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




 

Rosa 'Sombreuil' - Blood or Wine?
Saturday, May 28, 2016



Rosa 'Sombreuil' May 24 2016

 I found this interesting account here by an author who calls herself Madame Guillotine. I hope she will not mind me lifting her essay on to this blog which follows my account of Rosa ‘Sombreul’ in our garden.

For years Rosa ‘Sombreuil’ listed in Peter Beales – Classic Roses as a Tea Rose hybridized bt Robert France in 1850 struggled in our garden. Tease are not to be confused with the later Hybrid Teas. Tea Roses were popular during the latter half of the 19th century. Because Teas had Chinensis in them they were not all that hardy and some like this one not an easy one to grow in Vancouver. I was lucky to get three blooms in one season and the shrub never grew more than two feet high even though it was located in my sunny back lane.

In my Kitsilano garden it is thriving and by the end of May I have had 12 blooms already.
I could never find out exactly why this white rose had the name. In French the word suggests shade. But I finally found out  here thanks to Madame Guillotine.


Marie-Maurille de Sombreuil

One of the most haunting and bizarre stories to come down to us from the French Revolution is that of Mademoiselle de Sombreuil, the daughter of the former Governor of the Invalides, Charles François de Virot, Marquis de Sombreuil.



Mademoiselle de Sombreuil was born Jeanne Jacques Marie Anne Françoise de Virot at the château de Leychoisier on the 14th February 1768 and was known within her family as Marie-Maurille. Her life was unremarkable and probably no different to that of any other aristocratic girl of the time until the 16th of August 1792 when her beloved father was imprisoned in the Abbaye along with other members of the nobility who had sided with the royal family during the fall of the Tuileries. Marie-Maurille courageously demanded to share her father’s imprisonment and so was at his side on the 2nd September when a makeshift tribunal and mob arrived at the Abbaye as part of the infamous Prison Massacres.



When the Marquis de Sombreuil was called before the tribunal, his brave daughter went with him and implored their captors and the ‘judges’ to be lenient, reminding them of her father’s many years of faithful service and old age. Finally she informed them that if they wished to harm the Marquis, then they would have to kill her also.



It is at this point that accounts of what happened next vary. The legend goes that the jeering guards, who were seated upon a pile of corpses belonging to those that they had already slaughtered, then filled a glass with the blood of their victims and handed it to Mademoiselle de Sombreuil, telling her that her father would be spared if she drank the ghastly beverage.



‘One of the ruffians, touched by her resolution, called out that they should be allowed to pass if the girl would drink to the health of the nation. The whole court was swimming with blood, and the glass he held out to her was full of something red. Marie would not shudder. She drank, and with the applause of the assassins ringing in her ears, she passed with her father over the threshold of the fatal gates, into such freedom and safety as Paris could then afford. Never again could she see a glass of red wine without a shudder, and it was generally believed that it was actually a glass of blood that she had swallowed, though she always averred that this was an exaggeration, and that it had been only her impression before tasting it that so horrible a draught was offered to her.‘



Mademoiselle de Sombreuil herself always insisted that the bloodstained glass contained nothing more sinister than red wine and there is no reason to disbelieve her, although the story of an aristocratic young woman being forced to drink human blood in order to save her elderly parent is an enticing one. If you like that sort of thing.



Unfortunately for the heroic Mademoiselle de Sombreuil, her father and younger brother, Stanislas (1768-1794) were again arrested a year later and she would share their imprisonment at Port-Libre and Sainte-Pélagie before the Marquis and Stanislas were guillotined on the 17th June 1794.





The Dancer - An Essence
Friday, May 27, 2016

Albert Galindo - 2016


For most of my photographic life there were two aspects that were constants. One was my love for the portrait and the other my insistence on controlling my lighting. I have always believed in taking portraits in a studio with my own chosen light.I still do even in my tiny Kitsilano studio.

The grab shots taken in the street have never been to my liking. There was first a Henri Cartier-Bresson then a legion of photographers that made the Cartier-Bresson’s shine in uniqueness.

Ever since I discovered Plato I have been obsessed with the idea of the essence and its terrestrial copy. I remember in the late 60s going to a concert of Jefferson Airplane in San Francisco and spotting a woman sitting in a corner staring at a little glass of crème the menthe. My guess is that under the influence of LSD she was contemplating the essence of green – a perfect green.

While teaching high school in Mexico City in the early 70s I used to tell my students that anyone of them could be in a room with a camera and a light pointing at them. Then one by one, their father, mother, sister, the loved one, the brother, a teacher would all take one snap without moving the setup. I told them that in each case once the pictures where printed and then mixed up one would be able to see which one was taken by the father or the lover. I further told them that if we fed the photographs into a computer and pushed enter the resulting photograph that would shoot out would be the essence of the person (a combination of all the facets that one is and that one reacts and becomes the person one thinks one is for each person one knows.) 


Lauren Stewart - 2012

Not too long ago I proposed to actor Christopher Gaze (and Artistic Director of Bard on the Beach) to pose for me for tight head shots where he would think about being Romeo, Caesar, Hamlet and Macbeth. There would be no makeup or costume, just the expression. Would we then be able to figure out each part? I believe we could as Gaze is a very good actor. But Gaze is a busy man and has never found the time to satisfy my curiosity.

In the last two weeks with my taking photographs of the dancers of Arts Umbrella in performance, in rehearsals and backstage my thoughts have been about dancers and the essence of a dancer.

It is fashionable these days to photograph dancers (particularly individual ones) up in the air in perfect form, frozen with a high speed light. I find that these photographs do convey dance but they do not show anything of the individual dancer photographed. It sort of reminds me of fashion shots where the model is the model and not a person.

On the other hand my blurs (at ¼ or 1/8 second) do convey the idea of dance and that the blurs are dancers. But the personality of the dancer is again not there.

It seems to me that the only way is through the portrait. It should be a dramatic portrait with a dark side to convey depth and curvature.


Ria Girard & Béatrice Larrivée - 2015

As an example of this I have placed here two portraits. One is of Ballet BC Albert Galindo which I took early this year. The other is of my granddaughter Lauren Stewart which I took in 2012. She is now 13 and is in her 7th year with the Arts Umbrella Dance Company. I believe that both portraits convey something of that essence that a dancer is.

But in between that frozen in time picture of the dancer in the air, the dance blur and the portrait is this picture of Béatrice Larrivée and Justin Calvadores. I find it arresting and powerful. It is not completely sharp nor unrecognizably blurry.

When we listen to music we listen to predictable notes. But sometimes there are those odd notes in between that unsettle us. Thelonious Monk exploited well that idea. Could it be that this photograph of the duo conveys an in-between moment not quite at its graceful peak. The thigh muscles are in evidence. There is strain involved.

Justin Calvadores & Béatrice Larrivée



And yes it has been many years since I thought of dancers as swans. I know they are persons. I know that they are individuals.





Beatrice, Béatrice, Degas & Marie van Goethem
Wednesday, May 25, 2016



Béatrice Larrivée & Justin Calvadores






When Sappho was a living girl,  

And Beatrice wore 

The gown that Dante deified.
Emily Dickinson (complete poem below) 

"For I am Beatrice who send you on;

I come from where I most long to return;

Love prompted me, that Love which makes me speak." (Dante Alighieri - Inf. II, 70-72)





I came to dance late in my life. It was in 1995 that I was assigned to follow and photograph Evelyn Hart for two days. In those two days I fell in love with dance and with Hart.

Ever since then, dance has been dear to my heart and I try to see as much of it as I can. My friend and former editor Malcolm Parry always told me of what he called the privileged position. It was on the top of a building looking down and not below looking up. The dance version of the privileged position is to be back stage in the wings. It was in the wings of the Paris Opera Ballet that Edgar Degas haunted to sketch and paint dancers. Of particular note was Geneviève van Goethem who ended up immortalized as his La Petite Danseuse de Quatorze Ans. The original is in the National Gallery in Washington DC. I have made my pilgrimage to the statue three times and I have photographed the old Paris Opera once.

It was a few years ago that I watched a rehearsal at Ballet BC and noticed a dancer that walked like no other dancer I have ever seen. I enquired her name. She told me that she was Sandrine Cassini and that she had started dancing at the Paris Opera Ballet when she was 14. As you can imagine I was transfixed with delight and wonder. Cassini came to my studio months later and posed for me just like Marie van Goethem had for Degas.



Malcolm Parry’s privileged position is what I have, thanks to the Arts Umbrella Dance Company and its Artistic Director Artemis Gordon. I am given the distinct honour and pleasure to photograph rehearsals like the one I did tonight at the Vancouver Playhouse in preparation for the Arts Umbrella Dance Company’s Season Finale from May 26 to May 28.

Every year I notice a particular dancer who I consider my personal Marie van Goethem. I noticed Béatrice last year and I wrote about her here.

This year during the rehearsal for James Kudelka’s piece (oddly called!) choreography I spotted Beatrice in the wings crying in pain. It seemed she might have had a very sore left toe. She removed her slipper and just cried. It was a performance (not meant to be one, but it still was) full of pathos. I felt helpless in not being able to help so I just snapped my shutter.

Later today I had the opportunity to watch Beatrice in a duo from a piece by Crystal Pite. As I began to take photographs (and I must insist that it was the best I saw all evening) I was told to cease. Unbeknownst to me but not to my accompanying granddaughter Lauren, my Fuji X-E1 was sending a very bright focusing light. This put off Pite who understandably is a perfectionist. After I had missed the best of the evening dance as that duet was, photographer Chris Randle handed me a piece of black tape to cover the offending light.

Pite came up to me to tell me how sorry she was to have prevented me from taking my pictures but with a big smile on her face she said, “But you saw it all!” She was right and the memory of a fleeting dance will remain and I wish Béatrice no more pain and success in her career as dancer and a muse to future Dantes.  




A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasure ’t is   
To meet an antique book,   
In just the dress his century wore;    
A privilege, I think, 
 
His venerable hand to take,         
And warming in our own,    
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.    
 
His quaint opinions to inspect,  
His knowledge to unfold        
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old;     
 
What interested scholars most,  
What competitions ran  
When Plato was a certainty,         
And Sophocles a man;   
 
When Sappho was a living girl,   
And Beatrice wore   

The gown that Dante deified.     
Facts, centuries before,         
 
He traverses familiar,    
As one should come to town     
And tell you all your dreams were true:  
He lived where dreams were born.   
 
His presence is enchantment,            
You beg him not to go; 
Old volumes shake their vellum heads    
And tantalize, just so.
Emily Dickinson

I dwell in possibility

In a library
 A light exists in spring
The lady dare not lift her veil
 I took my power in my hand
 I find my feet have further goals
 I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze 
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone! 
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red 
Me-come! My dazzled face  
Develops pearl and weed

But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/and-zero-at-bone-with-dirks-of-melody.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/05/charm-invests-her-face.html


http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html 
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html



     

Previous Posts
A Rose in Decline & Memories Past

The Last Rose of Summer Revisited

The Last Rose of Summer

The Messiah - A Roasted Chestnut to Perfection

Bowering, Baseball & Burlesque

L'Orfeo & Two 6ft 2in Theorbos

Resonance

Stylus Fantasticus & The Gambist

The White House Novels

Zorro Sent Me



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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

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17

7/23/17 - 7/30/17

7/30/17 - 8/6/17

8/6/17 - 8/13/17

8/13/17 - 8/20/17

8/20/17 - 8/27/17

8/27/17 - 9/3/17

9/3/17 - 9/10/17

9/10/17 - 9/17/17

9/17/17 - 9/24/17

9/24/17 - 10/1/17

10/1/17 - 10/8/17

10/8/17 - 10/15/17

10/15/17 - 10/22/17

10/22/17 - 10/29/17

10/29/17 - 11/5/17

11/5/17 - 11/12/17

11/12/17 - 11/19/17