Friday, January 07, 2011

shoal, scrapbook, curls


Posted by PicasaThere is a tab at the top of boxes of tissues which you have to remove in order to gain access.  The resulting oval shaped gap allows the tissue to be pulled out one by one.  Much thought has gone into the design of these boxes. As with most packaging, I am convinced that such care and skill call, if not for appreciation, at least for some sort of recycling. Catarhh and other ailments have meant a more intensive use of tissues than usual  in the last few weeks. As a result I have the beginning of a shoal of fish. Here is one of the fish completed with the help of crayons.

My favourite magazine is The National Geographic. I savour the moment, which I sometimes postpone until I am in the right frame of mind, to open a new one; and to absorb in the most receptive spirit, the photographs and even the articles which I  only sometimes get round to reading. But what to do with the accumulation of back numbers? I am trying to wean myself of hoarding, and National Geographics are immensely hoardable and  seem to have a life of their, growing in stacks on shelves and in cupboards. Today I find a solution, brutal but satisfying. I go through back numbers with a pair of scissors and select photographs for my scrap book. The philosophy behind the scrap book is variety and randomness, and a remaining problem is what to select from the embarras de richesse which the magazine offers?  Too many animals, too much nature, and the book would lose it raison d'etre.  So only the most startling  and splendid  pictures must therefore succumb to my scissors. Today a whooper swan spreading its angel wings, standing on tip toe with its beak open, perhaps, in protest,  wins the accolade - an image to treasure. It remains to be seen, what it will find itself pasted next to in my book.

It begins to rain as I walk home through The Grove. "Ah my hair will  be curly. I don't want curly hair," says a woman to the man  with whom she is walking, as they hurriedly overtake me. She has an accent which emphasises her irritation. Her straight blond hair is shoulder length.  At the end of a lead is a white Pomeranian.

5 comments:

Lucas said...

National Geographic magazine is a great source of beautiful photographs. Stretching back into school days I remember a geography lesson unstructured enough to allow free perusal of this amazing feast for the eyes.

marja-leena said...

Love the fish! (My brand has print on both sides,)

As one of only two magazines I subscribe to any more, National Geographic is my favourite as well, going back some decades but I haven't had the heart to cut them up yet. I'd probably save the rock art photos first. though I'm not a scrapbooker... yet.

Barrett Bonden said...

I am very much influenced by the Lyttelton/Hart-Davis letters at the moment - admiring of their style and frequently outraged by their opinions, especially when RH-D reports that his son Adam, often seen on our TV screens now, then at Eton, had gained "a distinction in Science (Ugh!)" HWL doesn't have a scrapbook, rather a commonplace book. There's an inverted snobbery about that name that boils my brains. I shall know something significant has happened in TW if you suddenly start referring to your scrapbook this way.

The Crow said...

Nice flounder, there, Plutarch!

Plutarch said...

L You must remind me to give you some back numbers. I no longer want to hang on to them because I never seem open them again.

M-L Try Kleenex.

BB I admit to a book in which I write down bits and pieces which I want to preserve. I've had one for years, but I don't think I have referred to it as cpb. I got the idea of a scrapbook quite recently because there are so many images I come across everyday in magazines, newspapers etc that I want to keep and which I would otherwise have to discard. The randomness is partly the result of chance and partly deliberate because of the often surprising and sometimes pleasing effect of unplanned and unpredictable juxtapositions. I'm glad that you are enjoying the RHD Lyttleton correspondence, and overcoming a quite natural repugnance towards their apparent snobbery.

Thanks Martha. I'm still floundering.