A Work in Progress

January 4: Weekend Reading Notes

My New Year's Day was meant to be spent reading all day long.  My first book of the year was meant to be Camille Laurens' slim book, Little Dancer Aged Fourteen about Edgar Degas' famous sculpture.  I had it all planned out ahead of time.  A day of reading, one short book, a good start to the new reading year!  But you know how easily reading plans can get derailed. 

The problem was other books, of course.  I was in bed contemplating the coming day and my gaze caught sight of the unsightly mess my bedside book piles had gotten.  I have a bedside pile (well two actually) and then against the wall next to my bed I have a small bookcase that has grown stacks of books to one side and in front.  Things had gotten a little out of control.  I meant only to do a little sorting and shifting and tidying.  And one thing led to another and all of a sudden the better part of the day was over.  I got in very little reading on that last day of my vacation.  

It was not time wasted however.  Part of the pleasure of owning books and reading is spending time perusing them and sorting bookcases and bookpiles (and rediscovering books that have been long hidden on the bottom of piles that are behind other piles).  So now, for a while at least, my book piles are nice and tidy and books have been shifted so books that are most interesting to me at the moment are nearest at hand.  There is space between bed and wall/bookcase and I can see what is actually in that corner of my bedroom once again.

Now I am reading the Laurens book and enjoying it immensely as I suspected I would.  It is a biography of sorts.  And an art book and maybe a little social history thrown in as well.  You could probably read it in a few short sessions, which is what I have been doing.  I am curious about how Laurens managed to find out so much about the model that Degas used for this sculpture, and perhaps she will go into that at some point (or I will look through the notes at the end). 

Is it surprising that at the time the original sculpture was exhibited it was derided and frowned upon?  It was actually a wax sculpture and Degas tucked it away then not to show it again or allow it to be sold.  Now she is a beloved little ballerina and much admired, but the reality of her life was quite something else.  Degas had started as a painter but as his eyesight failed he took to sculpting instead.  So the book moves back and forth between the life and times of Degas and the world in which he was working and the world of young Marie Genevieve Van Goetham.

Marie was the middle of three sisters all of whom danced in the Paris Opera as a "little rat" as they were known.  Each sister would have different success and deal with different failures.  Her elder sister fell on hard times but her younger sister met with some success and became a ballet teacher.  The young women who were little rats did not have enviable jobs and children of the era were not treated as children are today.  They had no rights, little access to education and were sent out to work as soon as they reached the tender age of twelve or so.  And they were, too, prey for the men who came to the Opera for more than watching.  The descriptions of their lives and the working conditions are actually quite harrowing--Degas' drawings and painting of the ballerinas seem so romanticized, so this is an eye opening and very interesting read.

"Marie Van Goetham, then, joined the Paris Opera.  The terms of the contract for such a spindly girl would have been harsh.  She worked ten or twelve hours a day, six days out of seven, going from ballet class to rehearsals to performances.  The 1841 law setting a limit on the length of a child's workday did not apply to the Opera.  The ballet school stipulated in its regulations that a student must absolutely live within two kilometers of the Palais Garnier, because their daily stipends of two francs would not cover the cost of a tram or omnibus: Marie came on foot every day--and it is likely that she never ventured beyond her neighborhood during her childhood."

I am hoping to find a sunny window in which to sit this weekend to read--hopefully finish this book and make some headway on a few others.  I am enjoying all my new starts for the year, so it is exciting to know I can pick up just about anything on my night table and lose myself in the story.

Weekend Museum Highlights

Long weekends usually mean a visit to a museum or garden-somewhere nice and festive.  A favorite place at this time of year is the Durham Museum, which is located in the historic Omaha Union Station.  It was once a busy railway station--I can only imagine the stories that must be within those walls--the people who passed through at some point in their lives--coming and going.  It's an Art Deco building and quite striking inside and out.  The exhibits are mostly regional history-related or science-oriented as it is Smithsonian affiliated.  And every year it houses a massive tree that was locally donated.  I happened to coincide my visit with the day the tree was officially lit, though I didn't hang around for the actual ceremony.  I'm sure I'll return before the holiday in December to see it with the lights on.

There are many displays of historical-Omaha, so you get a sense of what it was like to live here, and it is always fun to look at all the artifacts.  Where should we go?  I have traveled by train but never in the US.

There are actual trains on display in the lower level of the station and from different eras.  This is one of the less fancier models, but it certainly shows a lot of wear and use.

I guess you must have had to fill out an order request for your meal.  Fifteen cent coffees.  I guess that means there were no $6 mocha frappuccinos, eh?  No vegetarian, vegan or gluten-free options either.  I bet the pie a la mode was pretty good, though.

I like the idea of streetcars more than city buses.  I wish we still had them like they do in San Francisco.

I have this idea that I rode on one of these as a very small child with my grandma, but maybe that is revisionist fantasy on my part.  The idea of trains and streetcars is sort of romantic now.  This certainly seems spacious to me.

I had heard there was a quilt exhibit, but I was expecting a room full of them.  It seems that these are the entries into a competition for the 150th Anniversary of the state, which we are celebrating this year.  They all look pretty amazing and intricate.  How ever did they choose?

I don't always walk through all the train sections (and am not sure the interiors are always open to the public, but on this holiday weekend they were and had lots of visitors).  But I always take a peek at this 1920s auto.  I the information sign noted that it was a ladies' car, but I have a feeling it was not all that easy to drive. 

There are lots of models of homes and public and private spaces as they would have been through the ages.  One of my grandmas (maybe they both did) had a stove just like this one!  And I think her ice box, was literally an ice box and not what we know as a refrigerator.  (She also had a bureau where she always kept little bags of M&Ms that my sister and I would raid when we visited. 

Omaha was the host to a world fair, the Trans-Mississippi International Exposition in 1898.  I love looking at this diorama.  It must have been quite the event and a draw for midwesterners (and maybe even visitors from the coasts and internationally).

This is a little peek at some of the things I saw on my visit.  It's a real gem of a museum if you ever pass through Omaha!  And it was a pleasant place to spend a few hours over my long weekend.  Now it makes me want to pick up a good book of historical fiction!  With that in mind I pulled out my copy of Timothy Schaffert's The Swan Gondola, a novel set during the world's fair.  It would make a perfect complement to my visit, don't you think?  (Or maybe a novel set on a train . . . this is what so often happens with my reading--I will see something that sparks an idea or curiosity and it makes me want a book with a setting just so . . .). 

Books Borrowed, Books Bought

I mentioned last week that I have been accumulating a number of really interesting-sounding books from a variety of sources (lots of library finds as well as a smattering of new books ordered and arriving all summer long), so I thought it was time to share a few and give highlights of where my reading interests have been taking me.

First a few library books.  I've just started reading The Wildling Sisters by Eve Chase and almost from the first it has caught my attention.  It is one of those double stranded narratives set in 1959 and the present with a house at its center, four sisters and some awful deed that won't rest as decades later a woman falls in love with the house and moves there with her family.  Why do I love stories like these--a mixture of drama and suspense in the vein (in this case) of Daphne du Maurier.

A coworker and her husband both read and enjoyed Anthony Horowitz's Magpie Murders.  It was a hard decision which novel to start first, since the Horowitz is longer and has a very long line of readers waiting after me for a turn at a copy.  I think this is a story within a story with a nod toward vintage English crime (think Agatha Christie).

So this book by Orhan Pamuk is most intriguing, and as you will see below it is meant to be a companion book to one by him I am really eager to read.  The Innocence of Objects is a curiosity.  It is not a novel, but a novelty really and I think it will make sense when I read the book below.  "Orhan Pamuk's Museum of Innocence in Istanbul is the culmination of decades of omnivorous collecting that seeks to capture the city of Pamuk's youth through everyday objects: the ephemera, bric-a-brac, and clutter that adheres to every life. Pamuk's novel of love lends its narrative structure to their arrangement in the museum."

I had to share a few photos so you can get a sense of what the book is about.  So far I have only looked at the pictures.  The museum is a real place.  Maybe someday I will get to visit there, but for now it is only through the pages of his books that I will get to visit.

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I have no idea where I came across Gwen John's paintings, but as you can see they are lovely, don't you think?  I must have seen one of her 'women reading' (the John painting above is one similar to one shown on the cover of a book by a Welsh author that I own . . .).  I had to find a book of her work so have been perusing Alicia Foster's slim volume in the British Artists series, Gwen John.  It is out of print but there are inexpensive used copies to be had and I might just get a copy for my own.

Two bookish finds in the gift shop at my local art museum.  I always stop and browse but mostly only allow myself a postcard or two.  I could not resist (pure indulgence on my part) Shakespeare and Company, Paris: A History of the Rag & Bone Shop of the Heart edited by Krista Halverson.  It is a lush, gorgeous, hefty hardcover book about the famous bookstore covering each decade of its history.  Once again I have not read it yet, but I enjoy leafing through and looking at all the photos and it is chock full of old photos of ephemera related to the bookstore.  I have never visited there, but I have been to the Vienna location of Shakespeare & Company Booksellers (numerous times when I lived in Austria, though books in English were terribly expensive so I rarely bought and always browsed).  Oh, to go back now!

Art Deco Fashion: Masterpieces of Art by Gordon Kerr is another lovely, lush book of Art Deco paintings--pure indulgence.  I love the period and the fashion and it was a mix of art and film and fashion and so very pretty.  The spine edge was dinged and slightly damaged so I got it for less than half price.  Books for my coffee table, right?

Four books bought all summer?  I wish I could say that I showed all sorts of restraint and this was true, but these are the four most recent or most on my mind at the moment.  I think it would take both hands both feet and a good memory for numbers to count all the books I have bought this summer (let alone this year).  I can't wait to start reading Dangerous Crossing by Rachel Rhys, which I came across at the Book Depository.  "A stunning atmospheric novel in the great tradition of Death on the Nile and Patricia Highsmith - tells of a young girl's journey on a cruise liner from England to a new life on the brink of the Second World War.  The only thing stopping me from adding it to the pile right now are those two library books at the top of this post that require my attention first since due dates always loom when it comes to library books.

Yes, there is Orhan Pamuk's The Museum of Innocence.  Another itchy-fingers-I-want-to-read-now book, but Pamuk's writing takes serious attention.  " It is 1975, a perfect spring in Istanbul. Kemal and Sibel, children of two prominent families, are about to become engaged. But when Kemal encounters Füsun, a beautiful shopgirl and a distant relation, he becomes enthralled. And once they violate the code of virginity, a rift begins to open between Kemal and the world of the Westernized Istanbul bourgeoisie. In his pursuit of Füsun over the next eight years, Kemal becomes a compulsive collector of objects that chronicle his lovelorn progress—amassing a museum that is both a map of a society and of his heart."

The last two books I bought at the bookstore yesterday (finishing up a gift card that I have been savoring for months now).  I like the Eve Chase book (above) so much that I looked to see what else she had written and so brought home Black Rabbit Hall.  I think she tends to write stories in the same style, but in this case I look forward to knowing I will have another book by her on my shelves.  "A secret history. A long-ago summer. A house with an untold story."  And I had Joanna Cannon's The Trouble with Goats and Sheep out from the library when it first came out but it went back unread.  Now as it is in paperback I can read it at leisure.  "England, 1976. Mrs. Creasy is missing and the Avenue is alive with whispers. The neighbors blame her sudden disappearance on the heat wave, but ten-year-olds Grace and Tilly aren’t convinced, and decide to take matters into their own hands.  Spunky, spirited Grace and quiet, thoughtful Tilly go door to door in search of clues. The cul-de-sac starts to give up its secrets, and the amateur detectives uncover more than they ever imagined. A complicated history of deception begins to emerge—everyone on the Avenue has something to hide.  During that sweltering summer, the lives of all the neighbors begin to unravel. The girls come to realize that the lies told to conceal what happened one fateful day about a decade ago are the same ones Mrs. Creasy was starting to peel back just before she disappeared..."

Do you see a theme with my reading? 

I have always had far more books to read than time in which to read them.  I read whenever and wherever I can, squeezing in pages all day long, but I do wish I had a more efficient method as I have so many books that I want to read and it always feels a little disappointing seeing them sitting at home unopened, but what can you do?  Focus more?  The time spent reading is always best without distractions.  Be less tempted by library books, or more discerning about what I choose and the same goes with new books, as they come in at a faster rate than they are being read.  Always . . . sigh . . . the reader's dilemma, right?

Stolen Beauty by Laurie Lico Albanese

There is a line from Friedrich Schiller's Ode to Joy that reads "You millions, I embrace you.  This kiss is for all the world!".  In Laurie Lico Albanese's vividly imagined historical novel, Stolen Beauty, Viennese painter Gustav Klimt is looking for inspiration for his famous Beethoven Frieze that decorates one of the rooms in the Secession Building.  In particular he is trying to work out how to portray the arts--music, painting, sculpture and poetry--in a mural that will show an entire cycle of creativity.  It is Adele Bloch-Bauer, one of Klimt's patrons and likely one of his muses, who suggests the quiet intimacy of an embrace rather than a kiss (though which is more intense is arguable).

You have probably 'met' Adele Bloch-Bauer even if you don't think you recognize the name, and a very long court battle over an iconic Klimt painting (not so very long ago finally resolved and returned to its rightful owner) put her in world news some 80 years after her death.  The 'stolen beauty' of the title is Adele Bloch-Bauer's stunning portrait that Klimt painted in 1907.  It hung for a very long time in Vienna's Upper Belvedere Museum where I had the good fortune to stand before this immense (it is nearly 5' x 5'), sumptuously golden portrait of a woman I knew nothing about at the time.

The story doesn't revolve so much around the portrait, rather the woman portrayed in it, as well as Adele Bloch-Bauer's family, a prominent Jewish family that lost everything in 1938 with the annexation of Austria by the German Reich.  A dark time that Adele did not live to see.  Stolen Beauty is a story told in parallel narratives, and Laurie Lico Albanese successfully pulls off both the glittering social whirl of fin-de-siecle Vienna as well as the harrowing nightmare world in which Adele's niece, Maria Altmann and her husband Fritz must endure the 'Aryanization' of.  They lose their home, their belongings, and their business, even their country--barely escaping to safety.

Already in the early 1900s, the world in which Adele is a prominent Society lady and benefactress of the arts, along with her husband Ferdinand Bloch, there are hints of what is to come.  By the time Klimt is painting Adele's portrait Vienna is showing very disturbing and outwardly blatant signs of antisemitism and intolerance.  There is hushed talk of Zionism in the fashionable salons yet the idea that--surely it cannot happen here--still pervades their society.  Although it's unknown just how intimate the relationship actually was, the story brings to life an imagined and very persuasive scenario between Adele and the artist.  Adele Bloch-Bauer was, apparently, the only woman Klimt actually painted two portraits of.  As a girl she dreamed of being an intellectual, learned, artistic woman--not boxed in by her family or a repressed and restrictive society.  Her first step is marriage to an older man who seems willing to let her think and act independently, but it is through the artist that she finds her real voice, her passion and even a power.

There is surely a glimpse of the flesh and blood woman both literally and figuratively through those paintings--both the two portraits and the others where she served as inspiration if not the actual subject, as well the author infuses the woman, the 'character' of Adele with light and breath.  And then later long after the war has ended, when Maria begins her fight to reclaim her beloved aunt's portrait as well as the other artworks belonging to the family but stolen by the Nazis, Adele's fierce spirit is recalled.  I didn't 'know' Adele Bloch-Bauer when I stood in front of her portrait, but Laurie Lico Albanese has filled in the details for me so I can imagine the amazing women she and her niece were.   

Stolen Beauty is a story every bit as opulent as Klimt's art and equally as suspenseful as any war story where happy outcomes are not assured.  It's a lavish story that Albanese does not scrimp on and a page turner as well.  Definitely this is a story I am happy to press into the hand's of friends who love good historical fiction or have an artistic bent!  There is so much more I could (and want) to tell you about this wonderful story, but I'll let you discover Adele and her world yourself.  You can check out the author's website here.  Thanks to Simon & Schuster for offering access to a galley copy of the ebook, though I think I will have to splurge on a paper copy for my own shelves (Vienna being one of my favorite places, if not the actual place these days, at least in the pages of a book!).    

My Handiwork on Display

Remember all those weaving (and other fiber) classes I took this summer? My finished projects are hanging up in the hallway outside the classrooms at the museum along with the other students' work.  Here's a little peek at my work (and you can see some other beautiful pieces by other students, too).

The classes were offered in conjunction with the last traveling exhibit, Sheila Hicks: Material Voices, which I enjoyed immensely.  The photos above show Sheila weaving as well as some of the works that were shown or that appear in the exhibit catalog.

Does this look familiar?  It was my second weaving project.  I used a slightly thicker cotton thread in two different colors in order to see where the warp and weft showed up.  Definitely a learning piece.

You can see my first weaving project to the right as well as a Sheila-Hicks-inspired "wrap" (the work in grey) just to its right.

This is one I never did get a chance to share as it really never came home with me.  It was in a Devoré class that I made this, but to be honest I cheated a little.  It was more weaving (tapestry style, not done on a backstrap loom) than "burning" which is what the devoré process is.  I tried to use some natural fibers (local grasses) in my weaving, but it is hard to tell from this photo.

And this is the last class I took, which was a textile wrapping class making fiber sculptures.  Another learning moment.  I liked the process though I think I would do it differently given another chance.  Mostly it was just fun being creative in a social sort of environment (this is also the class where I made the baby boules).  And yes, that yarn is just as soft as it looks--you do want to just grab it in your hands and run your fingers through it.  It is wool from a Nebraska company in the western part of the state.

I love the white and blue textile wraps you see here.  It was great fun taking the classes and hopefully there will be more opportunities in the future, though I am not taking anything at the moment.  I am, however, still very slowly working on another backstrap weaving project.  I will have to take progress photos to share again soon!  It is still a little fantasy of mine to buy a table top rigid heddle loom.  I am trying to save my pennies with that wish in mind.  Until then, there are still lots of needlework projects keeping me busy, too. 

Bookish Eye Candy: Reading Rooms

I can't resist . . . I have to share this link with you.  Bookish eye candy for your Thursday evening.  I came across this today: Reading Room: A Catalog of New York City's Branch Libraries.   If you are in New York City, please go see this exhibit for me and report back!  It opens today and runs through the first week of January at the Center for Architecture.  Apparently photographer Elizabeth Felicella photographed all 210 branches of NYC's Public Library system.  She is an architectural photographer and the exhibit looks amazing.  I wish there was an exhibit catalog to purchase, but I cannot seem to find one. 

Yes, libraries really are great!

And since I am here (I was going to 'take today off' from blogging), this Life of a Book article/interview is interesting, too.

Baby Boules and Kindness Inside

I finished my last art class last night at my local art museum.  I've already mentioned my weaving and devoré classes (photos still to come on the weaving).  This last class was on fiber wrapping--all in conjunction with the (now finished) Sheila Hicks exhibit.  It was an inspiring exhibit and the works were absolutely gorgeous.  I am lucky to have been able to see it several times and then learn how to weave as a result.  The projects I completed for all three classes are still at the museum as they may go into a student exhibit.  If any of the works end on display it will be the only time anything I have made will end up in a museum, which is a cool thought.  So no photos yet of those projects, but I brought home a couple of mini boules! 

My Sheila Hicks-inspired boules measure about 3" around.  The photo above is from the exhibit catalog (which, yes, I had to buy and am happy to have it) and shows Sheila's "Grand Boules" from 2009.  They are part of an installation and range in size from 33-1/2 to 45-5/16 in. in diameter.  They are made up of linen, cotton, synthetic raffia and metallic fiber. 

In the exhibit she had a wall of much smaller boules created from "found material".  I believe the small boules contained bits and pieces of clothing from her children--whatever was inside the boules was particular to her life and family and really only she knows what they contain.  I like the idea as it is her own personal past that she had carried with her from place to place and now they make up her artwork. 

At the end of the last class (we had been making larger wrapped fiber wall hangings) we had a little extra time to make our own little boules (actually mine are pretty small, most of the other students opted for larger size boules).  My instructor has bins and bins of fabric and fibers and fuzzy, shiny bits and bobs that we could choose from. 

We started with a piece of paper on which we wrote something personal--some wish or hope or dream or anything we wanted to have inside and then crumpled the paper and over that paper, which forms the base, wrapped fabric strips and then fibers--working from larger materials to smaller. 

It was fun and I could see how given time and thought and a chance to gather just the right sort of materials you could make something very special and personal.  As a matter of fact I am now contemplating making a few to pass along to friends for the holidays or just some other special time (or for no particular reason at all even).  The thought inside is meant to remain a secret--so the boule contains some special memory or hope.  It is a nice sentiment and the perfect way to end my classes.  And now the exhibit is down and the next one will open next month. 

I love working with fibers and textiles so this was all very special.  The next exhibit, which I am looking forward to seeing, has a few themed classes but I am likely not going to take any as they are mostly photography related.  I might however, give this Plaster Sculpture class a try in December (it is inspired by the museum's George Segal installation).  I love doing my needlework, but it is nice to take classes and get inspiration from other students and have a talented instructor give guidance.  Until something else comes along it is back to my needlework and hopefully I can find a way to continue on with my weaving! 

Photobooth: A Biography, Meags Fitzgerald

I think I could easily name this post, 'A Photobooth Odyssey', or maybe 'Everything You Wanted to Know about Photobooths But Were Afraid to Ask'.  I am very envious of Meags Fitzgerald who has written about, in graphic novel format, her lifelong love affair with photobooths.  Photobooth: A Biography really is a sort of odyssey as she recounts not only the history of photobooths but also her own use of them in her artwork and as a collector and the time she spent traveling to document remaining machines all over North America and Europe before they disappear entirely.  Like so many much-loved, at one time wildly popular and much-used analog devices, they are slowly (sometimes not so slowly anymore) being replaced by more efficient (though in some cases far less charming) digital machines. 

Do you remember photobooths?  I remember them in malls (when malls were still popular and even they are disappearing these days, too) and surely at some time in my youth I must have had  my photo taken in one.  It's been ages since I thought about them and it is thanks to Iliana that I came across this book.  It is a hefty graphic novel that I had to get via interlibrary loan (thanks to Fort Vancouver Regional Library for loaning it--you will soon have it safely back home again), but photobooths are such a cool concept and I can see exactly the appreciation and affection Meags Fitzgerald has for them.  Now I wish I could start a collection of photobooth photos, but they are such a rarity where I live the chance is pretty slim that it is a hobby I could pursue.  The author has an enviable collection of photos not only of herself, her family and her friends but of strangers, which were taken throughout the photobooth's long history.

The first photobooth, as we have come to know them, was designed by a Russian immigrant in 1925, whose own life story is an odyssey all its own.  Anatol Josephowitz was born in Siberia, had a most unfortunate WWI experience but eventually found his way to America where he married and spent the rest of his life.  He created the Photomaton, the first one located in NYC and it began this craze.   Eventually the rights were sold in Canada, England and Europe and the machines began popping up all over the place and by WWII everyone, rich or poor (and photobooths were a great social leveler as everyone-more or less-could afford to have a strip of four photos taken in one of the machines) were flocking to the booths to have their portraits taken.

And, of course, one good idea leads to another and one sort of machine to another.  At its most popular, the photobooth was ubiquitous and they were used not just for entertainment but for official documentation, even for mugshots and there is a darker footnote in history as they were offered for use in Europe to keep track of the identities of prisoners of war.  During the war people were apt to take their pictures as a memento for those going away to war, and for those staying behind.  By the 1950s their use began to decline without that feeling of uncertainty that comes with wars people simply didn't worry about having their pictures taken.  Prosperity in peacetime has a way of making us lax and by the 1970s disposable cameras and Polaroids had arrived on the scene.

The other problem facing photobooths was the use of chemicals to develop the images in minutes, which have been deemed to be unsafe for the environment.  Fewer and fewer companies were making the chemicals or the photopaper and innumerable photobooths were simply destroyed as a matter of progress.  I guess the machines were seen as no longer popular and were becoming obsolete.  The book was published in 2014 and the author notes certain dates (by the end of 2015 and 2016) when materials are/were likely to have run out, so I wonder what the current state of affairs has become in terms of supplies for the original chemical-bath, dip and dunk machines.  Many of the machines have been turned into digital photography booths, but for purists, it is a little sad to think the original-old fashioned photobooths are quite literally numbered.

This book is such a wonderful idea, and it is such a clever and very fitting format turning it into a graphic novel.  One of the reasons it came about was as a thank you for the people who were supporting her travels.  In order to afford to go on the extensive journeys Meags Fitzgerald undertook in order to chronicle the photobooth saga she had to come up with creative ways to earn money.  And I am so glad she did.  So the book is a mix of history, memoir and even travelogue.  Interspersed between chapters are drawings of the various styles of machines and where they are located.  So this book is quite a compendium and a wonderful resource for photobooth enthusiasts.  Fitzgerald is a true photobooth aficionado.

And to think not long ago I had the perfect opportunity to have my portrait taken in a vintage machine.  My favorite movie theater recently screened Amélie as their members select film.  If you've seen the film, you'll know the photobooth plays an important role in the movie.  They brought in a photobooth for movie-goers to take their own pictures.  It sat in the lobby for several weeks, but it was January and it was cold and I walk (and so had not been walking so much at the time) and I missed my opportunity sadly. 

There is a thriving business, however, for rental of these machines (as you see).  And if you want to find where some of the original machines live, there is an extensive website that is chock full of information on vintage photobooths.  According to the website's locator there is a mere 'one' machine in Nebraska with a permanent location.  It is in a local pub/concert venue, which means it might be interesting to try and go in and use the machine (and it is only steps away from my favorite movie theater), so maybe I'll find an opportunity to have a strip of four portraits taken sometime. 

Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope you are enjoying a festive and peaceful season however you celebrate!

A couple of 'friends' I visited on my morning walk.  I only wish I would have thought to bring a few ornaments or a wreath or some greenery to leave with them to make their world more cheery!

A Local Literary Afternoon: Nervosa

This weekend I went to the annual Omaha (Downtown) Lifest with the theme Nervosa: Science, Psych & Story featuring a number of local, regional and national authors.  I really enjoyed last year's Litfest, but this year had to stick to my budget, which meant just listening in, writing down titles and choosing only one book to take away with me.  (That's what wishlists are for, right?  And libraries?).  You'll have to forgive the very brief overview of the panel discussions as I didn't pull out a notebook for note taking until the very last one--it was too absorbing just listening.

Unfortunately I missed most of the first panel discussion on  "Diagnosis", so I caught only the tail end of the question and answer session.  It featured authors Bud Shaw and Lydia Kang.  Shaw is a doctor who wrote Last Night in the OR: A Transplant Surgeon's Odyssey, and Kang recently released a YA novel, Catalyst.

 "Treachery" was the topic of the next panel which featured authors Theodore Wheeler-On the River, Down Where They Found Willy Brown, Douglas Vincent Wessleman,-Tales of the Master: The Book of Stone, and Marilyn June Coffey-Thieves, Rascals & Sore Losers: The Unsettling Deals that Helped Settle Nebraska.  It was quite a lively discussion on books dealing with darker themes.

I found the discussion about the third panel, "Empathy", most interesting since the topic of women's writing and how their books are marketed came up during the Q&A.  Each author in this session also read from her book--Love Water Memory by Jennie Shortridge, How Winter Began: Stories by Joy Castro and Mr. and Mrs. Doctor by Julie Iromuanya.

The last panel was a Q&A/conversation with Emily St. John Mandel about her novel Station Eleven (which I was very impressed by when I read it earlier this year--and alas the only book I had read before hand).  The theme was "Health, Illness, and the End of the World".  Halfway through the session I did jot a few notes down.  Emily St. John Mandel is a very articulate, soft spoken speaker.  She seems very modest about her success and the awards she has won.

She read the first page or so of chapter 11 of her book, which I was also quite struck by when I read it.

I thought it interesting that one of her favorite books is Donna Tartt's The Secret History.  I got the sense it is the sort of novel she would like to write--one with a literary sensibility yet a good story.  And someday I am going to read the Tartt book!  I'd say St. John Mandel did a most excellent job of combining good writing with excellent plotting and well developed characterization.

A few bits and pieces that came out during the Q&A: she wrote the book in scenes rather than as a linear, straightforward narrative (that's one way of never feeling bored by whatever part of the story you are telling), the novel began as a story of a traveling Shakespeare troupe and the end-of-the-world twist came later to the story, she was more interested in telling a story about 'what came after' the collapse rather than the actual epidemic.  She didn't want to focus on the horror of the sickness and so didn't dwell as much on that as what life was like once 90% of the population was knocked out.  She was interested in writing about technology, but wanted to do it from the perspective of life without it rather than with it, which I thought very clever.

She doesn't like being pigeon-holed into one category (and doesn't like that compartmentalization of literature generally), and now that she has written in a variety of styles and genres (now I must read some of her other work!) she feels fairly liberated to write as she likes in her next book.

At the moment she is working on the 'script' (not sure what the proper term is) for a possible graphic novel--the story of Station Eleven that was a comic book within the book.  She said it is like writing a movie script--describing the panels and writing the text.  The illustration would come later.  I hope that this is a project that see fruition--how cool would it be to read those comics from the novel?

And how cool is this wire art?  The sculptures were made by local artist Jay N. Cochrane, and these are a few of my favorites.  They were made for the Litfest "using hundreds of yards of metal wire and a crochet-like looping technique".  And you will be happy to know that no book was harmed in this process.  Each can still be read and enjoyed!