high commission or envoy extraordinary

Catching up on some episodes of Radio 4’s Great Lives series of jured biographies, I found myself being acquainted with quite a lot of heroic, indispensable individuals whom I’ve never heard of before.
I do enjoy the interaction of the champions and expert witnesses—especially when they don’t always choose to celebrate celebrity in the same way—and learning more about the character and background of the famed, but I appreciate even more discovering those overshadowed, interstitial contributors to the course of history, who, like something in between two known quantities that must necessarily be there if just for the sake of preserving the rules of periodicity.
One such essential but presently forgotten individual was statesman and diplomat John Gilbert Winant, US ambassador to the United Kingdom during the crucial years of WWII—introduced by the sitting US legate.  After the progressive Republican served consecutive terms as governor of New Hampshire, overseeing recovery programmes on the state-level that paralleled and complimented national efforts to pull America out of the Great Depression, FDR—recognising talent, crossed party-lines and appointed Winant first to the commission that codified the US Social Security System, c.f., having bipartisan support for Obamacare.
Shortly afterwards, in 1941, FDR named Winant to the UK diplomatic mission—replacing Ambassador Joseph Kennedy, who although a fellow Democrat maintained that US should not become entangled in foreign engagements and did not cut a very inspiring figure during the Blitz. Winant, with his outreach and industrial connections, became instrumental behind the scenes in persuading the US to join the war effort in Europe. Although the campaign on the political front ultimately did secure America’s commitment, some say that FDR dispatched Winant across the Atlantic also in order to avoid a potential challenge to his unprecedented fourth term as president. The BBC discussion includes many anecdotes and analysis that are well worth the listen—a chat that really draws one into the discussion.

surplus city

Thanks to the Presurfer for reintroducing us to the urban-spelunking of explorer Darmon Richter with his adventures to Inner Mongolia to experience the abortive venture that became New Ordos City. Plans to create an “outstanding tourism city of China” did not materialise as expected and now the gilded, ultra-modern metropolis hosts only a few lonely tenants and stands deserted and truly irreconcilably devoid of people or activity. In two instalments, Richter’s reflections, photography and native curiosity really enhances learning about the world’s largest “ghost city” and what haunts this phenomenon.

uAwg oder plus-ones

Preparations for the upcoming G-7 summit are putting undo onus on residents, by-standers and potential antagonists for the selected venue, the alpine retreat of Schloss Elmau. For the sake of security theatre, the compound—which was ironically envisioned at the behest of a local countess back in 1914 as an artistic retreat where an international class of volunteers matriculated annually to cater to and learn from artists in residence and not the exclusive and now fortified hotel that it has become. Campers are disappointed to find many pitches off-limits and other accommodations already claimed by authorities or members of the press that claimed any vacancies months prior.
Traffic is restricted as well as taking one’s cows to pasture. Protesters are unable to vent their frustrations because, ostensibly intimidated by the police, they’ve been afforded no quarter. I hope a few demonstrators do seek through the cordon, disguised as horses or haystacks—not so there’s violence or chaos, but just so the make-believe atmosphere created for the overlords is not so flawless as to allow them to keep their delusions. What do you think? I hope this kind of caravan never comes to town.

five-by-five

ncc-1701: gaming magnate designs headquarters in the likeness of the USS Enterprise

staple good: creative tailoring with flour-sacks

scultpture trail: photo gallery of some of the best and worst public art installations

land of a thousand dances: the Peanut Duck novelty song from circa 1965

playing with your food: edible, functional LEGO bricks from gelatin

paramour or self-fulfilling prophesy

Via the absorbing and infinitely intrepid (check out their regular round-ups on newsworthy oddities) Weird Universe comes this personal appeal from mentalist the Amazing Kreskin, courting the idea of forming a supernatural dating pool of lonely hearts.

Extra-terrestrial abductees, closeted and cloistered werewolves and vampires, those wanting to hold séances in order to commune with the departed will have a better chance of finding kindred spirits. Recalling Kreskin’s performances, I must say that I am a little confused—while never denying people their biases and superstitions, nor claiming the occult did not exist (unlike the Amazing Randi), the artist always claimed to work his spells through the power of suggestion, hypnotism alone and not by any psychic or paranormal means. The possessed, dispossessed, cursed and blessed are a notch different than cos-players and people who frequent Star Trek conventions who are looking for the same—not that any of this behaviour is abnormal and even reformed zombies need love too. I wonder what it means that Kreskin hopes to be a match-maker among this crowd.

five-by-five

free-hand: reflections on the loss of penmanship and learning cursive

dusk-jacket: book covers by Edward Gorey

acuity: Wolfram Alpha website that can identify any image that’s sent its way

tagged: seniors in Portugal grow wise to street art

escape-pods: Slovakian architects conceptualise self-sufficient ecocapsules that could be deployed any where

innocents abroad oder entlang der neckartal

For the long-weekend, though a bit wary of weather that appeared a little dodgy, we decided to stay relatively close to home and visited a portion of the Neckar river valley, going along portions of the tour that Mark Twain helped to retain their character and inchoate charm in his travelogue of Europe on a steam-powered pilgrimage to the Holy Land called The Innocents Abroad —though I’d argue that the area does so despite this notoriety.
Although H and I quite fancy ourselves sophisticates, we saw and learned quite a lot that we thought—between the two of us, we were familiar with.
The spare pair of days really telescoped themselves well to feel like a fully-fledged vacation just after we left the Autobahn at a curious place called Bad Wimpfen, with its medieval watch tower dominating the one-time imperial city of half-timbered (Fachwerk) buildings.
The market and spa town that grew up on the edge of the Roman world, the Odenwald Limes, was swapped between Frankonia, Hessen, Greater Hesse, Baden, Würrtemberg-Baden and then finally the modern state of Baden-Würrtemberg after it lost its imperial immediacy that meant that Bad Wimpfen was a city-state.
Afterwards, we took a leisurely drive, hugging close to the Neckar, between high cliffs, alternately thickly forested or cultivated as vineyards. For all the scenic beauty of the valley, it was strange that one could only capture it from on high—in sweeping vistas. H and I climbed next to Burg Guttenberg in Haβmersheim (I remember this because quite soon, the names of places veered decidedly less creative—all called Neckar- this or that—and kind of ran together) with its imposing late Middle Ages fortifications. The peasants were preparing for a jousting display but when such festivities weren’t underway, the castle was known as a regional centre for falconry.
Burg Guttenberg was on the opposite bank of the Neckar, facing Burg Horneck, a castle of the Teutonic Knights and just a little further on we came to the impeccably preserved playground called Burg Hornburg above the village of Neckarzimmern. The park consisted of a wine-cellars, hotel (where Twain stayed) and restaurant, naturally—and the estate has been in the same noble family for many generations, the friendly attendant and sommelier addressing another gentleman who stopped by as “Herr Baron”—but also an impressive ruin to explore and climb higher and higher.
We found a campsite in a nearby village of Binau right on the banks of the river.
 It was a nice place to rest for the evening but—and I suppose no one wants this in their backyard, seeing the nuclear power plant (Atomkraftwerk, AKW) Obrigheim just in the distance was a little off-putting. The next day, we cruised further along the river, past Neckargerach and Zwingenburg, and on to the small town of Eberbach with its massive cathedral set against the highest summits of the Odenwald. Another place mentioned in the whistle-stop tour was Burg Hirschhorn, another well-preserved castle with a playground.  Next, H and I visited the village of Neckarsteinach.


 This heavily fortified and guarded town on one of the most formerly strategic and contested bends of the river is the southern-most projection of Hessen, and today forms quite the picturesque spot.
Four castles (die Vierburgenstadt as its known) cling to the ridges above the river valley and on the promenade, we were able to frame three of them in one shot. We camped between Neckargemünd and the outskirts of Heidelberg—probably Twain’s most celebrated destination but one which we’d both knew quite well and worth a future trip of its own.
The next day we passed through the storied city and quit the path following the Neckar to tour the palatial grounds of the massive gardens of Schwetzingen, nestled between the branches of the river.
The summer residence of the court of the Palatinate Electors, the rococo architecture and landscape is the German kingdom’s version of Versailles.
Even if the weather had held, it was maybe a little too ambitious to hope to cover all of the garden, with its resplendent sculpture, hedge mazes, menageries and architectural follies—including this “mosque,” there was too much to see in one afternoon. We could see the rain clouds advancing and hurried back to Lady. We’ll come back to see more one day soon, and some day perhaps repeat Mark Twain’s whole grand tour, making it our own.

memes, memeplexes and neurath’s boat

Via the dazzlingly peripatetic Nag on the Lake, comes a look at ISOTYPEs—that is International System of Typographic Picture Education, which sounds so much better than the term infographic, which shall be evermore banished.
I am grateful for learning about these brilliant, vintage diagrams as I had previously discovered the sleek and singular icon libraries of Gert Arntz but had not realised that there was a direct link and application in the educational materials of philosopher Otto Neurath of the Vienna Circle. Like the Ship of Theseus, Neurath’s boat is a paradox to compel one to confront his or her foundational beliefs by dissecting so-called viral memes—those tenants we might identify with but which are recursive and self-serving. Members of the Vienna Circle, formed in the aftermath of World War I, encouraged life-long learning and rigorous self-examination.