Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Serendipities

Small discoveries - online, off the page and elsewhere

The Fat Man in Canberra


On the Staircase by Keld Moseholm
Noticed in Civic a week ago. This sculpture is called On the Staircase. It was created by Keld Moseholm, a Danish sculptor, in 2005. The ACT Government installed it in Petrie Plaza near David Jones in 2009 - but it seems to have lost two of it's men. You can see how the sculpture originally looked here.

I'm not sure what these fat fellows say about the benefits of reading. The caption says the artwork reflects the effect of reading on the spirit, 'the more I read the smaller I feel'. I don't agree with the sentiment. Reading enlarges my mind and my spirit and my understanding of the world ... but I love anyone who can read walking up stairs.

They also remind me of one of my favourite collections of short stories, Peter Carey's The Fat Man in History and Other Stories. It was his first book and I have never forgotten it. Might be time to read it again.

Daniel Day Lewis at the Oscars


I'm an Oscar tragic so, even though I knew who had won the major awards, I sat in front of the television watching the replay of the ceremony until 1am last Tuesday morning. At first, I convinced myself I would only watch until the 'In Memoriam' section, which is probably my favourite part of the Oscar ceremony. But having come so far, it seemed crazy not to watch to the end. And it was worth it to see Daniel Day Lewis accept his third Oscar. Read what he said - and imagine him saying it in his gentle English voice. What a great speech!

Paper and Salt


Want to know how to combine a love of literature with a love of food? Visit Paper and Salt, where New Yorker Nicole blogs literary recipes. Last week, she wrote about Jane Austen and food, and featured a recipe for Brown Butter Bread Pudding Tarts. I loved her post on Virginia Woolf and breadmaking too.

Bill Gekas and his Daughter


Bill Gekas Photography: The Gallery &emdash; Maid It
Maid It by Bill Gekas
Take a look at these glorious images by Australian photographer, Bill Gekas. I discovered them via Flavorwire and then, having worked my way back to Gekas's website, also discovered he lives in Melbourne. He has recently won the Gold Award at the International Loupe Awards. The images Gekas took of his five-year-old daughter, an homage to works of the Old Masters, seem to be working their way around the ether at the moment. I hope you like them too.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Magic Roundabouts

Yesterday, before the rain came, we wandered in Civic, hoping to spend Miles' pocket-money. It's been a while since I walked through Garema Place or down City Walk and things have changed. Including the merry-go-round.

Canberra's carousel has been on City Walk since 1974, although it dates back to an earlier time, first appearing on St Kilda Pier in Melbourne in 1914. Yesterday, it was looking slightly grim and industrial, it's metal grates down on all but one side, it's paintwork looking faded. Perhaps it was just reflecting the gray of the sky. But it still has the power to take me back to my 16-year-old  self, experiencing the glory of increasing independence without the burden of adult responsibility. Summer evenings riding the carousel with friends, before going to a movie at the Electric Shadows Cinema. So sophisticated!

And now, it also takes me back to Paris - remember? Miles and I were going to find every merry-go-round in the city. If you google 'Paris carousels', you'll be offered a number of articles, many claiming Paris is the 'City of Carousels'. One of the best articles I've read is by Susan Hack, an American writer living in Paris who has discovered many of the city's carousels in the company of her daughter, Sophie.

I don't think Miles, Jim and I found all of them but we managed to find a few. Not surprisingly, our first Parisian merry-go-round was on the edge of the Seine, in the shadow of the Tour Eiffel. It was a dazzling two-storey carousel that Miles was excited to ride and I was excited to photograph.

Our first carousel, in the shadow of the Tour Eiffel

This was the first time in both our lives that we'd seen a two-storey carousel but they are, if not commonplace, then not unusual in Paris. At Christmas, one appeared with the ice-skating rink in front of Hotel de Ville.

The Christmas carousel at Hotel de Ville
We discovered others at the foot of the stairs to Sacre Couer, near the funicular that can save you climbing all those steps. And across the Iena Bridge, opposite the Tour Eiffel's carousel, is another two-storey beauty, not far from Trocadero.

The carousel near the funicular, Montmartre 
Ponte d'Iena's carousel dressed for Christmas
Not all the carousels of Paris are elaborately decorated fantasies. Some are simpler, 'flying horse' models, where the horses hang from the roof of the merry-go-round and spin out as the ride speeds up. On some of these, children sitting on the outer rim of horses are given sticks with which they try to collect hoops, harking back to medieval jousting. This was the kind of merry-go-round we discovered in Jardins du Luxembourg and near the Peripherique behind the old and secondhand book market at Porte de Vanves.

The merry-go-round at Jardins du Luxembourg
The most fantastical carousels we discovered, however, weren't in Paris. An hour from the city, almost in a world of it's own, is Paris Disneyland, with it's Disney perfect Carousel du Lancelot. The carousel, which sits before you as you walk out of Sleeping Beauty's castle, is a Disney cartoon come to life. And if you have to queue for your ride, that's a small inconvenience.

Disney's Carousel du Lancelot
But just when we were becoming blase about merry-go-rounds and perhaps a little tired of their saccharine sweetness, Brussels offered the perfect antidote. A carousel so bizarre, so grotesque, so post-apocalyptic, it looked like it had stepped out of the pages of a Jules Verne novel or Mad Max. A Steampunk Carousel full of flying horses, cockroaches, iguanas, and flying cars. A carousel that might terrify small children but was perfect for a slightly jaded 8-year-old on the first night of the new year.

The Steampunk Carousel, Brussels, New Year's Day  2013