A Bare Beginning.

I have had an absolutely splendid day, it’s always amazing when the overwhelming weight of pain is lifted for a bit. That said, the sore and tender is seriously setting in from all the injections, so time to rest. These aren’t going to be near as quick as the horses. And, no, the colour is not as toneless as it looks, flash photography.

© C. Ford, all rights reserved.

‘Twill Be Birds.

Yesterday was Pain Clinic, and I took a moment to moan to my pain management person, who is always a delight to see, about feeling ambivalent over the flip side of the cutting board. I could do more horses, that’s what Rick likes best, but I haven’t been able to settle. So, yesterday, in my moaning, I said “what do you think about birds?” She liked the idea of birds, and so did I. Then it occurred that gives me the chance to go Medieval. I have a great and abiding love for Medieval Bestiaries, and there are some great ones, oh, they are all fabulous. This allows me to take liberties with colour, too. I’ve chosen about 18, whether or not they’ll all make it, I don’t know, but for sure, at least one version of a Simurgh will go up. Now I’m properly excited again.

Roadside America.

John Margolies, “Hoot Owl Cafe, horizontal view, 8711 Long Beach Boulevard, Southgate” (1977), taken in Los Angeles.

John Margolies, “Duwamish Drive-in Theater, E. Marginal Way” (1980), taken in Seattle.

It’s impossible to not dream of setting off on a long road adventure while perusing the archives of the late John Margolies. Known for his photographs of America’s vernacular architecture, Margolies spent over three decades driving more than 100,000 miles with his eyes alert for strange sculptures, dynamic signs, and structures fast-disappearing from today’s landscape, from mom-and-pop shops to drive-in movie theaters. His journey culminated in the photo book, John Margolies: Roadside America, published in 2010, which presents a sweeping portrait of the nation through its roadside embellishments. While Robert Frank showed us the often aching realities of the United States in the 20th century, Margolies gifted us with all its weird and its wonderful.

And quite literally, too: in a generous gesture, he placed all his work in the public domain. Now, a little over a year after his death at the age of 76, the Library of Congress has digitized and uploaded the more than 11,000 color slides from his archives so they are more easily accessible. The effort is part of what curator Micah Messenheimer described to Hyperallergic as the Library’s “longstanding commitment to digitizing materials that exemplify American lives and experiences.”

You can read and see much more at Hyperallergic.

Exploring Japanese Hell.

“God of Heavenly Punishment.” From the scroll “Extermination of Evil” ( 1127 – 1192 AD).

As a child, growing up in Japan, there was one book that terrified me. Luckily, I didn’t own it. The red hardback sat on the bottom shelf in my friend’s room and every time I went over to play I could see it, out of the corner of my eye, staring me in the face. Once we pulled it out and flipped through the pages; each featured a grotesquely illustrated realm of hell with scenes of fire, torture, and suffering. It was, I assure you, a children’s book. But it was made for parents to use as leverage whenever their child acted up, or misbehaved. And boy was it effective.

These concepts of hell (jigoku; 地獄 in Japanese) are derived from ancient Buddhist scriptures, and I’m ceaselessly amazed by the imagination of the monks and artists who came up with so many different forms of punishment. The range from the fairly standard – being eaten alive by demons and dragons, or being torn apart at the crotch – to the more inventive – being forced to hold large stalks of daikon radish in your mouth and being used as a drumstick. Then, there’s my favorite: being flattened out by a roller and then cut up into soba noodles.

Now, a new art book that’s being released in October has collected a wide range of images that depict hell in Japanese art from the 12th century to the 19th century. The massive single-volume collection consists of almost 600 pages of works designated as Japanese National Treasures and features the various depictions of hell by artists such as Kazunobu Kanō,Yoshitoshi Tsukioka and the master of horror Kyōsai Kawanabe.

It’s currently available for pre-order on Amazon. Essays from historians of both Japanese art and Buddhism are also included in bilingual text. If you have kids you may (or may not) want to leave this book sitting around.

You can read, and see much more of the always gruesome hell at Spoon & Tamago.