A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

Jan van Eyk, Annie Leibovitz's Willie Nelson & A Muse
Tuesday, April 22, 2014






Inspiration and a muse are closely intertwined. In my most recent case it involved a muse, a 57 year-old free spirit, 15th century Flemish painter Jan van Eyck, a circular mirror in my muse’s bedroom and a withdrawn book (it cost me $1.50) a 2003 First Edition of Annie Leibovitz’s American Music. The book came from the stacks of the Vancouver Public Library’s Oakridge branch.

In Leibovitz’s beautiful book I was instantly drawn to her portrait of Willie Nelson. I have taken many very good profile portraits in my life but I have always lit from my subject’s face. It never occurred to me to do it in the opposite way.

During this Putin fiasco in Ukraine/Crimea several folk from the otherwise banal facebook have pointed out that Putin appears in many portraits by Flemish painters. In particular they cite Van Eyck’s portrait of the Arnolfini Marriage.

 So when I showed up at my muse’s apartment today and saw her circular mirror in her bedroom I heard very loud bells of inspiration. They rang again when I saw the Mexican painting in her living room.

In my waning years of photography I find myself shifting back and fourth between my roots (natural light, often called available light) and my later years (mid 80s on) obsession with all sorts of artificial lighting.  A big injection to this mixture has been my discovery (a bit on the late side as the film is discontinued but I have ten boxes which amount to 100 more possibilities) of Fuji FP-3000B instant b+w film which produces 7 inch by 7 inch prints on my Mamiya Rb-67 Pro-SD’s Polaroid back. The film is extremely fast (3200 ISO) and the prints are free of noticeable grain. In this age of the scanner, these prints reproduce quite nicely. But the excitement comes from the peel which for some years I threw away (how could I have been so densely stupid?). These peels as they dry (I help this along with a hair dryer) the peel manifests, quite randomly, a shift from negative to positive in different sections of the image. This looks like solarization but the correct term with negatives is the Sabbatier Effect.

I have been reserving my boxes of FP-3000B for special occasions and with special subjects. Nina my muse fits into that both ways.

Willie Nelson - Annie Lebiovitz

The two images of  Nina you see here are:

1. A cropped (we wouldn’t want to show bits here, would we?) Fuji FP-3000B peel that once I scanned I reversed in Photoshop with some tinkering of the contrast. The colour is the colour of the slightly blue negative peel which shifts into the magenta upon reversal.

2. A cropped (cropped for the reason cited above) print of Fuji’s (still being made) 100 ISO FP-100C colour instant film. Note that I used the Leibovitz lighting technique.

In the next few days I will be processing:

1. 10 images on one roll of b+w Ilford FP-4 Plus in 120 in which I used my Mamiya RB-67 Pro SD with lights and with available light.

2. 15 images of a roll of Kodak T-Max 400 pushed to 400 which I took with my Leica III-F. I shot some with flash as this was the first Leica with a PC connection so that I could mate it with my portable studio flash.

3. 15 images with my Nikon FM-2 loaded with Fuji Superia 800 ISO colour negative film.

4. About 20 images shot with my Fuji X-E1 digital camera.

Judging by the pictures so far my muse has fulfilled her role splendidly!





That Unexplained Mystery That Is Illogic
Monday, April 21, 2014



Martin Scorsese




In many ways this Easter weekend has been a satisfying one. On Good Friday I witnessed an intimate performance of Mozart’s Requiem with my fried Graham Walker. On Easter Saturday my family came for dinner and I prepared this year’s first batch of my iced tea. Ale, my 46 year-old daughter from Lillooet requested I prepare a fondue. Hilary and her daughter Rebecca baked an over-the-top apple pie. On Easter Sunday we had a fine brunch at the Brock House Restaurant

I was left wanting.

I know why. I think it is human nature to seek the mystery and the unexplained. Why a jetliner can have disappeared for over a month is not that kind of mystery. It has to be a mystery that transcends that.

In this 21st century, except for pockets of religious fundamentalism, our faith in a higher or superior being is not first on our agenda, perhaps the mortgage or lowering our blood cholesterol is.

This transcendental feeling can sometimes happen (and it does to me) when I look at pictures in my National Geographic that attempt to explain the immeasurable size of our known (and the others?) universe.  

Then there is the tradition, the mystery, the ceremony and the trappings of my Roman Catholic faith which came to me with a sprinkle of water sometime after August 31, 1942.


From my grandmother and from the Brothers of Holy Cross at St. Edward’s in Austin, Texas that transcendence was given the depth of elaborate historical and philosophic knowledge. From Brother Edwin Reggio, C.S.C. I learned a kinder version of my faith that was not steeped in the horrors (as he so well taught me) of the 30 Year’s War of the 17th century. 

Faith in a religion defies logic. While I believe that at the best of times, we as a people can be logical, the aberrations of war and famine show me that there is a personal side of us that defies the logic of the one and the naught. It is that illogical side of us that pushes us to art. Nobody except for a man like Bruneleschi would or could have imagined a round dome to fit over the very square of the Duomo of Florence, Santa Maria del Fiore.

No matter how many special effects or how beautiful New Zealand is, films on Tolkien novels cannot compare to medieval cathedrals, and Bach’s St Matthew Passion. Fantasy at its best cannot instill in a child, teenager or adult that sense of a mystery that has no logical explanation and that cannot be explained by special effects.

I believe that my immediate family, not having the so-called-useless trappings of religion, lives a life of stress and material acquisition confusion that except for the hope of finally finding a house one can afford to buy or the paying off of that mortgage, has no end game or resolution.

And so I finally convinced Rosemary to watch (only an hour and a half, we will finish it on Monday) to watch Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ.

For reasons of a busy fate of distraction I had never seen this film even though my occasion to photograph Scorsese came from the fact that his presence in Vancouver was to promote that film.

It a film adaptation of the controversial 1953 novel of the same name by Nikos Kazantzakis. I have not read that novel but I have read José Saramago’s El Evangelio Según Jesucristo and I found many startling parallels to the film.

After an hour and a bit more of the film I feel this Sunday, this Easter Sunday, a bit of piece and contentment that my world has not changed as much as I think it has and that I still have a sense of wonder for the unexplained mystery and illogic of a religion that I was born with that I cannot just discard.

Jesús muere, muere, y ya va dejando la vida, cuando de pronto el cielo se abre de par en par por encima de su cabeza, y Dios aparece vestido como estuvo en la barca, y su voz resuena por todo la tierra diciendo, Tú eres mi Hijo muy amado, en ti pongo toda mi complacencia. Entonces comprendió Jesús que vino traído al engaño como se lleva al cordero al sacrificio, que su vida fue trazada desde el principio de los principios para morir así, y, trayéndole la memoria del río de sangre y de sufrimiento que de su lado nacerá e inundará toda la tierra, clamó al cielo abierto donde Díos sonreía, Hombres, perdonadle, porque él no sabe lo que hizo. Luego se fue muriendo en medio de un sueño, estaba en Nazaret y oía que su padre le decía, encogiéndose de hombros y sonriendo también, Ni yo puedo hacerte todas las preguntas, ni tú puedes darme todas las respuestas. Aún había en él un rastro de vida cuando sintió que una esponja empapada en agua y vinagre le rozaba los labios, y entonces, mirando hacia abajo, reparó en un hombre que se alejaba con un cubo y una caña al hombre. Ya no llegó a ver, colocado en el suelo, en cuenco negro sobre el que su sangre goteaba.
Last Paragraph, El Evangelio Según Jesucristo – José Saramago.



Easter At Brock House With Abi
Sunday, April 20, 2014


The Waterhouse-Haywards, the Stewarts & Lilian the Easter Bunny at the Brock House


After 46 years of marriage to Rosemary it has been plainly evident for some years now that she is always right. Case in point was her wish to spend Easter morning in a nice brunch with the family. That Easter Sunday was one day after he 70th birthday made the day even more special.



Rosemary did a lot of on-line looking around but she finally settled for brunch at Brock House on Point Grey Road. The family gathered at 11:30 (Hilary’s husband Bruce had to work) and we splurged on Eggs Benedict, roast beef, salads, omelettes, and desserts that included a scrumptious cheese-cake. Before we left we took some snaps with Lilian, the resident Easter Bunny.


Lauren
Of special note was our wonderful waiter, Kalani, Mazatlán born with a mother from Prince Edward Island. He was very good looking and had wonderful freckles that were noticed by my Rebecca who confessed that he had been three years ahead of her at L'Ecole Bilingue.

The joke behind the birthday card for Rosemary is the Rebecca,16, as a little girl called her Abi and the name stuck. Abi Easter Abi!




















Easter basket made by Ale with her kindergarten pupils in Lillooet




Lacrimosa dies illa At Dunbar Heights United Church
Saturday, April 19, 2014




 

Good Friday - Rosa sericea subs. omeienses f. pteracantha


 At 71 it is beyond impossible to forget and abandon a Roman Catholic background. This is particularly so when I have been listening to J.S. Bach’s Saint John Passion as performed by Monica Huggett’s (violin) Portland Baroque Orchestra with my friends Tyler Duncan, bass and Matthew White, alto, for a few days.

 How can one forget one’s religious heritage when one opts for an intimate performance of Mozart’s Requiem at Dunbar Heights United Church? I could have gone to listen to a mass choir version in a symphony hall. This on a sunny day, but still a somber one was a better choice.

It was only last night as my granddaughter Rebecca and I returned from an evening at the theatre that I explained that the music we were listening to was Bach’s St. John Passion. I told her, “I am listening to it because tomorrow is Good Friday.” In an ignorance of the times she asked, “But isn’t it Easter?” I had to retort (gently), "Christ had to die on a Good Friday to leave us with hope on Saturday and his Resurrection on Easter Sunday.”

Before going to this Friday evening performance with my friend Graham Walker, of the Requiem by Soloists, Alexandra Hill, soprano, Melissa Howell, alto, Clinton Stoffberg, tenor, Joel Klein, baritone, the Centennial Choir and Chamber Orchestra of the Dunbar Heights United Church, emphatically directed by Greg Caisley, I thought of the colours of these three significant days.

It occurred to me that Good Friday must be black or red or both. Saturday is the day of hope. The colours can be green (renewal) or blue (the colour of the Virgin Mary). And of course Easter is white as it represents Christ’s resurrection, His defeat of death into the light, white light, white vestments.



Easter Saturday - Geranium 'Rozanne'

During the Good Fridays of my early youth, my mother would beckon me in from playing with my friends in the street sometime around 1pm. On that day we could not listen to the radio or any kind of music. My grandmother Lolita would arrive and the three of us would kneel. Abue, as I called my grandmother would read the Seven Last Words of Christ. After all that I would return to the street unable to explain to my best friend, Mario Hertzberg why I had left our play.

I believe that my grandmother, who was a fine coloratura soprano would have condoned to my listening to music today. She could not have possibly denied me the Requiem and she would have enjoyed as much as I did the fine solo soprano that is my friend and tocaya Alexandra Hill.

 Walker and I lucked out as we sat on the front row a mere four feet from Director Greg Caisley, and I could have even played footsies (Caisley would not have approved, after all she is his wife) with Concert Mistress Yi Zhou who could have easily wacked me with her bow had I tried, that’s how close we were.

Back, hidden by the choir, was legendary trumpet player (now retired but not so quietly) Martin Barenbaum. I had his records back in the 70s in Mexico and I once heard him play Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto, and Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 2 (with an almost impossible trumpet part) at the Orpheum in the 80s.  

While the small chamber orchestra was not playing with period instruments, its presence in the church with us up front had all the lovely trappings of Walker and I being dukes of the realm listening to the performance in our palace salon.

Easter Sunday - Magnolia stellata

One of the interesting characters in the church as my eyes wandered away from the statuesque Alexandra Hill, is the Reverend Richard Bott, who seems to be the great organizer, the sound recorder, the usher to fit more people in (it was packed) but most importantly to make pleas, gentle pleas, for our donations to keep these wonderful concerts going.

Another person of note, for Walker and me was spotting a bearded Ken Hughes, baritone, in the choir. Hughes is a legendary graphic designer and former instructor at Emily Carr. He taught Walker design. With Hughes I worked on a campaign to get Bob Bose elected as Surrey Mayor. 


Another standout for this vile amateur that I am is tenor Clifton Stoffberg who I saw recently as part of a Musica Intima collaboration with the Turning Point Ensemble and the Nu-BC Collective, Thirst

. Both Melissa Howell, alto, and Joel Klein, baritone were steady in their parts along with that firm and also steady man at the cello, Stefan Hintersteininger.

This was my first live Mozart Requiem. It is a performance that I will treasure for as long as am able to remember.






Director Greg Caisley takes a bow

Alexandra Hill, behind right Ken Hughes, Clinton Stoffberg




The Grandkid At The Gateway Theatre - A Gabork Of A Play
Friday, April 18, 2014




Pippa Mackie & Rebecca Stewart
I will not hide from those who read this that presently my 16-year old granddaughter and I are mutually experiencing a period of somewhat difficult transition.  I have learned that the best technique to handle a teenager from hell is to not badger, sermonize, suggest, shout at and most of all not to lose my cool when confronted by teenage illogical.

But with all the lows come a few highs. Last Sunday Rebecca accepted my texted (iPhone 3G) invite to come over. I had a tray in the sunny garden with some aged American cheddar, slices of watermelon, crackers and my father’s mate. On a separate stool (a beautiful Chinese ceramic stool, or is it a plant stand?) I had a kettle with water that had almost boiled (to make a proper mate you must never allow the water to boil). I made the concession to my granddaughter by making a sugar bowl available.

My granddaughter is the only person I know in Vancouver with whom I can indulge in that so Argentine ritual of the mate. That the lovely mate gourd is my father’s and is at least 80 years old makes that special Argentine bond that I have with Rebecca all that more special.

We, Rebecca and I, found something of that ritual magic in the John Lazarus play The Grandkid at Richmond’s Gateway Theatre. This theatre is a promising venue for good theatre, an alternative option for those who do not want to drive (or take transit) to Vancouver’s bustling theatrical community.

This two-person play (Richard Newman as Julius and Pippa Mackie as Abby) is directed just right by Natasha Nadir.

My good friend, novelist, writer and film reviewer John Lekich knew John Lazarus when the playwright lived in Vancouver. Lekich told me that Lazarus writes plays that are not complex in structure but are beautiful in helping us learn about ourselves. 

Pippa Mackie & actor friend Anton Lipovitzky
From our vantage point of centre front row Rebecca and I sat not knowing what to expect. I had seen Richard Newman before as Polonius in Bard on the Beach. Of Pippa Mackie I know a bit more. I photographed her as new talent for the Straight two years ago and saw her last year in Pi Theatre’s brutal but unforgettable Terminus


I had an inkling then that the play would have good acting.

During the intermission, an elderly woman (much older than this 71 year-old grandfather) sitting behind me told her friends, “I like him but she is a bit over the top.” They went on talking but I could not resist interjecting, “Do any of you have a 16-year old granddaughter like this one (pointing at Rebecca) and do any of you remember your grandchildren? If you do you will then know that Mackie is dead on with her gestures, her door slamming, even how she talks. Rebecca and I cannot figure if this is exceptional acting or that at 25 Mackie is young enough to remember what it was like.”

The people behind warmed up to us and were delighted to find out that in the audience of the theatre, full of the blue rinse crowd there was a genuine grandkid.

Of  Mackie’s performance my Rebecca was short and sweet (of sweet there is more later), “She is me.”

The Grandkid’s very Jewish content made my very Latin/Argentine relationship with Rebecca all the more enjoyable and understandable. The Grandkid’s very Canadian outlook/content made is easier for me to appreciate living north of the 49th parallel. Richard Newman plays a grandfather a tad younger, 68, than this one. But repeating Rebecca’s words, “He was indeed me, in some ways.”

After the show, as promised, Mackie came out to talk to the two of us and I took my snap. Rebecca and I said very little in the car, knowing we had seen a good play.

But something that Rebecca had told me earlier lingered with me. And in spite of what I could perceive as possible negativity I saw it as the opposite.

“I told my friend that I was going with my grandfather to the theatre tonight.” They said, “You must be joking. You mean he is still alive?”

In The Grandkid Abby gives Julius ten more years of life. She gives him meaning and his moribund career is rejuvenated. I can state here that my Rebecca keeps me alert and on my toes. As for the meaning of the word gabork you have until April 26 to find out.

And finally to the more “sweet” promised above. Thanks to my friend Lekich and his memory (who can channel pachyderms) I can reveal that the studious and wonderful actor, Richard Newman was part of a band I once saw in the 80s. The band’s name was Sweet Dick. Now, what would Abby have said about that?

 
Richard Newman centre right with sunglasses






Sweet Dick
Vancouver, British Columbia
1981 - 2005
Members
 
Ken Arbuthnot "Bert Wienie Dick" ~ Guitar, Vocals
Linda Kidder "Lips Dick" ~ Bass, Vocals
Drew Neville "Daffy Dick" ~ Piano
Richard Newman "Rick Dickulous"  ~ Percussion, Vocals
Peter Padden "PP Dick" ~ Drums, Vocals
Bob Popowich "Rob Roy the Highland Dick" ~ Bass, Vocals
Dan Smith "Humpback Dick" ~ Guitar, Vocals
Ron Stelting "Radar Lovedick" ~ Percussion, Vocals



The Bomb-Itty Of Errors -Teaches An Old Dog A New Trick
Thursday, April 17, 2014



Sometime in the afternoon yesterday it occurred to me that Rosemary and I had a date to attend the opening of an Arts Club Theatre production of Jordan Allen-Dutton, Jason Catalano, Gregory J. Qaiyum, Erik Weiner, and Jeffrey Qaiyums’ A Bomb-itty of Errors.

I am a Roman Catholic and I believe not only in the existence of hell but an almost as scary version called Hell on Earth.

Hell on Earth could be being forced to witness a tap dancing convention or driving to Seattle with a young man playing rap, very loud in his car. I would probably open the door somewhere around White Rock and exit pronto.

I do not know when hip-hop became rap or the other way around. In fact I believe rap is bad poetry over bad robotic rhythm machines.

Last night after 10 minutes of The Bomb-itty of Errors and witnessing my Rosemary’s gaze in shock I had to add salt to the wound by whispering into her ear, “There are 80 minutes more of this!”

For those 10 minutes and many more I came to the conclusion that Shakespeare’s English was far easier to understand. I will never complain at a conventional production of King Lear again.


 Yes! The Bomb-Itty of Errors is a fairly accurate conversion of Shakespeare’s play, The Comedy of Errors to rap. There are two short Dromios (one from Ephesus, the other from Syracuse), David Kaye and Niko Koupantsis) and two tall Antipholus (Antipholuses or Antipholusi?), Brian Cochrane and Jameson Matthew Parker who also play everybody else (who might be tall). Brian Cochrane also plays the unpoetic/unrapper, but very Kosher Jewish jeweler so well I thought there were more than four actors (at times actresses) in the play.

Somewhere around the 12 minute mark when I might have thrown myself out of that rap car to hell I began to understand the words and I heard myself laughing. At age 71, and my wife not too far behind (who was smiling), we prove that you can indeed teach old dogs new tricks.

This play is hilarious and it has lots of crude (more than ribald) humor featuring allusions to cunnilingus and fellatio plus connections with baseball that are beyond base. Luckily I am well versed in that sport and I know you cannot steal first base.

Best of all Niko Koupantsis who besides playing Adriana’s (Jameson Matthew Parker) sister Luciana (sporting the funniest lisp this side of a few CBC Radio announcers), also plays the meanest, most corrupt, ethically and morally cop (gaoler I the original play) I have ever seen or read about anywhere.


The Webb twins as the twin Dromios, 1864
 But the real heroes of this play (that I liked with no rhyme or reason) are the quick dressers back stage that keep making one thing that the cast of four is a cast of thousands. The set design by Ian Schimpf, with two sliding doors that open and close throughout the 90-minute, show keep it all flowing impossibly.

While I would recommend this play to all my friends I would still not hop on that car, that hip-hop car to Seattle. On the other hand I just might go along for the ride if Arts Club Managing Director, Bill Millerd would be my companion.

After the show I spotted the Vancouver Sun’s former theatre critic Peter Birnie. He was grinning. Ample proof he is not an old dog yet.



Dead Toads
Wednesday, April 16, 2014





I smelled of gin. Not just casually, as if I had taken four or five drinks of a winter morning to get out of bed on, but as if the Pacific Ocean was pure gin and I had nose-dived off the boat deck. The gin was in my hair and eyebrows, on my chin and under my chin. It was on my shirt. I smelled like dead toads.
Chapter XXXII - The Lady in the Lake - Raymond Chandler



Saintly Derivations


A saintly Brother Edwin Reggio, C.S.C.


Santa Muerte


San José y la Virgen María


Un santito en Luján con su papá y su mamá


Paul St. Pierre


At St. Jude's with Paul Luchkow & Michael Jarvis

Rebecca - la Santa Muerte


San Francisco


San Jerónimo, Mex


San Juan Parangaricutiro, Michoacán


San Macareno de la Estocada


San Miguel Allende, Guanajuato


Santa Claus


St. James Anglican, Vancouver


El santito con su abuela Lolita


St.George's


St. Edward's, Austin


Agustina con la Santa


Santuario en Acapulco, Guerrero


St. Isidore's Bed


San La Muerte





     

Previous Posts
Jan van Eyk, Annie Leibovitz's Willie Nelson & A M...

That Unexplained Mystery That Is Illogic

Easter At Brock House With Abi

Lacrimosa dies illa At Dunbar Heights United Chur...

The Grandkid At The Gateway Theatre - A Gabork Of ...

The Bomb-Itty Of Errors -Teaches An Old Dog A New ...

Dead Toads

Saintly Derivations

The Name Of That Rose

Annie Captured Our Hearts In Red



Archives
1/15/06 - 1/22/06

1/22/06 - 1/29/06

1/29/06 - 2/5/06

2/5/06 - 2/12/06

2/12/06 - 2/19/06

2/19/06 - 2/26/06

2/26/06 - 3/5/06

3/5/06 - 3/12/06

3/12/06 - 3/19/06

3/19/06 - 3/26/06

3/26/06 - 4/2/06

4/2/06 - 4/9/06

4/9/06 - 4/16/06

4/16/06 - 4/23/06

4/23/06 - 4/30/06

4/30/06 - 5/7/06

5/7/06 - 5/14/06

5/14/06 - 5/21/06

5/21/06 - 5/28/06

5/28/06 - 6/4/06

6/4/06 - 6/11/06

6/11/06 - 6/18/06

6/18/06 - 6/25/06

6/25/06 - 7/2/06

7/2/06 - 7/9/06

7/9/06 - 7/16/06

7/16/06 - 7/23/06

7/23/06 - 7/30/06

7/30/06 - 8/6/06

8/6/06 - 8/13/06

8/13/06 - 8/20/06

8/20/06 - 8/27/06

8/27/06 - 9/3/06

9/3/06 - 9/10/06

9/10/06 - 9/17/06

9/17/06 - 9/24/06

9/24/06 - 10/1/06

10/1/06 - 10/8/06

10/8/06 - 10/15/06

10/15/06 - 10/22/06

10/22/06 - 10/29/06

10/29/06 - 11/5/06

11/5/06 - 11/12/06

11/12/06 - 11/19/06

11/19/06 - 11/26/06

11/26/06 - 12/3/06

12/3/06 - 12/10/06

12/10/06 - 12/17/06

12/17/06 - 12/24/06

12/24/06 - 12/31/06

12/31/06 - 1/7/07

1/7/07 - 1/14/07

1/14/07 - 1/21/07

1/21/07 - 1/28/07

1/28/07 - 2/4/07

2/4/07 - 2/11/07

2/11/07 - 2/18/07

2/18/07 - 2/25/07

2/25/07 - 3/4/07

3/4/07 - 3/11/07

3/11/07 - 3/18/07

3/18/07 - 3/25/07

3/25/07 - 4/1/07

4/1/07 - 4/8/07

4/8/07 - 4/15/07

4/15/07 - 4/22/07

4/22/07 - 4/29/07

4/29/07 - 5/6/07

5/6/07 - 5/13/07

5/13/07 - 5/20/07

5/20/07 - 5/27/07

5/27/07 - 6/3/07

6/3/07 - 6/10/07

6/10/07 - 6/17/07

6/17/07 - 6/24/07

6/24/07 - 7/1/07

7/1/07 - 7/8/07

7/8/07 - 7/15/07

7/15/07 - 7/22/07

7/22/07 - 7/29/07

7/29/07 - 8/5/07

8/5/07 - 8/12/07

8/12/07 - 8/19/07

8/19/07 - 8/26/07

8/26/07 - 9/2/07

9/2/07 - 9/9/07

9/9/07 - 9/16/07

9/16/07 - 9/23/07

9/23/07 - 9/30/07

9/30/07 - 10/7/07

10/7/07 - 10/14/07

10/14/07 - 10/21/07

10/21/07 - 10/28/07

10/28/07 - 11/4/07

11/4/07 - 11/11/07

11/11/07 - 11/18/07

11/18/07 - 11/25/07

11/25/07 - 12/2/07

12/2/07 - 12/9/07

12/9/07 - 12/16/07

12/16/07 - 12/23/07

12/23/07 - 12/30/07

12/30/07 - 1/6/08

1/6/08 - 1/13/08

1/13/08 - 1/20/08

1/20/08 - 1/27/08

1/27/08 - 2/3/08

2/3/08 - 2/10/08

2/10/08 - 2/17/08

2/17/08 - 2/24/08

2/24/08 - 3/2/08

3/2/08 - 3/9/08

3/9/08 - 3/16/08

3/16/08 - 3/23/08

3/23/08 - 3/30/08

3/30/08 - 4/6/08

4/6/08 - 4/13/08

4/13/08 - 4/20/08

4/20/08 - 4/27/08

4/27/08 - 5/4/08

5/4/08 - 5/11/08

5/11/08 - 5/18/08

5/18/08 - 5/25/08

5/25/08 - 6/1/08

6/1/08 - 6/8/08

6/8/08 - 6/15/08

6/15/08 - 6/22/08

6/22/08 - 6/29/08

6/29/08 - 7/6/08

7/6/08 - 7/13/08

7/13/08 - 7/20/08

7/20/08 - 7/27/08

7/27/08 - 8/3/08

8/3/08 - 8/10/08

8/10/08 - 8/17/08

8/17/08 - 8/24/08

8/24/08 - 8/31/08

8/31/08 - 9/7/08

9/7/08 - 9/14/08

9/14/08 - 9/21/08

9/21/08 - 9/28/08

9/28/08 - 10/5/08

10/5/08 - 10/12/08

10/12/08 - 10/19/08

10/19/08 - 10/26/08

10/26/08 - 11/2/08

11/2/08 - 11/9/08

11/9/08 - 11/16/08

11/16/08 - 11/23/08

11/23/08 - 11/30/08

11/30/08 - 12/7/08

12/7/08 - 12/14/08

12/14/08 - 12/21/08

12/21/08 - 12/28/08

12/28/08 - 1/4/09

1/4/09 - 1/11/09

1/11/09 - 1/18/09

1/18/09 - 1/25/09

1/25/09 - 2/1/09

2/1/09 - 2/8/09

2/8/09 - 2/15/09

2/15/09 - 2/22/09

2/22/09 - 3/1/09

3/1/09 - 3/8/09

3/8/09 - 3/15/09

3/15/09 - 3/22/09

3/22/09 - 3/29/09

3/29/09 - 4/5/09

4/5/09 - 4/12/09

4/12/09 - 4/19/09

4/19/09 - 4/26/09

4/26/09 - 5/3/09

5/3/09 - 5/10/09

5/10/09 - 5/17/09

5/17/09 - 5/24/09

5/24/09 - 5/31/09

5/31/09 - 6/7/09

6/7/09 - 6/14/09

6/14/09 - 6/21/09

6/21/09 - 6/28/09

6/28/09 - 7/5/09

7/5/09 - 7/12/09

7/12/09 - 7/19/09

7/19/09 - 7/26/09

7/26/09 - 8/2/09

8/2/09 - 8/9/09

8/9/09 - 8/16/09

8/16/09 - 8/23/09

8/23/09 - 8/30/09

8/30/09 - 9/6/09

9/6/09 - 9/13/09

9/13/09 - 9/20/09

9/20/09 - 9/27/09

9/27/09 - 10/4/09

10/4/09 - 10/11/09

10/11/09 - 10/18/09

10/18/09 - 10/25/09

10/25/09 - 11/1/09

11/1/09 - 11/8/09

11/8/09 - 11/15/09

11/15/09 - 11/22/09

11/22/09 - 11/29/09

11/29/09 - 12/6/09

12/6/09 - 12/13/09

12/13/09 - 12/20/09

12/20/09 - 12/27/09

12/27/09 - 1/3/10

1/3/10 - 1/10/10

1/10/10 - 1/17/10

1/17/10 - 1/24/10

1/24/10 - 1/31/10

1/31/10 - 2/7/10

2/7/10 - 2/14/10

2/14/10 - 2/21/10

2/21/10 - 2/28/10

2/28/10 - 3/7/10

3/7/10 - 3/14/10

3/14/10 - 3/21/10

3/21/10 - 3/28/10

3/28/10 - 4/4/10

4/4/10 - 4/11/10

4/11/10 - 4/18/10

4/18/10 - 4/25/10

4/25/10 - 5/2/10

5/2/10 - 5/9/10

5/9/10 - 5/16/10

5/16/10 - 5/23/10

5/23/10 - 5/30/10

5/30/10 - 6/6/10

6/6/10 - 6/13/10

6/13/10 - 6/20/10

6/20/10 - 6/27/10

6/27/10 - 7/4/10

7/4/10 - 7/11/10

7/11/10 - 7/18/10

7/18/10 - 7/25/10

7/25/10 - 8/1/10

8/1/10 - 8/8/10

8/8/10 - 8/15/10

8/15/10 - 8/22/10

8/22/10 - 8/29/10

8/29/10 - 9/5/10

9/5/10 - 9/12/10

9/12/10 - 9/19/10

9/19/10 - 9/26/10

9/26/10 - 10/3/10

10/3/10 - 10/10/10

10/10/10 - 10/17/10

10/17/10 - 10/24/10

10/24/10 - 10/31/10

10/31/10 - 11/7/10

11/7/10 - 11/14/10

11/14/10 - 11/21/10

11/21/10 - 11/28/10

11/28/10 - 12/5/10

12/5/10 - 12/12/10

12/12/10 - 12/19/10

12/19/10 - 12/26/10

12/26/10 - 1/2/11

1/2/11 - 1/9/11

1/9/11 - 1/16/11

1/16/11 - 1/23/11

1/23/11 - 1/30/11

1/30/11 - 2/6/11

2/6/11 - 2/13/11

2/13/11 - 2/20/11

2/20/11 - 2/27/11

2/27/11 - 3/6/11

3/6/11 - 3/13/11

3/13/11 - 3/20/11

3/20/11 - 3/27/11

3/27/11 - 4/3/11

4/3/11 - 4/10/11

4/10/11 - 4/17/11

4/17/11 - 4/24/11

4/24/11 - 5/1/11

5/1/11 - 5/8/11

5/8/11 - 5/15/11

5/15/11 - 5/22/11

5/22/11 - 5/29/11

5/29/11 - 6/5/11

6/5/11 - 6/12/11

6/12/11 - 6/19/11

6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

7/10/11 - 7/17/11

7/17/11 - 7/24/11

7/24/11 - 7/31/11

7/31/11 - 8/7/11

8/7/11 - 8/14/11

8/14/11 - 8/21/11

8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

9/11/11 - 9/18/11

9/18/11 - 9/25/11

9/25/11 - 10/2/11

10/2/11 - 10/9/11

10/9/11 - 10/16/11

10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14