Art, Film, Photography, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Women Artists of WW1: Nellie Isaac

There isn’t much to learn about Nellie Elizabeth Isaac online and some of it’s inaccurate. But as always with the string of magic beads that is the internet – there is always something to discover. Isaac was born in 1886 and grew up in respectable middle-class Hampstead (not West Ham). Her father Percy Lewis Isaac was a naval architect and marine…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

A Perfect Match

Some paintings are made to pair with a poem. Read Edward Thomas’s As the Team’s Head Brass and then take another look at A Winter Landscape, 1926 by Christopher Richard Wynne Nevinson (1889–1946) As the Team’s Head Brass As the team’s head-brass flashed out on the turn The lovers disappeared into the wood. I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm That…

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Art, Film, Photography, WW1

Women Artists of WW1: Iso Rae

In 1918 Australia appointed sixteen official war artists. All were men. Iso Rae – who had lived in France throughout the war – was not included. The Australian impressionist painter Isobel Rae (1860-1940) moved with her mother and sister Alison – also an artist – from Melbourne to Paris in 1887. Three years later they settled in Étaples in northern France.…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Night Patrol

All agreed that 1917 had been a sad offender. All observed that 1918 did not look promising at its birth. At midnight on New Year’s Eve 1918 the poet Edmund Blunden looked out over the whole Ypres battlefield: It was bitterly cold, and the deep snow all round lay frozen. We drank healths, and stared out across the snowy miles…

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Art, Film, Photography, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Images for Winter and a Winter Robin

I found this on the London Library Advent calendar. Just the perfect image for anything a little Christmassy with a touch of vintage thrown in. This robin was for day 10.   It was the perfect pic for the home-made greeting card. All of the images were interesting and here are a few more that caught my eye. Day 11:…

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Art, Film, Photography, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Holiday Greetings from 1917

Time for some seasonal greetings from the front. The traditional Christmas message of charity, reconciliation, and peace on earth now ensured through violence and exploding Christmas puddings. These first are from Fergus Mackain – an advertising illustrator who grew up in Canada and the USA. In 1915 – leaving his wife and children – he worked his passage across the Atlantic…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

On the Disadvantages of Central Heating

Hard to think of a better example of misplaced romantic nostalgia than yearning for the days before the era of modern central heating, double glazing, insulation and hermetically sealed homes. The fretwork of ice on the inside of the bedroom window in the morning; the eternal sliding off of the eiderdown in the middle of the night no matter how…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

What The Living Do

I’ve been reading the quite wonderful Tirzah Garwood memoir Long Live Great Barfield – a book that deserves several posts all its own. For now, here is her wood engraving Winter “1927 to accompany Marie Howe’s affecting and life-affirming poem about keeping going and carrying on after loss: What the Living Do. It’s in the form of a letter to…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Let America Be America Again

Langston Hughes wrote this in 1935.  It had meaning and relevance then. It still has. Read it. Let America Be America Again  Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America…

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Art, Film, Photography, Books, Food, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Ode to Garlic

I don’t think I peeled a clove of garlic until I was at least 21. It wasn’t because I didn’t prepare my own food. I cooked through most of college and acquired all kinds of ingenious, makeshift cooking skills using a gas-ring fueled by a penny meter in a narrow kitchen with no oven, no fridge and that I shared…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

All the hills and vales along

He went to school in Marlborough and loved to take long and sometimes solitary walks across the Wilshire downs. So – here is Charles Sorley.. October 13th is the anniversary of his death in 1915. All the hills and vales along All the hills and vales along Earth is bursting into song, And the singers are the chaps Who are…

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Art, Film, Photography, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Two Trips to Newburgh

Two visits in thirty days and only just scratched the surface of what this city has to offer. We parked on Broadway just by the Ritz (where Lucille Ball made her debut performance, a young Frank Sinatra performed with the Tommy Dorsey Band, and Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Prima sang) and walked around the corner and through the community garden. It’s hard…

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Art, Film, Photography, Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Richard Aldington and Paul Nash: Images of War

Some authors are blessed with illustrators who enhance their work with the distinction of their own. So it was in 1919 with Richard Aldington. When Images of War was first published it was with a cover design and eleven colored woodcut illustrations by Paul Nash. They are matched with poems and depict scenes from the western front  – trenches, bombardment, ruins, barbed wire,…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Forgetfulness

Forgetfulness The name of the author is the first to go followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of, as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain, to a little…

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Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Before The Charge: The Great Push, Loos, September 1915

Before the Charge The night is still and the air is keen, Tense with menace the time crawls by, In front is the town and its homes are seen, Blurred in outline against the sky. The dead leaves float in the sighing air, The darkness moves like a curtain drawn, A veil which the morning sun will tear From the…

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