim) posted in this thread by George Potter and reasonably similar to the rugs illustrated in our handful of Il-khanid miniatures («waves with hook»).
FIG 1. Eastern Anatolia Kurdish. Kagizman area. Mid-nineteenth century. 260X112.
The extant rug is given by Zipper and C. Fritsche (Oriental rugs Volume 4, Turkish, page 188), as being from Eastern Anatolia ( Kagiszman area ), woven by Kurds and dated from about the middle of the nineteenth century. Unfortunately, the authors do not explain the reasons of this rather precise attribution, which, if taken at face value, would support the hypothesis of the home of this very rare motif being situated in an area covering northwestern Persia, eastern Anatolia and southeastern Caucasus. An area which was under direct control of the Il-khanid rulers of Persia during nearly a century. And before that, for quite a while also under control of the Great Seljuk Persian dynasty.
If the date (mid-nineteenth century) can be trusted, this extant rug is not very likely to have been inspired by mere commercial considerations. Also the rarity of the motif makes this option rather unlikely.
Of course the survival of such a rare motif during four centuries would be puzzling.
Apart from its (field-) analogy with fourteenth century Il-khanid rugs, this extant piece also carries border motifs which are surely more frequent in Turkmen rugs than in Anatolian ones. The well known sainak and the «hexapod» found in onurga- (or is it temirchin?-) guls.
Borrowed by the ( hypothetical) Kurdish weavers, I guess.
Best regards
|June 20th, 2012 12:49 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
Hi all,
Two more examples of Il-khanid rugs with the «wave" field-motif in fourteenth century miniatures, can be seen in J.L. Cowens beautiful book «Kalila wa Dimna: An allegory of the Mongol Court».
One can safely assume that this type of rug was real and popular in Il-khanid Persia. Perhaps especially in the Tabriz area.
Both rugs feature a kufic-like border.
Cowen calls the «wave» field-motif «Seldjuk», but does not give the reasons for this attribution. It is likely that the author means the «Great Seldjuk» dynasty of Iran, which was destroyed by Kwaresm, which rulers were in turn defeated by Gengis Khans Turco-mongol armies a few decades later. And not the « Seldjuk of Rum» dynasty which ruled over part of Anatolia from its capital in Konya (and was also terminated by the Gengiskhanids).
FIG 1 Il-khanid period. Tabriz. 1330-1340. Father teaching his sons. Kalila wa Dimna. Istanbul.
FIG 2 Il-khanid period. Tabriz. 1330-1340. The guest beats the mouse. Kalila wa Dimna. Istanbul.
|May 25th, 2012 06:52 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
I haven't a clue what this little hook on the "waves" was supposed to mean.
|May 25th, 2012 04:33 PM
|Filiberto Boncompagni
Hi Pierre,
Waves must be certainly the most universal way to symbolize water. I accept zig-zag lines as "stylized waves" without problem as well.
Fact is that two of the Ilkhanid miniatures show also those devices on the tops of the outer corners of the zig-zags. I don't know what they are nor what they mean but they detract a bit from the idea of symbolizing water, that is…
|May 24th, 2012 08:39 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
Hi Filiberto,
Yes, it is indeed highly likely that the waves in these rugs were meant to represent water in a garden. IMHO it is also possible that water was represented in the Il-khanid rugs. As we know, water plays an important role for Arabs and Persians, as shown by their poetry, architecture, gardens and even by their idea of paradise. It would seem logical to think that the same was true for other central asian populations as well, especially nomads and oasis dwellers.
Best regards
|May 24th, 2012 03:47 PM
|Filiberto Boncompagni
Hi Pierre,
As far as I know, the carpets in your last post represent gardens, and the "waves" part should represent watercourses…
|May 24th, 2012 03:14 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
Hi all,
FIG 1, FIG 2, FIG 3 show some more extant rugs from the seventeenth- to the nineteenth century, all featuring «wave» motifs and, again, woven in the northwestern part of Iran.
Am I wrong thinking that this particular rug motif is not frequent in other regions?
The major Il-Khanid school of miniature painting was based in northwestern Iran too (Tabriz).
This could be a mere coincidence, but could just as well indicate that the Il-khanid miniature-painters took their inspiration from rugs which were popular in northwestern Iran at the time (imported by the turco-mongol conquerors or indigenous), which motifs remained in fashion during several centuries.
FIG 1. Northwestern Iran. XVII XVIII. V & A museum
FIG 2. Northwestern Iran fragment . XVIII. 258X110
FIG 3. Northwestern Iran. XVIII XIX. 556X233. MET
Best regards
|April 20th, 2012 08:09 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
Quote Steve Price."If you start seeing waves that move around, be very afraid"
Ooops, I planned to spend the next vacation on the west coast (of France) but you might be right, let's go to Switzerland instead.
|April 20th, 2012 12:53 PM
|Steve Price
Hi Pierre
Seeing waves in rug designs isn't a problem and needs no cure. If you start seeing waves that move around, be very afraid.
Steve Price
|April 20th, 2012 12:38 PM
|Pierre Galafassi
By the way, I just noticed that FIG 2 (Zohnak enthroned) too shows a "wave" motif, although not in the field but in the rug border. (The dark blue border just below the red one ( reminiscent of a "leaf and wineglass border").
Martin once complained that he was starting to see the word Allah (in Kufic) everywhere, I fear that I have caught a similar illness (seeing waves). Let's hope it is curable.
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Obama praises peace talks in Colombia
WASHINGTON — President Obama told Colombian counterpart Juan Manuel Santos on Tuesday that he supports new peace talks with rebel forces in Colombia.
While "it is not easy," Obama said that Santos is doing the right thing in seeking "a lasting and just peace" with the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC).
"Obviously, there are going to be some very challenging questions moving forward," Obama told reporters after he and Santos met at the White House. "I'm pleased to see the president's strong commitment on that front."
Santos made his visit to Washington just days after announcing he would seek re-election in Colombia.
Obama said that he and Santos also discussed increase trade with Colombia, as well as new education, energy and technology-sharing agreements.
There has been a 20% increase in trade between the United States and Colombia since the two nations signed a free trade agreement during Obama's first term.
The United States has been providing security assistance to Colombia for years, but has gradually turned it into economic assistance in recent times.
In his comments, Santos told Obama that "we have gone well beyond the usual items that we used to discuss, like security, like drug trafficking. ... We are now expanding into topics like education, energy and mutual cooperation -- what we can do regionally."
Obama also noted that both Colombia and the United States are participating in a major event next year -- the World Cup soccer tournament in Brazil. While wishing each nation well, Obama said. "I think it's fair to say that we will be rooting for our teams."
Both presidents pointed out it is not yet known whether Colombia and the United States will play each other.
"I certainly hope they won't meet in the first round," Santos said. "But we can maybe eliminate the U.S. team later on."
Replied Obama: "All right, we'll have to make a wager on that. We'll see if the actual game comes up."

subset: commoncrawl


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text:
At the outset Verna had not intended to kill anyone. What she had in mind was a vacation, pure and simple. Take a breather, do some inner accounting, shed worn skin. The Arctic suits her: there's something inherently calming in the vast cool sweeps of ice and rock and sea and sky, undisturbed by cities and highways and trees and the other distractions that clutter up the landscape to the south.
Among the clutter she includes other people, and by other people she means men. She's had enough of men for a while. She's made an inner memo to renounce flirtations and any consequences that might result from them. She doesn't need the cash, not anymore. She's not extravagant or greedy, she tells herself: all she ever wanted was to be protected by layer upon layer of kind, soft, insulating money, so that nobody and nothing could get close enough to harm her. Surely she has at last achieved this modest goal.
But old habits die hard, and it's not long before she's casting an appraising eye over her fleece-clad fellow-travellers dithering with their wheely bags in the lobby of the first-night airport hotel. Passing over the women, she ear-tags the male members of the flock. Some have females attached to them, and she eliminates these on principle: why work harder than you need to? Prying a spouse loose can be arduous, as she discovered via her first husband: discarded wives stick like burrs.
It's the solitaries who interest her, the lurkers at the fringes. Some of these are too old for her purposes; she avoids eye contact with them. The ones who cherish the belief that there's life in the old dog yet: these are her game. Not that she'll do anything about it, she tells herself, but there's nothing wrong with a little warmup practice, if only to demonstrate to herself that she can still knock one off if she wishes to.
For that evening's meet-and-greet she chooses her cream-colored pullover, perching the Magnetic Northward nametag just slightly too low on her left breast. Thanks to Aquacize and core strength training, she's still in excellent shape for her age, or indeed for any age, at least when fully clothed and buttressed with carefully fitted underwiring. She wouldn't want to chance a deck chair in a bikini—superficial puckering has set in, despite her best efforts—which is one reason for selecting the Arctic over, say, the Caribbean. Her face is what it is, and certainly the best that money can buy at this stage: with a little bronzer and pale eyeshadow and mascara and glimmer powder and low lighting, she can finesse ten years.
"Though much is taken, much remains," she murmurs to her image in the mirror. Her third husband had been a serial quotation freak with a special penchant for Tennyson. "Come into the garden, Maud," he'd been in the habit of saying just before bedtime. It had driven her mad at the time.
She adds a dab of cologne—an understated scent, floral, nostalgic—then she blots it off, leaving a mere whiff. It's a mistake to overdo it: though elderly noses aren't as keen as they may once have been, it's best to allow for allergies; a sneezing man is not an attentive man.
She makes her entrance slightly late, smiling a detached but cheerful smile—it doesn't do for an unaccompanied woman to appear too eager—accepts a glass of the passable white wine they're doling out, and drifts among the assembled nibblers and sippers. The men will be retired professionals: doctors, lawyers, engineers, stockbrokers, interested in Arctic exploration, polar bears, archeology, birds, Inuit crafts, perhaps even Vikings or plant life or geology. Magnetic Northward attracts serious punters, with an earnest bunch of experts laid on to herd them around and lecture to them. She's investigated the two other outfits that tour the region, but neither appeals. One features excessive hiking and attracts the under-fifties—not her target market—and the other goes in for singsongs and dressing up in silly outfits, so she's stuck with Magnetic Northward, which offers the comfort of familiarity. She travelled with this company once before, after the death of her third husband, five years ago, so she knows pretty much what to expect.
There's a lot of sportswear in the room, much beige among the men, many plaid shirts, vests with multiple pockets. She notes the nametags: a Fred, a Dan, a Rick, a Norm, a Bob. Another Bob, then another: there are a lot of Bobs on this trip. Several appear to be flying solo. Bob: a name once of heavy significance to her, though surely she's rid herself of that load of luggage by now. She selects one of the thinner but still substantial Bobs, glides close to him, raises her eyelids, and lowers them again. He peers down at her chest.
"Verna," he says. "That's a lovely name."
"Old-fashioned," she says. "From the Latin word for 'spring.' When everything springs to life again." That line, so filled with promises of phallic renewal, had been effective in helping to secure her second husband. To her third husband she'd said that her mother had been influenced by the eighteenth-century Scottish poet James Thomson and his vernal breezes, which was a preposterous but enjoyable lie: she had, in fact, been named after a lumpy, bun-faced dead aunt. As for her mother, she'd been a strict Presbyterian with a mouth like a vise grip, who despised poetry and was unlikely to have been influenced by anything softer than a granite wall.
During the preliminary stages of netting her fourth husband, whom she'd flagged as a kink addict, Verna had gone even further. She'd told him she'd been named for "The Rite of Spring," a highly sexual ballet that ended with torture and human sacrifice. He'd laughed, but he'd also wriggled: a sure sign of the hook going in.
Now she says, "And you're . . . Bob." It's taken her years to perfect the small breathy intake, a certified knee-melter.
"Yes," Bob says. "Bob Goreham," he adds, with a diffidence he surely intends to be charming. Verna smiles widely to disguise her shock. She finds herself flushing with a combination of rage and an almost reckless mirth. She looks him full in the face: yes, underneath the thinning hair and the wrinkles and the obviously whitened and possibly implanted teeth, it's the same Bob—the Bob of fifty-odd years before. Mr. Heartthrob, Mr. Senior Football Star, Mr. Astounding Catch, from the rich, Cadillac-driving end of town where the mining-company big shots lived. Mr. Shit, with his looming bully's posture and his lopsided joker's smile.
How amazing to everyone, back then—not only everyone in school but everyone, for in that armpit of a town they'd known to a millimetre who drank and who didn't and who was no better than she should be and how much change you kept in your back pocket—how amazing that golden-boy Bob had singled out insignificant Verna for the Snow Queen's Palace winter formal. Pretty Verna, three years younger; studious, grade-skipping, innocent Verna, tolerated but not included, clawing her way toward a scholarship as her ticket out of town. Gullible Verna, who'd believed she was in love.
Or who was in love. When it came to love, wasn't believing the same as the real thing? Such beliefs drain your strength and cloud your vision. She's never allowed herself to be skewered in that tiger trap again.
What had they danced to that night? "Rock Around the Clock." "Hearts Made of Stone." "The Great Pretender." Bob had steered Verna around the edges of the gym, holding her squashed up against his carnation buttonhole, for the unskilled, awkward Verna of those days had never been to a dance before and was no match for Bob's strenuous and flamboyant moves. For meek Verna, life was church and studies and household chores and her weekend job clerking in the drugstore, with her grim-faced mother regulating every move. No dates; those wouldn't have been allowed, not that she'd been asked on any. But her mother had permitted her to go to the well-supervised high-school dance with Bob Goreham, for wasn't he a shining light from a respectable family? She'd even allowed herself a touch of smug gloating, silent though it had been. Holding her head up after the decampment of Verna's father had been a full-time job, and had given her a very stiff neck. From this distance Verna could understand it.
So out the door went Verna, starry-eyed with hero worship, wobbling on her first high heels. She was courteously inserted into Bob's shiny red convertible with the treacherous Mickey of rye already lurking in the glove compartment, where she sat bolt upright, almost catatonic with shyness, smelling of Prell shampoo and Jergens lotion, wrapped in her mother's mothbally out-of-date rabbit stole and an ice-blue tulle-skirted dress that looked as cheap as it was.
Cheap. Cheap and disposable. Use and toss. That was what Bob had thought about her, from the very first.
Now Bob grins a little. He looks pleased with himself: maybe he thinks Verna is blushing with desire. But he doesn't recognize her! He really doesn't! How many fucking Vernas can he have met in his life?
Get a grip, she tells herself. She's not invulnerable after all, it appears. She's shaking with anger, or is it mortification? To cover herself she takes a gulp of her wine, and immediately chokes on it. Bob springs into action, giving her a few brisk but caressing thumps on the back.
"Excuse me," she manages to gasp. The crisp, cold scent of carnations envelops her. She needs to get away from him; all of a sudden she feels quite sick. She hurries to the ladies' room, which is fortunately empty, and throws up her white wine and her cream-cheese-and-olive canapé into a cubicle toilet. She wonders if it's too late to cancel the trip. But why should she run from Bob again?
Back then she'd had no choice. By the end of that week, the story was all over town. Bob had spread it himself, in a farcical version that was very different from what Verna herself remembered. Slutty, drunken, willing Verna, what a joke. She'd been followed home from school by groups of leering boys, hooting and calling out to her: Easy out! Can I have a ride? Candy's dandy but liquor's quicker! Those were some of the milder slogans. She'd been shunned by girls, fearful that the disgrace—the ludicrous, hilarious smuttiness of it all—would rub off on them.
Then there was her mother. It hadn't taken long for the scandal to hit church circles. What little her mother had to say through her clamp of a mouth was to the point: Verna had made her own bed, and now she would have to lie in it. No, she could not wallow in self-pity—she would just have to face the music, not that she would ever live it down, because one false step and you fell, that's how life was. When it was evident that the worst had happened, she bought Verna a bus ticket and shipped her off to a church-run Home for Unwed Mothers on the outskirts of Toronto.
There Verna spent the days peeling potatoes and scrubbing floors and scouring toilets along with her fellow-delinquents. They wore gray maternity dresses and gray wool stockings and clunky brown shoes, all paid for by generous donations, they were informed. In addition to their scouring and peeling chores, they were treated to bouts of prayer and self-righteous hectoring. What had happened to them was justly deserved, the speeches went, because of their depraved behavior, but it was never too late to redeem themselves through hard work and self-restraint. They were cautioned against alcohol, tobacco, and gum chewing, and were told that they should consider it a miracle of God if any decent man ever wanted to marry them.
Verna's labor was long and difficult. The baby was taken away from her immediately so that she would not get attached to it. There was an infection, with complications and scarring, but it was all for the best, she overheard one brisk nurse telling another, because those sorts of girls made unfit mothers anyway. Once she could walk, Verna was given five dollars and a bus ticket and instructed to return to the guardianship of her mother, because she was still a minor.
But she could not face that—that or the town in general—so she headed for downtown Toronto. What was she thinking? No actual thoughts, only feelings: mournfulness, woe, and, finally, a spark of defiant anger. If she was as trashy and worthless as everyone seemed to think, she might as well act that way, and, in between rounds of waitressing and hotel-room cleaning, she did.
It was only by great good luck that she stumbled upon an older married man who took an interest in her. She traded three years of noontime sex with him for the price of her education. A fair exchange, to her mind—she bore him no ill will. She learned a lot from him, how to walk in high heels being the least of it—and pulled herself up and out. Little by little she jettisoned the crushed image of Bob that she still carried like a dried flower—incredibly!—next to her heart.
She pats her face back into place and repairs her mascara, which has bled down her cheeks despite its waterproof claims. Courage, she tells herself. She will not be chased away, not this time. She'll tough it out; she's more than a match for five Bobs now. And she has the advantage, because Bob doesn't have a clue who she is. Does she really look that different? Yes, she does. She looks better. There's her silver-blond hair, and the various alterations, of course. But the real difference is in the attitude—the confident way she carries herself. It would be hard for Bob to see through that façade to the shy, mousy-haired, snivelling idiot she'd been at fourteen.
After adding a last film of powder, she rejoins the group and lines up at the buffet for roast beef and salmon. She won't eat much of it, but then she never does, not in public: a piggy, gobbling woman is not a creature of mysterious allure. She refrains from scanning the crowd to pinpoint Bob's position—he might wave to her, and she needs time to think—and selects a table at the far end of the room. But presto, Bob is sliding in beside her without so much as a may-I-join-you. He assumes he's already pissed on this fire hydrant, she thinks. Spray-painted this wall. Cut the head off this trophy and got his picture taken with his foot on the body. As he did once before, not that he realizes it. She smiles.
He's solicitous. Is Verna all right? Oh, yes, she replies. It's just that something went down the wrong way. Bob launches straight into the preliminaries. What does Verna do? Retired, she says, though she had a rewarding career as a physiotherapist, specializing in the rehabilitation of heart and stroke victims. "That must have been interesting," Bob says. Oh, yes, Verna says. So fulfilling to help people.
It had been more than interesting. Wealthy men recovering from life-threatening episodes had recognized the worth of an attractive younger woman with deft hands, an encouraging manner, and an intuitive knowledge of when to say nothing. Or, as her third husband put it in his Keatsian mode, heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter. There was something about the intimacy of the relationship—so physical—that led to other intimacies, though Verna had always stopped short of sex: it was a religious thing, she'd said. If no marriage proposal was forthcoming, she would extricate herself, citing her duty to patients who needed her more. That had forced the issue twice.
She'd chosen her acceptances with an eye to the medical condition involved, and once married she'd done her best to provide value for money. Each husband had departed not only happy but grateful, if a little sooner than might have been expected. But each had died of natural causes—a lethal recurrence of the heart attack or stroke that had hit him in the first place. All she'd done was give them tacit permission to satisfy every forbidden desire: to eat artery-clogging foods, to drink as much as they liked, to return to their golf games too soon. She'd refrained from commenting on the fact that, strictly speaking, they were being too zealously medicated. She'd wondered about the dosages, she'd say later, but who was she to set her own opinion up against a doctor's?
And if a man happened to forget that he'd already taken his pills for that evening and found them neatly laid out in their usual place and took them again, wasn't that to be expected? Blood thinners could be so hazardous, in excess. You could bleed into your own brain.
Then there was sex: the terminator, the coup de grâce. Verna herself had no interest in sex as such, but she knew what was likely to work. "You only live once," she'd been in the habit of saying, lifting a champagne glass during a candlelit supper and then setting out the Viagra, a revolutionary breakthrough but so troubling to the blood pressure. It was essential to call the paramedics in promptly, though not too promptly. "He was like this when I woke up" was an acceptable thing to say. So was "I heard a strange sound in the bathroom, and then when I went to look . . ."
She has no regrets. She did those men a favor: surely better a swift exit than a lingering decline.
With two of the husbands, there'd been difficulties with the grownup children over the will. Verna had graciously said that she understood how they must feel, then she'd paid them off, more than was strictly fair considering the effort she'd put in. Her sense of justice has remained Presbyterian: she doesn't want much more than her due, but she doesn't want much less, either. She likes balanced accounts.
Bob leans in toward her, sliding his arm along the back of her chair. Is her husband along for the cruise? he asks, closer to her ear than he should be, breathing in. No, she says, she is recently widowed—here she looks down at the table, hoping to convey muted grief—and this is a sort of healing voyage. Bob says he's very sorry to hear it, but what a coincidence, for his own wife passed away just six months ago. It had been a blow—they'd been really looking forward to the golden years together. She'd been his college sweetheart—it was love at first sight. Does Verna believe in love at first sight? Yes, Verna says, she does.
Bob confides further: they'd waited until after his law degree to get married and then they'd had three kids, and now there are five grandkids—he's so proud of them all. If he shows me any baby pictures, Verna thinks, I'll hit him.
"It does leave an empty space, doesn't it?" Bob says. "A sort of blank." Verna admits that it does. Would Verna care to join Bob in a bottle of wine?
You crap artist, Verna thinks. So you went on to get married and have children and a normal life, just as if nothing ever happened. Whereas for me . . . She feels queasy.
"I'd love to," she says. "But let's wait until we're on the ship. That would be more leisurely." She gives him the eyelids again. "Now I'm off to my beauty sleep." She smiles, wafts upward.
"Oh, surely you don't need that," Bob says gallantly. The asshole actually pulls out her chair for her. He hadn't shown such fine manners back then. Nasty, brutish, and short, as her third husband had said, quoting Hobbes on the subject of natural man. Nowadays a girl would know to call the police. Nowadays Bob would go to jail no matter what lies he might tell, because Verna was underage. But there had been no true words for the act then: rape was what occurred when some maniac jumped on you out of a bush, not when your formal-dance date drove you to a side road in the mangy twice-cut forest surrounding a tin-pot mining town and told you to drink up like a good girl and then took you apart, layer by torn layer. To make it worse, Bob's best friend, Ken, had turned up in his own car to help out. The two of them had been laughing. They'd kept her panty girdle as a souvenir.
Afterward, Bob had pushed her out of the car halfway back, surly because she was crying. "Shut up or walk home," he'd said. She has a picture of herself limping along the icy roadside with her bare feet stuck in her dyed-to-match ice-blue heels, dizzy and raw and shivering and—a further ridiculous humiliation—hiccupping. What had concerned her most at that moment was her nylons—where were her nylons? She'd bought them with her own drugstore money. She must have been in shock.
Did she remember correctly? Had Bob stuck her panty girdle upside down on his head and danced about in the snow with the garter tabs flopping around like jesters' bells?
Panty girdle, she thinks. How prehistoric. It, and all the long-gone archeology that went with it. Now a girl would be on the pill or have an abortion without a backward glance. How Paleolithic to still feel wounded by any of it.
It was Ken—not Bob—who'd come back for her, told her brusquely to get in, driven her home. He, at least, had had the grace to be shamefaced. "Don't say anything," he'd muttered. And she hadn't, but her silence had done her no good.
Why should she be the only one to have suffered for that night? She'd been stupid, granted, but Bob had been vicious. And he'd gone scot-free, without consequences or remorse, whereas her entire life had been distorted. The Verna of the day before had died, and a different Verna had solidified in her place: stunted, twisted, mangled. It was Bob who'd taught her that only the strong can win, that weakness should be mercilessly exploited. It was Bob who'd turned her into—why not say the word?—a murderer.
The next morning, during the chartered flight north to where the ship is floating on the Beaufort Sea, she considers her choices. She could play Bob like a fish right up to the final moment, then leave him cold with his pants around his ankles: a satisfaction, but a minor one. She could avoid him throughout the trip and leave the equation where it's been for the past fifty-some years: unresolved.
Or she could kill him.
She contemplates this third option with theoretical calm. Just say, for instance, if she were to murder Bob, how might she do it during the cruise without getting caught? Her meds-and-sex formula would be far too slow and might not work anyway, since Bob did not appear to suffer from any ailments. Pushing him off the ship is not a viable option. Bob is too big, the railings are too high, and she knows from her previous trip that there will always be people on deck, enjoying the breathtaking views and taking pictures. A corpse in a cabin would attract police and set off a search for DNA and fabric hairs and so forth, as on television. No, she would have to arrange the death during one of the onshore visits. But how? Where? She consults the itinerary and the map of the proposed route. An Inuit settlement will not do: dogs will bark, children will follow. As for the other stops, the land they'll be visiting is bare of concealing features. Staff with guns will accompany them to protect against polar bears. Maybe an accident with one of the guns? For that she'd need split-second timing.
Whatever the method, she'd have to do it early in the voyage, before he had time to make any new friends—people who might notice he was missing. Also, the possibility that Bob will suddenly recognize her is ever present. And if that happens it will be game over. Meanwhile, it would be best not to be seen with him too much. Enough to keep his interest up, but not enough to start rumors of, for instance, a budding romance. On a cruise, word of mouth spreads like the flu.
Once on board the ship—it's the Resolute II, familiar to Verna from her last voyage—the passengers line up to deposit their passports at Reception. Then they assemble in the forward lounge for a talk on procedure given by three of the discouragingly capable staff members. Every time they go ashore, the first one says with a severe Viking frown, they must turn their tags on the tag board from green to red. When they come back to the ship, they must turn their tags back to green. They must always wear life jackets for the Zodiac trips to shore; the life jackets are the new, thin kind that inflate once in water. They must deposit their life jackets on the shore when landing, in the white canvas bags provided, and put them back on when departing. If there are any tags unturned or any life jackets left in the bags, the staff will know that someone is still ashore. They do not want to be left behind, do they? And now a few housekeeping details. They will find laundry bags in their cabins. Bar bills will be charged to their accounts, and tips will be settled at the end. The ship runs on an open-door policy, to facilitate the work of the cleaning staff, but of course they can lock their rooms if they wish. There is a lost-and-found at Reception. All clear? Good.
The second speaker is the archeologist, who, to Verna, looks about twelve. They will be visiting sites of many kinds, she says, including Independence 1, Dorset, and Thule, but they must never, never take anything. No artifacts, and especially no bones. Those bones might be human, and they must be very careful not to disturb them. But even animal bones are an important source of scarce calcium for ravens and lemmings and foxes and, well, the entire food chain, because the Arctic recycles everything. All clear? Good.
Now, says the third speaker, a fashionably bald individual who looks like a personal trainer, a word about the guns. Guns are essential, because polar bears are fearless. But the staff will always fire into the air first, to scare the bear away. Shooting a bear is a last resort, but bears can be dangerous, and the safety of passengers is the first priority. There is no need to fear the guns: the bullets will be taken out during the Zodiac trips to and from shore, and it will not be possible for anyone to get shot. All clear? Good.
Clearly a gun accident won't do, Verna thinks. No passenger is going to get near those guns.
After lunch, there's a lecture on walruses. There are rumors of rogue walruses that prey on seals, puncturing them with their tusks, then sucking out the fat with their powerful mouths. The women on either side of Verna are knitting. One of them says, "Liposuction." The other laughs.
Once the talks are over, Verna goes out on deck. The sky is clear, with a flight of lenticular clouds hovering in it like spaceships; the air is warm; the sea is aqua. There's a classic iceberg on the port side, with a center so blue it looks dyed, and ahead of them is a mirage—a fata morgana, towering like an ice castle on the horizon, completely real except for the faint shimmering at its edges. Sailors have been lured to their deaths by those; they've drawn mountains on maps where no mountains were.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Bob says, materializing at her side. "How about that bottle of wine tonight?"
"Stunning," Verna says, smiling. "Perhaps not tonight—I promised some of the girls." True enough—she's made a date with the knitting women.
"Maybe tomorrow?" Bob grins, and shares the fact that he has a single cabin: "No. 222, like the painkiller," he quips, and comfortably amidships. "Hardly any rock and roll at all," he adds. Verna says that she, too, has a single: worth the extra expense, because that way you can really relax. She draws out "relax" until it sounds like a voluptuous writhe on satin sheets.
Glancing at the tag board while strolling around the ship after dinner, Verna notes Bob's tag—close enough to her own. Then she buys a pair of cheap gloves in the gift shop. She's read a lot of crime novels.
The next day starts with a talk on geology by an energetic young scientist who has been arousing some interest among the passengers, especially the female ones. By great good fortune, he tells them, and because of a change in itinerary owing to ice pack, they'll be making an unanticipated stop, where they'll be able to view a wonder of the geological world, a sight permitted to very few. They'll be privileged to see the world's earliest fossilized stromatolites, clocking in at an astonishing 1.9 billion years old—before fish, before dinosaurs, before mammals—the very first preserved form of life on this planet. What is a stromatolite? he asks rhetorically, his eyes gleaming. The word comes from the Greek stroma, a mattress, coupled with the root word for "stone." Stone mattress: a fossilized cushion, formed by layer upon layer of blue-green algae building up into a mound or dome. It was this very same blue-green algae that created the oxygen they are now breathing. Isn't that astonishing?
A wizened, elflike man at Verna's lunchtime table grumbles that he hopes they'll be seeing something more exciting than rocks. He's one of the other Bobs: Verna's been taking an inventory. An extra Bob may come in handy. "I'm looking forward to them," she says. "The stone mattresses." She gives the word "mattress" the tiniest hint of suggestiveness, and gets an approving twinkle out of Bob the Second. Really, they're never too old to flirt.
Out on deck after coffee, she surveys the approaching land through her binoculars. It's autumn here: the leaves on the miniature trees that snake along the ground like vines are red and orange and yellow and purple, with rock surging out of them in waves and folds. There's a ridge, a higher ridge, then a higher one. It's on the second ridge that the best stromatolites are to be found, the geologist has told them.
Will someone who has slipped behind the third ridge be visible from the second one? Verna doesn't think so.
Now they're all stuffed into their waterproof pants and their rubber boots; now they're being zipped and buckled into their life jackets like outsized kindergarten kids; now they're turning their tags from green to red; now they're edging down the gangway and being whisked into the black inflatable Zodiacs. Bob has made it into Verna's Zodiac. He lifts his camera, snaps her picture.
Verna's heart is beating more rapidly. If he recognizes me spontaneously, I won't kill him, she thinks. If I tell him who I am and he recognizes me and then apologizes, I still won't kill him. That's two more escape chances than he gave her. It will mean forgoing the advantage of surprise, a move that could be hazardous—Bob is much bigger than she is—but she wishes to be more than fair.
They've landed and have shed their life jackets and rubber footwear and are lacing up their hiking boots. Verna strolls closer to Bob, notes that he hasn't bothered with the rubber boots. He's wearing a red baseball cap; as she watches, he turns it backward.
Now they're all scattering. Some stay by the shore; some move up to the first ridge. The geologist is standing there with his hammer, a twittering cluster already gathered around him. He's in full lecture mode: they will please not take any of the stromatolites, but the ship has a sampling permit, so if anyone finds a particularly choice fragment, especially a cross section, check with him first and they can put it on the rock table he'll set up on board, where everyone can see it. Here are some examples, for those who may not want to tackle the second ridge. . . .
Heads go down; cameras come out. Perfect, Verna thinks. The more distraction the better. She feels without looking that Bob is close by. Now they're at the second ridge, which some are climbing more easily than others. Here are the best stromatolites, a whole field of them. There are unbroken ones, like bubbles or boils, small ones, ones as big as half a soccer ball. Some have lost their tops, like eggs in the process of hatching. Still others have been ground down, so that all that's left of them is a series of raised concentric oblongs, like a cinnamon bun or the growth rings on a tree.
And here's one shattered into four, like a Dutch cheese sliced into wedges. Verna picks up one of the quarters, examines the layers, each year black, gray, black, gray, black, and at the bottom the featureless core. The piece is heavy, and sharp at the edges. Verna lifts it into her backpack.
Here comes Bob as if on cue, lumbering slowly as a zombie up the hill toward her. He's taken off his outer jacket, tucked it under his backpack straps. He's out of breath. She has a moment of compunction: he's over the hill; frailty is gaining on him. Shouldn't she let bygones be bygones? Boys will be boys. Aren't they all just hormone puppets at that age? Why should any human being be judged by something that was done in another time, so long ago it might be centuries?
A raven flies overhead, circles around. Can it tell? Is it waiting? She looks down through its eyes, sees an old woman—because, face it, she is an old woman now—on the verge of murdering an even older man because of an anger already fading into the distance of used-up time. It's paltry. It's vicious. It's normal. It's what happens in life.
"Great day," Bob says. "It's good to have a chance to stretch your legs."
"Isn't it?" Verna says. She moves toward the far side of the second ridge. "Maybe there's something better over there. But weren't we told not to go that far? Out of sight?"
Bob gives a rules-are-for-peasants laugh. "We're paying for this," he says. He actually takes the lead, not up the third ridge but around behind it. Out of sight is where he wants to be.
The gun bearer on the second ridge is yelling at some people straying off to the left. He has his back turned. A few more steps and Verna glances over her shoulder: she can't see anyone, which means that no one can see her. They squelch over a patch of boggy ground. She takes her thin gloves out of her pocket, slips them on. Now they're at the far side of the third ridge, at the sloping base.
"Come over here," Bob says, patting the rock. His backpack is beside him. "I brought us a few drinks." All around him is a tattered gauze of black lichen.
"Terrific," Verna says. She sits down, unzips her backpack. "Look," she says. "I found a perfect specimen." She turns, positioning the stromatolite between them, supporting it with both hands. She takes a breath. "I think we've known each other before," she says. "I'm Verna Pritchard. From high school."
Bob doesn't miss a beat. "I thought there was something familiar about you," he says. He's actually smirking.
She remembers that smirk. She has a vivid picture of Bob capering triumphantly in the snow, sniggering like a ten-year-old. Herself wrecked and crumpled.
She knows better than to swing widely. She brings the stromatolite up hard, a short sharp jab right underneath Bob's lower jaw. There's a crunch, the only sound. His head snaps back. Now he's sprawled on the rock. She holds the stromatolite over his forehead, lets it drop. Again. Once again. There. That seems to have done it.
Bob looks ridiculous, with his eyes open and fixed and his forehead mashed in and blood running down both sides of his face. "You're a mess," she says. He looks laughable, so she laughs. As she suspected, the front teeth are implants.
She takes a moment to steady her breathing. Then she retrieves the stromatolite, being careful not to let any of the blood touch her or even her gloves, and slides it into a pool of bog water. Bob's baseball cap has fallen off; she stuffs it into her pack, along with his jacket. She empties out his backpack: nothing in there but the camera, a pair of woollen mitts, a scarf, and six miniature bottles of Scotch—how pathetically hopeful of him. She rolls the pack up, stuffs it inside her own, adds the camera, which she'll toss into the sea later. Then she dries the stromatolite off on the scarf, checking to make sure there's no visible blood, and stows it in her pack. She leaves Bob to the ravens and the lemmings and the rest of the food chain. Then she hikes back around the base of the third ridge, adjusting her jacket. Anyone looking will assume she's just been having a pee. People do sneak off like that, on shore visits. But no one is looking.
She finds the young geologist—he's still on the second ridge, along with his coterie of admirers—and produces the stromatolite.
"May I take it back to the ship?" she asks sweetly. "For the rock table?"
"Fantastic sample!" he says.
Travellers are making their way shoreward, back to the Zodiacs. When she reaches the bags with the life jackets, Verna fumbles with her shoelaces until all eyes are elsewhere and she can cram an extra life jacket into her backpack. The pack is a lot bulkier than it was when she left the ship, but it would be odd if anyone noticed that.
Once up the gangway, she diddles around with her pack until everyone else has moved past the tag board, then flips Bob's tag from red to green. And her own tag, too, of course.
On the way to her cabin she waits till the corridor is clear, then slips through Bob's unlocked door. The room key is on the dresser; she leaves it there. She hangs up the life jacket and Bob's waterproof and baseball cap, runs some water in the sink, messes up a towel. Then she goes to her own cabin along the still-empty corridor, takes off her gloves, washes them, and hangs them up to dry. She's broken a nail, worse luck, but she can repair that. She checks her face: a touch of sunburn, but nothing serious. For dinner, she dresses in pink and makes an effort to flirt with Bob the Second, who gamely returns her serves but is surely too decrepit to be a serious prospect. Just as well—her adrenaline level is plummeting. If there are northern lights, they've been told, there will be an announcement, but Verna doesn't intend to get up for them.
So far she's in the clear. All she has to do now is maintain the mirage of Bob, faithfully turning his tag from green to red, from red to green. He'll move objects around in his cabin, wear different items from his beige-and-plaid wardrobe, sleep in his bed, take showers, leaving the towels on the floor. He will receive a first-name-only invitation to have dinner at a staff table, which will then quietly appear under the door of one of the other Bobs, and no one will spot the substitution. He will brush his teeth. He will adjust his alarm clock. He will send in laundry, without, however, filling out the slip: that would be too risky. The cleaning staff won't care—a lot of older people forget to fill out their laundry slips.
Meanwhile, the stromatolite will sit on the geological samples table and will be picked up and examined and discussed, acquiring many fingerprints. At the end of the trip it will be jettisoned. The Resolute II will travel for fourteen days; it will stop for shore visits eighteen times. It will sail past ice caps and sheer cliffs, and mountains of gold and copper and ebony black and silver gray; it will glide through pack ice; it will anchor off long, implacable beaches and explore fjords gouged by glaciers over millions of years. In the midst of such rigorous and demanding splendor, who will remember Bob?
There will be a moment of truth at the end of the voyage, when Bob will not appear to pay his bill and pick up his passport; nor will he pack his bags. There will be a flurry of concern, followed by a staff meeting—behind closed doors, so as not to alarm the passengers. Ultimately, there will be a news item: Bob, tragically, must have fallen off the ship on the last night of the voyage while leaning over to get a better camera angle on the northern lights. No other explanation is possible.
Meanwhile, the passengers will have scattered to the winds, Verna among them. If, that is, she pulls it off. Will she or won't she? She ought to care more about that—she ought to find it an exciting challenge—but right now she just feels tired and somewhat empty.
Though at peace, though safe. Calm of mind all passion spent, as her third husband used to say so annoyingly after his Viagra sessions. Those Victorians always coupled sex with death. Who was that poet anyway? Keats? Tennyson? Her memory isn't what it was. But the details will come back to her later. ♦


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TRUTNEE Lasertag Portal :: World Laser Tag News
The most popular articles
Read our exclusive 'on-line interviews' with representatives of the world's leading laser tag brands:
03.04.2010: Vote: How much time a standard indoor laser tag game should last?
Results (left to right):
The poll has been conducted at TRUTNEE's (Russian section) in January - March, 2010. Total number of votes received - 105 (100%). Vote Format: single choice, one vote per one IP address.
10.01.2010: The budgetary-technical classes of laser tag systems currently operated in Europe and some of the NIS countries
* The diagram "Europe" excludes Baltic states, Russia and Ukraine (shown separately). The diagrams are based on the data provided by European Laser Tag Directory (ELTD; as per the end of 2009) with the adjustment concerning LaserMaxx sites according to the Manufacturer's request not listed in the ELTD. The budgetary-technical class separation was done according to the own classification by TRUTNEE; for your quick reference (examples only): we consider Q-Zar system as a typical representative of the low-budget class, LaserBlast - as a medium-class and LaserForce as a - premium-class equipment.
(C) 2010 TRUTNEE Laser Tag Portal
01.01.2010: Vote: From the point of view of a player, how do price discounts and bonuses influence the desire to play indoor laser tag?
A - "I don't pay any attention to the discounts at all" (12.5%)
B - "I don't think the discounts and bonuses influence my desire to play very much" (8.93%)
C - "I don't know - I've never thought about this" (3.57%)
D - "They do influence my decision to play; it's always good to get a discount" (62.5%)
E - "Discounts and bonuses are of a great importance for me, I try not to miss such special games" (7.14%)
F - "I only play laser tag when I'm provided with a discount or a bonus" (5.36%)
The poll has been conducted at TRUTNEE's (Russian section) in September - December, 2009. Total number of votes received - 56 (100%). Vote Format: single choice, one vote per one IP address.
(C) 2009 TRUTNEE Laser Tag Portal / Background image: (С) Q-Zar
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A portion of the proceeds from the sale of the magazine and book will benefit the Carroll Shelby Foundation
This past summer, Source Interlink Media honored Carroll Shelby, one of the automotive world's most beloved icons, by unveiling a special tribute magazine and limited-edition hardbound coffee table book, produced under the direction of Motor Trend magazine with assistance from the editors of Automobile, Hot Rod, Muscle Mustangs and Fast Fords, and Mustang Monthly magazines.
The special 132-page magazine tribute, which went on sale Aug. 3 and is available on newsstands, features stories about the legend himself, along with original articles reprinted from vintage issues of Motor Trend, Hot Rod, Sports Car Graphic, and Automobile magazines. Editorial pieces about Mr. Shelby's companies, including the 50th anniversary of Shelby American Inc. and the establishment of the Carroll Shelby Foundation, are printed alongside a variety of incredible images enthusiasts can't find anywhere else.
A portion of the proceeds from the sale of the magazine and book will benefit the Carroll Shelby Foundation, established by Mr. Shelby to provide financial support for children battling life-threatening illnesses and to promote continuing education.
On Wednesday, Oct. 31, Chris Argentieri, president of Source Interlink Media, LLC, presented Executive Director Jenni Shreeves of the Carroll Shelby Foundation with a check from proceeds generated from the sale of these two special publications. In addition, Donald Farr, editor of Mustang Monthly, was also on hand to share some of his personal stories about working with the legendary Shelby throughout his career.


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Community members gathered in Northridge Friday morning to mark the 20th anniversary of the devastating 1994 earthquake that claimed the lives of 57 people and caused billions of dollars in damage.
A look at events in the death of Kelly Thomas after an altercation with Fullerton police.
The magnitude-6.7 earthquake that struck Northridge around 4:30 a.m. on Jan. 17...View gallery
Southern California seismologist Lucile Jones' job is to study earthquakes for ways to make people safer. So she spends a lot of time focused on the vast gap between what scientists know about the next big...
As the 20th anniversary of the Northridge earthquake approaches, NBC4's Kim Baldonado talks to a Caltech earthquake preparedness expert on what Southern Californians need to do to be ready for the next "big one"...
Tweets by @RealTime94Quake
Quake Resources
NBCLA Earthquakes Page
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Earthquake Myths Exposed
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Bali | Ceremonial Days (Part Two)
October, 2015 I'm riding on the back of Wayan's motorbike, trying not to squeeze the breath out of her. There's a wedding ceremony taking place in my village and getting there means I… Continue reading
October, 2015 I'm riding on the back of Wayan's motorbike, trying not to squeeze the breath out of her. There's a wedding ceremony taking place in my village and getting there means I… Continue reading
October 20, 2015 Balinese culture is characterized by an intricate web of ceremonies. Thirteen of these are important rights of passage to purify and protect a person's soul. So if you speak to… Continue reading
Oct 14, 2015 | Lodtunduh, Bali It's midnight and I'm feeling the tiredness of a day spent wandering Ubud, the sun beating hot on my shoulders. The light in the living room casts… Continue reading
Oct 13, 2015 | Tegalalang, Bali Dewa picks me up and I tell him I want to get out of Ubud for the afternoon. Please, I say, take me somewhere green. And so… Continue reading
Oct 10/2015, Lodtunduh, Bali A cool breeze sweeps through the rice paddies. It encircles me as I walk barefoot along the narrow, grassy ridges that wind through the fields. I stop for a… Continue reading
Oct 7 , 2015 | Padangtegal, Ubud, Bali I've read about The Sacred Monkey Forest before arriving in Bali and I'm as hesitant to go as I am curious. I have visions of… Continue reading
Oct 6, 2015 | Bali It's early days in Bali but already there's a rhythm that's been born. I wake up, without an alarm, at 7:30 each morning. I part the mosquito netting… Continue reading
Oct 4, 2015 | Ubud, Bali Dewa takes me on the 10-minute drive into Ubud. The speeding motorbikes along the hot, narrow road don't prepare me for the spiderweb of traffic we are… Continue reading
Oct 3, 2015 | Lodtunduh, Bali It's my second night in Bali and evening unfolds in a way that is completely unfamiliar to me. Gone are the cars beyond my living room windows,… Continue reading
I've been in Bali for just over a week and apart from posting on Instagram and privately on Facebook, I've been slow to stir together a blog post. I could say I've been… Continue reading
I've been shushing travel anxiety big time and focusing on ticking things off my list, which brings instant relief. And I discovered, too, that amalgamating all the bits and pieces of wayward lists… Continue reading
So, it's been a bit of a hustle to nail down final details before embarking on my trip, but I'm truly able to say: Bali, you can now have all of my heart!… Continue reading


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My answer to I want to make a website, a social media website can you guys give me tips?
Answer by Jeannette Marshall:
I recommend Google's blogspot or Word Press — you can start out with a blog and then have it transformed into a website after purchasing the domain. There are others like WIX that guide you in the set up. Frankly, I find GoDaddy cumbersome to navigate, ending up frustrated before finishing. Personally, I will follow this to see what others post. I embrace other's opinions and their discoveries of unique and effective ways of doing things. Keep open minded while reserve judgement until you establish your own experience. Be wary of others endorsements which may be a form of creating a lead for themselves to elevate their own reputation of expertise. I trust Google in helping me find what I am looking for: use Google search by asking full questions of what you are looking for, for example: "The best website creation for e-commerce". The responses from your search will show which ones are generated from paid search engine results and manipulations.
I want to make a website, a social media website can you guys give me tips?
via Blogger http://ift.tt/2hss9kn
via Blogger http://ift.tt/2gpJXI1
via Blogger http://ift.tt/2htc7Hh
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Haute Couture for your walls.
This wall is wearing our "Moon Lattice" pattern, printed on our posh peel & stick fabric WallSkins.
Simply enter your measurements in the spaces provided above and we'll custom cut your wall's new wardrobe into wicked easy seamless DIY strips, ensuring the perfect couture fit. Strips range from 2-2.5 feet wide, but we'll figure that part out for you. We're cool like that. Later messy glue & never cut from confusing wallpaper rolls again! Naked walls are our thing.
Like to discuss a custom design, specific cuts, sizes or colors? Live chat or contact us. We make it so easy, it's ridiculous. Checkout our short WallSkin™ DIY Install video & watch the magic happen. Gotta feel it to believe it? Get your hands on a sample here. Need further Intel? Checkout our FAQ's page.
What are your walls wearing?


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Royal Dux is the more common name for the Duxer Porzellanmanufaktur, which was founded by E. Eichler in Dux, Bohemia (now Duchov, Czech Republic), in 1860. By the turn of the century, the firm specialized in porcelain statuary and busts of Art Nouveau-style maidens, large porcelain figures, and ornate vases with three-dimensional figures climbing on the sides. Before 1938, the company had over 12,000 molds for porcelain. The firm is still in business. It is now part of Czesky Porcelan (Czech Porcelain). Fakes have been made in recent years.
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Patti Blagojevich says her 23-day stint on a reality TV series in Costa Rica was an opportunity to "step away from the problems" back in Illinois.
The former Illinois first lady Tuesday was voted off NBC's "I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here!"
During her time on the show, Blagojevich ate a tarantula, was washed down rivers and suspended from wires.
She said the experience made her hopeful about the future. Blagojevich replaced her husband, ousted Gov. Rod Blagojevich, on the show.
The former governor faces federal corruption charges. A judge barred him from leaving the United States.
Patti Blagojevich said her time on the show helped her find more strength. She said she felt welcomed, accepted, and encouraged by the other celebrities.
Her publicist told NBC that Blagojevich will stay in the jungle for "a few more days."


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Someone recommended a film to you last week but you just can't remember which one it was. You could probably benefit from downloading Flickd Movies, an app that won't let you lose track of something that has piqued your interest.
What does it do?
It lets you search through movies and add the ones you want to view to a must-see list. You can also ask to be notified when a movie comes out with a certain actor in it, so you don't miss it. Plus it links up with your Netflix account for easy queueing.
Why do we like it?
Browsing through Netflix with no idea of what you want to watch is miserable. You search and search, but just can't find anything. But this will add new titles to your queue as soon as they're added (for discs too). Perusing Flickd is nice too, because it lets you look through full-screen posters in a pretty interface. And if you feel like telling the world what you're watching, it integrates with Twitter. [TheNextWeb]
Flickd Movies
Download this app for:
- iPhone, $0.99
The Best:
Works with Netflix
The Worst:
No trailers


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City of Lincoln
Mayor's Office
2004 Media Releases
Mayor Coleen J. Seng today asked citizens to continue voluntary water conservation measures due to continuing drought-like conditions. Those with addresses ending in even numbers are asked to water lawns on Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Those with addresses ending in odd numbers are asked to water on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Jerry Obrist, Chief Engineer with the Lincoln Water System, says precipitation in the Lincoln area is several inches below normal over the last 12 months. The sources of the City water supply also received below normal precipitation over the past year, and the severe drought continues in western Nebraska and in the mountain states.
"Conservation is necessary in order for us to maintain an adequate water supply," said Mayor Seng. "By continuing the voluntary water conservation efforts last year, we were able to avoid any mandatory water restrictions like we saw in 2002. We also made some changes to the water management plan last year to add some restrictions for local government's water use and to make it easier for residents to comply."
Citizens are asked to wash vehicles on the same schedule as lawn watering. Mondays are reserved for watering golf course fairways and other special needs. The Lincoln Water System recommends the following conservation tips:
If the voluntary restrictions become mandatory, residents will be required to follow the watering schedule. Customers who violate the restrictions are subject to fines and can have their water service terminated. Violators would be liable for all costs of enforcement.
If mandatory restrictions are needed later, the following provisions would also go into effect:
To help residents reduce their outdoor water use, the Mayor's Water Conservation Task Force has published a new brochure called "A Guide to Planting Waterwise." The brochure is available on the City web site at and at the County-City Building, local nurseries and retailers carrying lawn and garden stock and supplies.
City residents are also reminded that water fees are structure to encourage conservation – the more water used, the higher the rate. Information on water rates can be found on the City web site under Public Works and Utilities.


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In what could be a sign that the next quarterback domino is about to fall, soon-to-be former Raider Carson Palmer was in Arizona yesterday.
According to Kent Somers of the Arizona Republic, Palmer had dinner with Cardinals executives last night.
There's no word as to whether it was one of those Chip Kelly dinners in Arizona that goes on for hours and hours, or whether the deal is 95 percent done.
But clearly they seem willing to work with Palmer the quarterback, as long as he's willing to work with them on his contract, as they're no more interested in paying him $13 million than the Raiders were.


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Are you frustrated with your furnace? Concerned that your air conditioner isn't actually cooling? Perhaps you're perturbed with your plumbing. Call Church Plumbing & Heating. Our professional plumbers and expert heating & air conditioning technicians know what it takes to fix your problems right the first time AND for a fair price. You can count on quick responses too… Unlike other companies, we specialize in repairs and replacements on plumbing, heating, and cooling systems for homes and businesses. Whether your drains aren't draining, your water heater isn't so hot, or your furnace needs fixed, we can help!
Click here to see feedback and reviews from our customers.
Our Services
Enjoy top-notch solutions from your Elkhart and South Bend plumbing and HVAC experts. Call Church Plumbing & Heating at (844)340-6844 for the best value in home maintenance solutions.
Plumbing isn't something most homeowners typically think about. There's where we come in. Whether you've got a plumbing emergency like a burst pipe, a clogged toilet, a leaking water heater, or a gas leak emergency or are just looking to update your kitchen or bathroom with a new faucet or toilet, the plumbing experts at Church Plumbing & Heating have got you covered.
At Church Plumbing & Heating, we know how important it is to keep your family warm through the winter... We're homeowners, too! Let our technicians keep you comfortable with expert heating system installation and repair services. There is no other heating company in the Elkhart, IN or South Bend, IN area that can keep you covered like Church Plumbing & Heating.
Air Conditioning
Summertime is meant for enjoying the outdoors, backyard barbecues, and days at the beach. At Church Plumbing & Heating, we don't want our clients to worry about their cooling systems. If you live in the Elkhart, IN or South Bend, IN area, make sure your air conditioner is working properly and efficiently with help from the experts at Church Plumbing & Heating.


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Licenses for desktop fonts
A typical desktop font EULA will allow you to install the font on your computer for use with authoring tools including word processors, design tools and other applications that permit font selection. Fonts can also be used for creation of print documents, static images (JPEG, TIFF, PNG) and logos. The cost of a desktop font license is determined by the number of workstations on which the font is to be used. View the desktop EULA for this family
Licenses for digital ads
A digital ad license allows use of a font within banner ads or ads that are displayed in Web or mobile applications. When purchasing your digital ad license, you specify the number of impressions your campaign will require. If you're uncertain how many impressions you will need, you can purchase a small allotment and true up at the end of the month. Upon purchasing your license, you can download an ad kit containing Web font versions of the typefaces you licensed. You can upload your ad kit onto your ad network or embed the fonts directly into your ads. View the Monotype digital ad license agreement
Licenses for regular Web fonts
Available in "Pay as you go" or "Pay once" models
Webfonts are licensed for use on websites in accordance with the conditions of the [email protected] face declaration. The Web fonts that can be acquired from Fonts.com are supported by all major browsers, including Firefox 3.5+, IE 5+, Opera 10+, Chrome 4+, Safari 3.1+, iOS Mobile Safari, Android 2.2+ and BlackBerry OS 6.
The pay once license is not time-restricted and you need to pay only once, without additional charges provided your traffic stays within the allowance of your original purchase. If your traffic exceeds your pageview allowance, you can return to Fonts.com to purchase an incremental web font license to cover the difference.
You can purchase many web fonts from our partner foundries in the Pay Once model.


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The following types of public service companies must report annually,
on or before April 15, to the State Corporation Commission all real and
tangible personal property in Virginia as of January 1 preceding.
Pursuant to §58.1-2610 of the Code of Virginia, failure to file
a timely annual report may result in penalties.
Pursuant to §58.1-2628 of the Code of Virginia, telecommunications
companies must report annually, on or before April 15, all property, owned,
operated or used in Virginia, except leased vehicles and real estate.
In addition, supporting financial information should be included
with the annual report so that the values reported can be verified.
Companies that are required to file an annual property
report should notify this division of any real property transactions
as they occur throughout the year (acquisitions, sales, leases, easements, etc.).
Property is reported showing the city, county, town, or magisterial
district wherein such property is located. Each locality is assigned a locality
district code, which should be used in conjunction with the locality name.
The PST Locality District Codes list is updated annually.
Motor Vehicle Carriers must report annually, on or before March 1,
all rolling stock owned or operated in Virginia.


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Products Category
solvent inkSolvent Ink, Eco Solvent Ink And Sublimation Ink Product Description We are a professional supplier in China, such solvent ink for Seiko, our solvent ink has tow types: One is normal type, the other is Environmental protection type. Our ink virtues: 1. Can help you to finish substantial task and the picture can be printed out as expected 2. During Survey shows that the ink for weathering resistance is the same as that for other brand's under the same condition 3. The most competitive price will gain more orders from your customers 4. Environmental protection type is no odor and no poison for the product can preserve environment. 5. It can meet your selected media demand with large compatible capacity 6. It can support all kinds of RIP version software, And specialized persons can offer you all kinds of ICC Curve files and can meet your different Media's demand scheme.
Description of solvent ink for konica
Product Details solvent ink for konica 1.The pigment are imported from Germany. 2.Filtration system is original PALL US. 3. low odor pollution: no heavy metals and radioactive substances as well as aromatic hydrocarbons and other harmful substances. 4. high dynamic characteristics, printing fluid, suitable for high-speed printing. 5. bright colors, expressive images highlight. 6. good storage stability, heat resistance after a long period of cold tolerance test, long-term storage without flocculation, is conducive to ocean shipping.
Description of solvent ink for seiko
solvent ink for seiko Product Details Place of Origin: Weifang Brand Name: xianglin Model Number: solvent ink Delivery Time: within 5 working days after conformation We supply different range solvent ink for Seiko/ Xaar/ Konica/ Spectra etc. printrhead. It can meet your selected media demand with large compatible capacity. It can support all kinds of RIP version software. We will also pffer you specific ICC Curve files to meet your different Media's demand shem Vibrant, brilliant colors Excellent color gamut Color and density consistency between different batches Good outdoor durability Minimum maintenance whether the printer is in use or idle No clogged nozzles thus ensuring better print quality Less wear on the print heads Competitively price Konica Solvent ink Solvent Ink for Seiko Eco Solvent Ink Sublimation Ink
Shanghai 86ink Technology Co., Ltd. is a research and development, production and sales of professional color inkjet ink manufacturer, the existing main brand is "86ink". Company's existing staff of more than 80 scientists and researchers all have bachelor's degree or above, respectively, from the polymer materials, fine chemicals and business management professionals, including two doctors and 8 masters.
About us
Shanghai 86Ink Technology Co., Ltd. specializes in manufacturing digital printing inks. Our inks are applicable for the following printheads and printers:
Xaar, Konica, Seiko, Spectra, Epson, Hitachi printheads, etc,.
Roland, Mimaki, Mutoh, Seiko, Epson, Hp, Canon, Encad, all the Chinese printers and the most wide format printers in the world.
As a leading company with more than 8 years experience in developing and manufacturing digital inkjet ink, we have a 7,000 square meters ink plant located in Shandong province, China. We adopt the most advanced grinding machines, dispersion machines, filters and testing equipment in the world. We focus on innovation, we set up a professional combined laboratory with a branded Chinese University in Shanghai, Our R&D team is composed ……


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Luke Burbank is the host of a podcast called "Too Beautiful To Live". TBTL used to be a radio show until it got canceled. After switching to a self produced podcast the show became much more popular reaching 1.5 million downloads a month. He told writer Matt Halverson one of the benefits of doing a podcast is you don't have to wear pants, which is where the idea of photographing him in a bathroom came from.
This is a short video documenting the construction of the set and some footage from the shoot. I hope you enjoy it.
Client: Seattle Met
Art Director: Benjamen Purvis
Set Builder: Brett Thomson


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Does your mountain bike feel good? Testing riding mtn bikes is a waste of time! Now that I have your attention this post is also about how to test ride a mountain bike and make the most of it.
This is one of the most amusing concepts I have ever come across. So often I hear/read riders talking about how good their bike feels. Sometimes I hear racers talking about how they tuned their suspension until it felt good. Often they talk about how they love their bike (because it feels good) and recommend their exact bike to friends based on their feelings. Sometimes they will put down another bike saying they test rode it (for all of five minutes in a parking lot) and it felt weird, slow, twitchy, tall, etc. and they say stay away from that bike. How knowledgeable on mountain bike handling is your friend? How many bikes has he ridden (for more than an hour) so can he really give a good opinion? Does he ride with proper body position and technique? Don't believe the hype!
Why is this amusing? For many reasons! First, you know what feels good? What you are used to. Change always feels weird! If I took your bike and rolled the bars just one degree forward without telling you you would say that your bike suddenly feels weird! If I did that plus added 15 pounds of pressure to the tires, stiffened the rear shock, softened your fork and moved your seat .5 inch forward on the rails you would say your bike feels really weird! So when you test ride a bike with different geometry or that is set up different than your bike (wider/skinner bars, longer/shorter stem, steeper/slacker head angle, higher/lower bars, etc.) it is going to feel weird. Conversely, when you test ride a bike with the same geometry that is set up exactly like yours it is going to feel great.
When the Giant Glory downhill bike first came out I was one of the first people in the US to ride it (a writer from the New York Times writing an article about my camps was loaned one) and it was set up perfect for me (the writer and I weighed the same and were almost the same height). I thought it was a great bike and was surprised eight months later when two of my teammates test rode it at Interbike and said it stunk. I immediately went to the Giant tent to test ride the bike they had demoed to see what was up. Halfway down my first run on Snake Back (one of the same runs I tested the bike on seven months earlier) I was questioning my judgment as the bike wasn't performing well. The suspension didn't feel nearly active enough for the rough terrain but the rebound and sag felt about right. I pulled over to adjust the suspension and realized that it was way under-sprung for a large (and it takes a lot of time to switch out a coil spring) so the mechanic had cranked the compression damping on both the rear shock and front fork to stiffen it up for riders my and my teammates' weight. I turned the compression damping way back on both shocks and rode the next section of Snake Back, and although the suspension was way to soft the bike rode much better. I told my teammates to try it again and they were surprised at what a difference that made. Imagine what we would have thought of the bike if we had the time to put the right spring on the fork and rear shock! Imagine if we had a whole day of tuning it and riding it instead of one run!
Weird can often end up being better once you get used to it or understand why/how to use your new setup. A great example of this is "dropper" seat posts. No one can argue that descending with your seat at the height that is perfect for power production when climbing is as good, safe or as efficient as lowering your seat, you simply can not stay in a neutral and balanced position with your seat that high. Despite knowing and understanding this the first time you descend with your seat lowered it feels weird, because you are used to the seat giving you feedback by tapping against your thigh, now it either doesn't do that or does it in a different spot.
You know what else feels really good? The ride of a Cadillac! Now I wouldn't want to take a Cadillac off-road or race it on the road, but wow, it feels great. Ever ridden in a high performance car like a Porsche? High performance cars feel really harsh, kind of like riding a fully rigid mountain bike, but boy do they handle well. So feeling "good" doesn't always translate in to performing well. I want my bike to perform well so I have made changes to my bikes to make them climb, descend and corner at their best (more on this in a future article).
After 24 years of riding mountain bikes, 14 years of studying bike handling and coaching skills to riders from advanced beginners to the best pros in the world and 17 years of racing the pro class I still can't tell much about a bike from a parking lot test ride (except obvious things like steep head angle or feels short for a large, etc.). Even on trail it is tough for me to really get the feel for a mountain bike, unless I take the time to set it up similarly to my bike. Even then, what if the bike I am testing is revolutionary? A revolutionary bike is going to feel weird, I might not like it…. at first.
Have an open mind when test riding bikes. Set the bike up similar to your bike and really give it some time before passing judgment!
Stay tuned for my article on suspension tuning!


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Each agency should designate a liaison to ensure employees receive benefits post combat.
All federal agencies should create a single point of contact to assist civilian employees returning home from war zones, according to guidance from the Office of Personnel Management.
The 2012 National Defense Authorization Act called for the establishment of a Post-Combat Case Coordinator at each agency. The coordinator should help civilians who "incur injury, disability or illness while in a war-risk hazard assignment," according to OPM's memo.
The individual should serve as a liaison for returning employees to answer questions on administrative procedures and what benefits are available for them. The official should also assist the employee in retrieving records to prove the injuries and illnesses.
Whenever possible, OPM said, the liaison should be the agency's Office of Workers' Compensation Programs coordinator. Once established, this advocate should assist a qualified employee immediately upon his return with a proper screening and, if necessary, treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder and similar psychological ailments.
OPM called for the coordinator to continue to assist employees returning from combat zones until they receive a reasonable job offer from the same agency or inform the liaison that they no longer need assistance.


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Unwanted Memories Erased in Electroconvulsive Therapy Experiment
Scientists Search for New Treatments for Mental Trauma
Scientists have zapped an electrical current to people's brains to erase distressing memories, part of an ambitious quest to better treat ailments such as mental trauma, psychiatric disorders and drug addiction.
In an experiment, patients were first shown a troubling story, in words and pictures. A week later they were reminded about it and given electroconvulsive therapy, formerly known as electroshock. That completely wiped out their recall of the distressing narrative....


text: Updated 2016 Manchester has long been a powerhouse in the football and music arenas, but the city itself was known more for its industry than for its culture. Fortunately things are changing. The central part of the city has been revitalized and is now a legitimate stop for travelers looking for culture or to do a bit of shopping. But it still rains here, a lot, even during the summer, so come prepared. Start with this overview of Manchester.


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High-speed-rail brawl hits House
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but what happens in California is never so shy.
Or so it seems in the case of a homegrown, Golden State partisan brawl over high-speed rail that has spilled onto the House floor and into year-end budget negotiations. At stake is a multibillion-dollar, years-in-the-works public works project — but also a governmentwide spending bill that could play into the high-stakes deficit-reduction talks between Congress and the White House.
Story Continued Below
The cast of characters runs from the legendary Democratic Gov. Jerry Brown to House Majority Whip Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) and back to Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.), a Brown ally and fellow champion of high-speed rail for Nevada.
Top aides to Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) are actively involved. And Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood — who is scheduled to testify Thursday at a House hearing on high-speed rail — is making himself heard with phone calls to the Capitol.
"Ray's very agitated," said one former colleague on the House Appropriations Committee.
At issue is a House provision adopted in late June on a highly partisan vote triggered by the California Republican delegation. It would bar any new federal money from going to the Brown-backed California High-Speed Rail Authority.
Rep. Jeff Denham, a Republican freshman and veteran of the California Legislature, was the sponsor. And McCarthy is using his leadership post to press for the language as part of whatever compromise is reached on transportation funding for the coming year.
That transportation title is just one piece in a much bigger omnibus spending package that is largely drafted — after months of negotiations — and remains a top priority for the Appropriations panel leadership. Getting floor time in the shadow of the current budget talks will be difficult.
But Speaker John Boehner (R-Ohio) proposed $300 billion more in savings, over a decade, from discretionary spending this week as part of his talks with the White House. And in doing so, he indirectly boosted the omnibus's chances as the best vehicle to begin these cuts.
Indeed, the draft bill is a far more detailed, up-to-date package than the current continuing resolution that is funding agencies. And an across-the-board cut could be implemented as a down payment on whatever discretionary cut is agreed to by President Barack Obama and Boehner.
As it stands now, the package is written to meet the $1.047 trillion cap set by the Budget Control Act in 2011. So each 1-percentage-point cut could translate into about $10 billion in savings the first year, and potentially $100 billion over 10 years.
Given the state of the economy, the administration is sure to resist deep, immediate cuts to domestic spending. But faced with the threat of a much more dramatic across-the-board sequester, there is room for compromise as part of a larger deficit-reduction deal.
All of this raises the stakes of lingering disputes like the one over the future of California's dream of high-speed rail.


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Monumental Works by Tony Scherman on View at the WAG
Encaustic painting is the art of painting with hot wax and Canadian artist Tony Scherman is one of the most provocative practitioners of this challenging art. An exhibition of his work, Tony Scherman: A Major Acquisition, opens at the Winnipeg Art Gallery on January 9, continuing until March 14.
"The WAG collection held only one Tony Scherman painting until 2009 when he generously donated eleven more, spanning his entire oeuvre," says Mary Reid, Curator of Contemporary Art and Photography. "This exhibition charts the course of his career beginning with still life, moving on to abstraction, then a representational style, and his most recent work focusing on major historical or pop culture events. Scherman's work is about beauty, both the exquisite lightness and tortuous darkness of the human experience."
In discussing the effect produced by the encaustic process, Reid cites Scherman's portraiture, including images of Marlon Brando as Napoleon and Jim Morrison. "The face fills the entire space of the canvas and the use of wax allows the artist to build up a heavily textured surface much like the bumps and wrinkles that are characteristic of human skin. The result, in huge 6 foot canvases, is very impressive."
"It's always a great moment when an artist chooses to donate a significant body of work to a public gallery—and the WAG celebrates this major gift," says WAG Director Dr. Stephen Borys.
Related Programs
Artist Talk
With local artist and encaustic painter Tim Schouten
Thursday, January 21 • 7pm
Exhibition Tours
Wednesday, February 3 • 12:10pm at Art for Lunch
Sunday, February 28 • 2pm
Art Workshop
Saturday and Sunday, January 23-24 • Encaustic Painting • Registration deadline January 11.
Artist Talk
With Tony Scherman
Thursday, March 4 • 7:30pm
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My Science Project
Item #: AH8254
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|Teenager Stockwell stumbles across a crystal sphere with a funky light. Unaware that it is an alien time-travel device, he takes it to school to use as a science project in a last-ditch effort to avoid failing his class. Chaos follows and Stockwell and his chums find themselves battling gladiators, mutants, and dinosaurs. Plenty of special effects and a likeable enough, dumb teenage flick.
|Directed by:
|Jonathan Betuel
|Touchstone Pictures.
|John Stockwell, Danielle von Zerneck, Fisher Stevens, Raphael Sbarge, Richard Masur, Barry Corbin, Ann Wedgeworth, Dennis Hopper, Candace Silvers, Beau Dremann, Pat Simmons, Pamela Springsteen