Category Archives: A Series of Fascinating Images//

This Afternoon’s Aquatic Adventures.

From this afternoon’s wake boarding session near the Lake Worth pier, a seven foot hammerhead shark that passed away peacefully and rather close to the shore.

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Variations on a Living Room.

Living Room: A Photo Collage in Four Variations Brian Fee

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A Choice Selection of Garbage Pail Kids.

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Ceramics & Forms, Series I.

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La belle et la bête, et al.

MANY HAVE PAID HOMAGE to Jean Cocteau’s 1946 film La belle et la bête—from Philip Glass’s “Cocteau Trilogy,” to Tony Kushner’s dream sequences in “Angels in America,” to Disney’s aptly titled cartoon musical version, Beauty and the Beast—while the film itself, starring Josette Day and Jean Morais, draws on many influences. Below is a gallery of some still images from Cocteau’s work, interspersed with engravings by Gustave Doré and paintings by Johannes Vermeer. Continue reading

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Wintertime Sunrises in Florida.

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A Guide to the Marx Brothers.

The other day, I was shocked to find out that most people don’t have a working knowledge as to the names of the Marx Brothers. Imagine!  Seeing as the next few posts here at GB, HR. will revolve around all things Marxian, I thought it might be a fine idea to put up some sort of guide to the Brothers Marx. From left to right:

  • Chico Marx as the piano-playing, heavily Italian-accented punster, so-named because he was the one who – in real life – always got the chicks;
  • Groucho Marx, the grouchy wisecracker, in his trademark greasepaint mustache and eyebrows;
  • Harpo Marx, the mischievous silent partner – except for the occasional horn, whistle, or prerequisite/eponymous Harp solo – dressed in an oversized coat-of-many-tricks,
  • Zeppo Marx (the optional brother) as the pretty boy, named Zeppo because of a childhood affinity to Zeppelin airships;
  • Margaret Dumont (pictured below, sharing a sody-pop with Groucho) as the hoity-toity Gilded Age holdover and foil to the Marxs’ antics – indeed, Groucho sometimes called her “the fifth Marx Brother.”

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HORIZON, A Magazine of the Arts. Summer, 1967.

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An Anatomy of a Slushpile.

AnatomyofaSlushpile

 

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Draft Pages from Madame Bovary.

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There’s not much more to say about Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary that hasn’t already been said, or that wouldn’t make me sound like the protagonist in John Cheever’s “An Educated American Woman”. But it’s always interesting to see how thoughts (and pain, and headaches, and heartaches) evolve on the handwritten page. Most of Flaubert’s draft pages may be found here, though I’ve yet to figure out how to download the file.

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A Brief Pictographic History of Love.

Presented above, please find a Brief Pictographic History of Love in Occidental Civilization, the gallery’s twelve images roughly spanning the period from when the Hapsburgs began their rule of the Holy Roman Empire, to Season 5 of The Hills (c. 1450-2009 CE).  The pedagogical ordering of the rows of this Brief Pictographic History:

  • Row 1: 1450-1930 (Religion)
  • Row 2: 1930-1950 (Film &. Suffering)
  • Row 3: 1950-2009 (Television &. Other Things)

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Il Duomo.

Duomo - 01

While my mom’s on business in Italy, Intrepid Adventure Photographer Dr Marks has often been left to his own devices, and so, over the years, has taken a great many photographs of the Duomo in Milan. And while many would hail the grand cathedral’s spires and cupolas, there’s something to be said for Dr Marks’s masterful employment of the fish-eye lens. Continue reading

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Bright Plastic Coelacanths.

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For some reason, at this very late hour, I’m drawn to thoughts of these Bright Plastic Coelacanths. I first saw this picture several years ago, while I was studying sculpture at RISD. (The installation took place somewhere in Japan, if memory serves, though I’ve forgotten the name of the artist.)

The first real coelacanth – of the previously alive, non-fluorescent variety – I saw was in a museum in East London, South Africa. It was the first coelacanth, as in, the first coelacanth found and stuffed and mounted in Modern History. I remember it being propped up on metal rods, forever hovering in a large glass case; the skin looked brown and stale and brittle – it was, after all, a big, dead fish. More vivid in my mind are the memories of going to the concession shop and, specifically, the drinking of Cream Soda which, for other unexplainable reasons, was bright neon green – quite similar, in tone and hue, to the Coelacanth in the far corner of the bright room above. Continue reading

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Lightning Strikes.

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 My father took these pictures from our balcony in Palm Beach just as the clouds rolled in from off the Atlantic, reminding me that there’s something magical about the weather down here. I remember when I was younger playing a soccer match a few miles south of here, the clouds coming in low but it still being bright and hot as though there were no clouds at all. The coaches didn’t hear lightning. The game went on. Continue reading

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