Jean-Michel Basquiat was an American artist + he became popular, first as a graffiti artist in New York City, and then as a successful 1980s-era Neo-expressionist artist + his paintings continue to influence modern day artists and command high prices + in my view his strong use of color and the social commentary in his work creates that otherness.
Useful links:
www.basquiat.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Michel_Basquiat
Every single line means something.
- Jean-Michel Basquiat
Friday, February 15, 2008
The Davis Dynasty
The Davis Dynasty by John Rothchild is a wonderful book about Shelby Davis, one of Wall Street's most successful and least-known investors + its part character study/part Wall Street history + I liked it.
Gulf Stream Energy
Scientists believe that the mighty Gulf Stream, off Florida’s coast rushes by at nearly 8.5 billion gallons per second, the world’s most powerful sustained ocean current + it represent a new, plentiful and uninterrupted source of clean energy + but for now, no one knows the environmental consequences + I think a cost-efficient ‘energy mix’ could be one solution + it’s encouraging to see innovative companies researching for alternative sources to replace fossil fuels.
Useful links:
www.epri.com
www.finavera.com
www.ferc.gov
http://coet.fau.edu
Useful links:
www.epri.com
www.finavera.com
www.ferc.gov
http://coet.fau.edu
Jewelers Of Renaissance
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
- Rings Of Romance And Sentiment
Betrothal rings, wedding rings, love rings, rings as token of friendship or of loyalty to some chosen hero, rings given wholesale in commemoration of an event such as a wedding or a funeral, individual mourning rings—rings no end.
It would seem that a ring more than any other form of jewelry must support the total weight of human emotions and stand by as emblem of joy, woe, and all the intervening shades of feeling that make up the sum of personal relations.
The custom of exchanging betrothal rings traces back to classical times. In ancient Rome the ring represented a pledge made by the father or guardian of the woman to the man destined to be her husband. He in turn pledged himself by the presentation of a ring to his bride-to-be. Such a contract appears not to have been unbreakable if the parties concerned changed their minds. But by the end of the Middle Ages, it would seem that betrothal and marriage had become so closely related that the wedding ring and the betrothal ring merged into one.
Among the Early Christian writings is a passage stating that a betrothal ring ‘is given by the espouser to the espoused either for a sign of mutual fidelity or still more to join their hearts by this pledge, and therefore the ring is placed on the fourth finger because a certain vein, it is said, flows thence to the heart.’
Since the thumb was counted as the first finger, doubtless the finger referred to was in fact the third. Nearly all medieval paintings which represent a wedding ceremony show the ring being placed on the right hand. A change of practice in placing the ring on the third finger of the left instead of the right hand first appears in the Book of Common Prayer of Edward VI (1549).
The ring as a symbol of marriage seems to be one of our permanent institutions, continuing through changes of fashion both in its outward form and in the ceremony of conferring it. Even when the English Puritans tried their best to do away with the wedding ring they failed to suppress it.
Fashion in wedding rings has been changeable, swinging from the simplest band of metal without any ornament to elaborately wrought designs or rings set with stones, then back again to the plain metal hoop.
As a marked instance of elaboration stands the Jewish wedding ring. Far too unwieldy for daily wear, it was used only during the wedding ceremony. In many of these heavy rings the bezel took the form of a gabled building, a synagogue or Solomon’s Temple; sometimes wrought in great detail with roof tiles of enamel and a couple of weather vanes that could revolve as practically as real weather vanes of normal size. The bands of these rings were also elaborately ornamented and often bore a Hebrew inscription meaning Good Luck.
Emblematic of love and friendship was the gimmel ring which consisted of two rings closely locked together, but capable of being separated so that two lovers or friends could each wear, in a sense, the same ring.
Another ring signifying a close bond was the fede ring, whose symbol of two clasped hands can be traced back to classical times and from then onward to the present day. Not infrequently the gimmel and the fede were combined, the double ring bearing the symbolic device of clasped hands, perhaps the better to denote a double quota of ardent devotion between the two parties concerned. There was nothing lukewarm about the Renaissance. Emotions were as spectacular and colorful as jewels and as readily displayed, unless there was some very good reason other than shyness for concealing them.
During the Middle Ages began a vogue for a type of love ring known as the ‘posy’ ring. The vogue grew in popularity, reaching its peak in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
The posy or poesy ring, while it might indicate the emotional bond between two lovers, was also handy for the expression of calmer sentiments. In either case the sentiment was usually conveyed in the form of a rhyme engraved on the ring band.
Here are some posy ring inscriptions:
- Let this present my good intent.
- Thy friend am I, and so will dye.
- If I think my wife is fair, what need other people care?
- My dearest Betty is good and pretty.
- I like, I love, as turtledove.
- This and the giver, are thine forever.
Supposedly the versified sentiment originated with the ‘giver’ and sometimes it did. But on the whole, jewelers could tell a different story. They had a store of ready-made rhymes which saved the purchaser a lot of trouble. By 1674, there was published a book entitled Love’s Garland, or Posies for Rings, Handkerchiefs, and Gloves, and such like pretty Tokens that Lovers send their Loves. That book finds an amusing parallel in the ready-made appropriate greetings and messages for all occasions recently provided by the telegraph company. Thought-saving devices have a perennial welcome.
Somewhat related to the custom of tying a string around your finger to make you remember something was the custom of giving rings to commemorate an event, joyous or woeful. The fashion of giving rings to wedding guests seems to have reached a high peak in Elizabeth’s time when Sir Edward Killey ‘is said to have presented four thousand pounds’ worth of gold rings at the marriage of one of his maid-servants.’ Even so, the giving of rings at weddings never became as widespread and excessively practised as did the bestowal of funeral rings. Since a certain sum was often set aside and directions given in the will of the deceased for the purchase commemorative rings, it is difficult to say whether the custom was inspired merely by fashion or by a pathetic longing to be remembered after death.
Although the practice of inscribing rings with the date of death of the deceased can be traced back to the Middle Ages, a distinctive type of mourning ring was not evolved until about the middle of the seventeenth century. Then there was no mistaking it. Inside the hoop was engraved the name and date of death; outside, it was decorated with a skeleton in gold on a black background; and the bezel was set with a crystal which covered either the representation of a skull or a lock of the deceased’s hair. Sometimes his initials were formed in gold thread on a ground of colored silk.
It appears that the ring is the Jack-of-all-trades among jewels—or at least that the jeweler has done his best to load it with responsibilities other than its nature as an ornament requires.
In the latter part of the Middle Ages education was still a luxury beyond reach of the masses. Many people could neither read nor write and the custom of using a signet ring was almost as necessary as it had been back in ancient Egypt. The usual type of gem ring was ‘stirrup-shape.’ Its engraved device might be some emblem or it might be a portrait of the owner. The merchant had his own special signet ring, a trademark with which to stamp his goods so that even though his customers might not be able to read they would have no difficulty in recognizing his distinctive seal.
The signet ring, still serving more than one purpose, was wont most conveniently to combine practical use and romantic sentiment. One famous example bears the letters H.M. in a monogram bound by a truelover’s knot. Inside the hoop is engraved HENRIL DARNLEY, 1655. Touched not alone with romance but with tragedy, is this signet-betrothal ring, for it is believed to be that given by the ill-fated Mary, Queen of Scots, to her future husband, Darnley.
Entirely fitting, practical, and dignified was the signet ring; but treading on the heels of dignity came numbers of contraptions—hybrid rings intended both for use and ornament and not making a very good job of either career. For this type of ring our modern colloquial term ‘gadget’ is aptly descriptive.
Jewelers Of Renaissance (continued)
- Rings Of Romance And Sentiment
Betrothal rings, wedding rings, love rings, rings as token of friendship or of loyalty to some chosen hero, rings given wholesale in commemoration of an event such as a wedding or a funeral, individual mourning rings—rings no end.
It would seem that a ring more than any other form of jewelry must support the total weight of human emotions and stand by as emblem of joy, woe, and all the intervening shades of feeling that make up the sum of personal relations.
The custom of exchanging betrothal rings traces back to classical times. In ancient Rome the ring represented a pledge made by the father or guardian of the woman to the man destined to be her husband. He in turn pledged himself by the presentation of a ring to his bride-to-be. Such a contract appears not to have been unbreakable if the parties concerned changed their minds. But by the end of the Middle Ages, it would seem that betrothal and marriage had become so closely related that the wedding ring and the betrothal ring merged into one.
Among the Early Christian writings is a passage stating that a betrothal ring ‘is given by the espouser to the espoused either for a sign of mutual fidelity or still more to join their hearts by this pledge, and therefore the ring is placed on the fourth finger because a certain vein, it is said, flows thence to the heart.’
Since the thumb was counted as the first finger, doubtless the finger referred to was in fact the third. Nearly all medieval paintings which represent a wedding ceremony show the ring being placed on the right hand. A change of practice in placing the ring on the third finger of the left instead of the right hand first appears in the Book of Common Prayer of Edward VI (1549).
The ring as a symbol of marriage seems to be one of our permanent institutions, continuing through changes of fashion both in its outward form and in the ceremony of conferring it. Even when the English Puritans tried their best to do away with the wedding ring they failed to suppress it.
Fashion in wedding rings has been changeable, swinging from the simplest band of metal without any ornament to elaborately wrought designs or rings set with stones, then back again to the plain metal hoop.
As a marked instance of elaboration stands the Jewish wedding ring. Far too unwieldy for daily wear, it was used only during the wedding ceremony. In many of these heavy rings the bezel took the form of a gabled building, a synagogue or Solomon’s Temple; sometimes wrought in great detail with roof tiles of enamel and a couple of weather vanes that could revolve as practically as real weather vanes of normal size. The bands of these rings were also elaborately ornamented and often bore a Hebrew inscription meaning Good Luck.
Emblematic of love and friendship was the gimmel ring which consisted of two rings closely locked together, but capable of being separated so that two lovers or friends could each wear, in a sense, the same ring.
Another ring signifying a close bond was the fede ring, whose symbol of two clasped hands can be traced back to classical times and from then onward to the present day. Not infrequently the gimmel and the fede were combined, the double ring bearing the symbolic device of clasped hands, perhaps the better to denote a double quota of ardent devotion between the two parties concerned. There was nothing lukewarm about the Renaissance. Emotions were as spectacular and colorful as jewels and as readily displayed, unless there was some very good reason other than shyness for concealing them.
During the Middle Ages began a vogue for a type of love ring known as the ‘posy’ ring. The vogue grew in popularity, reaching its peak in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
The posy or poesy ring, while it might indicate the emotional bond between two lovers, was also handy for the expression of calmer sentiments. In either case the sentiment was usually conveyed in the form of a rhyme engraved on the ring band.
Here are some posy ring inscriptions:
- Let this present my good intent.
- Thy friend am I, and so will dye.
- If I think my wife is fair, what need other people care?
- My dearest Betty is good and pretty.
- I like, I love, as turtledove.
- This and the giver, are thine forever.
Supposedly the versified sentiment originated with the ‘giver’ and sometimes it did. But on the whole, jewelers could tell a different story. They had a store of ready-made rhymes which saved the purchaser a lot of trouble. By 1674, there was published a book entitled Love’s Garland, or Posies for Rings, Handkerchiefs, and Gloves, and such like pretty Tokens that Lovers send their Loves. That book finds an amusing parallel in the ready-made appropriate greetings and messages for all occasions recently provided by the telegraph company. Thought-saving devices have a perennial welcome.
Somewhat related to the custom of tying a string around your finger to make you remember something was the custom of giving rings to commemorate an event, joyous or woeful. The fashion of giving rings to wedding guests seems to have reached a high peak in Elizabeth’s time when Sir Edward Killey ‘is said to have presented four thousand pounds’ worth of gold rings at the marriage of one of his maid-servants.’ Even so, the giving of rings at weddings never became as widespread and excessively practised as did the bestowal of funeral rings. Since a certain sum was often set aside and directions given in the will of the deceased for the purchase commemorative rings, it is difficult to say whether the custom was inspired merely by fashion or by a pathetic longing to be remembered after death.
Although the practice of inscribing rings with the date of death of the deceased can be traced back to the Middle Ages, a distinctive type of mourning ring was not evolved until about the middle of the seventeenth century. Then there was no mistaking it. Inside the hoop was engraved the name and date of death; outside, it was decorated with a skeleton in gold on a black background; and the bezel was set with a crystal which covered either the representation of a skull or a lock of the deceased’s hair. Sometimes his initials were formed in gold thread on a ground of colored silk.
It appears that the ring is the Jack-of-all-trades among jewels—or at least that the jeweler has done his best to load it with responsibilities other than its nature as an ornament requires.
In the latter part of the Middle Ages education was still a luxury beyond reach of the masses. Many people could neither read nor write and the custom of using a signet ring was almost as necessary as it had been back in ancient Egypt. The usual type of gem ring was ‘stirrup-shape.’ Its engraved device might be some emblem or it might be a portrait of the owner. The merchant had his own special signet ring, a trademark with which to stamp his goods so that even though his customers might not be able to read they would have no difficulty in recognizing his distinctive seal.
The signet ring, still serving more than one purpose, was wont most conveniently to combine practical use and romantic sentiment. One famous example bears the letters H.M. in a monogram bound by a truelover’s knot. Inside the hoop is engraved HENRIL DARNLEY, 1655. Touched not alone with romance but with tragedy, is this signet-betrothal ring, for it is believed to be that given by the ill-fated Mary, Queen of Scots, to her future husband, Darnley.
Entirely fitting, practical, and dignified was the signet ring; but treading on the heels of dignity came numbers of contraptions—hybrid rings intended both for use and ornament and not making a very good job of either career. For this type of ring our modern colloquial term ‘gadget’ is aptly descriptive.
Jewelers Of Renaissance (continued)
The Rise Of Landscape Painting
4
Jealous as he was of other painters, there was one of his contemporaries for whose art Turner had nothing but admiration. ‘Had Girtin lived,’ he once said, ‘I should have starved,’ and he roundly admitted that painter’s ‘White House in Chelsea’ to be better than anything of his own up to that time. Thomas Girtin was born in 1773 at Southwark, where his father was a rope manufacturer, and, like Turner, he was for a time the pupil of Dayes. But for his short life—for he died in 1802 at the early age of twenty seven—he would probably have rivalled Turner as a painter in oils, and though his career was cut short he lived long enough to make himself one of the greatest of our painters in water colors. In this medium his style was bold and vigorous, and by suppressing irrelevant detail he gave a sense of grandeur to the scenes he depicted. His chief sketching-ground was the northern countries, and particularly its cathedral cities, and his favorite subjects were the ruins of our old abbeys and castles, and the hilly scenery of the north. The water color at South Kensington of ‘Kirkstall Abbey’ is a fine example of his power to present his subject with truth and majesty.
A younger fellow-student with Turner and Girtin in the hospitable house of Dr Monro was another artist who achieved fame chiefly as a painter in water colors. This was Peter De Wint, born at Stone in Staffordshire in 1784. His father was a Dutch physician belonging to an old and respected Amsterdam family who settled in England. Peter, his fourth son, was originally intended for the medical profession, but was allowed to follow art, and placed with the engraver, John Raphael Smith, in 1802. Five years later he was admitted to the Royal Academy School, and the same year (1807) he exhibited at the Academy for the first time, sending three landscapes, and thereafter he exhibited there occasionally till 1828. But his reputation was principally made by the drawings he contributed to the Water-color Society, of which he was elected an Associate in 1810 and was long one of the chief ornaments.
De Wint loved to paint direct from Nature, and was never so happy as when in the fields. His subjects are principally chosen in the eastern and northern countries, and though often tempted to extend his studies to the Continent, the love of England and English scenery was so strong that, except for one visit to Normandy, he never left these shores. He formed a style of his own, notable for the simplicity and breadth of his light and shade, and the fresh limpidity of his color. He was a great purist in technique and objected to the use of Chinese white and body color, which he thought tended to give a heavy effect to a drawing. He excelled in river scenes, and ‘The Trent near Burton,’ in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensignton, is a beautiful example of his tender and faithful rendering of a typical English scene.
While De Wint excelled in painting the placid aspects of landscapes, his contemporary, David Cox, was at his best on a widy day or in stormy weather. Cox was the son of a blacksmith and was born at Deritend, a suburb of Birmingham, on April 29, 1783. During his school days he had an accident and broke his leg, and this misfortune proved to be his good fortune, for having been given a box of colors with which to amuse himself while he was laid up, young David made such good use of the paints that his parents perceived the bent of his genius, and when he was well again apprenticed him to a painter. David Cox received his first tuition from an artist who painted miniatures for lockets, but when his master committed suicide young Cox went to the other extreme of painting, and at the age of seventeen he became an assistant scene-painter at the Birmingham Theatre. It is said that he even took a small part now and then at this theatre, which was then managed by the father of Macready.
The Rise Of Landscape Painting (continued)
Jealous as he was of other painters, there was one of his contemporaries for whose art Turner had nothing but admiration. ‘Had Girtin lived,’ he once said, ‘I should have starved,’ and he roundly admitted that painter’s ‘White House in Chelsea’ to be better than anything of his own up to that time. Thomas Girtin was born in 1773 at Southwark, where his father was a rope manufacturer, and, like Turner, he was for a time the pupil of Dayes. But for his short life—for he died in 1802 at the early age of twenty seven—he would probably have rivalled Turner as a painter in oils, and though his career was cut short he lived long enough to make himself one of the greatest of our painters in water colors. In this medium his style was bold and vigorous, and by suppressing irrelevant detail he gave a sense of grandeur to the scenes he depicted. His chief sketching-ground was the northern countries, and particularly its cathedral cities, and his favorite subjects were the ruins of our old abbeys and castles, and the hilly scenery of the north. The water color at South Kensington of ‘Kirkstall Abbey’ is a fine example of his power to present his subject with truth and majesty.
A younger fellow-student with Turner and Girtin in the hospitable house of Dr Monro was another artist who achieved fame chiefly as a painter in water colors. This was Peter De Wint, born at Stone in Staffordshire in 1784. His father was a Dutch physician belonging to an old and respected Amsterdam family who settled in England. Peter, his fourth son, was originally intended for the medical profession, but was allowed to follow art, and placed with the engraver, John Raphael Smith, in 1802. Five years later he was admitted to the Royal Academy School, and the same year (1807) he exhibited at the Academy for the first time, sending three landscapes, and thereafter he exhibited there occasionally till 1828. But his reputation was principally made by the drawings he contributed to the Water-color Society, of which he was elected an Associate in 1810 and was long one of the chief ornaments.
De Wint loved to paint direct from Nature, and was never so happy as when in the fields. His subjects are principally chosen in the eastern and northern countries, and though often tempted to extend his studies to the Continent, the love of England and English scenery was so strong that, except for one visit to Normandy, he never left these shores. He formed a style of his own, notable for the simplicity and breadth of his light and shade, and the fresh limpidity of his color. He was a great purist in technique and objected to the use of Chinese white and body color, which he thought tended to give a heavy effect to a drawing. He excelled in river scenes, and ‘The Trent near Burton,’ in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensignton, is a beautiful example of his tender and faithful rendering of a typical English scene.
While De Wint excelled in painting the placid aspects of landscapes, his contemporary, David Cox, was at his best on a widy day or in stormy weather. Cox was the son of a blacksmith and was born at Deritend, a suburb of Birmingham, on April 29, 1783. During his school days he had an accident and broke his leg, and this misfortune proved to be his good fortune, for having been given a box of colors with which to amuse himself while he was laid up, young David made such good use of the paints that his parents perceived the bent of his genius, and when he was well again apprenticed him to a painter. David Cox received his first tuition from an artist who painted miniatures for lockets, but when his master committed suicide young Cox went to the other extreme of painting, and at the age of seventeen he became an assistant scene-painter at the Birmingham Theatre. It is said that he even took a small part now and then at this theatre, which was then managed by the father of Macready.
The Rise Of Landscape Painting (continued)
FTC Update
Here is an interesting FTC consumer alert on shopping jewelry @ http://www.ftc.gov/bcp/edu/pubs/consumer/alerts/alt011.shtm + I think the FTC's interpretation of natural v real may confuse the novice who may not be familiar with gemological jargons + my view is, if in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
New Energy Source
The scientists from the Georgia Institute of Technology have produced a unique fabric (by growing zinc oxide nanowires around kevlar textile fibers + weaving the fibres together; when the wires rub against each other, an electric charge builts up and is channeled into a cathode output), a personalized form of piezoelectric power generation, in which mechanical stress is turned into electricity + the researchers say their fabric could have military application in places where other types of power generation are impractical + I think the civilian possibilities are endless.
Useful links:
www.gatech.edu
www.nature.com
www.wired.com
Useful links:
www.gatech.edu
www.nature.com
www.wired.com
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