Either Gemäldegalerie rotate some of their collection (the smaller works it seems) or I magically have seen this work before on their walls. Or it’s from the room that’s currently holding Jean Fouquet’s Das Diptychon von Melun, ’cos one of my faves was definitely missing. Hans Springinklee, a student of Albrecht Dürer (notably worked on Durer’s Triumphal Arch, Ehrenpforte Maximilians I.), more known for woodcuts and illustrations, but occasionally he painted, and here’s his Allegorie auf die Binde- und Lösegewalt des Papsttums, (Allegory on the Binding and Loosening of the Papacy), a riot of saints and martyrs floating on clouds, waving palm fronds (Saint Christóforos is up the back; you could play Name that Saint all day), St. Peter offering the pope a chalice full of crowned black snakes, and St. Michael busy heaving a sword and weighing souls on his scales.
Two more Adoration of the Magi from Gemäldegalerie’s In Neuem Licht exhibition. The first, a copy after Hugo van der Goes’ Die Anbetung der Könige vor dem Stall im Hügel from around 1500 (or maybe more like a copy of Gerard David’s early-1500s copy of van der Goes’ now lost original, though this one’s narrower and missing a couple of figues on the left — either way, done around the same time). The second, the Meister der Crispinus-Legende’s Die Anbetung der Heiligen Drei Könige panel from the Straußfurter Marienaltar, from around 1520. Van der Goes did one of my favourite works in the Gemäldegalerie, Die Anbetung der Hirten, as well, the gallery has another of his, the Monforte altarpiece Der Anbetung der Könige. Meister der Crispinus-Legende I’ve never heard of, but does remind me of some pieces in Magyar Nemzeti Galéria in Budapest, I saw on my eastern Europe jaunt a couple of winters ago.
(These photos were taken when I’ve been not so inclined to spend days editing scores of images, nor to agonise over photographing under crap light — and the lighting in In Neuem Licht is on the crap end — so they’re both not really up to my usual standard, but on the off-chance I don’t go back to photograph these pieces properly, they seem to be the only easily findable images of these on the internet.)
An afternoon at the Gemäldegalerie with one of my favourite museum partners, Robert. We spent a lot of time in front of Jean Fouquet’s Das Diptychon von Melun — which I will photograph, ’cos I have to go back for In Neuem Licht. I don’t think I can imagine the extent of their stockrooms. They’ve got 70 works on display in the central atrium, all deep blue walls and the gentle murmur of the long fountain, and any of them could easily win a fight for a hanging spot on in permanent collection (where I’m pretty sure some of them occasionally reside).
I’m fighting my urge to photograph everything in a museum at the moment. I wasn’t going to point camera at anything, but then I saw a trio of northern European mediæval Die Anbetung der Könige, and … especially when one of them is a copy of the very famous Hieronymus Bosch one, which hangs in Museo del Prado. It’s like I’ve already seen it, I know it so well. So I’m going to try blogging individually some of the pieces I like, and I have to go back anyway, ’cos it was all kinda rushed with the camera. This one, then, is a copy of Bosch’s Adoration of the Magi or The Epiphany, from around 1550, on oak, Kat.-Nr. 1223. It’s been in the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin’s collection since it was acquired in 1837 from General Otto August Rühle von Lilienstern. I’d love to go to Madrid and see the original, it’s one of my favourites, along with Pieter Bruegel de Oude’s unfinished De Aanbiddung der Wijzen.
I didn’t plan on taking photographs. I bought my camera anyway. Art from the Gemäldegalerie’s storerooms.
Another year of reading. Ten years I’ve been at this, blogging every book I read (almost every, a few slipped by over the years). Going from just blogging the book covers, to a few lines on why I was reading, to my recent frankly absurd multi-thousand word essays on some of Iain (M. or not) Banks novels. Trying to rein in that latter particular excess.
Usually at this point, I look at what I wrote a year ago, so I can aim for some sort of consistency.
A lot of fiction this year, almost twice as much as non-fiction, for a total of 34 books read — or attempted, I gave up on a few, and there’s a couple that I’ve already started but won’t make this list, ’cos I haven’t blogged them yet. Blogging is reading, just like rubbing is racing.
The year got off to a brilliant start with three biographies by trans women: Janet Mock’s Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love & So Much More, Laura Jane Grace’s Tranny: Confessions Of Punk Rock’s Most Infamous Anarchist Sellout, and more a collection of essays over decades that becomes biographical, Julia Serano’s Outspoken: A Decade of Transgender Activism and Trans Feminism. And Tranny is my Book of the Year. There’s a couple of others equally or maybe more deserving — thinking of recent reads Peter Fryer’s Black People in the British Empire: An Introduction and China Miéville’s October: The Story of the Russian Revolution — but Miéville’s had a couple of Books of the Year already, so that’s him out. Tranny just spoke to me on a very personal level (as did Redefining Realness, different but no less personal), and Laura Jane Grace has been making miles in my head all year, I’m listening to her now. I’d marry her, it’s that kind of thing.
Following that trio, I went straight into Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s An Aesthetic Education in the Era of Globalization. Still in it. Not an easy read, needs the kind of mental preparation and focus I’ve been lacking the last some years, though strangely not for Caroline Walker Bynum, who I’ve been reading for three years now, one of my absolute loves, and Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe is also deserving of being a Book of the Year.
A couple of others on the non-fiction side: May Opitz, Katharina Oguntoye, Dagmar Schultz (eds.) Showing Our Colors: Afro-German Women Speak Out, I read after seeing it at Deutsches Historisches Museum’s Deutscher Kolonialismus: Fragmente Seiner Geschichte Und Gegenwart exhibition. I’m didactic and prescriptive, and just like Peter Fryer, this (or whatever more recent work) should be compulsory reading in Germany, along with Ruth Mandel’s Cosmopolitan Anxieties and Katherine Pratt Ewing’s Stolen Honor — and a bunch of other stuff. But the last year’s European, American, and Australian politics makes me think we haven’t got a chance, walking with their eyes open while we shout and plead with them against where they’re going, where they’re dragging us.
I haven’t been reading much on China lately (or Afghanistan for that matter, but remedying that at the mo), but did read Frank Dikötter’s The Cultural Revolution: A People’s History, 1962–1976, the final work in his China under Mao Zedong trilogy (preceded by The Tragedy of Liberation and Mao’s Great Famine). He’s one of the few historians writing on China I’ll always read, who’s also in the fortunate position to be able to publish semi-regularly (and for academic publications, not horrifically over-priced).
There were a few other non-fiction works, but let’s get onto the fiction, or science-fiction and fantasy, ’cos I still don’t read anything else. I went on a lengthy Iain M. (plus a couple of non-M.) Banks binge earlier this year. I needed to just read, eyes rush over the pages, know before I started I’d love the story, sink back into familiar worlds and lives. Obviously that mean starting with my favourite book ever, Feersum Endjinn, and this being my first Banks re-read in some years, I came to him with a tonne of new reading behind me, and wow did I ever write about all my new thoughts. I followed that up with Whit, which has never been one of my favourites, nor did I think of it as one of his best. Wrong again, Frances. Back to The Business after that, definitely one I adore, and have read at least 6 times, then back into his skiffy with the late / last trio: Surface Detail, The Hydrogen Sonata, and Matter. I feel a little unsure putting these in my year’s reading here, as though there’s nothing remarkable about reading him multiple times, or that this is supposed to be about new books I’ve read. On the other hand, fuck it, it’s my blog and my reading and I can fuck off if that’s the attitude I’m going to bring.
There was a sizeable dip early- to mid-year, disappointment in fiction, feeling apathetic about the heaviness of non-fiction (thanks, Twitter), and also perhaps just steamrolling through scores of books year after year is an unrealistic monotone that I’m not. I did have a thrill with one more of Steph Swainston’s Castle novels, Fair Rebel, followed almost immediately by Above the Snowline, and love that she decided to return to writing, ’cos she’s one of the best. Not easy, these are large, demanding works that don’t mainline narrative reward, but she’s got one of the most captivating and extensive fantasy worlds I’ve read.
At the same time as Swainston, I got my grubby mitts on Alastair Reynolds’ Revenger. Something of marketed as Young Adult (is not), and not especially long (longer though than his novella Slow Bullets), and it feels like a Girl’s Own bit of romp, then he massacres an entire ship’s crew and continues in his very, very dark and existentially terrifying way right up till the end. Book of the Year for me, right there. Then there was the aforementioned Banks tour, and not until I was in Brussels did I get mad thrilled about fiction again. Cheers, once again, Gala. Ben Aaronovitch’s PC Grant series, A young Idris Elba / Stormzy cop with Harry Potter powers. A more cheerful Liminal People series. I started with number 2, Moon Over Soho, which meant reading the first in the series, Rivers of London had both plenty of, “I know who these people are,” and “Oh shit, her face is gonna fall off, isn’t it?” I’ve got the other 5 in the series on order.
I get to this point of writing, and I’ve added the covers of all these books, so I’ve got a nice visual treat in front of my mug, and I scroll through them … smiles all the way. And a little shiver of goosebumps. I’m lucky as all shit to be able to buy new books almost every week even when I’m on the verge of poverty (cheers, Germany and your incomprehensible to Australia attitude to cheap books), and lucky as all shit to have the time and education and all the rest to be able to read them. It’s a human right and every day I give thanks to the people (shout out to Eleanor Roosevelt here!) who fought and continue to fight for our inalienable rights.
Buy books! Buy books for your friends! Encourage people to read. If you know someone who Can’t Read Good (And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too), help them, reading is only difficult if you’ve been told it is. Support your local libraries!
So here’s to the writers, and their publishers and proofreaders and editors and typesetters and designers and artists and agents and friends and families who make it possible for them to write so that I may read.
And speaking of designers and artists, I decided to do a Book Covers of the Year thing, dunno why I haven’t before now. Mainly because both Revenger and October have covers that smash it. Also the original Feersum Endjinn, class late-20th century sci-fi cover art there.
Thrilled and awed by all this reading? Here’s the last years’ anniversary lists:
Heaps of queer asterisks there. Sophiensæle is in the middle of their THE FUTURE IS F*E*M*A*L*E* right now, and Peter Frost (who I mostly know from Das Helmi) has a première. Dasniya Sommer (most recently in Sophiensæle with her brilliant Bondage Duell) and a bunch of others whose names I know from the Helmi orbit are within.
THE FUTURE IS F*E*M*A*L*E*
Peter Frost & Die Gruppe Le Frau
Tired of patriarchy and the emptiness it has brought about, virile but open-minded Peter Frost ventured out into the world. Armed only with charm and passion, he risked everything to learn about new ways of life! Now he is back to tell us about the matriarchies of Berlin and the world.
BY AND WITH Le Frau (Vera Buhß, Bukart Ellinghaus, Peter Frost, Dasniya Sommer, Anna Wille, u.a.)
1930, September 19th and 20th
Hochzeitssaal — Sophiensæle
Sophienstraße 18, 10178 Berlin-Mitte
My glorious Fulcrum Racing 5 CX wheels needed the front wheel’s cones tightened. Break out cone spanners and all the usual mess for a hub-gutting. But, no! All I need is a 2.5mm hex key to spin the pre-load ring tighter. Could probably be done without even removing the wheel. Out-farking-standing.
Blog-posting from Isabelle Schad’s mailing list for all youse in Vietnam & Indonesia who didn’t know she’s touring & running workshops until now. Also various dates for various works across Germany and Europe.
Dear friends and colleagues,
we cordially invite you to the following performances and activities in autumn 2017.
We would be very happy to see you, here or there.
20.09.2017 / Europe meets Asia in Contemporary Dance / Hanoi (VN)
24. + 25.09.2017 / Europe meets Asia in Contemporary Dance / Ho-Chi-minh-Stadt (VN)
29. + 30.10.2017 / Komunitas Salihara / Jakarta (ID)
21. – 22.09.2017 / Goethe Institut / Hanoi (VN)
01. – 02.10.2017 / Goethe Institut / Jakarta (ID)
21. – 22.09.2017 / Lighting Workshop with Emma Juliard / Goethe Institut / Hanoi (VN)
16. – 18.10.2017 / Künstlerhaus Mousonturm / Frankfurt (DE)
Woop-woop! That’s the sound of da police.
Woop-woop! That’s the sound of da beast.
Yes, that’s a 1976 Porsche 911 SC Targa with its blues bolted to the b-pillar (twos are up the front, inboard from the low-slung fog lamps), plus a rough as guts wingnut for fine adjustment. Where its racing number should be, there’s a ‘SOS 901’, and it’s got a huge hazard orange stripe on its bonnet, which (I think) marks it as federal police, along with the white exterior.
Yes, the Belgian — and Dutch, and German — police ran Porsches from the ’60s to the ’90s, because … something something air-cooled, rear engines don’t overheat when reversing at speed in the emergency lane? Fuck I love Europe.
I was pretty blasted after a couple of hours Ferrari-ing, and really didn’t do this glorious work of art justice in my photos, but because I’m in Mode: Hoonage! lately, here are some stats: It’s a rear-wheel drive (duh!) 3-litre flat 6, putting down a not-unimpressive for what it was 231 bhp, to mow down classy international thieves on the Belgian equivalent of the Autobahn at 242 km/h. The back seat (and I’m using that term loosely) was mostly replaced by a crate of emergency gear. As for why a Targa over, say, a normal 911, this was so the passenger cop could stand up, turn around, grab the massive b-pillar, and wave instructions at the following cars. Seriously. That’s why Targa.
After a couple of hours of Autoworld Brussels’ Ferrari 70 Years madness — where I spent an unholy amount of lust on the F40 (yes, Frances, yes, ‘Brutal’) — I was looking for a quick digestif in the form of a GT40. Who’d’a known Autoworld … Rotates. Its autos.
No GT40 for you, Mme Frances. How about a Porsche 906? In the exact same spot? How about fuck, yeah?
’60s sci-fi dreaming of a future they got and we didn’t. My, this is a pretty set of wheels. And it’s road legal. Yay to FIA’s homologation rules giving us something this bonkers you could drive to the shop in for morning milk. How about some stats to go with the smell of victory?
This is chassis-number 906-128, with the racing number 148, under which it won the Targa Florio on May 8, 1966, driven by Willy Mairesse (Belgium) and Herbert Müller (Switzerland). It’s a rear-wheel drive, 2 litre, flat-6, putting down 210 bhp at 8000 rpm for a top speed of 280 km/h, and weighs a mere 580kg. It looks like something from the Jetsons, if the Jetsons were brawlers and Jane ditched George. I like very much how the two times I’ve been to Autoworld, they’ve populated this one spot with automotive mayhem. Porsche 906, for when my other car is a GT40.