Unfolds like origami in reverse
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Ironic Sans continues to shine. Every time I solve the daily Gisnep puzzle, I learn of another interesting person by way of a link to Wikipedia, this time the brother of the man who invented the concept–and word–of ROBOT, more than a hundred years ago now. Though the brother himself is the subject …. Lol, just trying not to drop too many clues.
[I see I’ve been resting on my laurels a bit, with my last post five days ago.]
Wikipedia’s definition: “An umbrella or parasol is a folding canopy supported by wooden or metal ribs that is mounted on a wooden, metal, or plastic pole.” And a little further in the article: “Generally speaking, parasols and umbrellas are small, handheld, personal use items.”
I first became interested in umbrellas when as a ten or eleven-year-old when as a special treat I was allowed to use the family’s Indonesian bamboo and oil-paper umbrella, called a ‘pajong’ to walk to a friend’s house through the rain.
We lived in Sumatra at the time (1958), in a small village called Indarung. [I looked it up on Google Earth and it still exists, but now as an outer suburb of Padang. In the 1950s it was a clearing in the forest.] And tropical downpours were a daily feature in the wet season.
The most fascinating part about the pajong was the way the spokes were joined to the center and the ribs.
The above Japanese umbrella is way more complex than a simple ‘pajong’ made in a Sumatran village. Our umbrella had a greenish interior bamboo frame, oiled paper canopy, with a gold painted trim and point, with none of the extra basket-weaving in the above example. I remember the smell above all, of the oil applied to the paper to make it waterproof.
Both my present umbrellas have seen better days. The sun umbrella that I’m not calling a parasol as it isn’t dainty enough, has been all but unusable for years already, with one of the spokes bent and another broken. I’m hanging on to it as I aim to repair it.
My fold-up rain umbrella was blown inside-out last summer and was a mess of bent spokes and torn-away fabric. Most people throw such wrecks straight into the bin but I can’t bear it. Fold-up umbrellas are amazing technological marvels. If you have one, have a good look, it’s fascinating.
This is mine, photo by me. It’s a fairly ordinary design, I could’ve maybe gone for something a bit snazzier but this one was the only pattern on hand when I needed shelter. The threads hanging down are me having a go at fixing it. So far, I’ve reconnected all the innermost hinges to the fabric. When I’ve done all the hinges I’ll dot the repaired places with glue, maybe super glue. Then cut off the excess thread.
The long threads make it very easier to knot the threads after passing them twice through the holes in the spokes and twice through the fabric, then once around the sub-spoke. I’ve bypassed the really finicky job of sewing the spokes to the inner seam and instead have sewn the spoke to the fabric by drawing the thread to the outside and back in again. Similar to sewing on a button.
This all made me wonder how much assembly there had to have been by nimble young fingers? While I can see the frame being produced by machines, sewing the canopy to the frame … a machine? Not a chance.
Another form of intricate but boring labor by the modern enslaved workforce … I imagine each person in an assembly line having to sew an unending line of spokes to canopies … have you ever seen/been in an umbrella factory?
Starting a large new project with a four x A3 length of gesso and tissue paper …
In other words, laying down a landscape and at the same time attempting to camouflage the joins.
The whole thing sodden with a mix of water and gesso. And that is a jar of medium strength watered-down gesso still possible to use as paint. s
A econd jar with a jellified gesso that had to be scooped out and softened to a paintable sloppiness … glad I got to it when I did as next week or month it mightve been to dry/hard to use.
As usual, I’m re-using remnants of an old project. I’m sorry to discover that the joins are very obvious in a photo.
The hope for this first stage is that the paper backing dries flat and I get rid of the big vertical … what would you call them? Not creases. Give me a hint? I can only think of a couple of Dutch words. ‘Rimpels’ and ‘golven’ spring to mind.
One of the things about old age is that ‘mother tongues’ IE the language a person grew up with, tend to come back. And I’m definitely noticing that. If I can’t think of an appropriate word in English, I’ll come up with a Dutch one.
Under the above title was going to be a link to Doctorow’s post of that name, but I don’t think so. Not yet. The link I pasted turned into a wall of text, virtually unreadable. So, again, this post will be the ‘About Blogging’ … how often already this year have I tagged a post that way?
Because what happens usually when I click on a Share Button, the title of the article/post to be shared and its URL are copied and saved on a virtual clipboard. Then, when I click and copy on a place in my post of my choosing ... usually after I’ve introduced the article/post as I intended to do here … the article/post will paste into the position directly under the title and shove the intro to the bottom, or into a never-never land where it can never again be found. (Yes, that is a hint to myself to save a draft though I’m not sure if that’ll work.)
I can but give it all another go.
Lol, this is a straight-out quote that reverberates in my head … from one of my own fictions, and when I say or think those words, I always feel like I’m hovering over Tardi Mack (trucker and surfer starring in Mongrel [published] and Meld [still being edited]) saying it while he is giving x y or z problem another go.
Intro
I’m proud to be a blockhead the same as Doctorow. Quoting from Doctorow’s article … “the most laughably false statement about writing ever uttered is Samuel Johnson’s notorious “No man but a blockhead ever wrote but for money”: … Yep. I’m definitely a blockhead.
There’s so much in this article that resonates with me, that I relate to, the whole article is rich with quotes about ‘making art’, creative endeavors of all kinds, how badly musicians are paid, and that by Spotify that people tell me I ought to be ashamed of not using them in preference to Apple Music, for example. All of them guilty of the same practices?
Why it’s important to read and read lots, how writing is a way of thinking, a way of working stuff out. While Doctorow is afraid his luck will run out in relation to his writing career, I’m often afraid that the internet will fall over and how easy that will be when it does, with all the links in the chain from me here typing this to you opening WordPress or your mail service, and reading. And there’s much more.
So I thought you might as well read the original … https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/21/blockheads-r-us/
Here’s about half a chapter’s worth … Ahni’s and Kes’s ongoing journey, which I’m taking into a fog of indecision, it feels like. I’m forging into new territory and I have an inkling that I should’ve perhaps forwarded a few other characters onto the scene before further progress by these two.
This is one problem with publishing while writing. Times like these I wonder whether Charles Dickens ever ran into similar troubles. He also published serially, chapters in a monthly magazine.
After the knitting comes the sewing and stuffing …
But, because of the intricacy of the knit, there can be no sewing the whole thing together and then stuffing it.
Here I’ve sewn the two body-sides together at the spine, sewn up the four legs and stuffed them, and was about to start on the tail when I discovered the underside must be done before the back and tail.
The written instructions?
The written instructions are terse. I’m having to guess and gamble in places. Such as, pay out a front paw so the underside will stretch far enough to take in the backleg on that side sufficiently.
Because of course no hand-knitter will ever achieve exactly the same tension as another hand-knitter.
AKA the Stone Dragon
With Bag 7 and the second arm-and-claw, the build is finally starting to look like a dragon.
Also already present are a tray of teacups and teapot in the half finished teahouse; at the base the koi pond already stocked with the fish, and the roots of the fig tree growing through the ancient stone; while in the foreground the rocking platform where the martial arts school will practice.
Three more bags to go.
Rita de Heer 