SONG SATURDAY - ABRAHAM'S MEMORY

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” - Plato

Some songs stay with us for years and years, and every time we hear them the memories they evoke are as strong and as full of emotion as the first time we heard them. This is a French song by Céline Dion, which I first heard on board a plane flying to Europe on a sleepless night and it touched my heart as it syntonised with my mood and thoughts at the time. I must say that I don’t like Céline’s English songs, but she has recorded some extraordinarily beautiful French ones and this is one of them.



Abraham’s Memory

A last prayer before obeying
The nature of things and our fathers bidding
Before leaving

Just another life saved from forgetfulness
Engraved well, better than with a sword
In Abraham's memory

Long is the waiting of the hour
Heavy the sadness in our hearts
But so great our love and faith in you
Although it’s difficult to understand you sometimes.

What'll tomorrow bring? Our destinies so far away,
A little peace, love and some bread is all you need
In the middle of your hands.

Long is the waiting of the hour
Heavy the sadness in our hearts
But so great our love and faith in you,
Although it’s difficult to understand you sometimes

Lead our children to the end of time
Full of joys more than tears –
In Abraham's memory

La Mémoire D’ Abraham

Juste une prière avant d'obéir
A l'ordre des choses et de nos pères
Avant de partir
Juste une autre vie sauvée de l'oubli
Gravée bien mieux que par une lame
Dans la mémoire d'abraham

Longue l'attente de l'heure
Lourde la peine en nos coeurs
Mais si grands notre amour notre foi en toi
Et difficile de te comprendre parfois

Que sera demain nos destins plus loin?
Un peu de paix d'amour et de pain
Au creux de tes mains

Longue l'attente de l'heure
Lourde la peine en nos coeurs
Mais si grands notre amour notre foi en toi
Et difficile de te comprendre parfois

Conduis nos enfants pour la fin des temps
Remplis de plus de joies que de larmes
La mémoire d' Abraham

CHOCOLATE FIX

"Chemically speaking, chocolate really is the world's perfect food". - Michael Levine

Chocolate is meant to change the chemistry of the brain in such a way that it resembles the chemistry of the brain when we are in love. Chocolate is made from the roasted, shelled, and ground beans of the tropical cacao tree, Theobroma cacao. It is on of the most popular of the world’s foods and is consumed in the form of bars, milk shakes, hot beverages, cereals, cakes and biscuits. It is an indispensable ingredient of desserts and often combined with vanilla to give a wonderful aroma to these sweet confections.

Chocolate contains more than 300 chemicals, and its health benefits have been studied extensively. Dark chocolate contains types of antioxidants known as flavonoids, which slow the processing of bad LDL cholesterol into material that clogs the arteries, and at the same time make blood platelets less likely to clump and cause clots, thus protecting from heart disease. Studies suggest that people who eat significant amounts of chocolate live longer than non-chocolate eaters.

Polyphenols present in chocolate reduce the oxidation of low-density lipoproteins, thereby protecting against atherosclerosis. These compounds are also found in red wine. In fact, a 1.5-ounce chocolate bar has as much antioxidant power as a 5-ounce glass of red wine. Chocolate also contains tryptophan, an essential amino acid that aids the production of serotonin, the body’s endogenous opiate. Enhanced serotonin function typically diminishes anxiety and reduces sensitivity to pain. Chocolates also make the brain trigger off endorphins, the feel good compounds in our bodies. Chocolate contains caffeine in very modest quantities. An ounce of milk chocolate contains no more caffeine than a typical cup of decaffeinated coffee.

In 1519, Spanish conquistador Hernando Cortes led an expedition to Mexico in search of gold. They found plenty of that, but also discovered a cold, bitter drink that the Aztecs loved to consume. It was called cacahuati, and was made from the beans of the cacao tree. Cacahuati was reserved for warriors, nobility and priests, and was believed to confer wisdom and vitality upon those who drank it. The Aztecs also believed this drink enhanced their sexual prowess. Cortes and his men found the drink too bitter, and sweetened it to make it more palatable.

When Cortes introduced the drink as “chocolatl” to the Spanish court, it was a huge success. The Spaniards kept the source of their chocolatl a secret for a century or so, after which it went on to become the rage in Europe. The first chocolate shop in London opened in 1657, and it served liquid chocolate in little gold and silver cups.

A Dutch inventor in the early 1800s figured out how to extract cocoa butter from the beans. Soon a Swiss chocolatier in Vevey, Switzerland mixed cocoa butter with evaporated milk (made by Nestlé) to get chocolate in the form that we know and love today. During the First World War, soldiers ate chocolate bars for energy and after the war was over, carried back this habit with them. Thus the world’s love for chocolates was born. Here is a recipe that we often use to manufacture our own brand of chocolate fix at home:

CHOCOLATE LOG

Ingredients
160 g butter
300 g icing sugar
300 g plain sweet biscuits (e.g. petit beurre)
160 g blanched, toasted almonds
100 g molten cooking chocolate
2 tablespoonfuls cocoa powder
2 fresh egg yolks
1/2 cup brandy
1/2 cup cream
1 teaspoonful vanillin sugar
100 g grated chocolate shavings

Method
Crumble the biscuits, mixing them well with the molten butter. Add the egg yolks, cocoa powder, cream, brandy and sugar, mixing thoroughly. Add the vanillin sugar, molten chocolate and almonds, kneading into a soft doughy consistency. Add some more brandy or crumbed biscuits to achieve the desired consistency. Shape into two logs and coat with chocolate shavings. Wrap in aluminum foil and refrigerate until set (approximately 5-6 hours). Cut into slices and leave at room temperature for about an hour before serving with whipped cream. Alternatively, the mixture may be shaped into small bite-sized balls and coated in chocolate.

IDEOGRAMS AND IDEOLOGY

“If a man takes no thought about what is distant, he will find sorrow near at hand.” - Confucius

The word for today is ideogram.

ideogram |ˈidēəˌgram| noun
a written character symbolising the idea of a thing without indicating the sounds used to say it, e.g., numerals and Chinese characters.
ORIGIN mid 19th century: from Greek idea ‘form’ + -gram from gramma ‘thing written, letter of the alphabet,’ from graphein ‘write.’

With the Beijing Olympics almost over the world’s attention will be drawn to the excesses of the closing ceremony – as if the opening one weren’t enough. We have been overwhelmed with excesses of all kinds since the Moscow Olympics began the slip-slide down into a special effects extravaganza that overshadows the sport. A fairground instead of an arena, a congregation of drug cheaters instead of noble athletes, a venue for nationalistic propaganda instead of an ideal of world peace and brotherhood of man. I pity the young athletes who go there with dreams of sporting glory and get embroiled in the star system of international competition with immense pressures to deliver gold medals and mental and physical strains on their health that often cause their downfall.

So another Olympiad almost over. A rash of ideograms on my TV monitor every time I see the news announce details of the games on posters, signs, illuminated displays from Beijing. An ancient and great civilisation wishing to prove to the world that it can surpass the organisational abilities of even the most advanced of Western nations, a giant economy flexing its muscles in order to show its dominance to the world, the most populous nation in the world wishing to dazzle with its athletic prowess and almost inexhaustible supplies of resources, human and otherwise.

These are critical times, worldwide. Times full of dangerous opportunities that will favour the courageous and the bold. However, these are times that demand upon the bravest of us to maintain our level-headedness and exercise restraint. Restraint is the mark of the truly strong and the lack of it characterises the coward. It is no accident that my choice of illustration above is the Chinese ideographic representation of “crisis”, made up of two separate components the first indicating “danger” and the second “opportunity”.

A FLOWER IN THE MOONLIGHT

“Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone.” – C.S. Lewis

How time blunts our elderly sharp and pointy experiences, how the pains of the past mellow and even the most anguished memories leave behind only dull ache. Time heals our wounds, nostalgia paints with pastel-coloured brushes the days of old, and our few, small, once-experienced joys are amplified and idealised. How the past can seem so beautiful, until an old song, a yellowed photograph, a chance encounter with someone from that time can reawaken in us the acrid reality of those sad days of the past and make our scarred heart twinge again in sympathy with old and intense pains…

A poem I wrote many years ago, when my life was coloured by deepest and most miserable blacks and sublime, heavenly azures.

A Flower in the Moonlight

We started playing with words again tonight,
The singer articulating softly our innermost desires,
Our hearts vocalising dumbly our sweetest bitter dreams.
The room so small, the light so dim,
The night so deep, the short space between us,
So immense it could in light years be measured...

We’ve played this scene so many times before,
Two actors on the stage fumbling with props
Struggling with our lines, trying inarticulately to improvise
Forgotten speeches that we would not dare to speak
Even if we had remembered them.
Your eyes avoid mine while a flower blooms in your hand.

Above us the air a prism and a hundred light-bulb stars shine on a celluloid sky
A room with walls of music, the pasteboard moon for ceiling.
If we could only bridge the gap, dissolve the ice
If you could touch me now, think of what would be gained!

You stretch your hand, as years of silence crumble
A thousand nights, dead, are resurrected
And at last, this time on cue, you offer me
A flower in the moonlight.

POSTCARD FROM BRISBANE

“A wise traveller never despises his own country.” - Carlo Goldoni

Another trip to Brisbane this week, and another one coming up the week after. I feel a little guilty with all this flying I am doing, however, there are things one cannot do effectively through phone and video conferencing. The personal interaction is paramount and one can achieve a lot through that interaction, much more than through a phone conference.

Brisbane weather was very good, I was told, as I saw precious little of it, being inside and hard at work. Brisbane enjoys a subtropical climate with very mild, dry winters and then monsoonal type summers with lots of rain or even cyclones. This explains the lush vegetation and the profusion of tropical fruits. Winter Queensland strawberries (which I enjoyed at lunch) are sweet and lush this time of the year.

The postcard from Brisbane this time round is from the Anzac Square War Memorial. It is located close to the Central Railway Station, between Ann and Adelaide Sts. While in the midst of the busiest part of the Brisbane CBD, the monument is uniquely and ideally set in peaceful surrounds life. Anzac Square is dedicated to Australia's military heritage and contains the Shrine of Remembrance, with its Eternal Flame. It forms the focal point of the surrounding park, with its radially patterned pathways, pools, lawns and Bribie Island Pine Bottle trees.

There are Touch-Tell systems in place that explain the significance of Anzac Square to visitors. Co-located beside Anzac Square, in the pedestrian tunnel, is the World War II Shrine of Memories. Visitors can view Honour Rolls, Unit Plaques and a mosaic containing over 140,000 hand-cut Venetian glass enamels and soils from official World War II cemeteries.

MOVIE MONDAY - ARARAT

“In such a world of conflict, a world of victims and executioners, it is the job of thinking people, not to be on the side of the executioners.” – Albert Camus

Last weekend we watched a 2002 Canadian/French film, Atom Egoyan’s “Ararat”. The film unites several stories quite successfully and is partly a vehicle for the retelling of the Armenian genocide of 1915, partly a film about Arshile Gorky (1904?-1948), an Armenian painter who lived through the genocide in Turkey and migrated to America and also the story of a director making a film about Armenia and the genocide.

Gorky’s last few years were miserable and riddled with disease and mishap, causing him to commit suicide at the age of 45 years in Connecticut, this being significant in the film’s plot. The film’s story is set in Toronto, where Ani, an art historian (Arsinée Khanjian) investigates the life and art of Gorky. She is of Armenian heritage and is immersed in Gorky’s story on several levels. Her son, the young Raffi (David Alpay) is in love with his step-sister, who blames Ani for the suicide of her father.

In parallel with this story is that of an ageing customs inspector (Christopher Plummer) who is on the cusp of retirement. He has a stormy relationship with his son and in order to patch things up he tries to explain his world-view to him by recounting the story of a long interview he had with Raffi, whom he apprehended when he returned from Turkey carrying canisters of exposed film. Supposedly, the film is footage that Raffi has shot in the region of Mount Ararat, to be included in a film about the Armenian genocide that is being made by the famous director Saroyan (played by Charles Aznavour, himself of Armenian heritage).

The film within a film theme brings together the characters and plot elements quite adroitly, but there is some challenging and confronting images of the genocide that will make many viewers recoil in horror. Turkey still refuses to recognise the events of 1915 as genocide which is what Armenians and over twenty other countries call the massive exterminations that took place at that time. In any case the Armenian “Great Calamity” was the cause of the Armenian diaspora and is in any case a flagrant abuse of human rights by the precursor to the Turkish state, the Ottoman Empire.

The film explores several themes, most of them quite melancholy and serious. The relationship between parents and estranged children, suicide, genocide, war crimes, the falsification of history, propaganda, incest, drug trafficking, and artistic inspiration. The film is one which is highly controversial and some people regard it as a masterpiece, while others view it as a flawed piece of cinematic pro-Armenian propaganda. Some people regard it as a trivialisation of an important historical event. I am glad I saw the film, even if it was quite confronting and in some parts badly patched together. It was quite complex and operated at multiple levels, some more successfully than others. Do see it, unless violent images shock you or disturb you.

ART SUNDAY - DELACROIX

“A sincere artist is not one who makes a faithful attempt to put on to canvas what is in front of him, but one who tries to create something which is, in itself, a living thing.” - William Dobell

Ferdinand Victor Eugene Delacroix (1798 – 1863), was a French artist and exponent of romanticism. His art was later to influence impressionist painters and even modern artists. His canvases abound with colour, exotic themes and vibrant composition, making overall a highly decorative oeuvre. The painting here is “Women of Algiers in their Apartment”, of 1834. Oil on canvas, 180 x 229 cm - Musee du Louvre, Paris

Delacroix was born on April 26, 1798, in Charenton-St-Maurice, France. In 1815 he became the pupil of the French painter Pierre-Narcisse Guérin and began a career that would produce more than 850 oil paintings and great numbers of drawings, murals, and other works. In 1822 Delacroix submitted his first painting to the important Paris Salon exhibition: Dante and Virgil in Hell. A technique used in this painting—many unblended colors forming what at a distance looks like a unified whole—would later be used by the impressionists. His next Salon entry was in 1824: Massacre at Chios. With great vividness of color and strong emotion it pictured an incident in which 20,000 Greeks were killed by Turks on the island of Chios. The French government purchased this Delacroix painting for 6,000 francs.

Impressed by the techniques of English painters such as John Constable, Delacroix visited England in 1825. His tours of the galleries, visits to the theater, and observations of English culture in general made a lasting impression upon him. Between 1827 and 1832 Delacroix seemed to produce one masterpiece after another. He again used historical themes in The Battle of Nancy and The Battle of Poitiers. The poetry of Lord Byron inspired a painting for the 1827 Salon, The Death of Sardanapalus. Delacroix also created a set of 17 lithographs to illustrate a French edition of Goethe’s Faust.

The French revolution of 1830 inspired the famous painting Liberty Leading the People, which was the last of Delacroix’s paintings that truly embodied the romantic ideal. Delacroix found new inspiration on a trip to Morocco in 1832. The ancient, proud, and exotic culture moved Delacroix to write “I am quite overwhelmed by what I have seen.” In 1833 Delacroix painted a group of murals for the king’s chamber at the Palais Bourbon. He continued doing this type of painting, including panels for the Louvre and for the Museum of History at Versailles, until 1861. Much of the architectural paintings involved long hours on uncomfortable scaffolding in drafty buildings, and Delacroix's health suffered. Delacroix died on Aug. 13, 1863, in Paris. His apartment there was made into a museum in his memory.

SONG SATURDAY - ANNA

“Nostalgia is a seductive liar.” - George Wildman Ball

For Song Saturday today, a Greek song by singer/songwriter Dionyssis Savvopoulos, called “I Saw Anna Sometime Ago”.


I Saw Anna Sometime Ago

Quite unexpectedly,
I saw my childhood friend
Standing and looking at me.
In her eyes, there were
Broken statues, lost cities,
Sunken ships in the deep.

Noon was hot,
The blind was lowered,
And the staircase in the light-well.
The footsteps on the staircase
Fade away and then nobody’s there.
We’ll wander alone,
Through seas, cities,
Through deserted train stations.

All changes here, with a rush,
How can we poor humans
Understand it all?

Tell me, do you know who I’m talking about?
Anna is her name.
I see her descending,
Hesitating at the last step,
And then is forever lost
In the madding crowd.
Lai, la, la, la…


Είδα την Άννα Κάποτε

Την παιδική μου φίλη
Την είδα ξαφνικά
Να στέκει και να με κοιτά.
Αγάλματα κομμάτια
Στα μάτια της τα δυο,
Λησμονημένες πόλεις
Ναυάγια στο βυθό.

Ζεστό το μεσημέρι
Το στόρι χαμηλό
Κι η σκάλα στο φωταγωγό.
Σβήνουν τα βήματα στη σκάλα – κανείς.
Θα πλανηθούμε μοναχοί,
Θάλασσες, πόλεις, έρημοι σταθμοί.
Αλλάζουν όλα εδώ κάτω με ορμή
Τι να καταλάβουμε οι φτωχοί,
Τι να καταλάβουμε οι φτωχοί…

Για πες μου μήπως ξέρεις,
Γι αυτήν που σου μιλώ,
Άννα τ’ όνομα της το μικρό.
Την βλέπω κατεβαίνει
Στέκεται στο σκαλί,
Και χάνεται για πάντα
Στου κόσμου τη βουή.
Λα λα λα λα λα…

THE CLUB...

“Don't brood on what's past, but never forget it either.” - Thomas H. Raddall

This day was no less busy than yesterday, but a pleasant interlude was lunch in one of Melbourne’s oldest and greatest institutions, the Athenaeum Club. The “club” is an essentially English institution, based on an exclusive and rather protective coterie, whose membership was originally reserved for gentlemen. Clubs were created with ideas of common law, private property, independence of the subject and the social position of gentlemen, in mind. Being a social club and its values decidedly conservative, these institutes cultivate among its members a mutual understanding of what it means to be a gentleman - code of honour, dress, conduct, speech and good taste. In order to preserve the exclusive nature of the club, membership admission is contingent on an invitation from an already established member.

The first gentlemen’s clubs were established in the 18th century London, where friends gathered to read newspapers, gossip, discuss politics and play board games. Amidst rich comfort, these clubs offered their members an intimate venue where friendships could be formed and maintained in comfortable café like surroundings. From officers to politicians to merchants, the next generation of clubs attracted members from a wide spectrum of social standing. This progress reflected a broader social change; a widening of the middle classes in England. In Australia, clubs were established in all states, with Sydney (1838) and Melbourne (1839) leading the way.

Clubs are still alive and well in Britain and its once upon a time colonies and remain to this day a stalwart tradition, a conservative and rather nostalgic dinosaurian preserved under glass, but nevertheless an oasis of quietude and stability to all generations; almost like a second home to their members.

The Athenaeum Club of Collins Street was established in 1868, and remains one of Australia’s oldest and finest clubs. The Club is housed in a magnificent Victorian building, beautifully renovated and decorated, a perfect showpiece for its heritage and traditions. There are reading rooms, games rooms with billiards and snooker, a gym and luxurious accommodation. One of the worthiest offerings of the establishment is the feature of several distinctive bars and restaurants where one may enjoy a leisurely drink or fine food. The Club has a diverse programme of social, sporting and cultural functions for the entertainment and edification of its Members. The Athenaeum’s location, service, facilities and first-class dining support its well-deserved international reputation.

We entered the club (and of course there is a strict dress code with gentlemen needing to be attired in jackets and ties) and we were directed upstairs by the reception staff. The surroundings were elegant and restrained, the paintings beautifully displayed, the furniture and decoration opulent yet tasteful. Open fireplaces with cheery fires burning were most welcoming on this Melbourne winter’s day. We had a drink at the bar and then went down to lunch.

The dining room was resplendent in it s elegant simplicity and the staff courteous and discreet. We were pleased with the menu that offered a beautiful selection of food classic in its aspirations and yet not pretentious in its extent or its scope. At our table we chose King George whiting fillets battered and fried served with salad, blue eye fillet grilled and served with a salad, roast chicken on a bed of roast vegetables, black pudding with vegetables. It was accompanied by two bottles of excellent wine. The purpose of the lunch was of course a business discussion, convivial enough but also quite purposeful and which achieved much. All gentlemen present comported themselves with great aplomb and enjoyed a most civilised way to conduct what could otherwise have been a rather ordinary and rushed discussion.

Clubs may be a vestige of a vanishing species. One may accuse them of snobbery and an old-wordliness quite out of place in the fast moving and technologically challenging 21st century (did I mention that mobile phone use is barred from the public spaces of the Club?). One may view these institutions in Australia as a peculiarly outmoded remnant of British colonialism, however, I think that they represent a wonderfully rich heritage and tradition, and they are a rich, living, historical establishment.

WORD THURSDAY - SUITED UP

“For the apparel oft proclaims the man.” – William Shakespeare (Hamlet)

Today was a very busy day at work with several important meetings and some interstate visitors. On days like today, time passes very quickly and although I get to do much, there are so many routine tasks left undone as there are so many other things out of the ordinary that take their place. As I was invited to a formal early dinner this evening I had to wear a dinner suit, so here for word Thursday, are some interesting words (especially etymologically speaking!) relating to men’s attire:

cummerbund |ˈkəmərˌbənd|noun
a sash worn around the waist, esp. as part of a man's evening clothes.
ORIGIN early 17th cent: from Urdu and Persian kamar-band, from kamar ‘waist, loins’ and -bandi ‘band.’ The sash was formerly worn in the Indian subcontinent by domestic workers and low-status office workers.

tuxedo |təkˈsēdō| noun ( pl. -dos or -does)
a man's dinner jacket.
• a suit of formal evening clothes including such a jacket.
DERIVATIVES
tuxedoed adjective
ORIGIN late 19th cent: from Tuxedo Park, the site of a country club in New York, where it was first worn.

cravat |krəˈvat| noun
a short, wide strip of fabric worn by men around the neck and tucked inside an open-necked shirt.
• a necktie.
DERIVATIVES
cravatted |krəˈvødəd| adjective
ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from French cravate, from Cravate ‘Croat’ (from German Krabat, from Serbo-Croat Hrvat), because of the scarf worn by Croatian mercenaries in France.

piqué |pēˈkā| noun
stiff fabric, typically cotton, woven in a strongly ribbed or raised pattern.
ORIGIN mid 19th cent: from French, literally ‘backstitched,’ past participle of piquer.

Pique front
A pique front shirt is a man's formal shirt normally worn with a white tie. It usually has a wing collar and a strip down the front of the shirt that is topped with a section of pique weaved cotton: a tight weave with small, interlocking strips of cotton. Normally, the strip of pique weaved cotton is wide enough to cover the chest and stomach, so that when the shirt is worn with a vest, only the pique section appears.

POETRY WEDNESDAY - SINISTRALITY

“If Being Left Handed Is Wrong,
I Don't Want To Be Right!” – Anonymous

August 13th is International Left-Handers’ Day. This was an initiative of the Left-Handers’ Club which was formed in 1990 aiming to keep its members in touch with the left-handers’ world, make their views known to manufacturers and others, provide a help and advice line, to promote research into left-handedness and development of new left-handed items. Since its formation the Club has gone from strength to strength with members all over the world and is highly regarded as the foremost pressure group and advice centre on all aspects of left-handedness. On 13th August 1992 the Club launched International Left-Handers Day, an annual event when left-handers everywhere can celebrate their sinistrality and increase public awareness of the advantages and disadvantages of being left-handed.

This event is now celebrated worldwide, and many events are organised to mark the day including left-v-right sports matches, a left-handed tea party, pubs using left-handed corkscrews where patrons drank and played pub games with the left hand only, and nationwide "Lefty Zones" where left-handers’ creativity, adaptability and sporting prowess were celebrated, whilst right-handers were encouraged to try out everyday left-handed objects to see just how awkward it can feel using the wrong equipment! These events have contributed more than anything else to the general awareness of the difficulties and frustrations left-handers experience in everyday life, and have successfully led to improved product design and greater consideration of our needs by the right-handed majority - although there is still a long way to go!

If you are left-handed then you are in very good company. Throughout history left-handers have excelled as leaders, sportsmen, artists, musicians and in many other fields. For example, here are a few famous lefties: Leonardo, Michelangelo, Rubens, Dufy, Escher, Fred Astaire, Pierce Brosnan, Robert De Niro, Rock Hudson, Faye Dunaway, Demi Moore, Oprah Winfrey, Lewis Carroll, James Michener, Mark Twain, Franz Kafka, HG Wells, Drew Carey, Harpo Marx, Jean-Paul Gaultier, CPE Bach, Enrico Caruso, David Bowie, Celine Dion, Bob Dylan, Natalie Cole, Annie Lennox, Cole Porter, Paul Simon, Tiny Tim, Uri Geller, Goethe, Tim Allen, Jeremy Beadle, Winton Marsalis, George Michael, Niccolo Paganini, Mozart, Rachmaninoff, Sting, Schumann, Ravel, Beethoven, Glenn Gould, etc, etc…

The left hemisphere of the brain where the RIGHT hand receives its instructions controls Speech, Language, Writing, Logic, Mathematics, Science - this is the linear thinking mode. The right hemisphere giving instructions to the LEFT hand, controls Music, Art, Creativity, Perception, Emotions, Genius, this is the holistic thinking mode. So I guess you can say left-handed people are in their right mind!

No-one has come up with a definitive reason for WHY some people are left-handed, but about 13% of the population around the world are, and it is thought to be genetic - it definitely runs in families. Researchers have recently located a gene they believe "makes it possible to have a left-handed child " so if you have that gene, one or more of your children may be left-handed, whereas without it, you will only have right-handers. Stuttering and dyslexia occur more often in left-handers (particularly if they are forced to change their writing hand as a child, like King of England George VI).

So in honour of the oft forgotten and maligned brethren of the left handed persuasion, I have composed this little ditty especially for today!

Ode to the Left Handed

Oh, much maligned appendage,
Dubbed of unkind aspect, sinister.
Amongst all of the limbs assemblage,
The one that’s said to be the evil minister.

Oh, you dejected and despiséd member,
You are in so many of our species dominant!
But always we should all remember,
In such people there is talent prominent.

Left handers are in their mind so right,
And even if they are sinistrally inclined,
Sinister not, and much is their might;
(Even if non-dexterity is so maligned).

Rejoice you band of molly-dookers,
Today is your day of celebration;
Fire up your nifty left-hand cookers
And concoct a cake of sinistral elation.

Enjoy your own peculiar modality,
Display without fear your laterality.
Left handedness is to be lauded, fêted,
Your gift from providence no longer hated.

However, it’s not all art and creativity, fun and games being left-handed - right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people…

INTERNATIONAL YOUTH DAY 2008

“Age does not protect you from love, but love to some extent protects you from age.” - Jeanne Moreau

Today is the United Nations International Youth Day. The General Assembly on 17 December 1999 in its resolution 54/120, endorsed the recommendation made by the World Conference of Ministers Responsible for Youth (Lisbon, 8-12 August 1998) that 12th August be declared International Youth Day. The Assembly recommended that public information activities be organised to support the Day as a way to promote better awareness of the World Programme of Action for Youth to the Year 2000 and Beyond, adopted by the General Assembly in 1995 (resolution 50/81). International Youth Day gives the world an opportunity to recognise the potential of youth, to celebrate their achievements, and plan for ways to better engage young people to successfully take action in the development of their societies. It presents a unique opportunity for all stakeholders to rally together to ensure that young people are included in decision-making at all levels.

This year, Youth Day is devoted to the theme: “Youth and Climate Change – Time for Action”. A major focus of the Day is practical action to further encourage the empowerment and participation of youth in the processes and decisions that affect their lives. The media have especially important role to play in support of the observance of the Day to promote public awareness of youth issues.

The deterioration of the natural environment is one of the principal concerns of young people worldwide as it has direct implications for their well-being for both now and in the future. The natural environment must be maintained and preserved for both present and future generations. The causes of environmental degradation must be addressed. The environmentally friendly use of natural resources and environmentally sustainable economic growth will improve human life. Sustainable development has become a key element in the programmes of youth organisations throughout the world. While every segment of society is responsible for maintaining the environmental integrity of the community, young people have a special interest in maintaining a healthy environment because they will be the ones to inherit it.

Youth symbolises vitality and good health. It comes with energy and vigour and transcends all nationalities and borders while uniting young members of the world’s society in a single bond. International Youth Day is the perfect tribute to the contributions youth make to improve health in the developing world and health of the environment. Healthy people living in a healthy environment is something we all must aim towards.

MOVIE MONDAY - FRENCH BUT NO FARCE

“A star on a movie set is like a time bomb. That bomb has got to be defused so people can approach it without fear.” - 
Jack Nicholson

At the weekend we watched Agnès Jaoui’s 2004 film “Comme une Image” (“Like a Picture”, or to give it its English title: “Look at Me”). The film was co-written by the talented Ms Jaoui, who also has one of the lead roles in this interesting French film. One of the other leads Jean-Pierre Bacri is her co-writer and the tension in the film is maintained admirably by these two actors, even though it is very much an ensemble piece and a complex character study. The film received a prize for its script in the Cannes film festival.

Bacri plays the villain in this film, an utterly detestable and egotistical man, Monsieur Cassard, who is a famous and successful novelist and publisher. Cassard has a daughter from a previous marriage, the 20-year-old Lolita (Marilou Berry), who is a plump woman with a good voice. Lolita has tried to become an actress (unsuccessfully) and is now taking singing lessons, wishing to become a classical singer. To this end she is helped by Sylvia, a singing teacher (played by Jaoui), who is married to an up-and-coming but insecure writer, Pierre. The other player in the drama is Cassard’s young new wife, the slim and attractive Karine, who loves him and has given him a young daughter.

The film is essentially the story about the seriously flawed father-daughter relationship between Cassard and Lolita, with various sub-themes, all relating to Cassard’s interaction with others in his circle, and his poisonous, malign influence on everyone he interacts with. Pierre, who approaches him through the efforts of Sylvia (via Lolita), becomes rotten too. As the world seems to be falling around Lolita (who thinks she is being used by all as a means to get to her father – including her boyfriend), she meets a young man, Sébastien, who seems to be the only innocent and pure person in the film, someone not motivated by selfishness, and without a secret agenda.

The film has gentle humour, drama, much witty conversation, and situations that make the viewer feel uncomfortable, moved, irritated, sympathetic, tense, perplexed all in quick succession. The themes explored include family relationships, body image, trust, egotism, discrimination, assertiveness and of course, love. An enjoyable movie, although a little on the cerebral side…

ART SUNDAY - DOUG SEALEY

“All your dreams can come true if you have the courage to pursue them.” – Walt Disney

A single painting for Art Sunday, today. It is by Australian artist, Doug Sealy. He was born in 1937 in the Australian outback town of West Wyalong in central New South Wales. He recounts how he always wanted to become an artist, something he realised from a very early age. As he was growing up he didn’t know how to make his dream come true. While his father was away at war, he discussed it with his mother but art was not on the curriculum for boys in New South Wales at that time. There were no art classes available and even artists’ paints were not for sale in his town. He used to walk an extra mile on top of the six he had to walk to school in order to admire some paintings in hotel verandahs, but he felt that it was worth it.

Over the next 12 years, he picked up bits and pieces of information from correspondence courses and tried to produce pictures himself. He then had the good luck to meet established artist Reg Campbell who was exhibiting some of his paintings in a Department Store in the nearby regional centre of Forbes. The exhibition was a dream come true of young Sealy and he began an acquaintance with Campbell, which was to become that of Master and Student and finally that of a 33-year friendship.

Sealy has held many successful exhibitions and has been teacher, judge and art critic. He has won many awards, many of his paintings hang in renowned museums, as well as in private and corporate collections.

This is a very Australian painting in the tradition of the 19th century impressionists of the Australian Heidelberg School. It is called “High Country Gums, Razorback, Sofala” and is 66 by 91 cm.

A SONG FOR THE OLYMPICS

“Peace is not a passive but an active condition, not a negation but an affirmation.” 
- Mary Roberts Rinehart

The world has its eyes turned toward Beijing, watching the brilliant displays of pyrotechnics from the Olympic Stadium. A magnificent spectacle, an ancient civilisation showcased, thousands of people giving their all to present to the world a culture and a power worthy of any of the great empires that have been and gone on earth. A cavalcade of the Olympic ideals of noble competition, peace, culture and humanity at its best. The bright lights, the spectacular dancing, the songs, the fireworks, the wild shouting of the bewitched crowds all so infectious. The wild exhilaration draws attention away from the world’s problems. People are willing once again to rush towards circuses and bread in an attempt to forget…

The huge expanse of the Square of Heavenly Peace – are there any traces of blood still remaining on the pavement or have the shuffling feet of the dancing multitudes expunged every trace? The gaols of the regimes that have been – how many people were tortured, killed, forever vanished as though they never existed? Further to the West, Tibet an open wound… Georgia and Russia have their own games to play as soldiers ignite their deadly versions of fireworks. The Middle East with its incessant suicide bombings, the maimed and injured mingling with the dead. Africa and its painful sores, where internecine warfare robs its lifeblood, ill-afforded waste as deadly disease is a more powerful enemy. Shaky world economies and uncertain futures as global climate change threatens a whole planet, are all forgotten as we enjoy the show that cost $8,500 per second!

Folly of follies, as steroid-enhanced athletes break records as if they were crystal goblets. Madness, as people are carried away by the nationalistic pride that swells as gold medals are claimed. Gross stupidity as overweight couch potatoes consume take-away pizza, drink beer and shout encouragement to athletic heroes they vicariously live through. Idiocy of athletes who live a false life chasing elusive fame and fortune in the stadium, the swimming pool the track. Empty heads and beautiful, well-trained bodies living the life of easy pleasure and drinking the heady wine of success…

Oh, if only each of us had what we each lacked!

Here is François Villon’s Prayer as set to music by Bulat Okudzhava and sung by Zhanna Bichevskaya.

The Prayer of François Villon

While the world is still turning, and while daylight is still broad,
Oh Lord, please give everyone what they lack.
Give the timid man a horse to ride, give the wise one a full head,
Give the fortunate one some money, and don't forget about me.

While the world is still turning, Lord, You are omnipotent,
Let those striving for power, wield it to their heart's content.
Give a break to the generous, at least for a day or two,
Pray, give Cain repentance, and remember me too.

I know You are almighty, and I believe You are wise;
Like a soldier killed in a battle believes he's in paradise.
Like every creature believes, oh, my Lord, in You,
Like we believe, doing something, not knowing what we do.

Oh Lord, oh my sweet Lord, my blue-eyed Lord, You're good!
While the world is still turning, wondering, why it should,
While it has got sufficient fire and time, as You see,
Give to each a little something and don’t forget about me!

CHEATER'S CHICKEN

"The ambition of every good cook must be to make something very good with the fewest possible ingredients." - Urbain Dubois

Do you ever get the days when you feel like having a nice meal, you couldn’t be bothered going to a restaurant, you dislike fast food that you get at the take-away places of phone for and yet you don’t have the energy or inclination to cook a meal from scratch? We do, and it is those days that “Cheaters’ Cuisine” comes to the rescue. I call “Cheaters’ Cuisine” the kind of food that looks and tastes as though you’ve spent ages cooking it, yet it is very simple to prepare, provided you cheat a little and you buy some ingredients ready cooked, processed or packaged. Here is a winter warmer, perfect for the weekend…

CHEATER’S CHICKEN CASSEROLE

• 1 supermarket roast chicken (with stuffing)
• 1 can of mushroom pieces in butter sauce
• 1 small can of corn kernels (optional)
• 1 sachet of French onion soup
• 350 mL of cream
• Chopped rosemary, thyme
• Ground nutmeg, mace
• Pepper and salt to taste

Let the chicken cool and remove the skin and bones. Take the meat and chop it in small bite-sized pieces in a casserole pot, shredding the stuffing over the meat. Add the mushrooms, corn (if you like it – I’m not very partial to it) and the cream. Dissolve the soup in some water and add it to the casserole. Season with the herbs, spices, salt and pepper. Stir well, cover the casserole and bake in a preheated oven at 180-200˚C for ≈30-45 minutes until well cooked.

Serve over boiled rice, cous cous or polenta. Sure it’s not lo-cal, but it’s winter and we need the energy!
Have a great weekend!

POSTCARD FROM ADELAIDE

“Travel makes a wise man better, and a fool worse.” - Thomas Fuller

I am in Adelaide, South Australia today for work and it has been a good day full of negotiations, meetings and discussions, which all went well. Travelling for work can leave one a little drained, but I enjoy the fast pace and as I am a good flier and pack light, travel is quite satisfying for me. It pays to be organised and make every little bit of time count. One can then enjoy the business part of the trip and have some time available for some shopping, sightseeing or other personal time.

I always enjoy my trips to Adelaide as it is a gracious city, well planned and of a slightly slower pace than Melbourne or Brisbane. One of the great things about Adelaide is that the CBD is completely ringed by parks and gardens, effectively separating the centre of the city from the suburbs. There are wonderful 19th century public buildings and there are several beautiful beaches and sea-side suburbs, such as Glenelg, with a lively cosmopolitan feel to them. The suburbs are also attractive with the signature stone houses surrounded by gardens on tree-lined streets.

A delightful area is by the river where there are numerous parks and gardens as well as the Adelaide Performing Arts Centre. Adelaide is sometimes described as the City of Churches, but one does not often see this nowadays except in travel articles where the journalist writing it has used “Adelaide” too many times in the same paragraph…

POETRY WEDNESDAY - RENEWAL

“It's time to renew our commitment to the world around us.” - Christopher Dodd

Well, I’m back with a new logic board and replaced firmware that had somehow got fried in my computer. This is the first serious hardware malfunction that I have had with my computer and considering it’s over 30 years that I have been using computers, I am considering myself very lucky. The other piece of luck was that the data on my hard disk had not been affected in the least, so it’s back to business, as usual. The need to constantly back-up data on one’s computer was highlighted by this little episode and I was thinking of whether I had lost the previous three weeks or so of work on it. I think from now on, a regular back-up is in order.

Poetry Wednesday today is dedicated to new starts, renewals and regeneration. It was a glorious Spring day here in Melbourne, a promise of the season well ahead and a sunny reaffirmation of September’s approach, even if rain and cold is promised for tomorrow and the day after.

Renewal

Even if Winter’s cold will burn the blades of grass,
The roots beneath the soil abide their time,
Their sleeping juices waiting for the call of Spring.
Grief and black melancholy may overtake us,
But if the heart still beats strong, there’s hope
And life will ease the sorrow.

Even if flesh is cut and blood is lost,
The living force within the tissue swells,
It heals, it scars, regenerates the damaged parts.
The cheap betrayals, all the petty squabbles,
Will wash over a generous soul that still believes
In human goodness, kindness, love.

Even if leafless twigs look dead, covered in snow,
The swelling buds throng with hidden, green energy
And the promised flowers await the beckoning of longer days.
Separation, long silences, lost intimacies and misunderstandings
Will all evaporate, as the renewed bonds are forged,
Now stronger than before.

ART SUNDAY - WHISTLER

“As music is the poetry of sound, so is painting the poetry of sight.” – James Abbott McNeill Whistler

A painting by James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834-1903) today: “Portrait of the Artist's Mother Arrangement in Grey and Black” 1871 - Musee d'Orsay, Paris (144.3 x 162.4 cm).

James Abbot McNeill Whistler was born in America, yet he spent much of his life abroad. Early years were spent in Russia and then in London, only moving back to America with his family out of necessity when his father died of cholera. While a child in Russia, Whistler had attended drawing classes, but it wasn't until 1855 after dropping out of West Point Military Academy that he embarked on an artistic career. He moved back to Europe from America, settling in Paris.

This was the beginning of a lifetime commitment to art. He quickly made his presence felt due to his flamboyant, eccentric ways. He would go about Paris wearing a straw hat, a white suit, highly polished black patent leather shoes and a monocle. Whistler first achieved critical and commercial success as an etcher, producing meticulously drawn prints of working-class life in rural France and London. His earliest important oil paintings evidence Courbet's influence, featuring the commonplace subjects and vigorous brushwork characteristic of the older artist's work.

Whistler's art changed dramatically in the 1860s. Influenced by Greek sculpture, Asian porcelain, and Japanese prints, he rejected the idea that the success of an art object could be measured by its accuracy as a representation or the effectiveness with which it told a story or suggested a moral. Instead, he became convinced that an art object was best understood as an autonomous creation to be valued only for the success with which it organized color and line into a formally satisfying and therefore beautiful whole. Abandoning the idea that paintings should create the illusion of pictorial depth, he developed the flatter, more purely decorative style for which he is best known.

In 1863 Whistler's mother moved to England to be with her son. In 1871 his style moved towards greater simplicity when he painted “Arrangement in Grey and Black: Portrait of the Painter's Mother”. The figure sits in profile on a light background. The horizontal lines of the skirting boards are what holds the elements in place. The only decoration seen in the light dabs of paint defining a pattern on the curtain. The great expanses of black and grey make this portrait an extremely formal one, something re-enforced by the stiff pose of the sitter. The portrait perhaps hints at the relationship Whistler had with his mother. He paints a woman who gazes straight ahead and who sits stiffly and inflexibly. Her face still has vestiges of beauty, although her age has tempered perhaps her once joyful mien. Her son was a roué and his life of pleasure and wastrel ways could hardly find approval with this woman, one would think. Whistler paints a conservative, cold portrait of a woman he perhaps respects more than he loves…

DEDICATION

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.” - Richard Bach



My Very Own Strangers
My very own strangers, the most distant ones,
Are those who live with me.
I look at them, I touch them, I speak to them,
I open my heart to them.
But each one travels alone,
In his own unknown soul;
Each one fights for his life,
In his own foreign land.
My very own strangers, the most beloved ones…
My very own strangers, the most beloved ones…

My very own people live far away,
And love from afar.
Thus the world grows, but so does the heart,
And we remember thus, wherever we may go.
But each travels on his own,
Searching for his soul mate.
And on the pieces of his crystal heart,
Carves his own truth.
My very own people, my heart’s places…
My very own people, my heart’s places…

Οι Δικοί Μου Ξένοι

Οι δικοί μου ξένοι, οι πιο μακρινοί,
Είναι αυτοί που ζουν κοντά μου.
Τους κοιτάζω, τους αγγίζω, τους μιλώ,
Τους ανοίγω την καρδιά μου.
Μα καθένας ταξιδεύει μοναχός
Μες στην άγνωστη ψυχή του
Ο καθένας στη δική του ξενιτιά
Πολεμάει για τη ζωή του.
Οι δικοί μου ξένοι, είναι οι αγαπημένοι…

Οι δικοί μου ανθρώποι ζούνε μακριά,
Κι από μακριά αγαπάνε.
Κι έτσι μεγαλώνει ο κόσμος κι η καρδιά,
Και θυμόμαστε όπου πάμε.
Μα ο καθένας ταξιδεύει μοναχός,
Κι αδελφή ψυχή γυρεύει.
Και στα κρύσταλλα κομμάτια της καρδιάς
Την αλήθεια του λαξεύει.
Οι δικοί μου ανθρώποι της καρδιάς μου οι τόποι,
Οι δικοί μου ανθρώποι της καρδιάς μου οι τόποι.

“Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald