Another champion of our canine friends albeit with a wider patronage portfolio, Saint Roch (Rocco, Rochus, Rock, (*1295 – †1397) is venerated on this day with a truly global cult of devotees with namesake churches all over the world, canonised by popular demand fervour. His iconography tells his story: son of the mayor of Montpellier, he divested himself of worldly possession for the life of a mendicant pilgrim and undertook the journey to Rome on foot, and arriving in Italy during an outbreak of the plague, Roch carried for the sick and aided in the miraculous recuperation of many, encouraging the establishment of hospitals for the poor.
Finally catching the disease himself, Roch went into self-isolation and built himself hut in the woods. Apparently not very skilled at roughing it, Roch would have died from starvation had not a dog delivered him a loaf of bread and charitably licked his sores until they healed. The dog was subsequently reunited with his human, one Count Gothard, who became Roch’s first follower. Upon his return to his hometown, not revealing his identity or kinship, Roch’s uncle—now governor of the Savoy outpost—treated him with suspicion and had him arrested on charges of espionage. Roch still remained silent and was executed—though afterwards, the towns people recognised him by his birthmark (or plague pock) on his thigh, appearing as an apparition and performing miracles thereafter. Roch’s extensive benefaction includes bachelors, tile-makers, apothecaries, second-hand dealers and the falsely accused and is invoked against knee problems as well as the plague.
Sunday, 16 August 2020
acta et vita
nostalgia for the mud
Our thanks to Digg for having us circle back around and dally, indulge in the surreal treasury of the self-conscious captured in this series of composite images from Chase Middleton.
These intersectional collages are strange and random but all seem to evoke this feeling of awkward incantation—a conjuring as we imagine it in our heads informed by on-screen depictions but that we pull off ham-fistedly and manage to muddle through somehow. See a whole gallery at the links above or at the artist’s website.
where are they now?
Via TYWKIWDBI, we are treated to a brief profile of the schoolboy band known as The Hectics, formed by five pupils of an English boarding school called St. Peter’s in Pamchgani, outside of Bombay (Mumbai) and active from 1958 through 1962. One might recognise at least the centre lead vocalist, guitarist and pianist as Farrokh Bulsara, whom later adopted the name Freddie Mercury (*1946 – †1991, previously). Far left is Derrick Branche who had starring roles in My Beautiful Laundrette, Blake’s 7 and Father Ted Mysteries.
flora, fauna, fire
Via Maps Mania, we are directed to an engaging and impactful look at the devastation that Australia’s wildfires brought at the beginning of 2020 in the form of this interactive scrollytelling presentation that shares stories of recovery, prevention and links to the toll it has taken on 119 representative plants and animal species, whom may face extinction without human intervention. Though 119 is the number for firefighters and emergency services in many other jurisdictions, it’s triple zero you want to dial on the continent.
Saturday, 15 August 2020
stays these couriers
Though never an official motto, the phrase from Herodotus about another determined set of postal workers, the Persians, unparalleled in Antiquity, the words are stirring and befitting such a beleaguered though indefatigable group.
Knowing that he cannot win honestly and outright or retain a controlling majority of the legislature, Trump is dismantling the US mail to stop postal balloting—with the added bonus of ensuring knock-on delays downstream, for people that need to receive rent or pension cheques through the mail and potentially deadly deferrals for those refiling prescriptions. Though there was turmoil beforehand over the United States’ leaving of the Universal Postal Union, this new phase was not a necessary consequence and the actions being undertaken now could not be characterised as anything else but sabotage.
gumball machine
blogoversary – we are twelve
Since we last checked-in, here are the most popular posts:
10: An article about the US Bill of Rights—originally twelve amendments to the constitution. 
I am curious to see how this list might stack up to the next. We love you all and best wishes for a happier and more auspicious balance of 2020.
ars amatoria
From BBC Culture, we learn that classic art is not always just academic soft-core pornography, it can also be high-brow, heuristic potty humour, as exemplified in Titian’s masterpiece Bacchus and Ariadne (see previously)—capturing the moment of love-at-first-site when the god of revelry and his entourage chances on a freshly heartbroken maiden abandoned on the island of Naxos by her beloved Theseus rendered in a transfixing image that nonetheless has an underlying allegory that includes all the corporeal awkwardness that we’d otherwise choose to suspend.
In the foreground directly beneath Bacchus dismounting his chariot born by a pair of regal cheetahs, there is a child satyr and a caper flower, the twain representing the curse of excessive flatulence and the carminative remedy for it. Given that contemporaries also had truck with this patois, one needs to take this symbolism into account when appreciating the diorama and wonder what other mortal perils that even the body of a god might be prone to—especially one of perpetual drunkenness. Looking less relieved for being rescued the longer that one studies her, John Keats cites Ariadne in his poem “Ode to a Nightingale” written when the work was first acquired by the National Gallery—“Away! away! For I will fly to thee [the ship of Theseus still visible in the harbour], Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards!”
