Pinning the Blues Away, Unhappy News Away...

In case you hadn't noticed, Pinterest is the newest, space-age way to waste enormous amounts of time. What's more there's something about it that's so darned addictive that before you know it, you're glued to the site with no notion of how the hours in the day seemed to have disappeared and suddenly it's time to order pizza for dinner.

It is the strangest thing.

Now, I can't imagine anyone who isn't visually acrobatic liking Pinterest much - in fact they'd probably be disturbed by the whole idea - see no point in it whatsoever. (I know several people like that.) But for those of us who think visually, Pinterest is probably heaven sent.

I actually see it as a great research resource for artists, designers, decorators, photographers and the like. But also, no point denying it, it's a fabulous way to waste time when you're looking for relaxation and perhaps a way to disengage the brain for some periods of time. It's a great de-stresser.

Pinterest (for those few of you who don't yet know) is a series of virtual bulletin boards whose content you set up yourself - as many boards as you like with as many pins as you like. You set up the pinning apparatus (It's so easy even I was able to do it on my own.) then you're ready to pin away most any picture you find on any website. Pinterest automatically links back to the source from whence the pin came, but it's still best to type in the source or the artist's name if you can find it. (Do your best to find it.)

You can pin from the internet or repin from other pinners' Pinterest boards themselves. And you build up 'followers' sort of like 'friends' on Facebook. This is the least of my interest. I don't care to be the most followed or the most talked about or the most popular. I just want to have fun designing my boards and pinning whatever interest me. I have fairly eclectic  tastes, so you might imagine that my boards reflect this. And to what end - you might ask. Well, for me, it's like a scrapbook or bulletin board of visual ideas that might or might not spark a drawing or a blog post or whatever.Actually, I don't think I need a reason.

Pinterest for me is like 'esoteric checkers' in that I get to move things around and make visually pleasing boards of things that interest me in one way or another. It can be, at least in my case I like to think it is, a way to fashion virtual collages as well.

There are all kinds of copyright issues being bandied about re: Pinterest and in fact, someone said it can't possibly last much longer. But I don't know, it seems to be growing by leaps and bounds to me. Traffic to Pinterest's site is enormous. But maybe a class-action suit will put a stop to it - supposing one is in the works which I know nothing about.

It's best, therefore, to make sure to give credit where credit is due. I tend not to repin unless there's some sort of credit given. Though occasionally (more often than you would think) it is almost impossible to know where a pin came from originally. There are MANY sites which show a multiplicity of beautiful pictures with no artist or designer or photography credit whatsoever. Pinterest didn't start that and there's no point blaming them for it.

As with any new online experiment or venture, therer are growing pains and bumps in the road. Many sites are now installing a widget that prevents any pinning. Which, by the way, I think is extremely short-sighted of the website's owner. Pinterest should be looked at as a gold mine of opportunity. Another great way to spread the news about your particular talents.

Look, if someone is going to appropriate your picture of a basket or a necklace or a cupcake or a copy of the Mona Lisa, what exactly are they going to do with it? There are various artists online who allow their work to be pinned. They obviously are not inclined to think that showcasing their work is a bad thing. They're comfortable with the whole idea. But I've seen some of the silliest things made unpinnable by a site's owner - things I can't even imagine a nefarious purpose for. I mean, use your common sense.

And by the way - How can anyone have the copyright on a painting by an artist dead for two centuries? Just sayin'.

I will add though that there appear to be a lot of screws set loose on Pinerest. I can say no more. Luckily all you have to do is unfollow and all is generally well.

Maybe a bit more: It's no secret that there are some REALLY odd people in the world - and not always odd in a good way - many of them have discovered Pinterest.. There are people for whom 'taste' is a foreign word with no particular meaning.  There are people who don't quite understand that art, photography and design are ACTUALLY created by someone - artwork, etc, doesn't just spring into being by some magical wave of a wand..(I do occasionally despair over the educational system in this country and the product they're turning out.)

There are also people seeking answers to life's woes on Pinterest. Also lots of young gals planning weddings and lots of home-makers (are we still using that word?) exchanging recipes, household tips and whatnot. Not to mention a helluva lot of people who love shoes and are enthralled by braided hair.

Unfortunately, there are also people who have no clue that other people might not be enchanted by their stupidity. But as I said, you can dismiss with all that simply by unfollowing and/or not checking out 'everybody' when looking at pins. You can also report a pin if you like. I haven't had to do that yet.

The time is fast approaching too when there will be 'private' boards and a way to erase any follower you are disenchanted with. Right now you can simply erase the pins of that pinner, but not the pinner themselves from your master list of 'followers'. But that's okay, you don't have to look at the list unless you want to.

Pinterest, like anything else on the internet, is what you make it. So far it's been fun for me. A great way to relax and de-stress.

Years ago there was a magazine called VICTORIA which was one of the more visually pleasing periodicals ever published. (The current VICTORIA is only a shade of its former wonderful self.) I look at my Pinterest boards as my own way to bring VICTORIA back. Those of you familiar with the magazine will know exactly what I'm talking about.

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Forgotten (or Overlooked) Film Tuesday

Today is Overlooked (or Forgotten) Films and/or Other A/V (phew!) day. A weekly meme hosted by Todd Mason at his blog, SWEET FREEDOM. Head on other there when you have a moment and check out what other overlooked films, etc, other bloggers are talking about today. It's usually a very esoteric and fun list.

Back in the seventies (1976 - 1977)Norman Lear (the genius behind ALL IN THE FAMILY, among other innovative an occasionally contentious network series)created one show that was judged too hot to handle by all the networks so it was sold directly to syndication. The episodes then showed up late nightly at around 10:30, supposedly after anyone impressionable had gone to bed.

Of course compared with what shows up regularly on the networks and cable today, MARY HARTMAN, MARY HARTMAN was light stuff. But back then it was daring and demented enough that no one quite knew what to make of it. I suppose it was kind of shocking, but most of the time I was laughing too hard to be outraged. I mean, it was a very strange show, but also very funny.

Basically a soap opera parody (shot on video), MARY HARTMAN, MARY HARTMAN was played straight-faced for laughs (but no laugh track) with often serious undertones such as wife-beating, mass murder, racism and other assorted social and personal ills that, back then, no one with any couth really talked about. At least, not in public. You would think with having lived through the 60's we'd all become inured to shock, but no. It was still possible to make our jaws drop.

The critics embraced the show of course, probably just to be contrary. But it did find its audience and became an improbable hit only stopping production when the star, Louise Lasser (once Mrs. Woody Allen), decided to leave after the second season.

Louise Lasser was such an odd sort of actress but very much in the Woody Allen mold. Kind of an ugly duckling but not - there was always something strangely appealing about her. She had a big toothy smile and during the run of the show, wore braids and girly-girl sort of dresses to accentuate the fact that Mary Hartman was an innocent trapped in the decadent world of Fernwood, Ohio.

Her husband Tom (Gregg Mullavey) could be a lout and a bully and spent a great deal of his time proving it. Oh, he was odious. The show revolved around the unhappy Mary's day to day struggle with life and the scourge of yellow waxy build-up, not to mention the odd assortment of wacky (and not always in a good way) family and friends, including the squeaky-voiced Dody Goodman as Mary's mom.. Link

Mary Kay Place comes over for coffee.

Mary's best friend Loretta Haggers (the wonderful Mary Kay Place) was a country rock star wannabe with  loony racist views that somehow didn't make you dislike her. In a way, she was an innocent too, sort of like a dodo, though certainly more worldly than the unhappy Mary. Loretta was married to Charlie, played by a bald string bean of an actor named Graham Jarvis. Such an unlikely pairing, but it was a fun beauty and beast sort of thing.He was wild about her toes.

The show began with it's plaintive call to arms, "Mary, Hartman, Mary Hartman...!"   Dody Goodman's voice, I think, followed by syrupy soap opera music. Link

The first show featured a mass murderer loose in Fernwood. You didn't know whether to laugh or not because the storyline was so NOT what anyone would have expected and the fact that Mary eventually gets taken hostage by the armed killer made for some uneasy moments.

But a lot of it was very toungue-in-cheeky so we waited to see what would happen next. Parts of the show often made me think of SNL skits stretched into this continuing saga of discontent in Ohio. But somehow it all worked pretty well. Though poor, hapless Mary was often the butt of strange doings.

As the Retrospace blog says: "Picture Days of Our Lives directed by David Lynch..." Yeah, that sort of says it all.

Mary and her sister Cathy (Debralee Scott) read an eye-opening book.

Speaking of eye-opening - that's Mary's grandfather exposing himself. Turns out he's the Fernwood Flasher.

The show had a very strong cast - not a clunker in the bunch - and distinguished itself by casting against type. No one was movie-star beautiful or handsome so that kind of added a weird sort of verisimilitude to the outrageous doings.

The DVDs are currently available on Netflix and I suppose are for sale on Amazon or elsewhere. It's possible the show just ins't funny anymore, I think maybe it was a thing of its era. Still, I recall it fondly.

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Doppelgangers in Paint

Hercule Poirot?

No, it's a portrait of the painter Toulouse Lautrec by Giovanni Boldini. Source

And now for something a little different.

I was looking at a certain painting the other day and remarking to myself how much the portrait's sitter reminded me of a certain fictional detective. (see above) Then, as these sorts of things usually do, I happened upon another painting which reminded me of yet another fictional detective. That's when the light bulb flashed over my head.

Why not see how many fictional detectives I can cast from portraits? Just for fun, I mean. The history of art is an enormous department of central casting. At some point it might be fun to cast a whole movie or a whole book from paintings.

Sherlock Holmes?

No, it's a self-portrait by Australian Hugh Ramsey. Source

Is this Nero Wolfe disguised in a red suit and mustache?

No, it's a self-portrait of the Norwegian painter Anders Zorn. Source

  Is this Archie Goodwin?

No, it's a vintage illustration for a hat advertisement.

Is this Henri Bencolin, John Dickson Carr's French detective?

No, it's a portrait of Mikhail Kuzmin by Konstantin Somov. Source

Is this Lord Peter Whimsey?

No, it's a portrait of Louis Betts by William Merritt Chase. Source

Is this Miss Marple?

No, it is a portrait of Madame Rysselberghe by Theo van Rysselberghe.

Is this George Simenon's French Inspector Maigret?

No, it's a self-portrait of Spanish painter Luis Felipe Usabal. Source.

Is this James Bond?

No, it's a Portrait Du Marquis by Tamara De Lempicka. 

Is this Miss Amelia Peabody aka Mrs. Radcliffe Emerson?

No it's a portrait by Sarah Stillwell. Source

Is this Alan Bradley's 11 year old detective, Miss Flavia DeLuce?

No, it's a portrait of his daughter Mary by George Spencer Watson.

Is this John Dickson Carr's Sir Henry Merrivale?

No, it's a self-portrait of artist Henry Marvell Carr. Source

Is this Jack Reacher in a 1919 swimsuit?

No it's cover art by J.C. Leyendecker.

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Babaloo!

Desi Arnaz playing the conga drum.

Remember last year when I posted about the kid upstairs and his saxophone? Well, he must have realized his 'talent' for the sax was limited - he sounded like a wailing moose - and soon abandoned it. (Perhaps at the request of his family.) All was quiet for awhile.

Well, no more.

The kid has now become a drum enthusiast. Worse yet, it sounds like some sort of conga drum. I thought at first he was jumping up and down on the floor - maybe venting his teenage spleen. But then I heard vague music in the background and thought, aha! he's dancing, poor fellow. This went on for a few days until my patience finally ran out. Yesterday during dinner, the ceiling kept shaking with what I assumed again to be someone jumping up and down - maybe some new sort of jungle dance. Who knows what kids are up to these days?

Anyway, I went and rang the doorbell and after a few minutes, the kid comes sauntering down.

I said, "Could you please stop whatever it is you're doing up there until I finish my dinner?"

He looked confused.

I said, "That racket. What is it?"

He looks up the stairs then back at me as though thinking 'what racket?'

Again I said, "Whatever that racket is, please let me finish dinner."

He finally got it. "Oh, that's a drum."

'Ah, ' I said. 'Well, could you stop it until later? Please?"

He looked very annoyed that I should call his attempts at music, 'racket'. But hey, it is what it is.

He nodded and off he went.

Thankfully, I was able to finish my dinner in peace.

He's at it again tonight, but at least he waited until after dinner.

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Saturday Salon: A Favorite Painting or Two...or Three!

'A New Moscow' 1937

Paper Flowers and Snow

Morning Windows

Dressing Room at the Bolshoi

Early Morning in Moscow

Waiting

  

Woman In A Hammock (in case there was any doubt)

The Pianist - an early Pimenov work clearly showing the influence of German Impressionism.

Yuri Pimenov (1903 - 1977) was a Russian draughtsman, stage designer and painter whose work I knew nothing about until recently. He was born in Moscow in 1903 and died there in 1977. There's not a great deal of information about his life except that his early paintings were heavily influenced by German Impressionism and then later, during the 1930's, Pimenov painted the everyday world of a changing Moscow in the accepted state style of socialist realism as opposed to social realism. Read more about that here. 

And here.

There is something about these stylish paintings which is inescapably Russian in outlook and attitude, yet these examples of Pimenov's work are not as impossibly grim as paintings of that Soviet era can be.

(Lots of 'workers unite' idealistic fervor - though Pimenov did some of that sort of thing as well..)

Probably too, I am missing often included Soviet symbolism - i.e. the red carnation on the windshield of the car in 'New Moscow' which stands for socialism.Without the viewer knowing this and the meaning of other symbols particular to Russian iconography, they might come to a totally different conclusion about the work's meaning. Apparently the fact that a woman is driving the car is meant as a kind of satire though I only found this out by research.

Not that I am ever overmuch concerned with the artist's actual meaning  (I prefer to let the painting work on me, fomenting my own interpretation if I can), though I suppose I should be paying more attention. After all, the artist's intent must count for something.

Still, I liked looking over Pimenov's work and definitely felt the gray chill of a changing Moscow in most of his work which, by the way, is going for good prices today.

Again, please excuse the wonky spacing. Google Blogger is still - annoyingly - on the fritz.

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To my mom...

Today is my late mother's birthday, she passed away four years ago and I still can hardly believe it. She would have been 93 this year, if she'd lived.

In honor of my mom, I'm enclosing a link to one of her very favorite musical pieces. The Sorcerer's Apprentice by the French composer, Paul Lukas. Link.

Happy Birthday, Mom. 

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THE SWIMMING POOL (1952) by Mary Roberts Rinehart

I wish I'd had this copy, but mine has a less lurid cover. 

This is another entry in the Vintage Mysteries Reading Challenge hosted by Bev at her blog, MY READER'S BlOCK. I haven't forgotten about it, Bev, I'm just lagging behind everything lately, playing catch-up. Apologies for that.

This is how I look and feel when I'm not enjoying a book as much as the person who recommended it.

Source

You know when someone recommends a book and says it one of their favorites, you have a pretty heavy-duty obligation to like if not love it. But sometimes that's not the case and that's when guilt sets in. Ryan at his blog, WORDSMITHONIA, raved about THE SWIMMING POOL by Mary Roberts Rinehart and so of course, I had to get my own copy since I am a huge Rinehart devotee. (Ryan's review is from last year yet somehow I only ran across it recently.)

Oh, I liked it well enough Ryan - I just didn't love it as much as you did. I wanted to, but I just couldn't. But hey, any Mary Roberts Rinehart is better than none. So, no frowny faces, please. I feel bad enough as it is.

************************

THE SWIMMING POOL is one of Mary Robert Rinehart's more wordy and convoluted stories. I mean, there's everything in here but the kitchen sink. (Sort of like one of my reviews.)

1. You got dark forebodings in a large country manor. (Rinehart's specialty.)

2. You got a dead body in the swimming pool, multiple murders and a couple of attempted.

3. You got an ugly miscarriage of justice.

4. You got not one but two murderers.

5. You got suicide and some long hidden, down and dirty family secrets. (What would a Rinehart book be without 'em?)

6. You got blackmail to the tune of $50,000 bucks. (Big money back in the day.)

7. You got a heroine who appears to know next to nothing about her own family.

8. You got a HUGE and very interesting (if it had been developed) red herring that kept sidetracking me. Well, yeah, Yvette that's what a red herring is for. But still....

9. You got the heroine's brother who is as annoying a character as Rinehart ever created. I mean, the man is even more obnoxiously clueless (and proud of it) than the heroine and that's saying a lot.

10. You got the stock market crash of 1929 and its ramifications.

11. Last but not least, you got the odd actions of a nefarious butler. Speaking of which, judging from this book, I don't think Mary Roberts Rinehart thought much of the breed.

The Plot:

Judith Chandler is the beautiful and glamorous sister who married well and went off to become the darling of the New York society pages - her escapades, legendary.  But now, after twenty years or so, the wild child is getting a divorce from her stodgy and very correct husband, Ridgely Chandler, and returning to the bosom of her family, much to the chagrin of her sister Lois and her brother Phil, not to mention the housekeeper Helga who isn't keen about the news either. The two siblings lead rather sedate lives and resent the intrusion of DRAMA that always surrounds their sister.

Sure enough, Judith isn't there five seconds when she barricades herself in her room and refuses to come out. Obviously she is deathly afraid of someone. But she won't say who what when or why. If she did, then things might have been cleared up and possibly more death averted.

Earlier, on a divorce trip to Reno with Lois in tow as a sort of minder, Judith had fainted on the train at the sight of something or someone. Of course she won't tell Lois what's wrong. (No, she's not pregnant.) So back to the country house they go. There, Judith will spend most of the book hiding out, skulking and jumping at shadows, and only occasionally coming out at night in a black cape, to lurk around the grounds - for exercise, I suppose. Most of her behavior makes little sense even when explained later.

Most Mary Roberts Rinehart books are of the had I but known variety and this one is no different except that what Lois and the rest of 'em should have known is so darned convoluted (secrets upon secrets upon coincidences that boggle the mind) that for a while I lost track of what it was all about even when I knew what it was all about.

What did I like about THE SWIMMING POOL?

I liked the setting. I'm always a sucker for spooky doings in a country house, especially in the dead of night - this is what kept the pages turning for me. I liked that I wasn't sure who the murderer was, so that part of the plot was well constructed. I sort of liked the addition of a fairly tame love story (there's usually a love story in any Rinehart book) between the hapless Lois and a guy named O'Brien who turns out to be a cop on leave who has conveniently moved into the caretaker cottage on the Chandler property.

Look, maybe I'm being picky, but Mary Roberts Rinehart has written some classics (check my 101 Favorites list) and I really expected more from THE SWIMMING POOL. Though truth to tell, the book was still better than a lot of what gets published these days under the guise of mystery or 'cozy'.

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