Edwardian Jackal

Saturday, August 29, 2015

...1936, Fresno...Pop Laval Photography...

{Upon a recent visit to Fresno, one will find that history abounds in the north of the State. A small gallery, Pop Laval, seeks to maintain and preserve that history by restoration of early photographs. They have an online store as well as a way to donate to their mission.}

Claude "Pop" Laval (1882-1966) transplanted from his home in Pennsylvania to rural Fresno in the very early 1900s. It was here that he pursued photography and was known as the man to call for any photographic event. All told, he shot on some 100,000 negatives. He worked closely alongside contemporary Ansel Adams, who had taught Laval to keep logs of all his photos, producing a rich history of the Central Valley.

This view of Fulton Street at Tulare in downtown Fresno is a snapshot in time. The buildings have not all survived since 1936, so it is crucial to see what did exist and understand what came before. Looking closely you will see the ubiquitous drug store (Owl Drug Co) a postal telegraph service in the back, The street is teeming with people in their summer clothes. The casual, non suit of California, the white dress shirt, pulled up at the arm

The cars appear to be a mixture of both 1934 and 1935 Fords. A truck hawking 'accurate' painting patiently awaits the street to clear.

Another beautiful story in the Laval collection is Hart's Restaurant, which was razed in 2004. The giant neon clock and signs were a 'beacon' during the hard times of the pre-war Depression. {A beautiful story is here on the Fresno Bee Hive.}

It was opened on April 8th, 1936 and was a 24-hour cafeteria, serving what you would expect of a diner of that era. It remained a center point for many Fresno families through 1968. I could only imagine the late stories told over cups of coffee and fresh pies. Pies made from the cornucopia that Fresno is known for.

A Shropshire Lad 1: From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
BY A. E. HOUSMAN

Picasso - 'Girl Asleep at Table', 1936

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.

Look left, look right, the hills are bright,
The dales are light between,
Because 'tis fifty years to-night
That God has saved the Queen.

Now, when the flame they watch not towers
About the soil they trod,
Lads, we'll remember friends of ours
Who shared the work with God.

...you say 'introvert' like its a bad thing...Alessia Cara...

Some nerve you have
To break up my lonely
And tell me you want me
How dare you march into my heart
Oh how rude of you
To ruin my miserable
- Alessia Cara, I'm Yours

I would rather be at home all by myself not in this room
With people who don't even care about my well-being
I don't dance, don't ask, I don't need a boyfriend
So you can go back, please enjoy your party
I'll be here, somewhere in the corner under clouds of marijuana
- Alessia Cara, Here

"The highest form of love is to be the protector of another person's solitude."
- Rainer Maria Rilke

"We can break step. Magnificent living beings that we are, we humans are free to unravel our patterns."
- Louisa Hall, Speak

Saturday, August 22, 2015

...the Captain at the Edge of the Sea...

The Captain was wakened as he dreamed of amethyst purple. They were infused upon the backs of giant turtles that rode just beneath the waves of blue. Their glossy eyes were staring at him in admiration as he rode the lead and pushed to the fore. He used the angular straight of the amethyst to hang on for dear life. It was exhilarating...

...

Barker stared at him, four inches from his nose. He lay there wanting him to move so he could stand. The Stella Maris was listing to starboard, but had otherwise stopped. The crew mulled about the decks, feeling sorry for their Captain. A few spoke it outright. One crewman, Sam, had clenched fists as he stared upward and beyond the jib.

An impassable line of mountain stretched before him Nor' to South. It was dark crag, without life. It rose above, beyond sight. The mountain wound off into the mist of early morning, but it was assured that it stretched for leagues in either direction.

The Captain could not see his star. But it was there, beyond the impasse. It was to be perilous. "Captain, what say you? This is surely the edge of the world and nothing beyond. The stone is what binds the oceans together. There is nothing beyond but the colorless ether. The edge of Hades and we are skirting Acheron." He spit in defiance of it!

The Captain clapped the Foreman on the shoulder and smiled. His creased face lit by mad thought. "Perhaps this is why men do what they do." He paced the deck and tightened his clothing, pulled up his boot. "We do what we do to see endlessly ahead...we do what we do because we hear the music. I've seen my star."

"Unreachable!" "Unattainable!"

"Aye, tis so, tis so. I'll not quarrel your words, my friends." He pointed at the cliff's face. "This is nothing for me. This is a pebble on the road. We would not say 'unreachable' for a pebble, or 'unattainable' for a wheel's rut. My heart is pure. My soul stubborn." The men laughed at this. "Take the Stella to Contre Larrop and part for a time, live on the wages we've earned. I shall meet you on Christmas day, two years from now."

His attendant brought his gear. He took a sextant, a pistol, a log book, clothes and other kit necessary. "Sir, what will you do if you encounter giants? What of demons?"

"Fie! I have faith. The Lord abides. The star I seek is of sublime riches, the highest climes."

With this the Captain shoved from the Maris and into the water. He swam a short ways to the stone, clambered up and was away before they knew it. If Christmas Day two years hence he says, then, in two years they shall meet him!

...Samantha and the Plasters of Paris...

Sam awoke and jotted the motifs down as quickly as she could in a 5x7 spiral she kept near her bed. Not fully awake, the notes were large, the letters curved in circular directions. As long as it was legible enough to cull from later, that was all that mattered.

Captain. Amethyst Turtles. Glossy eyed. Impasse. Star. Christmas Day. Two years.

The Captain dreams had lasted about fourteen months now. All told, it may have been close to a dozen that she could remember, a dozen that she spilled out on a single page. It may mean something one day. Right now, all Sam believed was that this was a spiritual imagination place. A place where India blues was the color of the ocean and turtles were giants...and a Captain bound forward to follow his heart.

It was 7:20 am on a Saturday. She grabbed her binder, threw on her Angels cap and ran outside.

...

"What is that?"

Clark had the dumbest questions. He never said 'hello' either. He just walked up and started to be annoying. Sam knew if she ever felt someone leering over or around her, it was Clark.

"Plaster of Paris."

"It comes from Paris?" Sam rolled her eyes and didn't turn around. She wasn't in the mood to see his mouth agape. She gingerly balanced a consistent string of plaster into the dried mud, making sure that the coat would be even. She had tried it on her own foot print a few times and had to vary her method to achieve the best result. Not too much water, a slow pour and make sure no cats or Clark got within three feet of it. "Does it dry?"

"Yes Clark, it dries." She stood aways back to admire her work. There were about six footprints to choose from, all the same shoes as far as she could tell. This imprint was the best of those, it ran deep enough to simply place a little wall of mud around it and she'd have a cast. I wonder if the police did any of this?

10:20 am. She had to sit here now since Clark would definitely ruin the entire cast if she let him to it. The grass was warm and wet under the flesh of her palm. She loved the feeling. She loved the feel of laying in the ice plants even more, but she could only do that when her parents weren't home.

"How long does it take?"

"Twenty minutes and then I have to carefully extract it. Then I have to let it dry overnight."

"Why? That's boring."

"There's nothing boring Clark - just boring people."

"You always say that."

"Because you always say that too." She turned toward him for the first time, "Maybe you need to stop saying it then I won't say what I say." He shrugged and sat. Arrrgh.

"Do you think it'll catch the ransomer?" Well, he isn't all dumb, isn't he?

"Don't even want to say its him."

"How do you know it's a 'him'?"

"Women don't usually ransom. Plus, looking at the shoes, women don't usually run a size 9 men's with a Converse tread. It would be an awfully ugly giant of a woman." Clark shuddered at the thought.

"Do you think you'll find him?"

"Dunno. All I can do is keeping trying to find things...I found the shoes under the window. I will guess there are fingerprints there. I found a cigarette butt in the gutter, and no one four houses in either direction smokes. Plus, it's a Salem, no one definitely smokes these on the whole block (unless it was the new family). It had to have been someone that knows this neighborhood, or at least Mrs. -"

"Wow, you think too much."

"Go away Clark." And he did.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

...here I am wandering the night, the heat's enough...

Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art

Last Letter from John Keats to Fanny Brawne

BY JOHN KEATS

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;

No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever or else swoon to death.

- 1819

Love Letter from Toothbrush to Bicycle Tire

BY SARAH KAY

They told me that I was meant for the cleaner life, that you would drag me through the mud. They said that you would tread all over me, that they could see right through you, that you were full of hot air, that I would always be chasing, always watching you disappear after sleeker models, that it would be a vicious cycle.

But I know better. I know about your rough edges and I have seen your perfect curves, and I will fit into any spaces you let me. If loving you means getting dirty, bring on the grime, I will leave this porcelain home behind. I’m used to twice a day relationships, but with you, I’ll take all the time. And I know, we live in different world and we’re always really busy.

But in my dreams, you spin around me so fast I always wake up dizzy. So maybe one day you’ll grow tired of the road and roll on back to me. And when I blink my eyes into the morning, your smile will be the only thing I see.