Sunday, 20 December 2020

just say the word and i’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down

On this day in 1946, Frank Capra’s holiday classic (previously, see also) had a special preview held for charity in New York City’s Globe Theatre on this day, just before its theatrical release in cinemas across the US.
Due to a clerical error by the movie’s new owners, the National Telefilm Associates—whom had bought it from Paramount Pictures, who previously had absorbed Liberty Films, were not able to renew their copyright in 1974 and thus It’s a Wonderful Life became an inexpensive filler for local network affiliates to air during the holiday season (because of the lapsed studio copyright, no royalties on the movie itself needed to be paid, though a nominal fee went to the estate of the short story “The Greatest Gift” by Philip Van Doren Stern which the film was based on). This looping repetition for a several decades, through 1996, endeared the story to countless viewers.

8x8

before times: one narrative of 2020 as told through fifteen objects and artefacts—see previously

marsha, marsha, marsha: Trump acknowledges months’ long cyber-attack on US government networks for first time—oddly defensive about Russian involvement 

systemic bias: when bad decisions are blamed on algorithms, bad actors are exculpated and trust in science erodes  

breakthrough listen: musing on the nature of signal detected from Proxima Centauri by the Murriyang Radio Telescope 

tape/slide newsreel group and friends: brilliant early 80s photo archive showing Hackney to Hackney—via the splendiferous Things Magazine   

engineer, agitator, constructor: the visual vernacular of utopian graphic design  

creek and culvert: the movement to resurface and revive long buried urban waterways—see previously  

off-limits: virtually visit nine sites not accessible to the public in Washington, DC 

a modern hanukah miracle: there are extra doses of vaccine in each vial—stretching out supplies to inoculate twice as many individuals than expected

Saturday, 19 December 2020

ultima lingula

A far better and far more festive example of pareidolia than found in the knobby highlands of Cydonia and Arabia Terra—the so-called face on Mars has been captured by the European Space Agency’s Mars Express Orbiter near the planet’s southern pole during a temporary thaw in the ice that normally obscures the geographic features there. The artistic elements of this impact crater that suggest an abstract angelic host with wings, heart and halo are created by a nice collusion of a sublimation pit, a sinkhole left when ice turns directly into gas without the intermediate liquid phase, erosion and ancient volcanic activity.

7x7

mercury rising: surveying the lasting damage that the hottest year on record has brought  

guardians of the galaxy: Space Force (previously) service members receive a new title  

deluxe apartment in the sky: artist granted viewing of exclusive properties on Billionaires’ Row in Manhattan 

lp: a playlist of James Baldwin’s record collection  

๐ŸŒŠ: the Great Wave off Kanagawa in Lego form 

 lassen sie mich also sagen, dass dies ernst ist—bitte nehmen sie das auch ernst: Angela Merkel’s March address and appeal on coronavirus lauded as Speech of the Year 

 heat gap: climatic gentrification across city districts leads to worse outcomes for the poorest residents

hallmark holiday

From the always engaging circulation desk of Open Culture, we are reminded of the commission that Salvador Dalรญ had from a greeting card magnate in 1960 to create a series of Christmas cards. Though the industry’s reputation is for the anodyne, it had been making forays into the avant garde since the 1940s, introducing contemporary artists to mass-markets by showcasing Pablo Picasso and Georgia O’Keeffe and other contemporaries. Dalรญ’s interpretation of the Magi, Nativity and other holiday iconography (see also here and here), however, proved too controversial for the general public, with ultimately only two cards out of the ten the surrealist artist was contracted for being printed.

Friday, 18 December 2020

presepio, threepeeo

For this long slog of a year, the Vatican has elected to showcase a profoundly different manger scene that while we think all find this somewhat other than expected and some taking more exception with the choice of the display than others of nineteen to-scale figures executed in terracotta sourced to a crรจche that pupils and art teachers made for their town, selected from a Nativity Scene consisting of fifty-four pieces in total—steeped in the tradition of the earthenware—over a ten-year period from the mid-1960s to the mid-seventies.

There’s a helmeted astronaut in attendance as a nod to the contemporaneous 1969 Moon landing plus a centurion that some are comparing to Darth Vader (see link above), though the sculpture pre-dates the franchise by a few years. As one observer enthusiastically commented, it would be a nice ensemble—in miniature—for heath and home. Previously on tour in the 1970s in Israel, Palestine and Trajan’s Forum in Rome, the selection echoes the Pope’s missive from last Christmas—Admirabile signum—that it is customary and expected to include symbolic, contemporary characters to make the display busier and better address the everyday nature of holiness and grace.

ั‰ะตะปะบัƒะฝั‡ะธะบ

Debuting in Saint Petersburg on this day in 1892 (Old Style, 6 December), the stage, fairy ballet (ะฑะฐะปะตั‚-ั„ะตะตั€ะธั) adaptation of the short story by E. T. A. HoffmannThe Nutcracker and the Mouse King—opened as a double-feature with Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s ultimate opera Iolanta, a one-act performance about the Duchess of Lorraine, Yolande de Bar—a romanticised biography of figure who was more retiring and reserved in real life. Though initially not well-received and critics using rather harsh language, the overture and suite that the composer score was an enduring success, with countless Christmas season performances accounting for an incredible forty percent of attendance for ballet companies in North America in normal times.

saint sebastian

Definitely the saint portrayed as the thirstiest, this captain of the Praetorian guard that prudently, sensibly hid his Christianity from Diocletian is venerated on this day in the Orthodox Church on the occasion of his martyrdom in 288, born around 256. Once his faith was revealed, the emperor (previously) ordered him lashed to a tree and shot with arrows. The firing squad departed, leaving Sebastian for dead, but he was able to miraculously recover—with the help of Saint Irene, widow of one of his previously martyred companions. Later Sebastian ambushed and berated Diocletian for his sinful ways and petitioned for better treatment for the Christian community. 

The emperor was first taken aback by such open and direct criticisms, especially from one who was supposed to be dead but soon regained his composure and ordered the saint to be cudgelled to death—probably not as pretty of a picture. Patron of the persecuted, archers and athletes, this Apollonian figure is also the protector of the plague stricken, due to a conflation with Hermes during medieval times, whom was said to deal diseased arrows from on high, and possibly because of his initial recovery which granted him a second martyrdom (called a sagittation and a fairly common theme) and that the wounds resembled the pox and buboes, whose appearance was alarming but not always a sign of certain death.