Saturday commute cxi: One clink at a time

   And to think, there must

   be people who imagine it

   might be easy to descend

   a staircase in clothing.

Abel van Oeveren

A way of life

    baggy khaki

Slammer reveries

 I wonder what accounts
 for a high incidence of
 morbidity in the archive
 of internet imagery, but
 I don't wonder enough to
 investigate. 

   On any given day, the
   self-inflicted aspect
   of this culture's odd
   morbidity is bound to
   be exposed, simply by
   the innocent progress
   of its President from
   pulpit to penitentiary.
   So much in common, so
   little time noticing,
   writing on the walls.

Thobias Malmberg
  Polaroid image

Break time at Balmain

  Fashion workers and daylight
  seldom mix, and rarely get
  further than a corner of the
  rue Balzac. On a recent break
  from dressing up at Balmain, 
  pride of place on the utility
  grate fell to Xavier Serrano,
  channeling Marilyn Monroe, al-
  beit swaddled in jeans and T.

  Well, for context on parade,
  what would you have? A scruffy
  pack of freshly minted capital-
  ists, or a revue of rednecks
  mocking the rights of man? If
  it can't take one to the Bris-
  tol, what use is the street?

Context on parade

   On any given day somewhat more

   than half of the readership of

   this page comes from Europe and

   Asia, where the image displayed

   below may be even less under-

   standable than it is in North

   America. This was the scene out-

   side a hotel in Oklahoma City,

   Oklahoma (in the south central

   position on this continent that

   Afghanistan occupies in Asia),

   where the American President 

   arrived Wednesday evening, be-

   fore speaking at a federal pris-

   on today, about injustices in

   the criminal justice system. 

   Another spontaneous, coinciden-

   tal outpouring of rapture in 

   outlaw heritage, intending no

   intimidation of African Amer-

   icans, no resistance to equal

   justice under law. Just love.

   We reckon, it is possible

   to cultivate that happier

   society by ignoring tran-

   sitory signs of intransi-

   gence. It just takes sev-

   eral generations longer,

   than awakening to them.

i   Mateus Fini

Doug Mills, photography
The New York Times©
July 15, 2015

iii  Stefanos Milatos
      Derek

Origins of Wednesday xvi: Economy of humanism

The MR lounge chair was
introduced in 1927 at an
industrial design exhib-
ition in Stuttgart, as a
tour de force in econom-
ical materials for mass
production of seating.

That didn't last long.
This chair was not the
first of its kind, and
it shared an institu-
tional derivation with
some others crafted for
the same reason. Here,
however, an unexpected
quality of almost ethic-
al contradiction emerged.
Opulence. 

In this chair by Ludwig
Mies van der Rohe, that 
first motive was so in-
stantly subordinated by
the éclat of its recep-
tion, as strikingly elo-
quent sculpture of con-
genial yet emphatic dis-
dain of mass, while sud-
denly, belting leather
and resilient steel were
shown to support such a
visible comfort, despite
their arresting profile
and absolute clarity of
line, as to announce a
new epoch in taste, per
se; the chair became,
and has remained an ac-
coutrement but also al-
most an emblem, of both
the disciplined and the 
epicurean mentality. To
the exercise of sustain-
ing these two qualities
within the same mind, it 
brings the fulfillment of
of architecture itself.

Tim Schuhmacher

Rhymes with doigts

   Les droits de l'homme, as our
   Iowan exemplar reminded us in
   this portrait, yesterday, ap-
   pearing in his region's most
   estimable newspaper, are sus-
   ceptible to translation into
   every language.

   

   
   We delight to see the tricou-
   leur redeemed intuitively, on
   this, of all days.

i    Rodney White, photo
     Des Moines Register
     July 13, 2015©

iii  Ivan Terestchenko

Rhymes with truite

Un tweet de Laurent Fabius.

Oh, my. Les pâtisseurs
at the Palais Coburg
virtuously outdid them-
selves, to cheer up the
negotiating team from
Paris, on being away 
from home for the dawn
of Bastille Day. Still,
as dawns go, this one,
too, may be remembered.

That said, if the diplomats consider themselves winded, by all these months of struggling for a modus vivendi other than war, they can but marginally anticipate the ordeal now to be met by politicians who must sell it against the wind from profiteers of that higher calling, not only Republican, not only Likud, not only Sunni, but also, to be sure, Clintonian, gainfully non-committal and aloof from responsibility.

Let them together eat cake.

The tide for this will sweep their ramparts clean.

Delegates of France

Martin Conte
Rhys Pickering

This week of long remembrance

Like you, I've been struck by the
higher efficiency of social media
these days, to characterise a cen-
tral horror of a massacre, such
as we were offered in Charleston,
than we used to see in the 1960s.
Then, we had only professional
media, but its competition to en-
ter print at the highest levels
was genuine, intense, meritori-
ous, measured, and legitimate.
What it missed of feeling, it ap-
praised in weight. "Delay" dealt
it memorability.

The racist paroxysm in Charles-
ton may even prove itself to be
more transformational than I've
suggested. I doubt it; but if
it swings an election next year,
it will only re-acquaint us with
the limits of representation.

On the other hand, the profes-
sional media, from the WSJ to
TNYT to WaPo are undoubtedly
right in their alarm at signs
of European convulsion, once
again, on the halberd of Ger-
man policy. But this time, the
knives are not only long, they
are identifiable, torchlight
or not. 

We are more at the mercy of
Europe's vicissitudes, the week
reminds us, than we are isolat-
ed, insulated, free in a sense
we never have been. Charleston
is personal, Sonny. Europe is 
strictly business. 

Germany is affronted by Greece?
Who will speak from any nation
to the evil in this complaint?

Who may finally have to say, It
isn't enough to be powerful. One
has to be decent.

If not, again, humanity.

Our restructuring quiz

 What should we call 
 a land of very pret-
 ty places with some
 excellent riesling,
 and an inability to
 be trusted with pow-
 er?

We'd been considering a nap

And somebody said, what if the

President were to settle for

just two Nobel Peace Prizes,

and elect a successor from his

own Party in exchange for the

third?

Immediately, it gelled. The

second prize, already assured

for diplomatic relations with

Cuba, will happily paint poor

Marco into the shabby little

corner he has spent a career,

plastering. Alas, he's been

cultivating the wrong billion-

aires. Nobody's going to turn

down that marketplace, just

to satisfy a car salesman.

Yet, a third prize, for an

accord with Iran, would only

be for more peace than Israel

would allow anyone to enjoy.

Plus, there's the ostentation

to avoid, in doing more good

than the market will bear; 

and if the President were to

play it right - an austere

refusal to be teased further

by a fanatical mystery cult -

he could allow his successor

a campaign slogan to drive

a stake through the mongrel

Right at the same time. Even

the Eurocides might notice.

Not to affect indifference,

to leaving the Palais Coburg.

Martin Conte