Last night, Brother, Girlthing Cindy and I went to "Becoming Van Gogh" at the Denver Art Museum.
Van Gogh's early career was steeped, both geographically and philosophically, in the Dutch manner. He worked in somber, earthy colours and his subject matter tended to be the common man, his pursuits and detritus.
Stick with me, the story gets better.
It was when he joined his brother, Theo, in Paris, that he began to immerse himself in the colour and - for lack of a better word - whimsy of the French style of the time.
A part of the exhibit talks about how colour pairs and defines and blends and contrasts, and how Van Gogh explained this to his brother. There was a box of yarn under glass by the colour wheels. The placard above it explained that, somehow, in his pursuit of colour theory education, he found that he could twist different colours of yarn together to see how they would play.
I nudged Brother, pointed to the display, and said, "Yarn!"
"Huh. Van Gogh had a stash too," he said.
Van Gogh and I both indulged in yarn stash.
And we both had little brothers who were, ultimately, teachable.
Showing posts with label Educational. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Educational. Show all posts
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Holy Frozen Wasteland, Batman
Every now and then, I use this very blog as a reference†: which scarf did I knit for Kelley? what was the name of that perfume? what's the proper generic for Zamboni?‡
That one stopped me dead in my tracks Saturday night. I was trying to impart some wisdom on The Twitter, so I hopped to the blog and searched "Zamboni."
Then "Steve."
Then "Ice."
Then I looked through my post index and found - *gasp* - I WENT TO ZAMBONI SCHOOL% AND ALL YOU GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT.§
There may be more of this. One of my great #OldAndFeeble tricks is to set something up so thoroughly in my head that I think I did it. I know I do it with email and occasionally phone calls. I had no idea the blog had fallen victim.
So.
In February, Steve and I went to Ice Camp. We learned the history and mechanics of ice resurfacing equipment¶ in a classroom setting.
Then we did some hands-on# illustration of what the TV told us.
We watched an ice resurfacing machine empty after a productive trip around the rink.
We had photo ops.
Then we drove the beast.
THEN we made ice.††
Dudes, if we were in a disaster movie and the Zamboni operator freaked out or had a heart attack,‡‡ I could totally resurface an ice rink.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): As I'm sure you do.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A registered trademark of Frank J. Zamboni & Co., Inc.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Like Hogwarts, but more athletic. Also? In fricking FEBRUARY.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): It's actually a cool t-shirt that says "I drove the [picture of a Zamboni] at The Ice Ranch." But you don't actually get it. You have to *earn* it.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which is the generic of Zamboni.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Literally, though you have to be careful, as there are blades that cut and pumps that suck.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): When you're in the know, you know better than to say you drove the Zamboni. When you're in the know, you make ice.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I think this movie should be made. It should be called "The Ice Marin Cometh."
That one stopped me dead in my tracks Saturday night. I was trying to impart some wisdom on The Twitter, so I hopped to the blog and searched "Zamboni."
Then "Steve."
Then "Ice."
Then I looked through my post index and found - *gasp* - I WENT TO ZAMBONI SCHOOL% AND ALL YOU GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT.§
There may be more of this. One of my great #OldAndFeeble tricks is to set something up so thoroughly in my head that I think I did it. I know I do it with email and occasionally phone calls. I had no idea the blog had fallen victim.
So.
In February, Steve and I went to Ice Camp. We learned the history and mechanics of ice resurfacing equipment¶ in a classroom setting.
Then we did some hands-on# illustration of what the TV told us.
We watched an ice resurfacing machine empty after a productive trip around the rink.
We had photo ops.
Then we drove the beast.
THEN we made ice.††
Dudes, if we were in a disaster movie and the Zamboni operator freaked out or had a heart attack,‡‡ I could totally resurface an ice rink.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): As I'm sure you do.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): A registered trademark of Frank J. Zamboni & Co., Inc.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Like Hogwarts, but more athletic. Also? In fricking FEBRUARY.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): It's actually a cool t-shirt that says "I drove the [picture of a Zamboni] at The Ice Ranch." But you don't actually get it. You have to *earn* it.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which is the generic of Zamboni.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Literally, though you have to be careful, as there are blades that cut and pumps that suck.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): When you're in the know, you know better than to say you drove the Zamboni. When you're in the know, you make ice.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I think this movie should be made. It should be called "The Ice Marin Cometh."
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
MonsterVision
In stunning Technicolor™!
The Monster came to live with me just before Easter.% We spent a happy day playing with my new camera† and these are the results.
We started with a glamour shot‡ by the train yard.
A train came by. And the conductor *waved* at us. It may be the single greatest moment in Monster history.
LoDo§ from the wrong side of the tracks.
There was some construction we watched for awhile. They were assembling a crane.
Like this. O hai! Crane!
We headed west past the skate park¶ to stand on the bridge over the South Platte.
A nice bicyclist thought I looked awkward holding The Monster at arm's length# to get a good river picture, so he stopped to help. Not a lot of monsters wave at train conductors and make new friends all in one day.††
It was time to get down to some serious art.‡‡ Like Common Ground, the picturesque stairway to nowhere.
We started on one side of the stairway.
Took in some rays.
Used all our America's Next Top Model training to work with our surroundings.
Played with camera angles.
Climbed the stairs, crested the summit and found a bunch of irritated, stoned emo kids hiding from the cold, cruel world there. Stepped over them and went down the other side.
Kiss the ground, we made it.
Took a moment in the shade.
"I win!"
Oh, no! MONSTER JAIL!
Braved trespass charges§§ to sit on someone's front steps.
The Monster would like to conclude with a little Public Service Announcement.¶¶ Remember kids: the more you know...
%FOOTNOTE (percented): A gift from someone who knows I am fully capable of stuffed monster wrangling as an art form.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Canon G12, for those of you scoring at home.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Flowers make everything more glamourous.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Lower Downtown. Used to be a scary industrial area. Now the hub of tragic hipness and kids you want to throw off your lawn.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which we decided to skip. You know how hard it is to get pot smoke residue out of a monster?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Poor, sweet man; he didn't realise that "awkward" is just my natural state of being.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I can say this, as am now expert on monsters.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): No art is as serious as art you can climb on.
§§FOOTNOTE (boggle): Seriously - I opened a gate and went in for that shot. Totally worth it since I didn't get caught.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (magic wands): Let's just consider that proactive community service to balance out our prior trespassing on private property. Kharma!
The Monster came to live with me just before Easter.% We spent a happy day playing with my new camera† and these are the results.
We started with a glamour shot‡ by the train yard.
A train came by. And the conductor *waved* at us. It may be the single greatest moment in Monster history.
LoDo§ from the wrong side of the tracks.
There was some construction we watched for awhile. They were assembling a crane.
Like this. O hai! Crane!
We headed west past the skate park¶ to stand on the bridge over the South Platte.
A nice bicyclist thought I looked awkward holding The Monster at arm's length# to get a good river picture, so he stopped to help. Not a lot of monsters wave at train conductors and make new friends all in one day.††
It was time to get down to some serious art.‡‡ Like Common Ground, the picturesque stairway to nowhere.
We started on one side of the stairway.
Took in some rays.
Used all our America's Next Top Model training to work with our surroundings.
Played with camera angles.
Climbed the stairs, crested the summit and found a bunch of irritated, stoned emo kids hiding from the cold, cruel world there. Stepped over them and went down the other side.
Kiss the ground, we made it.
Took a moment in the shade.
"I win!"
Oh, no! MONSTER JAIL!
Braved trespass charges§§ to sit on someone's front steps.
The Monster would like to conclude with a little Public Service Announcement.¶¶ Remember kids: the more you know...
%FOOTNOTE (percented): A gift from someone who knows I am fully capable of stuffed monster wrangling as an art form.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Canon G12, for those of you scoring at home.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Flowers make everything more glamourous.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Lower Downtown. Used to be a scary industrial area. Now the hub of tragic hipness and kids you want to throw off your lawn.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which we decided to skip. You know how hard it is to get pot smoke residue out of a monster?
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Poor, sweet man; he didn't realise that "awkward" is just my natural state of being.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I can say this, as am now expert on monsters.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): No art is as serious as art you can climb on.
§§FOOTNOTE (boggle): Seriously - I opened a gate and went in for that shot. Totally worth it since I didn't get caught.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (magic wands): Let's just consider that proactive community service to balance out our prior trespassing on private property. Kharma!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Fascinating
America before Pearl Harbor... in vivid Kodachrome.
Sure, not my usual fare, but I love this stuff. And I love all of you. So I share.
I'm saintly that way.
Sure, not my usual fare, but I love this stuff. And I love all of you. So I share.
I'm saintly that way.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
An Account of the Recent Past
How 'bout a big, ol' wide-tongued full lick of the pig?
In which we briefly explore† Dr. Doom Turns 6,% Lake McConaughy,‡ the Colorado Renaissance Festival§ and Lakeside Amusement Park.¶
Dr. Doom's 6th birthday was animal-themed and included a visit from the Jungle Lady and her many reptiles, amphibians and bugs.
There was a snake cake.
A rubber gift snake for the birthday boy...
...which maybe should have been presented at the end of the show for minimal distraction.
Anyway, there was snake discussion.
And snake jewelry, both in the form of a Scarlet Kingsnake bracelet...
...and a python necklace.
I don't know about you, but I would never want to subject a snake to a passel of six-year-olds. Six is a... squirrely age. Though it was worth the price of admission for this exchange:
"My brother found a snake when he was camping and he caught it and he brought it home and now he has, like, six snakes."
"My brother is in jail."
The turtle races were pretty good too.
[SUMMARY: And a good time was had by all... except maybe the snakes.]
The annual trip to The Lake included a record 757,000 kids this year...
...but that didn't stop me from crossing "skinny dipping" off my bucket list.
As has become tradition,†† Shanny and I stayed up late one night at the campfire chatting, stargazing and exploring the funky, soulful world of Shanny's massive music collection.
Just after the moon dipped below the southeastern horizon, Shanny said, "I don't want to freak you out or anything, but it's a beautiful night, the weather's perfect, the moon's gone down and there's nobody around. You want to try skinny dipping?"
There we were, neck-deep in water, looking at the rural sky coated in a crust of stars. The water was cool, but not chill. Nothing nibbled at protruberances. The small-town tide lapped at our every nerve ending. We chatted, then wrapped up and got warm by the fire.
The next morning, Connie greeted me with, "I understand you got naked with my husband last night." And she giggled.
I love my friends.
Other than that, there was the usual water, sky, recreation...
Well, the Wave Runner was new this year.
But there was the usual floatilla of shiny plastic inflatables.
And the campfire.
In scientific news, The Lake was up 27 feet from where it was last year when we were there - at 96% capacity.‡‡
There wasn't a lot of beach to go around and we teamed up with a group of campers to hold our grove...
...which was under surveillance from the myriad campers who didn't come in on Thursday and maybe never found a spot to pitch their tents.§§
But, like the steadfast dragonflies,@ we held our space for the weekend.
Until it was time to say goodbye for another year.
[SUMMARY: A good time was had by all.]
Steve isn't skydiving this summer, so he has a mess of time to do other things. Under the auspices of "I haven't been to the Renaissance Festival in twenty years or more," we decided to go to the Renaissance Festival.¶¶
My how things have changed. Like Times Square, Disney has had its influence. Y'all know I've got nothing against pirates, but a good quarter of the faire now seems to be devoted to Captain Jack Sparrow.
There are no wenches, those dingy, corseted broads who kissed men with overpainted lips of crimson, neon pink and orange for a dollar. All in all, the thing where absolutely everybody is trying some gimmick to get a buck is gone.
On the bright side, there were greyhounds and ducks and the cutest little piggle## you ever did see. And a spiffy carillon.
On the other hand, a museum of medieval torture devices that was simply awful. And not for the torture.
Plus? A woman in full costume was brandished a frickin' Twilight umbrella and talking on her cell phone when the rain started. That's so not 15th century.
We decided we don't need a Renaissance Festival fix for another 20 years.
[SUMMARY: Disney should stick with movies.]
Steve and I also visited Lakeside Amusement Park.
Back in the day, Steve an I both worked at the historic Elitch Gardens,††† which was only blocks from Lakeside. From the top of the Twister at Elitch's, you could see the Vegas lights of the entry tower at Lakeside.
Now, Elitch's was classier. It maybe had better rides. And it was neater, more prone to fresh paint and never a lightbulb out of place. But Lakeside had seedy charm. There was a Fun House and far fewer families went after dark. It was a brilliant hub of overdressed late-teen and twenty-something single life.
Back in the day.
Now the Fun House is gone, possibly a victim of insurance regulations.‡‡‡ Every third ride was deconstructed or closed for repair.
Though the park was supposed to open at 6:00, there wasn't the slightest movement to test the rides, set up the ticket booths, start the hot dogs a-grillin'... it was an employee ghost town until nearly 6:30. At that time, four rides were running.
As the night went on, more rides opened - the ones that weren't under repair or chopped for parts - probably to save on payroll.§§§
The Wildcat coaster was fun and the Zoom was great fun.¶¶¶
But we left at 9:30, having ridden everything but the Merry-Go-Round, and agreed that we could go another 20 years without going to Lakeside.
[SUMMARY: We are crossing things OFF the list, Steve and I.]
That's how I spent my summer vacation.
Coming soon... current events. Like tomatoes. And knitting.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Through words, pictures and footnotes, and mostly as an exercise in cleaning off my camera.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): In April.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Nudity! Alcohol! Adult situations!
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The only place besides Steve's living room where anyone has understood my rock-paper-scissors-lizard-spock shirt.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Seedier than field full of wheat, sadder than a lost puppy.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Except that year we didn't.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Up from 54% the previous year.
§§FOOTNOTE (a twisty, windy road): Heh. Twelve.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): Of which there may been more of even than children.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two left feet): As a tiny, geeky confession, I worked at the Renaissance Festival in the summer of 1986. It's what you do if you're a theatre major with a Dungeons & Dragons past.
##FOOTNOTE (tic tac): So cute he made me baby talk. And I usually only do that ironically. Hey! Ironic Babytalk would be a great name for a band.
†††FOOTNOTE (my cross to bear): NOT to be confused with the travesty that is Six Flags Elitch Gardens, and current home (right across the street from the theatre) of your dear ol' AntiM - I live where (I say) the floral clock used to be. Steve says it was the administration building. Until we have pictures, I'm sticking with "floral clock."
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (old fashioned wooden coaster tracks): Steve thinks maybe an ADA thing, though he kept saying "ADD," which I thought was funny.
§§§FOOTNOTE (a shocking turn of events): Steve thinks maybe more because the employees straggle in, hungover, whenever they straggle in.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (upright brigade): Which is a skyshot like the one on top of the Stratosphere in Vegas, with a slow lift followed by a free-fall. I couldn't help point out (because I'm twelve) that it looked like a giant, colour-changing penis against the dusky sky, to which Steve added the image of a cock ring carrying people up and down it. Quite ruined the ride for Steve.
In which we briefly explore† Dr. Doom Turns 6,% Lake McConaughy,‡ the Colorado Renaissance Festival§ and Lakeside Amusement Park.¶
Dr. Doom's 6th birthday was animal-themed and included a visit from the Jungle Lady and her many reptiles, amphibians and bugs.
There was a snake cake.
A rubber gift snake for the birthday boy...
...which maybe should have been presented at the end of the show for minimal distraction.
Anyway, there was snake discussion.
And snake jewelry, both in the form of a Scarlet Kingsnake bracelet...
...and a python necklace.
I don't know about you, but I would never want to subject a snake to a passel of six-year-olds. Six is a... squirrely age. Though it was worth the price of admission for this exchange:
"My brother found a snake when he was camping and he caught it and he brought it home and now he has, like, six snakes."
"My brother is in jail."
The turtle races were pretty good too.
[SUMMARY: And a good time was had by all... except maybe the snakes.]
The annual trip to The Lake included a record 757,000 kids this year...
...but that didn't stop me from crossing "skinny dipping" off my bucket list.
As has become tradition,†† Shanny and I stayed up late one night at the campfire chatting, stargazing and exploring the funky, soulful world of Shanny's massive music collection.
Just after the moon dipped below the southeastern horizon, Shanny said, "I don't want to freak you out or anything, but it's a beautiful night, the weather's perfect, the moon's gone down and there's nobody around. You want to try skinny dipping?"
There we were, neck-deep in water, looking at the rural sky coated in a crust of stars. The water was cool, but not chill. Nothing nibbled at protruberances. The small-town tide lapped at our every nerve ending. We chatted, then wrapped up and got warm by the fire.
The next morning, Connie greeted me with, "I understand you got naked with my husband last night." And she giggled.
I love my friends.
Other than that, there was the usual water, sky, recreation...
Well, the Wave Runner was new this year.
But there was the usual floatilla of shiny plastic inflatables.
And the campfire.
In scientific news, The Lake was up 27 feet from where it was last year when we were there - at 96% capacity.‡‡
There wasn't a lot of beach to go around and we teamed up with a group of campers to hold our grove...
...which was under surveillance from the myriad campers who didn't come in on Thursday and maybe never found a spot to pitch their tents.§§
But, like the steadfast dragonflies,@ we held our space for the weekend.
Until it was time to say goodbye for another year.
[SUMMARY: A good time was had by all.]
Steve isn't skydiving this summer, so he has a mess of time to do other things. Under the auspices of "I haven't been to the Renaissance Festival in twenty years or more," we decided to go to the Renaissance Festival.¶¶
My how things have changed. Like Times Square, Disney has had its influence. Y'all know I've got nothing against pirates, but a good quarter of the faire now seems to be devoted to Captain Jack Sparrow.
There are no wenches, those dingy, corseted broads who kissed men with overpainted lips of crimson, neon pink and orange for a dollar. All in all, the thing where absolutely everybody is trying some gimmick to get a buck is gone.
On the bright side, there were greyhounds and ducks and the cutest little piggle## you ever did see. And a spiffy carillon.
On the other hand, a museum of medieval torture devices that was simply awful. And not for the torture.
Plus? A woman in full costume was brandished a frickin' Twilight umbrella and talking on her cell phone when the rain started. That's so not 15th century.
We decided we don't need a Renaissance Festival fix for another 20 years.
[SUMMARY: Disney should stick with movies.]
Steve and I also visited Lakeside Amusement Park.
Back in the day, Steve an I both worked at the historic Elitch Gardens,††† which was only blocks from Lakeside. From the top of the Twister at Elitch's, you could see the Vegas lights of the entry tower at Lakeside.
Now, Elitch's was classier. It maybe had better rides. And it was neater, more prone to fresh paint and never a lightbulb out of place. But Lakeside had seedy charm. There was a Fun House and far fewer families went after dark. It was a brilliant hub of overdressed late-teen and twenty-something single life.
Back in the day.
Now the Fun House is gone, possibly a victim of insurance regulations.‡‡‡ Every third ride was deconstructed or closed for repair.
Though the park was supposed to open at 6:00, there wasn't the slightest movement to test the rides, set up the ticket booths, start the hot dogs a-grillin'... it was an employee ghost town until nearly 6:30. At that time, four rides were running.
As the night went on, more rides opened - the ones that weren't under repair or chopped for parts - probably to save on payroll.§§§
The Wildcat coaster was fun and the Zoom was great fun.¶¶¶
But we left at 9:30, having ridden everything but the Merry-Go-Round, and agreed that we could go another 20 years without going to Lakeside.
[SUMMARY: We are crossing things OFF the list, Steve and I.]
That's how I spent my summer vacation.
Coming soon... current events. Like tomatoes. And knitting.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Through words, pictures and footnotes, and mostly as an exercise in cleaning off my camera.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): In April.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Nudity! Alcohol! Adult situations!
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The only place besides Steve's living room where anyone has understood my rock-paper-scissors-lizard-spock shirt.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Seedier than field full of wheat, sadder than a lost puppy.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Except that year we didn't.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Up from 54% the previous year.
§§FOOTNOTE (a twisty, windy road): Heh. Twelve.
@FOOTNOTE (atted): Of which there may been more of even than children.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (two left feet): As a tiny, geeky confession, I worked at the Renaissance Festival in the summer of 1986. It's what you do if you're a theatre major with a Dungeons & Dragons past.
##FOOTNOTE (tic tac): So cute he made me baby talk. And I usually only do that ironically. Hey! Ironic Babytalk would be a great name for a band.
†††FOOTNOTE (my cross to bear): NOT to be confused with the travesty that is Six Flags Elitch Gardens, and current home (right across the street from the theatre) of your dear ol' AntiM - I live where (I say) the floral clock used to be. Steve says it was the administration building. Until we have pictures, I'm sticking with "floral clock."
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (old fashioned wooden coaster tracks): Steve thinks maybe an ADA thing, though he kept saying "ADD," which I thought was funny.
§§§FOOTNOTE (a shocking turn of events): Steve thinks maybe more because the employees straggle in, hungover, whenever they straggle in.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (upright brigade): Which is a skyshot like the one on top of the Stratosphere in Vegas, with a slow lift followed by a free-fall. I couldn't help point out (because I'm twelve) that it looked like a giant, colour-changing penis against the dusky sky, to which Steve added the image of a cock ring carrying people up and down it. Quite ruined the ride for Steve.
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