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




 

A Memory Through a Vaselined Lens
Saturday, October 12, 2019




It was in 1953 that my mother took a trip of exploration to Mexico City from our then home in Buenos Aires. My grandmother had suggested we look for another place to live because of the mounting crisis with Perón.

She came back from a country that was all exotic for me. Not being from Mexico we in Argentina pronounced the country in Spanish as México without using the softer h to replace that x. My mother told us of volcanoes and mountains, of tortillas and Aztecs. It seemed all like a fairy tale to me.
Somehow I have never lost that feeling that Mexico is as exotic as India or China. There is that additional connection that I have with its language, that I was raised there in the golden age of Mexican art and film, that I married a luscious blonde from Canada there, that we visited my mother who lived in that ancient port city of Veracruz, that our two daughters were born in Tacubaya in Mexico City and probably best of all that my hobby interest in photography became a profession there.

After settling down in our new home city of Vancouver I returned to Mexico as I wrote here.
But there was an incident in that year in Oaxaca that left me with that question mark that is at the end of “what would have been if I had…?”


I wrote about that here and here. And I have pretty well left it receded in some corner of my receding memory.

Until last night, when I was ordering and filing all my Mexico slides, b+w negative and colour negatives from my several visits there.

In a b+w contact sheet taken with my Mamiya and with the only lens I had at the time, a wide angle (for the 6x7cm format) 65mm, I spotted five frames of that lovely Mexican woman called Ana Victoria.

I had sudden rush of feeling almost similar to that of seeing photographs by Timothy O’Sullivan of American Civil War soldiers at the Lincoln Library in Buenos Aires when I was 8 or 9 years old. The pictures were of men that looked very much like the men walking outside on Calle Florida. The pictures of Ana Victoria (I have no memory of having used that unwieldy Mamiya RB-67) I had never noticed or seen before. I look at the pictures (they are strangely new) and I wonder what ever happened to her. Is she alive? Is she happy?



And what would have happened had I accepted her invitation to fly with her to Puerto Escondido? Would I be writing this now? From here?




But there is one most negative addition. Why would I have spread Vaseline on a clear filter to soften the surround area of my full-length portraits of Ana Victoria? The pictures look dreamy because of the effect but they are also a blur in my memory.





Appraisal of the Family Jewels
Friday, October 11, 2019





Since I was a little boy I was fascinated by my grandmother and mother talking about “the jewels”.

My grandfather Don Tirso de Irureta Goyena wooed my grandmother María de los Dolores Reyes (who was living in Manila) from Paris by sending her jewels he had made for her there. This was a vast collection of lovely jades, pearls and diamonds that slowly with the financing of the divorces of my Aunt Dolly and Uncle Tony (both in Buenos Aires) was reduced to what was left when my mother died.

I will never forget that my Aunt Dolly called me on that day to tell me that it was a pity that my mother had died while being a thief.

Years ago when I photographed P.D. James I told her that her novels were strange for me as most murders and criminal altercations in her books were due to wills and last testaments. She was accurate in this I have since then realized.

P.D. James


My grandmother died without a will so my aunt and uncle wanted to divide those jewels in three parts. I told my mother that since we had the key to the bank safety deposit box her brother and sister could take a hike.

Not part of that collection was a beautiful Spanish fan that was owned by my concert pianist great aunt, Buenaventura Galvez Puig. The fan had her name in emeralds and diamonds. When my Aunt Dolly and my mother laid claims to it my mother told her sister to remove and keep the stones. We still have that fan. The idea that my Aunt would have pawned the whole fan was anathema to my mother.

Part of that lore of my boyhood was listening to my grandmother and mother talk about the jewels that they kept in a locked, black strong box. My grandmother might have asked, “Are you going to wear the little angel, the heart of diamonds or the jades to the party?” In other occurrences they would talk about the Hungarian jeweller called Verga. I would blush as in Argentine Spanish that is an item that a man has that women don’t have.

As a young teenager in Mexico City there were trips to the Banco de Londres y México on Balderas in downtown where the two would open that safety deposit box to return or take out some piece of jewelry. We keep our valuables in a box at the Bank of Montreal.

At age 77 my Rosemary are putting together a will with ample assistance from our Kerrisdale branch of the Bank of Montreal.

Today we went to Harling’s Jewellers, downtown. We were met by a pleasant gentleman in a back alley of Howe who directed us to an underground parking lot (the jewellery company does not have a store front but a splendid showroom in an office space). I felt we were dealing with spies in a secret operation! But the procedure has all to do with the company's concern of safety and the protection of clients coming to see them.



Christian Fernández, a pleasant cababayan, gave us an immediate assessment but we will get an official appraisal (he told us the difference between those words) in a week.

Before today we had divided the jewels into those that were obviously valuable from those, that while not being worth as much, carried a sentimental value. Fernández weighed the gold and checked for karat  stamps. Few of the jewels had those stamps but the jades had Chinese stamps.  We found out some interesting facts. One was that gold unlike other metals does not have a smell. He was able to discern this in my Rosemary's grandmother's gold watch (a mass produced Elgin we were told) and could smell copper in the alloy.

Rosemary and I will inform our two daughters of our action and it is our hope that somehow the collection will remain as one.

P.D. James might have had something to say about this.  




Tulum
Thursday, October 10, 2019





When my Rosemary, our two daughters and I moved to Vancouver in 1975 I had the illusion of becoming a photographer. This dream did not come easy but looking back, had we moved from Mexico City this year, my prospect of ever becoming a photographer here would be close to zero.

One of the best sources for photography in 1975 was that of the magazine, any magazine. And to that one could add newspapers.

It wasn’t until 1977 that I started getting work from Vancouver Magazine. By the 80s I was being paid (airfares included) to go to man places around the world to take photographs and to write. That kind of work I must stress now is all but gone.

My first job involving travel did not pay. I made a trade with Mexicana de Aviacíon to take photographs in exchange for airfare and hotels. My client besides the airline was a now long defunct local travel magazine.

I went to Mexico and wherever I wanted to go I was given a green light. One place I was intrigued by was a new Mayan ruin by the sea called Tulum. Can Cun did not yet exist.

In yesterday’s blog about Tulum I mentioned a coming storm. What is interesting is that the picture illustrating this blog I took perhaps 30 minutes before as it is one frame before that of the bather.
Again I must point out that the colour negative, a 6x7cm one, has deteriorated in my files which are in all metal cabinets and get no light.

I look at this attractive Mexican woman knowing that she would now be perhaps 60 years old. If I had a record of her name that is long gone. A little bit of my memories seems to dissolve day after day. The negative is proof that the memory once had a reality that was tactile but I can only imagine the smell of the sea and the quality of the white sand.

Enorme mar, corazón fiero 
Green Angels in Yucatán 
Mexicana



Enorme mar, corazón fiero
Wednesday, October 09, 2019





Esta foto la tomé en Tulum en 1977 cuando los turistas aún no lo habrían descubierto y el concepto de la Riviera Maya estaba en el futuro. Me acuerdo que una tormenta se venía cuando vi a esta hermosa mujer. Le pedí que me posara y tomé exactamente cuatro fotos con mi Mamiya RB-67, una cámara bastante grande. Empezó a llover y nunca le pude preguntar su nombre o de donde era. 

En los 40 años transcurridos el negativo de color ha deteriorado. La película de color negativa siempre fue inestable. 

Mi recuerdo del mar furioso, ahora que he descubierto la maravillosa poeta argentina Alfonsina Storni,  me trae a esa curioso hábito del fotógrafo de revista (que fui) de siempre intentar combinar imagen con lo escrito. En este caso creo que lo he logrado.


Frente al Mar - Alfonsina Storni

Oh mar, enorme mar, corazón fiero
De ritmo desigual, corazón malo,
Yo soy más blanda que ese pobre palo
Que se pudre en tus ondas prisionero.

Oh mar, dame tu cólera tremenda,
Yo me pasé la vida perdonando,
Porque entendía, mar, yo me fui dando:
«Piedad, piedad para el que más ofenda».

Vulgaridad, vulgaridad me acosa.
Ah, me han comprado la ciudad y el hombre.
Hazme tener tu cólera sin nombre:
Ya me fatiga esta misión de rosa.

¿Ves al vulgar? Ese vulgar me apena,
Me falta el aire y donde falta quedo,
Quisiera no entender, pero no puedo:
Es la vulgaridad que me envenena.

Me empobrecí porque entender abruma,
Me empobrecí porque entender sofoca,
¡Bendecida la fuerza de la roca!
Yo tengo el corazón como la espuma.

Mar, yo soñaba ser como tú eres,
Allá en las tardes que la vida mía
Bajo las horas cálidas se abría...
Ah, yo soñaba ser como tú eres.

Mírame aquí, pequeña, miserable,
Todo dolor me vence, todo sueño;
Mar, dame, dame el inefable empeño
De tornarme soberbia, inalcanzable.

Dame tu sal, tu yodo, tu fiereza.
¡Aire de mar!... ¡Oh, tempestad! ¡Oh enojo!
Desdichada de mí, soy un abrojo,
Y muero, mar, sucumbo en mi pobreza.

Y el alma mía es como el mar, es eso,
Ah, la ciudad la pudre y la equivoca;
Pequeña vida que dolor provoca,
¡Que pueda libertarme de su peso!

Vuele mi empeño, mi esperanza vuele...
La vida mía debió ser horrible,
Debió ser una arteria incontenible
Y apenas es cicatriz que siempre duele.

Más Alfonsina Storni





A Door Into Summer
Tuesday, October 08, 2019






That singular pleasure of the photographer who is able to photograph a person more than once and sometimes many times over the course of passing years is a reminder on how we change. This goes both ways even if I am the one behind the camera. My subjects might note spots on my hands, thinning gray hair and permanent bags under my eyes.

This singular pleasure has a parallel with inanimate objects. I could add plants and trees not inanimate at all.

In the lovely colonial capital of the Mexican State of Guanajuato, also called Guanajuato, a large percentage of the gold and silver by the end of the 18th century came from a nearby mine called La Valenciana. With a large portion of extra money floating around a baroque church called San Cayetano was built right by the mine.



In the 13 or 14 times that I have visited Guanajuato through the years I always stopped to stare and admire the door to the entrance of San Cayetano. While it may have survived perhaps three hundred years, time is beginning to deteriorate it. This colour picture I took sometime in the early 80s.
In 2005 my Rosemary and I returned with our granddaughter and I knew I was going to take one picture of her at the door. This I did.

Perhaps as the door deteriorates further in a few years we can return and photograph Rebecca at some glorious stage of her 20s.

I remember that the picture of Rebecca was on a hot day in summer. As a teenager I read Robert Heinlein's The Door Into Summer. Of how he came to write it Heinlein said:

Its title was triggered by a remark which my wife Virginia made when ourr cat refused to leave the house:  "He's looking for a door into summer."



From Khachaturian to Copland - A Mexican Implausibility
Monday, October 07, 2019


Teatro Juárez, Guanajuato, Guanajuato



Of late I have been hopping on my personal time travel machine - my memory.

I have lived in this 21st century 19 years but at my 77 years I consider myself a man from the 20th. I am not as Paul Theroux wrote about Graham Greene, “An Edwardian on the Concord”. But I did grow up without a telephone and a refrigerator and my first view on a TV happened in 1953. I flew in almost brand new Douglas DC-3s in 1955 and a brand new Packard in that same year.

I was raised by my mother and grandmother. Both were musicians. My mother was a pianist and abuelita a coloratura soprano who was never able to sing professionally in the turn of the 20th century Manila because those women who did were considered to be prostitutes.

My Aunt Dolly played a so-so violin but my uncle Tony was a fine tenor.

What that meant is that my mother and I would take tram 35 from the Coghlan street of Nahuel Huapí to my grandmother’s downtown flat on Rodríguez Peña. She had a piano. My mother would play Beethoven and Mozart sonatas and some Chopin. Then American Broadway songbooks would be opened and my grandmother and uncle would sing accompanied by my mother. Aunt Dolly would play her scratchy violin but I have no memory of what it was that my mother accompanied her. My fondest memory is my mother playing the Moonlight Sonata.

As a ten year old that I was I can assert that I was bored.

As I look back on that bygone century I realize that the music that was available to my family was limited to sheet music and a few expensive LP records. By the time we moved to Mexico in 1954 the situation was a tad better. The first house we rented had a device that was called a high fidelity record player.

By early 70s my mother told me her desert island choice had to be Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos. I remember that her recordings (Dutch I think) had an oboe or a clarinet playing the trumpet part of the Second Concerto.

In 1973 Rosemary and found ourselves not being able to pay the rent. My mother who was quite deaf by then sold her piano to help us. I remember the agony of her playing the music and telling me she had to imagine what it sounded like.

Both my mother and grandmother had opinions on music that they often repeated to me:
1. Mozart was impotent.
2. There were no great English composers after Purcell.
3. Bach was God.
4. The best Spanish music was either by Frenchmen, Lalo and Ravel, or Cuban, Ernesto Lecuona.
5. There were no good female French popular singers.
6. My mother loved Grieg.

I believe that these opinions were based on a poor availability of music. Some of the music they knew of because they could sight read music they purchased at Ricordi (look that up).

I don’t think my mother ever knew about Mexican composers or 19th century American composers except for the New Orleans born Louis MoreauGottschalk.

In the 70s I discovered Aaron Copland by the circuitous route of a version of his Hoedown by Emerson, Lake & Palmer. I fell in love with Copland’s music.

During the 50s, 60s and 70s going to the movies meant one had to sit for close to one hour of government propaganda. Bits of Copland’s El Salón México were constantly used as background music. I never stopped to learn that the music, so Mexican sounding was not that of Chavez or Revueltas but of Copland.

My grandmother would have categorically opined the best “serious” Mexican music was by an American.

But there might be a reason for Copland’s Mexican sound. Salón México is a 1949 Mexican film noir directed by Emilio Fernández and co-written by Fernandez and Mauricio Magdaleno. It stars Marga López (and Argentine) as a dance hall prostitute (commonly called cabaretera) struggling to support her younger sister at an exclusive upscale school.

There was such a place as Salón México and it seems that shortly before Copland composed his piece he sat at a table of the joint!

These days of impending rains and cold have me suffering lovely bouts of nostalgia for my Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Veracruz (Americans used to like to write that Vera Cruz) and Nueva Rosita Coahuila.

I was too young (14) and stupid to understand that my grandmother a diplomat from the Filipino Embassy in Mexico routinely gave parties in our large home and that the guests included Diego Rivera, Siqueiros and Alma Reed. I was not aware that the 50s were the golden age of Mexican cinema. How was I to know that one of the finest cinematographers of all time was Gabriel Figueroa.


I miss the smell of suddenly wet earth at the end of the Mexican rainy season. I miss the ochres and the oranges of the winter mountains. I miss the warm humid smell of descending from the altitude of Mexico City upon arriving on Córdoba, Veracruz on our way (Rosemary and me) to the port where my mother lived. I miss the friendliness (if sometimes artificial) so different to the coolness (in my eyes) of Vancouver residents. I miss seeing doors that are 500 years old and over-the-top baroque churches in the style of Churriguera.

And to finish this diatribe of my vernal nostalgia, I miss the implausible, surprising and extraordinary variety of Mexico and Pedro Armendariz's moustache


.

On one of my visits to the lovely town of Guanajuato in the State of Guanajuato I entered the Juarez Theatre, an end of the 19th century opera house built with the gold and silver mines of La Valenciana near the city.

I sat down in the sumptuous theatre and an orchestra played Aram Khachaturian.


And because we live in the 21st century there is this terrific YouTube video of Aaron Copland directing El Salón Mexico in Carnegie Hall and narrated and introduced by Leaonard Bernstein.

El Salón México

And that is not all. You can view on your phone or your computer monitor Salón México, the film that inspired Copland.

Salón Mexico - Film



     

Previous Posts
Stephen, his Pussycat & Michelangelo's Poems

no te quemen las llamas

November left - then clambered up

Pianos & not so pianissimo

and the Orchis

Revisiting Kate Davitt & George Hurrell

You cannot make Remembrance grow

Competing for Excellence in the Last Century

Latency in Dicontinuance

November was finishing when I found you



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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

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6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

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7/31/11 - 8/7/11

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8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

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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

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

11/19/17 - 11/26/17

11/26/17 - 12/3/17

12/3/17 - 12/10/17

12/10/17 - 12/17/17

12/17/17 - 12/24/17

12/24/17 - 12/31/17

12/31/17 - 1/7/18

1/7/18 - 1/14/18

1/14/18 - 1/21/18

1/21/18 - 1/28/18

1/28/18 - 2/4/18

2/4/18 - 2/11/18

2/11/18 - 2/18/18

2/18/18 - 2/25/18

2/25/18 - 3/4/18

3/4/18 - 3/11/18

3/11/18 - 3/18/18

3/18/18 - 3/25/18

3/25/18 - 4/1/18

4/1/18 - 4/8/18

4/8/18 - 4/15/18

4/15/18 - 4/22/18

4/22/18 - 4/29/18

4/29/18 - 5/6/18

5/6/18 - 5/13/18

5/13/18 - 5/20/18

5/20/18 - 5/27/18

5/27/18 - 6/3/18

6/3/18 - 6/10/18

6/10/18 - 6/17/18

6/17/18 - 6/24/18

6/24/18 - 7/1/18

7/1/18 - 7/8/18

7/8/18 - 7/15/18

7/15/18 - 7/22/18

7/22/18 - 7/29/18

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8/19/18 - 8/26/18

8/26/18 - 9/2/18

9/2/18 - 9/9/18

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9/16/18 - 9/23/18

9/23/18 - 9/30/18

9/30/18 - 10/7/18

10/7/18 - 10/14/18

10/14/18 - 10/21/18

10/21/18 - 10/28/18

10/28/18 - 11/4/18

11/4/18 - 11/11/18

11/11/18 - 11/18/18

11/18/18 - 11/25/18

11/25/18 - 12/2/18

12/2/18 - 12/9/18

12/9/18 - 12/16/18

12/16/18 - 12/23/18

12/23/18 - 12/30/18

12/30/18 - 1/6/19

1/6/19 - 1/13/19

1/13/19 - 1/20/19

1/20/19 - 1/27/19

1/27/19 - 2/3/19

2/3/19 - 2/10/19

2/10/19 - 2/17/19

2/17/19 - 2/24/19

3/3/19 - 3/10/19

3/10/19 - 3/17/19

3/17/19 - 3/24/19

3/24/19 - 3/31/19

3/31/19 - 4/7/19

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4/14/19 - 4/21/19

4/21/19 - 4/28/19

4/28/19 - 5/5/19

5/5/19 - 5/12/19

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5/19/19 - 5/26/19

5/26/19 - 6/2/19

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6/23/19 - 6/30/19

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7/14/19 - 7/21/19

7/21/19 - 7/28/19

7/28/19 - 8/4/19

8/4/19 - 8/11/19

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8/25/19 - 9/1/19

9/1/19 - 9/8/19

9/8/19 - 9/15/19

9/15/19 - 9/22/19

9/22/19 - 9/29/19

9/29/19 - 10/6/19

10/6/19 - 10/13/19

10/13/19 - 10/20/19

10/20/19 - 10/27/19

10/27/19 - 11/3/19

11/3/19 - 11/10/19

11/10/19 - 11/17/19

11/17/19 - 11/24/19