1859 and the Lonely Mockingbird

1856-60 Blogging, Part 5 of 5
"Death, death, death, death, death."

Engraving of Walt Whitman from the
first edition (1855) of Leaves of Grass.
Source:  Wikimedia Commons

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s my fifth and final series possibility, this one from 1859 again (that’s four out of five from 1859, but that’s okay…):  21 essays on the poem “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” by Walt Whitman.

Walt Whitman (1819-1892) published the first edition of his major poetry collection Leaves of Grass in 1855, with a second edition issued in 1856 and a third in 1860.  With each edition, Leaves of Grass grew larger.  The 1860 edition was the first to include “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” where it was initially known as “A Word Out of the Sea.”  Whitman had written the poem in 1859 and first published it in the Saturday Press under the title “A Child’s Reminiscence.”

“Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” IS a child’s reminiscence, entirely built upon Whitman’s boyhood memory of two mockingbirds that he observed one summer nesting on a Long Island beach.  One of the birds does not return, leaving the other to express his loss in song.  The Indian word “Paumanok” is Whitman’s term for Long Island. The “cradle” that endlessly rock is the ocean.  The word out of the sea is “death.”

Creeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over,

Death, death, death, death, death.

I grew up on Long Island.  Much has changed, but not the ocean.  It’s still a cradle endlessly rocking.  And death is still an inescapable part of our world.

The aria sinking,

All else continuing, the stars shining,

The winds blowing, the notes of the bird continuously echoing,

On the sands of Paumanok’s shore gray and rustling…

This is the last of my official 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).

Next year up on the random year(s) generator:  2006.  (Coming soon…)

© 2012 Lee Price

1856 and the Lackawanna Valley

1856-60 Blogging, Part 4 of 5
Working for the Railroad

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1856 series possibility:  21 essays on “The Lackawanna Valley,” a painting by George Inness.

"The Lackawanna Valley" by George Inness
from the collection at the National Gallery of Art (Washington, DC).

This was supposed to be a simple advertising piece.  The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad hired George Inness (1825-1894), an ambitious but still unestablished young artist, to promote their company and the railroad industry through his painting skills.  People were awed by the power of the awesome new trains but they were scared by them, too.  The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad wanted to reassure people that trains could easily fit into their small town landscapes.  They decided to use art to sell the idea that trains are unthreatening.

Did Inness believe this?  It’s the tensions within the painting that make it especially fascinating.  The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad probably wanted a large-scale Hudson River School-style landscape—but with a train meandering through it, placidly moving through a bucolic scene. Inness gave them an attractive landscape and a handsome train, but then he foregrounded it with a barren field of tree stumps.  He seems to suggest that the natural landscape will inevitably fall before the encroaching modern technology.  It’s a subtle message that Inness may have hoped to slip by the corporate people.

A series on “The Lackawanna Valley” could go many places:  to the emerging railroad industry in the mid-19th century, to the schools of painting like the Barbizon School and the Hudson River School that influenced Inness, and to Inness’ slow move toward a more spiritual approach to painting that culminated in the great Tonalist paintings of his later years.  I think it would be fun to go deeper into the work of George Inness and explore more fully the world that he painted.

Tomorrow, I’ll be proposing the last of these 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, paintings, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1859 and Goblin Merchants

1856-60 Blogging, Part 3 of 5
Christina Rossetti's Goblins

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1859 series possibility:  21 essays on “Goblin Market,” a poem by Christina Rossetti.

Backwards up the mossy glen

Turn’d and troop’d the goblin men,

With their shrill repeated cry,

“Come buy, come buy.”

Christina Rossetti’s intense narrative poem “Goblin Market” is a recent discovery for me.  I read it in preparation for my series on Christina Rossetti’s “In the Bleak Midwinter.”  Much as I loved “Goblin Market,” it didn’t provide much grist for the “Midwinter” series which leaned more toward pleasant Nativity thoughts than images of evil goblin merchants and their seductive and juicy fruits.

If “In the Bleak Midwinter” was appropriate for Christmas, “Goblin Market” might be a good choice for Halloween.  In a cultural scene overcrowded with zombies and vampires, it might be nice to acknowledge the too-often-overlooked goblins.

One had a cat’s face,

One whisk’d a tail,

One tramp’d at a rat’s pace,

One crawl’d like a snail,

One like a wombat prowl’d obtuse and furry,

One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.

Over the next two days, I’ll be proposing some more 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, paintings, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1859 and Dave the Potter

1856-60 Blogging, Part 2 of 5
Dave the Potter’s Storage Jar

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1859 series possibility:  21 essays on Dave the Potter and his magnificent storage jar at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Storage Jar made by David Drake (Dave the Potter),
American, 1800 - c. 1870.  Made in Edgefield,
 South Carolina in 1859.  Alkaline-glazed stoneware,
26 1/2 x 15 1/2 (67.3 x 39.4 cm.).
Philadelphia Museum of Art

This pot is incredible.  It stands over two feet high and  it’s 15 inches wide.  To make a pot this big, you would have to be capable of manipulating a huge quantity of clay on the wheel.  To get it this perfect, you’d have to be a master craftsman.

Dave the Potter was a slave who worked for stoneware potters in the Old Edgefield District of South Carolina.  He was probably in his late 50s when he made this pot.  Unlike most slaves, he was literate and was known for writing distinctive verses on his pots.  This particular storage jar is inscribed:  “Good for lard or holding fresh meat,/blest we were when peter saw the folded sheet.”  Also, the pot has the initials LM which would stand for Lewis Miles, owner of the pottery, and it’s signed by the artist:  “May 3d 1859/Dave.”

At one time almost lost to the mists of history, Dave the Potter is now recognized as a master craftsman of the 19th century and his works deserve to be celebrated.

Over the next three days, I’ll be proposing some more 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1859 and a Jug of Wine

1856-60 Blogging, Part 1 of 5
Bread, Wine, and Verse

Edmund J. Sullivan's illustration to Quatrain 11
of the first edition of FitzGerald's Rubaiyat.
Source:  Wikimedia Commons

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m experimenting with a new feature focused on possibilities for future series.  I’ll spin the roulette wheel to pick a year (or set of years) and then brainstorm on some potential essay topics.  This time the wheel spins, gradually slows, then clicks to a stop, pointing at:  1856-1860. 

So here’s an 1859 series possibility:  15 essays on The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam, the 1859 first edition of Edward FitzGerald’s translation.  (15 essays would come to one essay for every five quatrains.)

I first read Fitzgerald’s Rubáiyát when in college—in retrospect, a pretty ideal time to enjoy a dream of fatalistic hedonism.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse  – and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness –
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

That’s the first edition version of Quatrain 11.  The fifth (and posthumous) edition of 1889 yielded the classic quote:

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread – and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness –
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

I’m not much on picnics, but this one continues to sound appealing.  A venture into the Rubáiyát could lead in many directions—to the Persian original, to FitzGerald’s free-wheeling translation style (often more FitzGerald than Khayyam), to the philosophies of Ecclesiastes and Epicurus that seem to echo through it.  It might make a nice series for lazy summer evenings—essays to be enjoyed with a glass of wine at sunset.

A Pre-Raphaelite illuminated manuscript
tribute to FitzGerald's Rubaiyat of
Omar Khayyam with calligraphy and
ornamentation by William Morris and an
illustration by Edward Burne-Jones.

Over the next four days, I’ll be proposing some more 1856-60 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…).  But I’m wide open to other suggestions.  Any ideas for 1856-60 books, short stories, poems, songs, or other cultural artifacts that might inspire a good 21 Essays series?

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 Bonus List: Some Great Movies

1930 blogging, bonus list!

11 Great Movies from 1930

To conclude our festival of 1930, I’ve got a list of recommended movies.  This mini-list is excerpted from the “Doubling the Canon” list (as compiled by participants on the IMDb Classic Film message board) combined with the 1930 list from the They Shoot Pictures Don’t They? list of 1,000 great films.

The They Shoot Pictures list is a 1,000-movie canon of great films;  the “Doubling the Canon” list adds an additional 1,000 movies to the canon.  And now I’m excerpting the 1930 movies.

11 Great Movies from 1930

(Combined list, with They Shoot Pictures picks in caps and Doubling the Canon picks in lower case, all presented in alphabetical order.)

À propos de Nice / Jean Vigo

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT / Lewis Milestone

BLOOD OF THE POET, THE (LE SANG D'UN POETE) / Jean Cocteau

BLUE ANGEL, THE (DER BLAUE ENGEL) / Josef von Sternberg

EARTH (ZEMLYA) / Aleksandr Dovzhenko

L'AGE D'OR / Luis Buñuel

MOROCCO / Josef von Sternberg

PEOPLE ON SUNDAY (MENSCHEN AM SONNTAG) / Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer, Fred Zinnemann

Tale of the Fox, The (Le Roman de Renard) / Wladyslaw Starewicz

UNDER THE ROOFS OF PARIS (SOUS LES TOITS DE PARIS) / René Clair

Westfront 1918 / G.W. Pabst

Here’s the full They Shoot Pictures list.  And here’s the  “Doubling the Canon” list.  Special thanks to the two masterminds behind these lists: Bill Georgaris who manages They Shoot Pictures and Angel Gonzalez Garcia who now leads the "Doubling the Canon" project.

I created and launched  “Doubling the Canon” project around half a dozen years ago, ran it for a few years, and then handed it off to Angel’s capable hands where it’s flourished since.

Next up on the random year(s) generator:  1856-1860.  (Coming soon…)

© 2012 Lee Price

1930 and the Blues

1930 blogging, part 5 of 5

Country Blues of 1930

In these long breaks between the signature 21 Essays series, I’m running a new feature where I randomly select a year or set of years, and then brainstorm on some possibilities for 21 Essays series that could emerge from the assigned time.   For the current round, the roulette wheel has spun, gradually slowed, then clicked to a stop, pointing at:  1930.

The Mississippi Sheiks, circa 1930.

So here’s my fifth and final 1930 series possibility:  21 essays on the Mississippi Sheiks and their popular 1930 blues recording “Sitting on the Top of the World.”

While southern country blues had been around for many decades, the Mississippi Sheiks were among the very first groups to successfully get their music preserved on vinyl, hear it played on the radio, and to scratch out a brief career playing the blues live.  They were a guitar and fiddle group, with Bo Carter frequently singing lead supported by Lonnie and Sam Chatmon and Walter Vinson.

“Sitting on Top of the World” was written by Walter Vinson and Lonnie Chatmon and it swiftly became a standard, covered not only by blues artists but eventually by top-selling mainstream artists such as Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Harry Belafonte.  Two decades later, this type of blues began to merge with country to create the new rock and roll sound.  Numerous rock musicians and groups—including Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, Cream, and Jack White—have paid their respects with covers of “Sitting on Top of the World.”

Here’s the original Mississippi Sheiks version:

Here’s legendary bluegrass guitar player “Doc” Watson paying his respects:

And here’s contemporary rock star Jack White banging out a great version on piano from the movie It Might Get Loud (2009).

This is the last of my official 1930 ideas (with no promises that I’ll necessarily be getting to any of them…) but I’ve got one more bonus entry of some classic 1930 movies that I’ve saved for last.  I’ll post it tomorrow.

Next up on the random year(s) generator:  1856-1860.  (Coming soon…)

© 2012 Lee Price