bauhaustreppe

The artist behind the avant-garde and pioneering Triadic Ballet Oskar Schlemmer (previously here and here) painted in protest and as a farewell the work pictured of the stairwell (Treppenhaus) of the Bauhaus compound in Dessau in response to the decision of the Nazi-dominated city-council to close the institution on 30 September 1932.  The tableau of the students ascending the staircase and the viewer slipping away symbolises the movement and kindred affiliates being cast into the realm of the ideal rather than being allowed to remain in the practical and engaged—as was part of their stated objectives.
The painting was bought by collectors in New York in 1933 and began part of the original collection of the Museum of Modern Art, spirited away before it was deemed unpatriotic and officially sanctioned as degenerate (Entartete Kunst).

pardon my french

Due to the candid and colourful language of Chaucer, we learn via The History of English that Middle English unguarded vulgarities was referred to as reverting to the Anglo-Saxon.
Despite how sensibilities change, some words remain too taboo for common parlance and polite company and there’s certainly much history in its waxing and waning. A particular intensifier that’s in certain contexts lightly veiled as fcuk was given its first imprimatur far better disguised though the cognoscenti could decipher the meaning: the mixed English and Latin poem of the sixteen-hundreds titled Fleas, flies and friars lobbies an indictment against the monks as non sunt in cœli, quia gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk—by advancing to the next letter, i and j as u, w and v not yet distinguished to impugn their religious community, masking the women of Ely and their trysts that make the religious figures hypocrites. We’re also reminded throughout how bawdy and lewd The Canterbury Tales is to inspire such an expression as the above reversion and how history will probably either judge us for our prudishness, cruelty or crudity of the graffiti will leave behind.

tерменво́кс

Via Boing Boing, we are introduced to the repertoire of the electronic virtuosi of theremin (previously) performer Konstanin Kovalsky (*1890 – †1976) accompanied by Vyacheslav Mescherin’s (*1923 – †1995) orchestra.  For a span of over thirty years from the late 1950s through 1990 music from this ensemble, their compositions were heard daily as the incidental music and soundscaping of radio and television programming. Most was mood-music/easy-listening (Lawrence Welk sort of stuff) but special commissions also included an electronic version of The Internationale to be beamed into outer space with the launch of Sputnik. Find more of their collaborations here and at the link above.

liften

In order to curb congestion along the capital’s crowded corridors, Brussels’ municipal authorities are encouraging the return of hitchhiking, albeit with the help of a digital intermediary, to match up drivers with spare seats—most ridership as in most of the developed world is a one occupant per vehicle).
At first it struck me as a gimmicky partnership, but the point of putting the scheme behind a mobile application is not to try to rival other ride-hailing and rider-sharing services but to instil a sense of trust, insofar as the person that one’s who is accepting the ride may be a stranger but is not unknown to the network, registration and vetting required and a digital fingerprint is left in case something untoward were to happen. There’s no payment involved for using the service, leaving any exchange up to the driver and passenger, if any, and the chief motivation is to reduce traffic. The app could also, I suppose, become a gauge of reputation for problem riders or problem drivers. What do you think? Would you sign on? Old, traditional solutions are often not the most sexy or exciting but still the most reliable.

im westen nichts neues

Whilst there has been no official response from Berlin regarding the transcribed exchange between Trump and Zelenskiy, the Foreign Ministry was forthcoming with details on aid expenditures it has provided to Ukraine bilaterally and through EU funding streams since the country was invaded and annexed by Russia in 2014.
The newly elected president (whom to his great credit) was not willing to entertain quid pro quo on Trump’s terms—though was unable to resist the delivering a few lines of flattery by mentioning his stay in Trump Tower), walked-back his criticism (it being questionable whether he wasn’t going along with Trump in the first place) and expressed gratitude to all European leaders for what aid and assistance his country has received, though reserving the right to frame the Nord Stream 2 pipeline project, which bypasses Ukraine, as a threat to energy security—rather than the desperate, cloying, late-stage petro-capitalism it is.

gb 12982-2004

Adopted this day in 1949 and first flown by the People's Liberation Army over Tiananmen Square three days later, the national flag of China charged with five golden stars representing unity among the social classes had its construction details presented the following during the first plenary session of the People's Political Consultative Conference.
The design by economist Zeng Liansong (*1971 - †1999) was selected by Zhou Enlai (though choosing to edit out the hammer and sickle in the large star in the canton, the upper-most hoist quarter of flags) out of some three thousand entrants. The published instructions, then distributed across the country, are filed under a mandatory standard Guobiao (国标, GB), similar to (and conforming with in most cases) ISO or DIN.

a christening

During a naming ceremony for the eponymous RRS Sir David Attenborough—a polar research vessel (see previously), attended by the esteemed naturalist with thousands of onlookers and hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge at the shipyard at Cammel Laird, poet laureate Simon Armitage commemorated the occasion with a special commission entitled Ark, with a very powerful and haunting refrain:

They sent out a dove: it wobbled home,
wings slicked in a rainbow of oil,
a sprig of tinsel snagged in its beak,
a yard of fishing-line binding its feet.

Bring back, bring back the leaf.

They sent out an artic fox:
it plodded the bays of the northern fringe
in muddy socks
and a nylon cape.

Bring back, bring back the leaf.
Bring back the reed and the reef,
set the ice sheet back on its frozen plinth,
tuck the restless watercourse into it bed,
sit the glacier down on its highland throne.
put the snow cap back on the mountain peak.

Let the northern lights be northern lights
not the alien glow over Glasgow or Leeds.

A camel capsized in a tropical flood.
Caimans dozing in Antarctic lakes.
Polymers rolled in the sturgeon’s blood.
Hippos wandered the housing estates.

Bring back, bring back the leaf.
Bring back the tusk and the horn
unshorn.
Bring back the fern, the fish, the frond and the fowl,
the golden toad and the pygmy owl,
 revisit the scene
where swallowtails fly
through acres of unexhausted sky.

They sent out a boat.
Go little breaker,
splinter the pack-ice and floes, nose
through the rafts and pads
of wrappers and bottles and nurdles and cans,
the bergs and atolls and islands and states
of plastic bags and micro-beads
and the forests of smoke.

Bring back, bring back the leaf,
bring back the river and bring back the sea.