The body as canvas.
This man was painting the most exquisite curlicues and decorations – using a very sharp-edged brush – on the back of a rather tired old VW squareback which someone obviously loved very much. He noticed me admiring his work so I asked if I might take a snap of his tattoed body.
He was only too pleased to oblige and struck this classically dignified pose without any direction from me.
The idea of a great man.
Paso Robles Carnegie Library, built in 1908.
5D, 24-105 at 105mm, 1/500, f/6.7, ISO200
It’s said that the true measure of philanthropy is not how much you give but how much you have left. By that measure, Andrew Carnegie (1835-1919) is the greatest philanthropist the world has seen, having given away almost all of his fortune at the time of his death. Inflation makes comparisons difficult, but if you figure wealth as a percentage of Gross National Product, Carnegie ranks fifth in America, after Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, Astor and Girard (d. 1831 – trade and banking).
Carnegie mostly gave his money to build public libraries in the United States, England and his native Scotland. While I see libraries as essentially a waste of real estate in a digital world (the Library of Congress could be digitized for $1 billion, the space put to better use) there is an undeniable charm to a fine library and the tactile enjoyment of good books.
The small town of Paso Robles, a stone’s throw from my home in Templeton in central California, has a pretty town square graced with a Carnegie Library. Sadly, the brick building was damaged in the earthquake a few years ago and the City has finally come around to fixing the damage. While the whole is still surrounded with chain-link fencing, it’s possible to see the results of the rebuilding from a distance.
Many would denigrate Carnegie for his use of low paid labor in his steel mills near Pittsburgh. To me, the choices are simple. You take one or two generations of the poor and stupid, exploit them horribly and confer a priceless gift on the world. The next generation now has no excuse for being either poor or stupid. Or you do nothing and the poor and stupid continue being just that. It’s your choice, but there’s little arguing with the benefits of the Carnegie way.
A great man and a beautiful piece of architecture. Check out the brand, spanking new copper piping in the snap above. Gorgeous.
Except for a very small tweak in Photoshop to fix perspective, the picture has had no post processing.
All alone
From my recent one man show.
Pure joy.
The undistilled, unalloyed pleasure of a new book is one that remains a perennial source of excitement. But until now I confess I have never opened a book with such an immense grin on my face as this one.
You see, the whole thing looks like a giant carton of cigarettes and you have to find the peel strip on the cellophane to get into the book – just like opening a pack. Then when you finally get the wrapper off, the book emerges from the box in much the same way a cigarette would. Brilliant!
Let’s get the moralizing out of the way, first. In no way is this piece remotely adulatory of one of the more dangerous drugs around. However, it’s a free country and if you want to smoke go ahead. I own cigarette stocks now and then so have at it. Your lungs are my dividend. Just don’t blow the smoke in my direction or exhale in my home.
This book is all about how cigarettes were the glamor accessory over much of the twentieth century in Western culture, especially in the movies. It also shows pictures of how tobacco became increasingly demonized as that century drew to a close and how inept the advertising to curb consumption of the addiction that is nicotine really was.
The photographs span the century as do the many graphic illustrations and there’s something for everyone her – great photography, skilled drawings, exceptional advertising. Too bad that the frisson one gets from peeling the cellophane wrapper can be enjoyed but once!
And when you have had enough, rush out and get Thank you for Smoking with the wonderful Aaron Eckhart as the tobacco industry lobbyist who could sell cigarettes to a terminal lung cancer victim. Wonderfully acted and very on topic for our image obsessed and sound bite fixated society with its negligible attention span.
Smoke away. Just don’t make me pay for your cancer and coronary.
An annual ritual.
The crew arrives at 6:30. It’s still dark.
For $7 an hour these great people work insanely hard and by noon we will have twenty of these bins containing 10 tons of the finest Zinfandel grapes in the world; the area where I live – the Templeton Gap in Central California – is renowned for its Zinfandel varietals above all else.
Then the vines will gracefully shed their leaves, the crew will return to prune them to a nub and another growing cycle is complete.
So, I find myself wondering, as a great American farmer, where’s my government subsidy?
The wine grower is required, by contract, to provide grapes with a certain Brix level – 25 to 28 for Zinfandel. I’m at 26.5 which is just about right. The tool in the picture is a refractometer, a nice optical device as old as Sir Isaac Newton. A drop of grape juice on the lens, a peek through the eyepiece and Brix is determined.
Back to the regular topics tomorrow. Now please excuse me, I have to go tread on some grapes….