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“Writing one’s memoirs is tantamount to wresting something from the clutch of death,” says one thinker…
The Dildilians did exactly that. While documenting a dark period of Anatolian history in the early 20th century with their cameras, they penned in elaborate detail everything they experienced - wresting it from the clutch of death.
Bearing Witness to the Lost History of an Armenian Family Through the Lens of the Dildilian Brothers (1872-1923) is an important exhibition currently on view at DEPO in Istanbul.
(via DEPO - Istanbul)
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Scanner Camera Photos by Anton Marrast.
I just want to point out that these are all the same show.
You are the reason for my tears → David Bowie
“I’m always amazed that people take what I say seriously. I don’t even take what I am seriously.”
Finally, they are all together)
Jón Þór Birgisson
Our Bookshelf: Islandia by Austin Tappan Wright
We don’t usually recommend works of fantasy, but we should because it constitutes a substantial portion of our diet. Islandia, an underground epic with a cult following, is the first we recommend.
The story revolves around the fictional subcontinent of Islandia in the Southern Hemisphere at the turn of the 20th century, when Shackleton was still exploring Antartica, when it was conceivable that there might uncharted land left on Earth.
On his death, Austin Tappan Wright left the world a wholly unsuspected legacy. Among this distinguished legal scholar’s papers were thousands of pages devoted to a staggering feat of literary creation - a detailed history of an imagined country complete with geography, genealogy, representations from its literature, language and culture. In a monumental labor of love Wright’s wife and daughter culled from this material a thousand page novel, as detailed as J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth. Islandia has similarly become a classic touchstone for those concerned with the creation of imaginary worlds.
I am interested in language because it wounds or seduces me.
We can’t stop listening.
Earth view from the ISS.
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April Showers by Beth Hockel
Emily Post Etiquette (1922). On Death:
At no time does solemnity so possess our souls as when we stand deserted at the brink of darkness into which our loved one has gone. And the last place in the world where we would look for comfort at such a time is in the seeming artificiality of etiquette; yet it is in the moment of deepest sorrow that etiquette performs its most vital and real service.
All set rules for social observance have for their object the smoothing of personal contacts, and in nothing is smoothness so necessary as in observing the solemn rites accorded our dead.
It is the time-worn servitor, Etiquette, who draws the shades, who muffles the bell, who keeps the house quiet, who hushes voices and footsteps and sudden noises; who stands between well-meaning and importunate outsiders and the retirement of the bereaved; who decrees that the last rites shall be performed smoothly and with beauty and gravity, so that the poignancy of grief may in so far as possible be assuaged.
As soon as death occurs, some one (the trained nurse usually) draws the blinds in the sick-room and tells a servant to draw all the blinds of the house.
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