the rites of spring or where the wild things are

As Winter looks to be coming to an end in earnest, photographer Charles Fréger shares his sociology project of documenting ritual traditions and variations across nineteen countries in Europe, capturing the costumes and customs put on in order to coax in brighter days. These ceremonies date from pre-history and have continued uninterrupted, even in the midst of thoroughly modern Europe.

and that’s a pretty nice hair cut—charge it like a puzzle, hit men wearing muzzles

Oh dear—this is a potentially disturbing development that is making international markets anxious as well as any and every John Q. Public, Max Mustermann, or Τάδε Ταδόπουλος who’ve brooded any nest-egg. In exchange for a ten-billion euro lifeline to save the country from insolvency, banking and finance accounting for a large proportion of the island nation’s economy, European Union finance ministers are demanding a percentage of the savings deposits of Cypriot citizens.

The government of Cyprus supports this hair cut, which would excise a minimum of a three percent from all accounts. Despite insistence that such an arrangement exceptional and not precedent-setting, with Germany trying to distance itself from the conditions of the swap and Britain going so far as pledging to reimburse the losses incurred by her subjects stationed there as a result of the decision, many are growing nervous about their stashes, however it’s kept. Do you think a move like this opens up the possibility for shearing assets from private people, small-holders but share-holders, nonetheless? Or might having savers participate in the bail-out might inspire overall more pragmatism?  It is happening too often lately, but when decisions and support fail to abide by economic sense (I can’t imagine how the reactions and distress in the streets and in the bourses was unexpected), one should always follow the money and see who stands to gain, and perhaps not ultimately, from this deal.

fantastic voyage or doctor inchworm, i presume?

The ever excellent BLDGBLOG reports on an RD project from the laboratories of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, experimenting with probes called mesh-worms whose motors are driven by a simple yet effective principle of expansion and contraction.

A microscopic lattice housing detectors and potentially a payload of metal alloyed just by a tiny pulse to raise the temperature a bit and let it relax back into its unexcited state to dutifully and tirelessly burrow and creep forward through very tight environments. Not only could this worm go spelunking and sound out more human-sized routes, explore the palimpsest of old architecture, pick locks and crack safe, such a probe could also patrol one’s insides for potential trouble spots and delivering a consignment of medicine—or poison, I suppose, as creepy-crawly assassins. Over-zealous nanotechnology or designer viruses have not yet taken over, but good-judgment does not always prevail. What do you think? Is this the realization of an unflagging panacea or more fodder for invasion and misuse?

parabolic or sky-tree

H and I were in the Taunus recently and afforded a rather close-up view of one of the other-worldly structures, a television tower, that one generally just sees from a great distance and in passing, are usually perched on high, remote promontories like a bucket-brigade of relays.

With satellite cities and other ad hoc methods so prevalent, I wondered if such landmarks were not relics of an older age. I remember being amazing with the installation my uncle assembled in his backyard, to liberate his family from cable television and the paucity of broadcast channels, and though much smaller and subject to some regulation (and with growing alternatives), I thought the trend just continued a-pace.

I was puzzled with the recently finished superlative in Japan, the landmark Tokyo Sky-Tree, a broadcasting tower, and second tallest manmade structure in the world. Being number-one is a very transitive and sometimes subjective thing to achieve, for however long one can hold the title—and it was not a cathedral, after all, one of the more tenacious title-holders. I learned, however, more than just feeding signals to car radios, these towers are still quite functional, thanks in part to an evolving middle-manship when it comes to the airwaves.  Transponders originally rose above the landscape to surmount natural obstacles, but high-rises and the interference from climbing electronic smog create new reasons to take a commanding position.  I am sure such a view of the city below is worth the effort as well.

radiant baby

 This happy child’s chair, I think, is a fitting homage to social activist and artist Keith Haring. There are quite a lot of memorials dedicated to Haring, who passed away in 1990, and his ideas—plus numerous legacies and influences in the world of pop art, music—helping create Madonna’s signature look, painting Grace Jones and designing the set for Solid Gold, and gave us universally recognized symbols of awareness and affirming joy.

I always think about Haring’s artwork on my way out the door, my apartment located above a cash- and-carry (Selbst- abholung) bedding chain. At first, I went a little negative, thinking that the company adopted this distinctive symbol without appreciation but realized that I could be wrong.  I wonder if their choice of logos had anything to do with making a stand or a statement.

snow patrol

Just when we thought the taunting series of reprieves and relieving afternoons of sunny weather signaled the onset of Spring, it started snowing again. It seemed more transfiguring, however, this time after the hopeful breaks in the weather, thinking each blast was one final assertion from a very stubborn and gloomy Winter, a vow to return despite our best efforts to throw Nature out of balance. This last snow-ball fight may be an indication that we are instead taunting the Seasons and more unseasonableness is on order.
This strange ribbon effect traced along the metal flag poles looks like the icing of thaw and a place where the snowflakes can stick. It was not the hoisting strings, like I first thought but I guess the trail of a drip.  I was braving the uncertain weather in search of a flea-market, just on the edge between what’s comfortably reached on foot (though not in this slush) and what might justify the bother of driving (in this slush).
Quite a few others agreed that it was worth dragging out their belongings for this social-hour, under a covered parking-lot. I found a few treasures, including this heavy and solid copper watering can with a narrow spout for the delicate jobs, and this teak glasses rest fashioned like a nose and mouth. I think it’s Danish.