Today, my work to me through Potton. The glorious sunshine really made some of the beautiful old houses look dazzlingly gorgeous. I’m a particular fan of this oh so English combo of red-brick with ‘classic’ old-school green.
This old shed/workshop annexe is lovely.
I loved this house so much I stopped to take photographs. I even knocked on the front door and asked the owner, who luckily was in, what colour it was, if he knew? And he did: Dulux Weather-shield Buckingham Green!
Homing in on the splendid old door.Number one, in so many ways!
I’ve been on a bit of a quest for this particular classic ‘Brit C. 1940s-‘50s’ green for some time. Now I feel, unlike Bono/U2, I’ve finally found exactly what I’ve been looking for.
Great photo of a great drummer.
The day was Septober 9th, which happens to be the birthdate of the illustrious Mr Elvin Ray Jones.
Beautiful pond on a farm outside Potton.
Some days later (Sept’ 12th), I drove past the garage below. In The Fens somewhere this time, and on a wet, grey and overcast day. The bricks aren’t the glorious reds, exactly. But the metalwork, in this instance, is the right kind of green.
Not quite as magical. But near enough.
It’s amazing the change wrought on appearances by the weather conditions! Although it’s also possible that the green in this last pic is also a shade or two darker anyway.
I like taking the time, during my various activities, to stop and take note of everyday beauty, such as I perceive it. It feeds the soul, so to speak.
A slipcase cover!Sans slipcase. Bold typography. And texture.
I’ve been rewarding myself for abstemious and healthy living recently. Each week I’m good, I’ve got a new CD. The first three of which were all, J-Jazz, or Japanese jazz.
I decided to round off this month’s good behaviour incentives scheme with this relatively new book, Tokyo Jazz Joints. A celebration of Jazz Kissa, in both words, and, most especially, in photographs.
Meticulously organised chaos is a theme.
As a hoarder and collector of stuff – books, music (mostly CDs now, and a remnant of a never huge vinyl collection), instruments, tools, models, etc. – the cluttered and cosily lit spaces that abound in this book are really something to chew over.
Descend into a jazz underground.
One of many bands I was in many moons ago, which started out as duo, became a trio, died, and was re-animated as a quintet, was focussed on and around jazz. And one of our originals was tentatively titled ‘At The Boho Cavern’, or some such silliness.
Velly gloovy!
But the serious thing underlying the goofiness was a sense of cool foreign places just such as are lovingly documented and celebrated in this very handsome book.
We were probably thinking of America, back then. That these places to turn out to be a more real proposition in Japan, is a bit of a surprise, even to me with my growing awareness of the Japanese jazz scene.
The interiors vary a lot.
The interiors range from shabby to chic. One thing I found quite notable, was that most of them are nigh on empty. There are a few folk; the owner/bartender, the occasional punter. Only one or two pictures hint at a busy moment.
Was this an aesthetic choice? I often prefer to take pictures of buildings or places free of humans. It helps make these kissa more evocative, and open to one’s own subjective readings. Whatever, it’s still a little odd, given the human dimension of these places.
Perhaps it’s partly a reflection of the decline of this really rather lovely culture? If that’s the case – and the text says it is – that’s very sad.
As, indeed, do the exteriors.
The exteriors are as varied as the interiors, as I hope some of these pics of mine convey. Both the insides and the outsides also reflect the passing of time: patinated metals, fading flaking paints, wood textures, old pictures (postcards, posters, artwork, etc), and all kinds of ephemera; from tickets, magazines, programmes, to the vinyl (and CDs, evenVHS videos!), and the hand-written catalogues of artists/albums/tracks, etc.
There’s graffiti – from stuff scrawled by fans, and musos – to little philosophical nuggets, such as ‘Jazz and freedom go hand in hand, Monk’. And the names of the kissa, and their signage, are an aspect of the whole culture that could be a subject in itself.
Wow! That’s some fab gear, right there.
Much is made of the passion for hi-fi gear, in these joints. It’s also suggested (poss online rather than in this book; the related website is well worth checking out), that a good deal of this tech is custom built.
Looks like custom built hi-fi gear?
My dad built amps and speakers at one point, many years ago. Seeing some of these images, such as the one above (a close up detail of a much larger picture), makes me want to try my hand at building some high end listening tech. I love that blue amp! And there are lots of little valve units dotted throughout.
There’s something a bit Blade Runner here.
I can only imagine the joy of finding places like these in the flesh. How come Japan has so many? Even now when Jazz Kissa culture is in decline? Whilst here in the UK we have – as far as I know? – nothing at all equivalent.
Such evocative imagery!
The choice to photograph everything in the ‘natural light’ of the settings, as experienced, i.e. without flash, etc, is fundamentally important. It’s what gives all these terrific images their incredibly powerful cosiness. Powerful cosiness, eh? Sounds perfect to me!
The reverie, essence of the jazz* life.
And this final image, also the final pic in this sublime book, captures that essence of connoisseurship, the reverie! I need to build a little space into our home inspired by these fabulous jazz kissa.
What a terrific book! Thanks to Philip Arneill, James Catchpole, Kehrer, et al – and the jazz kissa dudes themselves – for a feast of inspirational words and images. A real treasure of a book.
‘There is still much work to be done. There are many joints to visit, photos to make, stories to uncover and memories to create, before those photos and stories are all that is left of this magical, fading world.’ Philip Arneill
Is this a montage, or was the original a composite?
The above image, of which there are many versions online, is Barbara Remington’s original artwork, for the 1970s LOTR trilogy, as published by Ballantine Books.
It appears to be a single composite image, from which covers for the three sub-sections of the trilogy (Tolkien always wanted it to be one big book; but his publishers insisted it would be better as three) were extracted.
A detail, from the right end of the ‘master’ artwork.I’m not exactly sure what this is?
In the caption above I say I do t what the picture is… Well, it’s a map, obviously! But with a terrific illustrative border, by Babs. Was this produced as a poster? I must know! And, ideally, I must have it.
Zooming in, on the bottom right corner (again!).
The detail above is rather similar to the detail I picked from the cover, at the top of this post. Which is nice, as it gives this little blog entry some visual and thematic consistency.
I believe, however, that my first exposure to Remington’s very enchanting style was this:
Sadly Orville Prescott is mistaken. Great cover tho’!
My dad had this book, in this very edition. I bought a cheap copy off Amazon, for myself, some years back. Not for the writing, which, frankly, I think is pretty dreadful (Orville Prescott thought otherwise!), but instead/solely for the terrific cover.
The pub, next door.Paycocke’s House, as in Thomas Paycocke.Having lunch.Teresa tucks in.Beautiful plane tree bark.Gorgeous flowerbed.Reach for the skies!No idea what these are, but they’re lovely!Love the parquet brickwork! And herbs.The exterior is amazing!
The house was lovingly restored, in the early twentieth century. All the woodwork and brickwork had been covered over with plasterwork in the 19th Century.
Just watched this rather interesting docudrama. It tells the story, including interview footage with the man himself, of Leonid Berenshtein.
Rather ironically- given that his identity as a Jew, and hiding or revealing that identity, is a crucial elee we met of the film – the version I saw, on Amazon Prime, had the title changed to 1944: Hitler’s Secret Weapon.
I found a thing online under the name of the film’s director, here, and that’s how I came to realise the original and proper title is simply Berenshtein. The painful ironies of history multiply.
Looking around the interweb, it seems that this movie may also go by another name, The Last Partisan. That’s on account of the fact that Leonid himself passed away during the making of this project. Aged 98!
It’s a bit weird, when the movie jumps back and forth between the dramatisations and ‘the present’, as it was a couple of years ago. But overall it’s actually both effective and powerful. And it certainly doesn’t get in the way of this being a cracking good watch.
Another slightly odd thing, especially given the bastardised title of the version I watched, is that both Berenshtein and The Last Partisan are not only better titles, but more accurately reflect the core content.
The actual finding of the V-2 rocket research and development location, which the Prime title implies is the core of the film, ends up hardly featuring at all. And, indeed, they don’t actually find or liberate or destroy it; rather they deduce it’s location, triangulating it via its nigh on impenetrable Dede de cordon. And at the cost of numerous lives.
The bulk of the story is located in the Ukraine, which adds another level of historical irony, given how Berenshtein and his partisans were both Ukrainians and Russians. Whereas now we are seeing those two identities at war, in the same beleaguered lands.
It’s also interesting seeing how the film – an Israeli production – handles both Nazi atrocities, and the dehumanising aspects of war on people, including Berenshtein himself, on both sides.
My recent post about the little rainbow on Teresa’s cheek made think of John Sebastian. And that in turn made me think of the wonderful recordings of the Mud Acres/Woodstock Mountains collective.
This right-on and righteous raggle-taggle crowd of hippies and folk Nik’s would gather at a farm in Woodstock (poss the family of one of the Traum brothers? Arty and Happy, no less), for what one of them memorably described as a ‘party round a microphone’.
Teresa finally got me out on a walk today. She’s been trying for ages. But I’ve been resistant. Due to the intense depression of recent times. Of course the irony is that a walk is, or certainly can be, pure medicine.
Another groovy tree.
Using the ‘pano’ pic function vertically, on trees, is, I reckon, pretty cool.
A family of swans…… zoomed in a bit. Two parents, two cygnets.Look at the leaves on this!I love this old door.
The door pictured above is a side entrance to a property (and it’s minuscule garden) that we were quite keen on, when we started looking at houses in March. It’s a fab old stone built place. But it needed a cash-buyer – most probably a builder/developer- with the wherewithal to do a new roof, and lots of other structural stuff.
A lovely garden backing on to the river.
We walked along the river, from Creek Road, across the High Street, and along the park and back via West End. And what a pleasurable experience it was.
Grey and overcast. But gorgeous nonetheless. What a tonic!
I was up unusually early today. I made Teresa and I French Toast, or eggy-bread, for breakfast.
We then set off, at 9am, southwards, to the Little Gransden Air Show. I kept our destination a surprise, and to my gurt gratification, Teresa was pleased.
We missed our annual trips to the any of the local 1940s shows. So this was kind of making up for that.
The weather on the drive down was sublime. Beautifully sunny, and lovely and warm. Alas, for most of the show itself it was cloudy, with a strong cold wind, and occasional showers. A bit of a test, in all honesty!
Still, there were lots of interesting planes, loads of classic cars (inc a whole fleet of MX5s!), and even some nice motorbikes.
We took a picnic lunch. Brie, baguette, salad, some drinks, etc. It was fun. Despite the less than ideal weather.
We got there about 10.15am; It would’ve been 10, but for the difficulty procuring a baguette on a Sunday morning!
And we stayed till about 3.15pm. So we lasted a good five hours. I wanted to stay to the end, as the climax was a pair of Hurricanes and a B-17.
But after three, exhaustion got the better of me, and I was no longer game for enduring the cold or occasional rain.
I tried to not over spend, as finances remain parlous. But I did buy us some cake, and myself a few vintage 1/72 model kits (not planes!).
We didn’t get the programme. So I might not be able to correctly identify or name the planes and other stuff I photographed. But the main thing was we had a pleasant day out.
Once home, via Wisbech (Teresa bought two punnets of someone’s home-grown Victoria plums!), it was supper (left-over jambalaya), bath, and bed.
Frog eyed, wi’ a smiling grille!A boldly fire engine red Austin Healey.Some really aulde vintage wheels.A mad little three-wheeler.
I’m so utterly shattered I was a-bed by 7pm! I think that’s my earliest yet?
And, rather sadly – for me, at any rate – I seem to be yo-yo’ing emotionally. They used to call it manic-depressive. Now it’s called no-polar. Whatever it is, it’s awful!
Gorgeous! Love the wire wheels.A bigger nose than a Proboscis Monkey!Lots of lovely MX5s (weeps sadly!).
Anyway, I’m now in bed, listening, thanks to our recently acquired Fire Stick, to rain in a Korean sequoia forest. Part of my stress-relief campaign again insomnia.
A large fan is on, cooling our stuffy and muggy room, I’ve had a thyme tea (I’ve got a persistent cough*), and now, at twenty to nine, Teresa and Chester have joined me, upstairs.
A rather gonzo BSA!A very shiny Norton sidecar racer.A Brit bike in enemy service!
*Note to self; must see doc’ about this.
And to finish, in honour of Bert, or Albert, my grandfather, a Royal Canadian Air Force plane:
I’m largely cutting down on the booze. That said, I still like a drum here or there. And this recent discovery is my current hands-down – or should that be glass raised? – favourite.
It’s got a hint of marmite about it. which I like.