Elton John is a five-time Grammy and one-time Academy Award-winning English pop/rock singer, composer and pianist + he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1994 + he frequently collaborates with other artists + he has a distinctive vocal style + founded the Elton John AIDS Foundation in 1992 as a charity to fund programmes for HIV/AIDS + he continues to inspire musicians today.
I love his music.
Useful links:
www.eltonjohn.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elton_John
Sunday, December 09, 2007
The Hidden Language Of Baseball
In my view, the intricate system (s) of coded language that govern action on the field and give baseball its unique appeal is comparable to the hidden, and inner aspects of colored stone/diamond/art market (s). One must reread Paul Dickson's The Hidden Language of Baseball to understand the scientific aspects of the game and relate the concept to the gem/jewelry/art markets.
Here is what the description of The Hidden Language Of Baseball says (via Amazon):
Baseball is set apart from other sports by many things, but few are more distinctive than the intricate systems of coded language that govern action on the field and give baseball its unique appeal. During a nine-inning game, more than 1,000 silent instructions are given-from catcher to pitcher, coach to batter, fielder to fielder, umpire to umpire-and without this speechless communication the game would simply not be the same. Baseball historian Paul Dickson examines for the first time the rich legacy of baseball's hidden language, offering fans everywhere a smorgasbord of history and anecdote.
Baseball's tradition of signing grew out of the signal flags used by ships and soldiers' hand signals during battle. They were first used in games during the Civil War, and then professionally by the Cincinnati Red Stockings, in 1869. Seven years later, the Hartford Dark Blues appear to be the first team to steal signs, introducing a larcenous obsession that, as Dickson delightfully chronicles, has given the game some of its most historic-and outlandish-moments.
Whether detailing the origins of the hit-and-run, the true story behind the home run that gave "Home Run" Baker his nickname, Bob Feller's sign-stealing telescope, Casey Stengel's improbable method of signaling his bullpen, the impact of sign stealing on the Giants' miraculous comeback in 1951, or the pitches Andy Pettitte tipped off that altered the momentum of the 2001 World Series, Dickson's research is as thorough as his stories are entertaining. A roster of baseball's greatest names and games, past and present, echoes throughout, making The Hidden Language of Baseball a unique window on the history of our national pastime.
Here is what the description of The Hidden Language Of Baseball says (via Amazon):
Baseball is set apart from other sports by many things, but few are more distinctive than the intricate systems of coded language that govern action on the field and give baseball its unique appeal. During a nine-inning game, more than 1,000 silent instructions are given-from catcher to pitcher, coach to batter, fielder to fielder, umpire to umpire-and without this speechless communication the game would simply not be the same. Baseball historian Paul Dickson examines for the first time the rich legacy of baseball's hidden language, offering fans everywhere a smorgasbord of history and anecdote.
Baseball's tradition of signing grew out of the signal flags used by ships and soldiers' hand signals during battle. They were first used in games during the Civil War, and then professionally by the Cincinnati Red Stockings, in 1869. Seven years later, the Hartford Dark Blues appear to be the first team to steal signs, introducing a larcenous obsession that, as Dickson delightfully chronicles, has given the game some of its most historic-and outlandish-moments.
Whether detailing the origins of the hit-and-run, the true story behind the home run that gave "Home Run" Baker his nickname, Bob Feller's sign-stealing telescope, Casey Stengel's improbable method of signaling his bullpen, the impact of sign stealing on the Giants' miraculous comeback in 1951, or the pitches Andy Pettitte tipped off that altered the momentum of the 2001 World Series, Dickson's research is as thorough as his stories are entertaining. A roster of baseball's greatest names and games, past and present, echoes throughout, making The Hidden Language of Baseball a unique window on the history of our national pastime.
Rose Cuts
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
A Rose cut diamond has a flat bottom which is usually a cleavage plane. Therefore, by definition, it has no pavilion. The crown is more or less dome-shaped, and covered with triangular facets in a specific design, terminating in a point. It is, in fact, a Point Cut. As a rule, Roses are round, triangular or drop-shaped, but more fancy outlines also exist. Almost all diamond of this cut are foiled in order to improve their light effects. Most modern writers refer to faceted diamonds of the fifteenth, sixteenth and most of the seventeenth centuries as Rose Cuts, regardless of the type of faceting. This over-simplification is probably partly due to Cellini’s Trattato dell’ Oreficeria of 1565, in which he calls the three main types of diamond cut in tavola, a facette and in punta. A facette was erroneously understood to refer to the Rose Cut. Another source of confusion has been the term ‘Rose’, originally used to describe the clusters of small stones now called Rosettes.
Early sources contrasted faceted diamond with Points and Tables but did not go into further detail. For diamonds which are neither square nor rectangular they invented descriptive names such as Kite, Lozenge, Triangle and Shield. Fancy shapes with a flat top instead of the usual point were named Coxcomb, Calf’s Head, etc. These were, in fact, variations of the popular Table Cut, as opposed to the fancy pointed shapes with faceted crown and no pavilion which I have name Gothic Roses. One should really call this cut ‘the Gothic Flat Bottomed Cut’—a term more technically correct but impossibly unromantic! At first, Gothic Rose Cuts were only basically faceted and had no standard design, the cutter following the crystallography of his rough and applying only a small number of facets. He was forced to add further facets only when the rough did not favor simplicity, or in order to obtain a good polish, or to dispose of disturbing flaws and irregularities.
During the transition from the Renaissance period to the Baroque, the Table Cut gradually lost its long-lasting popularity and finally ceded to the Brilliant Cut. Glittering diamonds became the fashion, but there was often a great shortage of rough suitable for this new, pavilion-based cut. So a design of a richly patterned type was introduced, a pattern with six-part symmetry and a stepped crown on a flat base. In other words, the crown had two concentric rows of facets, the lower row to the bottom of the stone and the upper row meeting in a point. This ‘stepping’ or ‘crowning’ was the innovation which produced light effects previously unknown in the Gothic Rose. It looked like a small, half-opened rosebud, and this was no doubt why it got its name. The old Rosettes were by now forgotten, so the name Rose Cut could happily be given to a new cut. This was clearly a commercial follower of the forsaken Double Rosette, inspired by it and the Pointed Star Cut, and hardly, as frequently claimed, by the Mughal Cut.
The legendary collection of religious objects known as La Chapelle de Richelieu became Crown property. Among other marvels, it contained a statue of the Virgin said to have been set with ‘1253 small Rose Cut diamonds’. Another French document also mentioned by Bapst in 1889 refers to ‘une roze ronde taille a facettes de grande etendu and ‘ung autre diamant en roze fort jaulni’ in 1649. Two Dutch documents also mention this cut—the first, in 1640, recording two pairs of pendants set with large and small Rose diamonds. The second, dated 1688, describes a jewel set with ‘een heel groote Roos facet diamant of een crustal’, meaning that it was fashioned from a single crystal.
In 1661 Cardinal Mazarin, successor to Richelieu, bequeathed part of his large collection of jewelry to the Crown and the inventory refers to a large diamond called the Rose d’Angleterre, long thought to be a Rose Cut but now proved to have been something totally different, with an unusually large table. Bernard Morel discovered that the gem was given this name because, during the reign of Charles I and Henrietta Maria, it was set in a jewel decorated with the roses of York and Lancaster. Morel believes that the diamond ‘was fashioned much like a brilliant but with fewer facets round the large table, and multifaceted below the girdle.’
A Rose cut diamond has a flat bottom which is usually a cleavage plane. Therefore, by definition, it has no pavilion. The crown is more or less dome-shaped, and covered with triangular facets in a specific design, terminating in a point. It is, in fact, a Point Cut. As a rule, Roses are round, triangular or drop-shaped, but more fancy outlines also exist. Almost all diamond of this cut are foiled in order to improve their light effects. Most modern writers refer to faceted diamonds of the fifteenth, sixteenth and most of the seventeenth centuries as Rose Cuts, regardless of the type of faceting. This over-simplification is probably partly due to Cellini’s Trattato dell’ Oreficeria of 1565, in which he calls the three main types of diamond cut in tavola, a facette and in punta. A facette was erroneously understood to refer to the Rose Cut. Another source of confusion has been the term ‘Rose’, originally used to describe the clusters of small stones now called Rosettes.
Early sources contrasted faceted diamond with Points and Tables but did not go into further detail. For diamonds which are neither square nor rectangular they invented descriptive names such as Kite, Lozenge, Triangle and Shield. Fancy shapes with a flat top instead of the usual point were named Coxcomb, Calf’s Head, etc. These were, in fact, variations of the popular Table Cut, as opposed to the fancy pointed shapes with faceted crown and no pavilion which I have name Gothic Roses. One should really call this cut ‘the Gothic Flat Bottomed Cut’—a term more technically correct but impossibly unromantic! At first, Gothic Rose Cuts were only basically faceted and had no standard design, the cutter following the crystallography of his rough and applying only a small number of facets. He was forced to add further facets only when the rough did not favor simplicity, or in order to obtain a good polish, or to dispose of disturbing flaws and irregularities.
During the transition from the Renaissance period to the Baroque, the Table Cut gradually lost its long-lasting popularity and finally ceded to the Brilliant Cut. Glittering diamonds became the fashion, but there was often a great shortage of rough suitable for this new, pavilion-based cut. So a design of a richly patterned type was introduced, a pattern with six-part symmetry and a stepped crown on a flat base. In other words, the crown had two concentric rows of facets, the lower row to the bottom of the stone and the upper row meeting in a point. This ‘stepping’ or ‘crowning’ was the innovation which produced light effects previously unknown in the Gothic Rose. It looked like a small, half-opened rosebud, and this was no doubt why it got its name. The old Rosettes were by now forgotten, so the name Rose Cut could happily be given to a new cut. This was clearly a commercial follower of the forsaken Double Rosette, inspired by it and the Pointed Star Cut, and hardly, as frequently claimed, by the Mughal Cut.
The legendary collection of religious objects known as La Chapelle de Richelieu became Crown property. Among other marvels, it contained a statue of the Virgin said to have been set with ‘1253 small Rose Cut diamonds’. Another French document also mentioned by Bapst in 1889 refers to ‘une roze ronde taille a facettes de grande etendu and ‘ung autre diamant en roze fort jaulni’ in 1649. Two Dutch documents also mention this cut—the first, in 1640, recording two pairs of pendants set with large and small Rose diamonds. The second, dated 1688, describes a jewel set with ‘een heel groote Roos facet diamant of een crustal’, meaning that it was fashioned from a single crystal.
In 1661 Cardinal Mazarin, successor to Richelieu, bequeathed part of his large collection of jewelry to the Crown and the inventory refers to a large diamond called the Rose d’Angleterre, long thought to be a Rose Cut but now proved to have been something totally different, with an unusually large table. Bernard Morel discovered that the gem was given this name because, during the reign of Charles I and Henrietta Maria, it was set in a jewel decorated with the roses of York and Lancaster. Morel believes that the diamond ‘was fashioned much like a brilliant but with fewer facets round the large table, and multifaceted below the girdle.’
How We Learn From Our Mistakes
Laura Blue writes about how a common gene variant affects some people's ability to respond to, and learn from, the negative repercussions of their actions + other viewpoints @ http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1691924,00.html
Charade
Charade (1963)
Directed by: Stanley Donen
Screenplay: Peter Stone , Marc Behm (story); Peter Stone (screenplay)
Cast: Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, Walter Matthau, James Coburn
(via YouTube): Charade Opening Titles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjGDjwxRwpI
Charade - Criterion Collection Movie Trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdM81YPt6FM
A unique thriller-romance-comedy. I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Stanley Donen
Screenplay: Peter Stone , Marc Behm (story); Peter Stone (screenplay)
Cast: Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, Walter Matthau, James Coburn
(via YouTube): Charade Opening Titles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjGDjwxRwpI
Charade - Criterion Collection Movie Trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdM81YPt6FM
A unique thriller-romance-comedy. I enjoyed it.
This Is My Mark ... This Is Man
(via The Guardian) Jonathan Jones writes about a painted cave on a par with Lascaux in France + an underground odyssey - beginning in Wales + other viewpoints @ http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/visualart/story/0,,2222879,00.html
The New Climate
Robin Cembalest writes about the role that artists, arts institutions play in the revival and reconstruction of downtown New York + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnews.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=1012
The Road To Venice
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
5
Justly famous by right of his own paintings, Giovanni is also renowned as the master of some of the greatest painters Venice ever saw, chief among his pupils being Giorgione and Titian. The first was born at Castelfranco in 1470, and was christened Giorgio, but ‘from his stature and the greatness of his mind he was afterwards known as Giorgione,’ that is to say, ‘Great George.’ Though of peasant origin, contemporaries say he was ‘well bred and polished all his life.’ He was of a loving disposition and exceedingly fond of the lute, ‘playing and singing divinely,’ and this love of music became the new note which Giorgione definitely contributed to art, for not only did he frequently introduce music as a subject in his pictures (e.g ‘The Concert’ at Dresden, and the man playing a mandolin in ‘The Golden Age’ at the National Gallery, and the ‘Fete Champetre’ or Musical Party in the Louvre), but all his pictures, as Walter Pater wrote, ‘constantly aspire to the condition of music.’ By this it is meant that everything in a Giorgione is subordinated to beauty, and that his first concern is to create melody of line and harmony of color.
The gentle nature of the artist, who found grace and loveliness in all men and all things, can be traced in every work of his that has survived the storms of time. In his great altar-piece ‘Madonna Enthroned, with St. Liberale and St. Francis,’ for his native hill town of Castelfranco, painted before he was thirty, Giorgione charms us alike by the rhythm and balance of the whole composition and by the lovableness of his types. The sweet simplicity of young womanhood in the Virgin, the naturalness of the Child, the knightliness of the soldier-saint Liberale, the welcoming gesture of the nature-loving Saint who could preach to birds and fishes and call them his brethren—all these things are manifest in the illustration of this beautiful picture.
It is a great misfortune that so many of Giorgione’s paintings have been lost or destroyed in the course of centuries. Barely a score are known for certain to exist today, but among them are some of the most splendid portraits in the world. His ‘Young Man’ in the Berlin Gallery and his ‘Unknown Man’ in the Querini-Stampalia Collection at Venice are examples of his power in portraiture.
Vasari tells us that Giorgione ‘did a picture of Christ bearing the Cross and a Jew dragging him along, which after a time was placed in the Church of St. Rocco, and now works miracles, as we see, through the devotion of the multitudes who visit it.’ We can form some idea of what the exceeding beauty of this painting must have been from the unforgettable head of ‘Christ bearing the Cross,’ which still exists in the private collection of Mrs Gardner, of Boston, USA.
But, alas! not a fragment has survived of the famous picture which Giorgione painted to prove the superiority of painting to sculpture. While Verrocchio was in Venice engaged upon the bronze horse of his splendid Colleone Monument, his admirers argued that sculpture, which presented so many aspects of a figure, was superior to painting. Giorgione maintained that a painting could show at a single glance all the aspects that a man can present, while sculpture can only do so if one walks about it, and thus he proved his contention:
‘He painted a nude figure turning its shoulders; at its feet was a limpid fount of water, the reflection from which showed the front. On one side was a burnished corselet, which had been taken off and gave a side view, because the shining metal reflected everything. On the other side was a mirror showing the other side of the figure.’
The scarcity of Giorgione’s work is partly explained by the fact that he died young. In 1510 he was deeply in love with a Venetian lady, who caught the plague, but ‘Giorgione, being ignorant of this, associated with her as usual, took the infection, and died soon after at the age of thirty four, to the infinite grief of his friends, who loved him for his talents, and to the damage of the world which lost him.’
5
Justly famous by right of his own paintings, Giovanni is also renowned as the master of some of the greatest painters Venice ever saw, chief among his pupils being Giorgione and Titian. The first was born at Castelfranco in 1470, and was christened Giorgio, but ‘from his stature and the greatness of his mind he was afterwards known as Giorgione,’ that is to say, ‘Great George.’ Though of peasant origin, contemporaries say he was ‘well bred and polished all his life.’ He was of a loving disposition and exceedingly fond of the lute, ‘playing and singing divinely,’ and this love of music became the new note which Giorgione definitely contributed to art, for not only did he frequently introduce music as a subject in his pictures (e.g ‘The Concert’ at Dresden, and the man playing a mandolin in ‘The Golden Age’ at the National Gallery, and the ‘Fete Champetre’ or Musical Party in the Louvre), but all his pictures, as Walter Pater wrote, ‘constantly aspire to the condition of music.’ By this it is meant that everything in a Giorgione is subordinated to beauty, and that his first concern is to create melody of line and harmony of color.
The gentle nature of the artist, who found grace and loveliness in all men and all things, can be traced in every work of his that has survived the storms of time. In his great altar-piece ‘Madonna Enthroned, with St. Liberale and St. Francis,’ for his native hill town of Castelfranco, painted before he was thirty, Giorgione charms us alike by the rhythm and balance of the whole composition and by the lovableness of his types. The sweet simplicity of young womanhood in the Virgin, the naturalness of the Child, the knightliness of the soldier-saint Liberale, the welcoming gesture of the nature-loving Saint who could preach to birds and fishes and call them his brethren—all these things are manifest in the illustration of this beautiful picture.
It is a great misfortune that so many of Giorgione’s paintings have been lost or destroyed in the course of centuries. Barely a score are known for certain to exist today, but among them are some of the most splendid portraits in the world. His ‘Young Man’ in the Berlin Gallery and his ‘Unknown Man’ in the Querini-Stampalia Collection at Venice are examples of his power in portraiture.
Vasari tells us that Giorgione ‘did a picture of Christ bearing the Cross and a Jew dragging him along, which after a time was placed in the Church of St. Rocco, and now works miracles, as we see, through the devotion of the multitudes who visit it.’ We can form some idea of what the exceeding beauty of this painting must have been from the unforgettable head of ‘Christ bearing the Cross,’ which still exists in the private collection of Mrs Gardner, of Boston, USA.
But, alas! not a fragment has survived of the famous picture which Giorgione painted to prove the superiority of painting to sculpture. While Verrocchio was in Venice engaged upon the bronze horse of his splendid Colleone Monument, his admirers argued that sculpture, which presented so many aspects of a figure, was superior to painting. Giorgione maintained that a painting could show at a single glance all the aspects that a man can present, while sculpture can only do so if one walks about it, and thus he proved his contention:
‘He painted a nude figure turning its shoulders; at its feet was a limpid fount of water, the reflection from which showed the front. On one side was a burnished corselet, which had been taken off and gave a side view, because the shining metal reflected everything. On the other side was a mirror showing the other side of the figure.’
The scarcity of Giorgione’s work is partly explained by the fact that he died young. In 1510 he was deeply in love with a Venetian lady, who caught the plague, but ‘Giorgione, being ignorant of this, associated with her as usual, took the infection, and died soon after at the age of thirty four, to the infinite grief of his friends, who loved him for his talents, and to the damage of the world which lost him.’
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