Black Bile

Melancholy

I cannot answer or comment upon comments to this blogsite!

Dunno what's happened but when I log in and attempt to reply to comments - for the past weeks - I've been abruptly redirected to the back room where posts are created and edited! Which is where I am right now, composing this essay. Meaning, I cannot post responses to your comments on this site!!! At least until I can figure out what's happened. 

Hence perspicacious thoughts like those from Felix and Andreas - have become orphans. Dunno what to do short of  tedious interaction with the Blogger folks (if there are any. I have a sense that Blogger is entirely managed by an algorithmic robot) so, given so many niggling details of life just now, it's a meeting that's impossible for me to schedule. Which, of course, injects me with a hot-shot of melancholy.

In the interim, if commenters would send me thoughts to the "Email Ted" mail link on the right - that'd be nice.

So, I'm pissed, since I've composed responses to every comment, but cannot drop them here. Grumble. Oh well... Merry and Happy season everyone. Hope it's blessed and wise. Meantime, I'll lurch around mumbling to myself in a cranky huff...

BTW, the 2019 Cranky Huff model has just been released to dealer showrooms where it throbs dully in one color... black matte.

WAIT! WAIT! NEVER MIND THE ABOVE... I THINK I CAN POST NOW! WHEE!

Yep, I've responded to Cedric on this post... Now lemme goto the previously unanswered comments to past posts. Hope it works. Sorry about the rant, but I'm leaving the pict and my explanation. K?

That image up there? It's a Spanish bano serving an otherwise elegant restaurant. Don't know why, but bathroom engineering and design fascinate me the same way that Stephen King's stories used to. Anyone know what a Roman toilet-room looked like? Greek? Egyptian? Mesopotamian? Druid? Talk about "The power behind the throne..."

Comfrust Madrid

Twin streams pierce the lingering darkness of Madrid's AM drive-time where the sun comes late but rains come early. The morning's metal muddle squirms from both directions - as if one flow is seduced to fill the hole the other's created. A sort of equilibrium of ballast. Pity that the soft stuff within those machines won't trade homesites so that the morning snarl goes flaccid. 

GEEK STUFF:  How'd I do it? Well I pointed my 7D Mark II's Canon EFS 17-85mm through a bus windshield to grab the scene. Then in PSCC-2018 the image was kneaded with an array of tools I created along with those from Topaz and Alien Skin so that each of its parts could be first plucked for independent attention then reassembled to highlight my question about commute-frustration (comfrust?).

How badly did the Apian Way clog from morning traffic into ancient Rome? Were the arteries of classical Athens clogged with squirming streams of carts, riders, and carriages? Did Egypt or Mesopotamia need traffic cops? Is congestion a symptom of civilization's  success or its curse. Certainly it is a tax that seizes hours/days/months/years of life. In a way, that's the harshest tax of all. 

Gotta' catch up a little...

Okay, success on the internet demands the 3 Fs: Fast, Frequent, and Fresh. Which is why I am unsuccessful on the internet. I've finished 100s of images which I've meant to, but have been to lazy to... post. And I'm content with all of them. What I won't show, I trash. Well, mostly. So maybe it's time to do a little catching up? So here's a painting I did of a Mityana, Uganda Girl Scout Brownie. And...

Here are a couple of street scenes. The first is the 15th century gothic cathedral of St. Martin in Bratislava, Slovakia. It was built to match the Bratislava Castle which looms almost directly above it. The church tower's built into the city's defensive wall. Slovakia's a smaller European nation that would undoubtedly be much larger today had they not been the first European nation to export its Jewish population of 57,000 people  to feed Hitler's ghastly "Final solution to the 'Jewish Problem'". Of course that Catholic Church continued its activities as the cattle cars were crammed with writhing masses of people. A guidebook pointed out that, "A small but significant neighbor of the cathedral is a monument to the national synagogue which stood next door for centuries until the Communist government demolished it around 1970". Uh-huh, the image looks spooky, right. Well so is this street's history.

The other image is a misty morning street corner in Toledo. Spain. Can you sense the history veiling the neighborhood?

Speaking of street scenes, well howzabout a watery street's scene? This one's along the Danube between Dornstein and Melk, Austria. These folks live next to a busy floating highway. You think they have wet basements?

Here's a Spanish finca growing Valencia oranges in Spain. Finca? Uh-huh, these are country homes, usually plantations or farms of some sort. Usually is a tad old fashioned way to describe fincas. Today in hispanic countries the country home of affluent people are frequently called fincas whether or not they grow or raise stuff or animals. Pretty rich?

And this street scene's from the middle of Vienna - yep - the Austrian Vienna :-) Sooner or later I'm going to post a passel of totally gorgeous Viennese scenes. My dear friend Andreas Mannesinger hosted me for an entire day in the Austrian capital. It was wunnerful. But this image could be from almost anywhere, huh? But this thing jiggled my imagination for some reason - probably the reflections in the rear view mirror... And the jiggling caused this semi-poem to tumble free:

Through back-eyes Truck
Watches history suck
Time through a tiny
Vanishing point.
.
Watching and holding speed constant
To average 60 seconds per minute
Is what Truck does.
.
But larky:
Sometimes Truck’ll
Stutter-foot momentum.
Or jerk at the wheels.
.
Causing things to:
.
First seem longer
Than it takes for
Right-guy to text
The gal who gave
Up her info.
.
Or when Truck
Gooses its gas how
Time shrinks shorter than
The hours before a life-test.
.
And when Truck jerks
At the wheels?
.
Its windows reflect a
History that’s swirled,
Snarled, and sqooshed
Together In clots and breaches.
.
Truck’s wondering though
What happens to
History if …
.
If even for an instant
.
The truck stops here?

Jeff & Gina Paglialonga are the owners of Teaming River Cruises. It was their riverboat that drove us through the epicenter of Europe (Amsterdam to Budapest)  during the summer of 2017. Jeff's personality's bigger than the kilometers his river boat travels. OTH the food on The Royal Crown - his company's flagship - is good enough to gobble. So? Why not, huh?

Okay - I'm neither fast, frequent, nor fresh - but it was a turtle who beat the rabbit, right?

Granada 10/26/17

I  hope you’ve reviewed my 2016 feelings of; Madrid, Toledo, Cordoba, and Seville - right?Well after a 2 and 1/2  hour bus trip of some 156 miles we arrived in Granada on Wednesday October 25th.

An hour by car from the ports of the Mediterranean, Granada sits at the foot of the Sierra Nevada mountains which feed the four rivers that converge at the city which is home to a quarter million or so people and its entire market’s population’s about the same as Lancaster County, Pennsylvania - maybe a tad smaller. 

Sisters Deb & Joanne travelled Spain with the legacy, spirit, and love of their brother Bill.

Yeah, I captured this moment below in Granada. But without that title would you wonder if this man ran the New York Streets? Marseille's? Istanbul’s? Maybe Vienna, Dublin, Mbarara, or Lancaster, Pennsylvania? With the slightest switch in scenery – and I do mean ‘slight’ – here’s a big-city, 21st century morning moment. I wonder, did up-scale men scramble for exercise in 3rd century Rome? 2nd century Cathay? How about the Baghdad streets of say 1,500 BC?

Have men (and now women) always run for fitness when civilization’s security walls grew sufficiently thick? Or have they only recently begun to scamper in Moscow, Vienna, Tehran, or Bangalore? Is this a historically accurate urban cliché or just a momentary – yet widespread – fad?

Hmmmmmm? 

Our AM stop in the river city was...

Down below see? That’s Bruno of Cologne the founder of the Carthusian order of cloistered monks in 1084 in Calabria, Italy. In fact the Carthusians are also called the Order of St. Bruno. The man lived (1030-1101) within the eye of the theocratic/regal storms that roiled over Europe, and while he personally affected the role of a hermit, he was a learned confidant to both the Papal See (from the ecclesiastical Latin meaning holy seat: the name of of the Pope’s throne) and to worldly monarchial palaces.

This grotesquely beautiful statue adorns one of the most elaborate (some might say decadent) altars in the Catholic world, occupying the epicenter of Granada’s Carthusian cloistered monetary.

Bruno was apparently never tortured much less martyred so there’s little to explain the damage the sculptor imagined to his left eye nor the various carvings into his face. While he personally lived in austerity, he had access to assive resources which he used to endow churches and both the Carthusian and Cistercian orders of priests and lay brothers which he was instrumental in founding.

The statue (like much of the art in Granada’s Carthusian monestary) is grisly and consistent with the imaginations of directors of over-the-top horror movies. I have no idea how that connects with the quiet piety and deep scholarship of St. Bruno. But then, that’s the purpose of travel, right? To experience the puzzle of other cultures..

An example? Well here’s Eric discovering the grisly imagination of acclaimed 14th century artist Juan Sánchez Cortán.

TravelTime hostesses Lori and Courtney took turns as my gentle keeper. Okay, the camera distracts me so I straggle. Notice how casually Courtney stands there like, “Who Me?ME? Watching you Ted? Nah… "

But the stark cold monastery corridors all led to its central chapel which seems, well, un-monkly. 

Remember, these guys took vows of poverty in a land of enormous wealth that was concentrated in very few hands. Large hunks of the population were impoverished… while the monks of St. Bruno’s built this...

And this… Look familiar? (Hint: see the second image up above)

When it looks like gold… In 15th century Spain… it was gold.

Although downtown Granada wears it’s modern wealth  with comfort… There are, since 2009, numbers of once-elegant now-empty stores along its richest street. 

Bernie Hershberger frames the entrance to La Alhámbrá which  lets you feel the Moorish dreams that an army of stone masons built into this mighty 13th century citadel/palace overseeing Granada. Still mysteriously placid, the property transferred peacefully to the Catholics leaving its masonry un-cracked along with ancient ghosts.

The Alhámbrá’s a Sultan’s 700 year old palace with the Spanish city of Granada wrapped around the base of its hill-perch. As you can tell from this typical palace doorway, the Disney people have visited here a lot, Right?

You wander the Alhámbrá halls and feel the Moorish Sultan’s presence. What’s below though isn’t a window or door – just an alcove in an almost forgotten corridor. It’s a cranny carved into this space when much of Europe was only just opening its eyes to the Enlightenment. Years before ‘enlightened’ (yeah, that’s sarcasm) Christians expelled the Jews from Spain in 1492. 

Yet today when Christian Europe struggles against sharing chunks of its culture with new, largely Muslim, annexers whose ancestors they also expelled – the dusty beauty of this insignificant niche seems relevant. If a human is the sum of his/her ideas, it’s important to remember that culture is all about gathering, defining, and defending those ideas. Cultural clash threatens what people are – and yet this dimly lit niche glimmers a serenity that resonates across cultural battle lines.

Stairway To Heaven?

See the pedestal next to the steps below? It’s probably where a Seraglio’s guardian stood, like in Eduard Charlemont’s legendary 1878 painting <http://www.philamuseum.org/collections/permanent/102792.html>. Okay, Charlemont took a tad of artistic license, what can I tell ya? Still, can you image the fantasies this doorway to forbidden Seraglio chambers triggered 700 years ago when it was, um, fully functional? I’m thinking that Freud probably loved the symbolism of the structure, huh? (Don’t know the word “Seraglio”? Look it up! ;-)

Moorish architects understood the tension between the need for interior light and the rigors of Mediterranean heat. Their ingenious solutions involved the delicate latices which formed lace-like patterns across portals open to the skies. Here, in the torpor of an October afternoon, that exquisite workmanship allowed the interior in this corner a shimmering glow. A glow that reinforced the mysteries that once-awaited above.

And upstairs… Um, here’re are honeymooners - Robin & Michael.

The Alhámbrá  sprawls like the Topkapi Palace I’ve pictured among my Turkish images. I could narrow my eyes and easily imagine myself in Istanbul. The Alhámbrá's breathtakingly detailed with architectural accomplishments unrivaled throughout Europe for a century at least. And yet for all of its grandness, there are quiet spaces with mysteriously gentle lighting like these small rooms that sing to their solace.

Sometime in the 700s, the Sultan of Granada walked the gardens in his Alhámbrá palace. This corridor wanders for about a quarter of a mile parallel to another pathway to the left. Throughout there are water features and these intricately executed mosaic walkways.

The Moors ruled much of Spain from the 700s until the end of the 1400s. At their height of power, Granada was a richly artistic home of scholarship and science. And the Alhámbrá  was the boast of its affluence. Can you imagine the demand for stone masons, sculptors, painters, wood workers, carpenters, plasterers, plumbers, glass makers, and mosaic artists?

Actually all of the beauty and exquisite detail was a sort of marketing campaign. See, Granada's Alhámbrá was built in the middle of the 14th century by the caliphs of the Nasrid dynasty. Seems the Moors who'd invaded Spain in 711 were, by the 1300s, worried about their image of waning power. How better to project their dissipating might than to create a dream of heaven on earth? The place was created from plaster, timber, and tiles. Look at the serene workmanship around this pool that's survived  some seven centuries - even Napoleon's attempt to blow the entire place apart.

Feel the Moorish dreams that an army of stone masons built into this mighty 13th century citadel/palace overseeing Granada. Still mysteriously placid, the property transferred peacefully to the Catholics leaving its masonry un-cracked along with ancient ghosts.

And afterward...  a 310 mile, 6 hour bus ride to Valencia which meant...

And what about Valencia? Next time...

Stairway to Heaven?

See the pedestal? It's probably where the Seraglio's guardian stood, like in Eduard Charlemont's legendary 1878 image.  Okay, Charlemont took a tad of artistic license, what can I tell ya? Still, can you image the fantasies this this doorway to forbidden Seraglio chambers triggered 800 years ago when it was, um, fully functional? I'm thinking that Freud probably loved the symbolism of the image, huh? (Don't know the word "Seraglio"? Look it up.)

GEEK STUFF: Moorish architects understood the tension between the need for interior light and the rigors of Mediterranean heat. Their ingenious solutions involved the delicate latices which formed lace-like patterns across portals open to the skies. Here, in the heat of an October afternoon, that exquisite workmanship allowed the interior in this corner a shimmering glow. A glow that reinforced the mysteries that once-awaited above. So I took the image my Canon 7D's 17-85mm allowed me to frame, then processed it first using Alien Skin's Exposure X2's ingenious Ilford B&W infrared film emulation. I always loved the spooky glow I got from that product decades ago.  

Then, I hand-colored the image in PS/CC. Finally I selectively brushed in handfuls of pebbly grain to evoke the dreamlike quality of age - you know, the opposite of feather-dusting furniture? I wanted to coat it in a patina of olden fantasy. 

Details... Details...

The angel's in the details!

These things up there were a sort of marketing campaign. See, Granada's Alhambra was built in the middle of the 14th century by the caliphs of the Nasrid dynasty. Seems the Moors who'd invaded Spain in 711 were worried about their image of waning power. How better to project their dissipating might than to create an idea of heaven on earth? The place was created from plaster, timber, and tiles. Look at the dazzling workmanship that's survived  some seven centuries - even Napoleon's attempt to blow it apart.

Geek Stuff:  I imagine that big-time professional photographers have created rich images of the Alhambra's interiors. What I can't imagine is how they lit them. While the pros probably used 8X10 monster cameras locked rock-solid atop massive tripods and dozens of slave lights. Well on Wednesday, 10/26/16 at around 3pm - I pointed up my Canon 7D's 17-85mm lens which was widened to 17mm after I'd cranked up the ISO to 2000. That produced  a reasonably solid 1/125sec. at f/7.1 to grab good DOF and reasonable steadiness.  RAW let me dig out a couple of f stops in either direction to approximate an HDR dynamic range. Oh, each of those images above were stitched together in Photoshop CC from a number of panels.


O en Español:

El ángel está en los detalles. Estas cosas eran una especie de campaña de marketing. La Alhambra de Granada fue construida a mediados del siglo XIV por los califas de la dinastía nazarí. Parece que los moros que habían invadido España en 711 estaban preocupados por su imagen de poder menguante. ¿Cómo mejor proyectar su poder disipante que crear una idea del cielo en la tierra? El lugar fue creado de yeso, madera y azulejos. Mira la deslumbrante mano de obra que ha sobrevivido a unos siete siglos - incluso el intento de Napoleón de soplarlo aparte.

Geek Stuff:  Me imagino que los grandes fotógrafos profesionales han creado imágenes ricas de los interiores de la Alhambra. Lo que no puedo imaginar es cómo los encendieron. Mientras que los pros probablemente utilizaron cámaras de monstruos de 8X10 bloqueadas roca-sólidas sobre trípodes masivos con docenas de luces de esclavo. Bueno, el miércoles, 10/26/16 alrededor de las 3 pm - Señalé mi Canon 7D 17-85mm lente que se amplió a 17 mm después de que yo había accionado la ISO a 2000. Eso produjo un razonablemente sólido 1 / 125sec. En f / 7.1 para agarrar buen DOF y regularidad razonable. RAW me deja cavar un par de f stops en cualquier dirección para aproximar un rango dinámico HDR. Oh, cada una de esas imágenes de arriba fueron cosidas en Photoshop CC a partir de una serie de paneles.

Real Alcázar Dome: Depth Rays

At about the time when Christians were recalling how to erect and decorate ambitious church domes: Pedro I in just two years (1364-66 ) built his palace - the Real Alcázar (The Royal Place) in Seville. Here's the ceiling of the (later added) _Salon de Embajdores_. It's where  Sultans met officials and dined formally. And where it's said (much like a similar scene from a Godfather movie), a later Sultan lured a rival's entire family for a banquet... and slaughtered them all. Tasty?

Anyway... This dome is made from interlaced staves of intricately carved and gilded wood. On the right and left: see the capitals atop two of the massive columns which support the massive weight of the dome? Amazingly so much of the Alcázar and Seville's Moorish antiquities have survived the geologically active quakes that shake so much of Spain flat.

Geek Stuff: This is a 17mm, three photo-pano stitched together from images made with my Canon 7D through its EFS 17-85mm f4-5.6 glass, processed in PS/CC employing myriad tools from Topaz, 0N1, and Alien Skin's enticing new Exposure X2. Of course the photos were handheld and shot at 2,000 ISO (1/13th of a sec).. Notice the lack of grain? Well, in fact I did a bunch of tricks to make the shadows and highlights pop while obscuring noise. The 7D has a powerful sensor though and low light noise is just a minor irritant problem.

Y por mi amigos de Espana...

Alrededor de la época en que los cristianos recordaban cómo erigir y decorar ambiciosas cúpulas de iglesias: Pedro I en sólo dos años (1364-66) construyó su palacio - el Real Alcázar de Sevilla. Aquí está el techo del (más tarde agregado) _Salon de Embajdores_. Es donde los sultanes se reunieron con funcionarios y cenaron formalmente. Y donde se dice (al igual que una escena similar de la película de El Padrino), un sultán más tarde atrajo toda la familia de un rival para un banquete ... y los mató a todos. ¿Sabroso?

De todos modos ... Esta cúpula está hecha de bastones entrelazados de madera tallada y dorada intrincadamente. A la derecha ya la izquierda: ver los capiteles sobre dos de las columnas masivas que soportan el peso masivo de la cúpula? Sorprendentemente mucho del Alcázar y las antigüedades árabes de Sevilla han sobrevivido a los terremotos geológicamente activos que sacuden tanto España plana.

Geek Stuff: Esto es un 17mm, tres foto-pano cosidos juntos de imágenes hechas con mi Canon 7D a través de su EFS 17-85mm f4-5.6 vidrio, procesado en PS / CC que emplea una miríada de herramientas de Topaz, 0N1 y Alien Skin Atrayente nueva Exposición X2. Por supuesto, las fotos fueron de mano y disparó a 2.000 ISO (1/13 de un segundo) .. Nota la falta de grano? Bueno, de hecho hice un montón de trucos para hacer las sombras y resalta pop mientras oscurece el ruido. El 7D tiene un sensor de gran alcance sin embargo y el poco ruido ligero es apenas un problema irritante menor.

Andalusia Between Cordoba & Seville

So sunrise burnt away valley mists that coated a rare non-electric rail track wriggling through orange groves toward Northeastern mountains.

There are 88 bus miles stretching from Cordoba and Seville along the Andalusian plain. Andalusia includes Gibralter (Spain doesn’t recognize Britain’s claim to that rock), This plain is as much Europe’s Eastern entrance as Turkey is in the West.

Consequently beyond the bus windows is a plain that’s been swept in historic times by the native Iberians, Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Greeks, Romans, Vandals, Visigoths, Byzantines, Jews, Romani, myriad Africans, and Muslim Moors, along with the Castilian and other Christian North Iberian nationalities who conquered and settled the area in the latter phases of the Reconquista.

This far south, road signs are frequently written in both Spanish and arabic.

Geek Stuff Canon 7D through its EFS 17-85mm (f4-5.6). Processed in PS/CC employing tools by Photomatix, Topaz and Alien Skin’s Exposure X2.

Flamenco!

Flamenco @ La Palacio Andaluz

Seville: If you can make it there (in flamenco) you can make it anywhere, right? The Palacio is a dinner theater with perhaps the best dance ensemble. Review: Really liked it. Good food, great dance, and since flamenco is theater… Well, there’s the hat trick :-}

Oh:  And La Palacio encourage photography.

Geek Stuff Canon G-10. Processed in PS/CC employing myriad tools by: Photomatix, Topaz and Alien Skin’s new Exposure X2. Stage lighting’s a challenge, so I try to make lemonade – y’know?

Spain Day 3 • Bits of Cordoba • 10/24/16

Of course you can click on any image to see it large...

I've been apologizing to myself for getting sick. OK, that's dumb, but both Rita and I were felled during this trip - she got bronchitis, and since I'm more manly, well I grew it into pneumonia... Cough, Wheez... So this was the worst job of photographing I've done in decades. Sorry... sorry... sorry. Grumble.

In the 10th century, Cordoba was among the world's greatest cities.

The old city's snuggled behind it's massive ancient curtain wall protecting the colossal Mezquita. This Great Mosque embodied the power of the Islam on the Iberian Peninsula. Starting in the late 700s it was constructed by the Moors for over 150 years with lavish additions in the 10th century by Hakam II. The city was the sultan's citadel with a towering minaret high above all. A minaret which was replaced six hundred years later with this Torre del Alminar bell tower when Catholics reclaimed the city. 

The enormous Mezquita, now the Cathedral of Cordoba, is itself wrapped in a thick wall. Can't help looking at it's secluded rear door without imagining how it allowed dignitaries furtive entrance and exit. 

Spain's fabulous wealth allowed first the Muslims then the Catholics cities to compete with increasingly grand mosques, churches and then cathedrals. For example, here in the heart of the Mezquita is the very busy Catholic cathedral's main altar. Overdone? Hmmmm... I'm thinking that if this were music, the best descriptive word could be, um... cacophony. Each succeeding Cardinal must have sought some undecorated niche to stuff still more into this reconsecrated basilica.

This place reminds me most of a freeway at rush hour... clogged with architect and artist traffic. Maybe it was my fever, but the silently elegant remaining fixtures of the caliphs spoke to me more than the frenetic snarl of the cathedral's decoration.