"PSYCHIATRIC"

PSYCHIATRIST: "Okay, tell me about this recurring dream that you just had. Don't leave anything out."

DREAMER: "Well, it started as it always does on a beach on a cold and overcast day. The place was almost empty, and I remember wondering where everyone else was. Even in the winter there should have been people walking their dogs. Where were they now?"



DREAMER: "Across the water I marveled at what appeared to be glaciers, but I also wondered how that could be. I mean, there weren't supposed to be glaciers this far South."

DREAMER: "Unable to take the cold any longer, I walked over to a nearby hotel, hoping to get warm in the lobby."

DREAMER: "An employee came to the door. He had a mocking, impudent face, and I could tell that he was going to turn me away, but a voice from inside told him to let me in. He reluctantly opened the door."

DREAMER: "Inside a man with a fedora beckoned me to get into an elevator with him."

DREAMER: "We went to the top floor in silence, and when the door opened...we were in a ballroom! People were dancing lethargically, as if they'd been doing it for a long time."

DREAMER: "The man in the hat pointed to a window."



DREAMER: "I looked outside but didn't see anything special. It was daytime and kids were playing in the street."

DREAMER: "I turned to ask the man what I was supposed to be seeing, but he was gone. It looked like he'd escaped onto the roof."

DREAMER: "I turned to the window again and this time everything had changed. It was dark outside. Somehow night had fallen, and the impossibly thick and expanding glacier I'd seen out at sea was now right outside the window, slowly and inexorably pushing cars and debris ahead of it. At the speed it was going it would only be a matter of hours before the town and everybody in it would be crushed. "

DREAMER: "In a panic I shouted to a man who was on the phone nearby. Nothing I said seemed to matter to him."

DREAMER: "I called to an old woman too, and got big belly laughs in return. She thought it was hilarious."

PATRONS: "Hey, quiet down over there! If you want to shout, go outside!"



BAND LEADER: "Yes, why don't you go? Nobody wants you here."

DREAMER: "I knew it wouldn't do any good to argue, so I made for the stairs."

DREAMER: "On the way down it occurred to me that I might not be the only person who didn't know about the glacier. I thought I'd warn the other people in the hotel, so I frantically knocked on doors. One opened by itself revealing a fat man screaming on a couch. I tried to reason with him but the more I talked, the louder he shrieked."

DREAMER: "Another door opened into a room of people who appeared to be waiting for something. They were indifferent to what I said about the glacier, and seemed to resent my presence."

DREAMER: "Other people just stared."

DREAMER: "The final door opened and revealed...revealed what? What kind of crazy place was this?"

DREAMER: "Out on the street it was dark and there was snow on the ground."

DREAMER: "No use trying to get my car. It was somewhere under the glacier now."

DREAMER: "In the distance I thought I heard a humming and churning noise. I didn't pay much attention at first."

DREAMER: "After a while the sound was deafening. Holding my ears I noticed a shaft of light methodically zig-zagging its way over the sidewalk. When I looked up to find the source I saw it... a round, mechanical thing in the sky, with a searchlight in one eye. It scanned the street, apparently looking for people. I hid behind a pillar til it passed."



DREAMER: "It's a good thing I did because round flying things were soon all over the streets, incinerating every human who couldn't hide fast enough."



DREAMER: "As if that wasn't bad enough, groups of predatory human spotters began to emerge from nearby buildings and joined the hunt. Whenever they spotted a fleeing man they blew a whistle, which summoned the killing machines. How could people do that to their own kind?"

DREAMER: "I saw a group of men on their hands and knees looking at something, and ran over to them to warn them. I did everything to get their attention but to no avail. They were absorbed in watching something in the ice right under their feet."

DREAMER: "I looked down, and sure enough there really was something down there. I know it doesn't make sense, but there were...there were live women under there... and they were beckoning to the men on the surface. "

DREAMER: "These were no ordinary women. Most were stunningly beautiful and they flirted like sirens. A few had the sentimental appearance of beloved and long-dead mothers and sisters. Every man saw the unique woman that he yearned for."



Finally one of the men, unable to restrain himself any longer, reached out and clasped the hand of one of the women.



DREAMER: "He was immediately pulled under the ice and drowned..."

DREAMER: "...as I was a moment later. I remember looking up at the hole in the ice as my lungs filled with freezing water. As it always does in these dreams the hole filled with light as killing machines leaned down and watched me with impersonal interest. I guess with all that thrashing around I put on a pretty good show. "

DREAMER: "And that's it! That's the point where I always wake up. What does it mean? Am I going crazy?"

PSYCHIATRIST: "Crazy? No, no. Not crazy. We'll talk about it next week. I do have to remind you though, that the magazines in the waiting room are for all my patients, and if you continue to take them home I'll have to charge you for them."

THE END

BTW: Many thanks to the excellent blog, "Shadowplay," which is where I got most of these pictures.

http://dcairns.wordpress.com/

A PROMOTION FOR THEORY CORNER (REVISED)

Okay, here's (above) a revised version of the second draft. Please, please tell me if you find that any of it is still confusing. It works for me, but maybe I've lost my objectivity. Many, many thanks to commenters who let me know what was wrong with the previous versions. Click to enlarge.

NOTE: I changed "Procopius" to "Polybius." Sorry for the confusion. Procopius was the Roman historian who wrote about all those horrible things the queen of the Eastern empire was alleged to have done. Polybius was a much earlier (and probably better) historian, who wrote about my hero Scipio Africanus.

I can't believe how many mistakes I made in the writing of this ad. Am I always this addled?

Kali sent me this video (above)! What a pal! What a pal! Have you seen the George Liquor on a log that she's selling on her site? It's beautiful!

FACES TO DRAW & ME IN A PODCAST

Spike Jones is a caricaturist's dream (above)! His head is shaped like an upright football, with a wide, cartoony middle section, and a narrow top and bottom.

The young Liberace had a fascinating face (above)! It was wide with heavily padded cheeks, tiny eyes and a thin, pointed nose and chin. The teeth were tucked way in under the nose, and the hair was combed up and back, making it look like it was on fire.

The older Liberace (above) looks a lot more normal. Plastic surgery?

BTW, this clip is really funny. If you're rushed, then start it at the 2 1/2 minute mark.

Who is this (above)? He has a wonderfully comic face (above) set off by a round, volumetric body and interesting vest wrinkles. Vests were God's gift to caricaturists, but nobody wears them anymore.

This (above) is A. J. Muste, a famous pacifist and thorn in the side of the Johnson Administration. He had a long, narrow head with a huge pointed nose, thick horn rims and a high, bread loaf fedora. This reminds me that most artists don't draw fedoras big enough. A good fedora always changes the head shape, always looks a bit too straight up and awkward.

This (above) is the Mount Everest of eccentric fedoras...true royalty of the hat world. I love the way the hat continues the outline of the hair. If I ever see these on sale I'll hock my children to get the money to buy one.

Stepin Fetchit's half closed eyes (above) and high eyebrows were his trademarks, but the thing that really made them work was the "U" shaped bulge above his nose.

Charles Laughton (above) had even more facial padding than Liberace, but in Laughton's case the pads are relaxed and friendly, and even a little floppy. His face consists of small circles (above) embedded inside larger circles; spheres overlapping spheres.

Last but not least is Louis B. Mayer (above). His head and body look bland and ordinary, but his eyes are 1,000% alert and ready to go on the offensive. It's the contradiction of blandness and unexpected vitality that makes this picture hard to put down.

BTW, I'm in a podcast on the ASIFA Hollywood Animation Archive site!!!!!! This is the second installment, and this came out a lot better than the first. I talk about drawing theories, story, direction, how to do difficult assignments and all that. If you're curious to hear what I have to say, then give a listen!

http://www.animationarchive.org/podcast/

MY EXPERIMENTS WITH LUNCH RECIPES

Right now I'm between jobs and unfortunately have plenty of time to fuss over things like cooking. In the past two months or so I've done a lot of experimenting with lunches. I was looking for something that would allow me to lose weight, but which would be tasty and sustainable; something which would form the centerpiece of my lunches for years to come, regardless of deviations. I was anxious to make my peace with vegetables too, so they had to be in there. After trying a bunch of foods I came up with what I think is a clear cut winner, which I'll reveal at the end of the post. I think it'll surprise you...but first I want to tell you about some of the meals I tried.

Well, the first thing I tried was the complicated vinaigrette salad that I call "The Parallel Universe Salad," after the physicist friend who turned me on to it. I put up the recipe in a post about two years ago. I ate it four times a week for several weeks, and it was so delicious and so filling that I sometimes skipped dinner afterward, without missing it. A success, you say? Mmmm, not exactly.

The problem was that I ate so much of it that I began to get tired of it. You can get too much of a good thing. Not only that, but it sometimes left me with a craving for ice-cream a few hours later, making me wonder if the salad was really satisfying my need for fat. It was delicious, but I felt I had to move on.

After that, I tried frozen Marie Calendar pot pies. I microwaved them for 15 minutes as per the instructions on the box, then when they came out, and were still intensely hot inside, I stuffed them with half-cooked veggies. By veggies I mean mushrooms cooked in a little olive oil and bacon fat, and slightly cooked diced celery, walnuts, onion, and any vegetable I had in the refrigerator that could take the heat. It was great. the problem was, that these pies and veggies tasted so good that I ate nothing else for a week, and then grew tired of them, at least for a while.

Next I tried soups. Soups make good lunches, and are good repositories for veggies. I'd heat up Campbell's Chicken Broth, throw in some of those tangled bean noodles that look like birds nests, throw in spinach and Japanese pre-cooked fish or shrimp, and at the very end, toss in some hard-boiled egg slices. Delicious! Campbell's makes a good mushroom soup too, and into that I poured my usual mushrooms, veggies, fettuccini, and some cut-up boiled ham slices.

[I found it handy to always have mushrooms, celery, walnuts, ham slices, and fettucini around. They're good for adding bulk to almost anything you cook. I always have alfredo handy, too. Alfredo is fattening, so I only use it in small quantities, usually to ease the pain of eating vegetables that I don't like.]



Oh, and I took a liking to fennel (above). If you don't know what that is, it's the ugly white and green bagpipe of a vegetable that you always pass by in the supermarket because it looks so alien. It's a real Frankenstein monster of grafted elements: mild white onion-type mass on the bottom, celery-type stalks in the middle, and delicate little dill-type leaves at the top. I know that doesn't sound appetizing but, trust me, it tastes better than it looks.

How does it taste? Well, it's like a sweet, slightly licorice-flavored, extremely mild onion. It's not really an onion, but it looks and feels that way. It's very cheery and eager-to-please, and makes good filler in a recipe that requires bulk. I cooked it with mushrooms and shallots and added it to other things. It was great, but once again I ate so much of it that I couldn't bear to look at it for a while.

This brings me to the grand finale, where I reveal the most successful lunch recipe I tried during that time. Which recipe got the top spot? I hate to say it, but none of them. They were all too doggone tasty and fattening. I ended up gaining weight instead of losing it.

The only lunch I ate during those few weeks that was consistently delicious, dietetic, healthy and sustainable was.....drum beat, please.....good old American peanut butter and jam on bread or muffin, served with milk. Yep, that and nothing else. A popular hippie book called "Diet for a Small Planet" also recommends it. It's nutritious and you never get tired of it. Something in the chemistry of it makes it ever-green for your taste buds. It doesn't go with vegetables, though. I guess I'll have to save those for dinner.

So that's it for now...but I'll put on my mad scientist cap and keep experimenting.

NIGHTMARES

I thought I'd put up a few examples of surreal cinematic nightmare sequences.

The first (above) is from a film called "Bewitched," which according to Thomas in a comment, was directed by Arch Oboler (Thomas also recommends Oboler's other film, "The Twonky"). The clip looks like something Borzage would have made. Borzage is a favorite director of David Cairn who runs one of the most interesting cinema sites on the net, a blog called "Shadowplay." That's where I got this video.

The end sequence of "Stranger on the Third Floor" makes such an indelible impression that it's easy to forget the surreal second-best sequence (above) that's in the middle of the film. For those who've forgotten, here it is.

This (above) is a trailer for the re-release of Hitchcock's "Vertigo." Not all the shots are from the film's nightmare, but this cut still succeeds in being nightmarish.

More of "Vertigo;" this time, the main titles. Bernard Herrmann's film scores are some of the best classical music written in the 20th Century, but he's seldom on concert programs. Is that the fault of the concert halls or of lawyers who make it hard to get the rights? I tried to buy sheet music for piano transcriptions of his work and couldn't find any, even on the net.

Thanks to Jerk for this clip from "Spellbound."

Thanks to Kurdt for Disney's "Pink Elephants."

And thanks to Anonymous for the "Wild Strawberries" video (above).

Have I missed any good nightmares? Any suggestions?

THE WORLD'S FIRST (AND POSSIBLY BEST) TRAVEL AGENT

I'm reading a book about Thomas Cook called, "The Romantic Journey." Cook (above) was the world's first travel agent, and if you think that's a dull subject for a book then you couldn't be more wrong. Cook was a genius!

The man was born in 1808 while Napoleon was still in power. He spent the first half of his life arranging tours to English seashore resorts for the religious and temperance societies that he belonged to. I don't think it ever occurred to him or anyone else that you could make much money doing that. He just wanted to be useful to the organizations he belonged to. Besides, if there was money to be made, it would logically go to the railroads and hotels, not to the poor fool who got stuck with buying everybody's tickets.



Like I said, even Cook didn't think there was money in it. Travel in Cook's time was a dirty affair for people who weren' t rich. The railroads advertised cheap rates to the seaside towns, which resulted in shockingly crowded beaches and hotels. It wasn't uncommon for twelve people...twelve!...to share a bed, with other friends sleeping on the floor. Stressed out hotel patrons would sometimes show their resentment by pooping in the bureau drawers.

The streets were crowded with rowdies and the beaches were so densely packed that bathers could hardly see the sand (above). Women who could afford it rented clunky changing room wagons which attendants pulled out into the surf for them.

Occasionally big waves (above) would knock over the wagons and the women inside would have to be rescued....sometimes by naked men. It seems that a sizable number of men believed that bathing suits were unhealthy for the wearers.

Cook's insight was that was that many people would be be happier in less crowded resorts in places like Scotland. Some of those resorts weren't served by the railroad, so Cook arranged for carriages or boats to supplement the rail service. Some English customers regarded the Scots as barbarous, and didn't relish the idea of negotiating with them for meals and hotel rooms, so Scott sent agents ahead to take care of all that, and he was even able to get group discounts. Little by little, he assembled the modern concept of the package tour.

What's fascinating about all this was that each of Cook's improvements was copied by the railroads and steamship lines, who opened their own copy cat travel agencies, and who had the advantage of established reputations and lots of money for advertising. Amazingly, Cook managed to stay ahead of the game.

How did he do it? Maybe it's because his competitors were just hirelings of the railroad and had to get every change okayed by higher-ups. Cook was free to innovate. When a woman on one of his tours complained about unsanitary foreign toilets seats, he quickly invented a personal folding metal toilet seat cover. Now that's enterprise!

Cook also benefited from his philosophy. Other travel agencies were diverted by lucrative commissions from the wealthy. Cook, on the other hand, found it impossible to disavow his innate sympathy with the working man, and instead chose to treat his ordinary patrons as if they were wealthy. He arranged tours for the rich, but he was careful to keep his standard prices low, and expected customers to dress well and avoid offensive behavior. Rowdies got a refund and were booted out. The much admired civility of the British middle class owes a lot to the nudges it received from business men like Cook.

BTW, the final two posters weren't originated by Cook's agency. I put them up because they exemplify the spirit of what the man was trying to achieve.

THREE OF MY FAVORITE MODERNIST PAINTERS

Here they are, works of three of my favorite contemporary painters. I have more favorites, but these will do for a start.

The first few are by Tim Biskup. You can tell he was influenced by Jim Flora, but his style is still very distinctive. Boy, the picture above is so small that it's impossible to see anything. Better click to enlarge.

What I like about these, apart from their color and design sophistication, is what Ayn Rand might have called their "sense of life." They're happy. They celebrate life. There's no hint of suffering. They're about the light-hearted side of life.

Here's (above) a skull, which is usually meant to symbolize mortality or horror or science. I may be reading something into this that's not there, but what I sense here is an artist who's regarding his own fragile mortality and laughing about it. There's time enough to think about the serious side of death. Here we're made to see the absurdity of it.

The delicate, colorful paper strips are like our thoughts unraveling. Our skull unravels as well. We all see such wonders during our lifetimes, and they're recorded on flimsy strips of paper that eventually unravel and go away. It all reminds me of Macbeth's "Tomorrow and Tomorrow" speech.

Very happy (above). Sexual, but very light and delicate.

This (above) is scary but light-hearted at the same time, as if Biskup were reminding us that our humanity is still intact, in spite of the mechanistic nature of the modern world. Even so, he says we'd better be careful.

Elegant, imaginative, clutter (above). This would make a great book cover for an author like Bradbury or Dahl or Borges.

Here's something by an under-rated artist...Philip Burke. Michael Sporn just did a survey of Burke's work on his blog. See the sidebar for the link.

Poor Woody. His face has aged way in advance of his actual chronological age. Has his mind aged at the same rate? I don't know. My guess is that a younger man lies underneath the aged exterior, but maybe looking that way depressed him so much that he actually took on the behaviors of an older man.

Burke's portrait of Cobain says so much about the price Cobain paid to get where he was.

Burke's sketch (above) of Dianne Sawyer. Look at how saturated the red and purple are.

Last but not least, Gary Panter's "Elvis Zombie." This was a book cover. I'll bet Panter wishes he'd painted a version that was seven feet tall.



I came across this photo of Elvis while I was searching for Panter's painting. It occured to me that this may be the most famous photo of the rock and roll era...what the classic photo of the G.I.s raising the flag at Iwo Jima was for the previous generation.